
Glass il JL 
Book .D-3 



IS37 



L 



THEOLOGY, 



EXPLAINED AND DEFENDED, 






IN 



A SERIES OF SERMONS, 



BY 



TIMOTHY D WIGHT, S. T. D. LL. D. 

LATE PRESIDENT OF YALE COLLEGE. 



A MEMOIR OF THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 



AN ESSAY ON THE INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES, 

BY DANIEL DEWAR, D. D. 

PRINCIPAL OF MAKISCHAL COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY ABERDEEN. 



COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 



GLASGOW: 

PUBLISHED BY BLACKIE & SON, QUEEN STREET; 

SOUTH COLLEGE STREET, EDINBURGH; 
AND WARWICK SQUARE, LONDON. 



MDCCCXXXVII. 



£T"f 






^-)jS 2 7 ^x7 f 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Essay on the Inspiration of the Scriptures, . . . vii 
Memoir of the Life of the Author, ... xxi 

Analysis of the Work, xiv 

Ser. I. — Direct Proofs of the Existence of God. — Mark 

xii. 32 1 

Ser. II. — Atheistical Objections and Schemes of Doctrine 

considered. — Psalm xiv. 1. 6 

Ser. III. — Comparative Influence of Atheism and Christi- 
anity. — Psalm xiv. 1. ..... 12 

Ser. IV.— Unity of God.— 1 Cor. viii. 4. . . .18 

Ser. V. — Eternity and Immutability of God. — Psalm cii. 

24—27 24 

Ser. VI. — Omnipresence and Omniscience of God. — Psalm 

cxxxix. 1 — 12 29 

.Ser. VII. — Omnipotence and Independence of God. — Gen. 

xvii. 1 35 

Ser. VIII. — Benevolence of God, as proved by the Works 

of Creation and Providence. — 1 John iv. 8. . .40 
Ser. IX. — Benevolence of God, as exhibited by Revela- 
tion. — 1 John iv. 8. . . . . . 46 

Ser. X. — Justice of God. — Deut. xxxii. 4. . .51 

Ser. XI. — Truth of God. — Psalm cxvii. 2. . . 56 

Ser. XII. — Mercy of God. — Psalm ciii. 8. . . . 61 

Ser. XIII. — Wisdom of God. — 1 Tim. i. 17. . . 66 

Ser. XIV. — Decrees of God. — Job xxiii. 13. . . 71 
Ser. XV. — Same subject continued. — Job xxiii. 13. 77 

Ser. XVI. — Sovereignty of God. — Jer. x. 23. . . 82 

Ser. XVII. — Heaven. The Air. Starry and Supreme 

Heavens. — Gen. i. 1 ■ .89 

Ser. XVIII. — Holy Angels, their Rank and Attributes. — 

Col. i. 16. . g4 

Ser. XIX. — Holy Angels, their Attributes and Employ- 
ments. — Col. i. 16. gg 

Ser. XX.— The FaUen Angels.— Jude 6. . . 105 

Ser. XXI. — Creation of the Earth. — Gen. i. 1. . . 110 
Ser. XXII. — Creation of Man. Body. Soul. Its Na- 

a ture.— Gen. i. 26, 27 115 

Ser. XXIII. — The soul of Man not Material. — Gen ii. 7. 121 
Ser. XXIV.— The Soul of Man net a Chain of Ideas and 
Exercises. — Gen ii. 7 ' .126 



Pnpe 

Ser. XXV.— The Chief End of Man.— 1 Cor. x. 31. 131 

Ser. XXVI.— The Probation of Man.— Gen. ii. 15—1 7. 137 

Ser. XXVII.— The Temptation and Fall of Man.— Gen. 
ill. 1—6 142 

Ser. XXVIII. — The Sentence pronounced on Man. — Gen. 
iii. 14—19 149 

Ser. XXIX. — Depravity of Man. Its Universality, proved 
from Revelation and Facts. — Rom. v. 12. . . 155 

Ser. XXX. — Depravity of Man. Its Universality, proved 
by Man's Rejection of the Word of God. — Jer. viii. 9. 161 

Ser. XXXI. — Depravity of Man. Its Degree. — Eccl. 
viii. 11. 166 

Ser. XXXII. — Depravity of Man. Its Derivation from 
Adam.— Rom. v. 20 173 

Ser. XXXIII. — Depravity of Man. Remarks. — Rom. 
vi. 12 178 

Ser. XXXIV. — Man cannot be justified by Works of Law. 
— Rom. iii. 20 185 

Ser. XXXV.— Divinity of Christ. Proved from the 

Names given to Him. — Rom. viii. 3, 4. . . 191 

Ser. XXXVI. — Divinity of Christ. Proved from the At- 
tributes and Actions ascribed to Him. — Rom. viii. 3, 4. 197 

Ser. XXXVII. — Divinity of Christ. Proved from Di- 
vine Revelations sustained by Him, and from Divine 
Worship required and rendered to Him. — Rom. viii. 3, 4. 203 

Ser. XXXVIII.— Divinity of Christ. Proof. This the 
only ground of Consistency in the scheme of Redemp- 
tion. — Rom. viii. 3, 4. . . . . . 210 

Ser. XXXIX. — Divinity of Christ. Objections answered. 
—1 Cor. iii. 20. . . . , . . . .216 

Ser. XL. — Divinity of Christ. Objections to the Doctrine 
of the Unitarians. — 1 Cor. iii. 20. .... 222 

Ser. XLI. — Divinity of Christ. Objections to the Mode 
in which the Unitarians conduct the Controversy. — 
1 Cor. iii. 20 229 

Ser. XLII. — Incarnation of Christ. — Rom. viii. 3. . 235 

Ser. XLIII. — Covenant of Redemption. — Isa. liii. 10 
—12. . • -211 

Ser. XLIV. — Christ a Prophet. His Personal Preaching. 
—Luke xxiv. 19. : 246 



IV 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Ser. XL V.— Christ a Prophet. The Things which He 

taught. — John vii. 46. ...... 251 

Ser. XLVI.— Christ a Prophet. The Manner of his 

Preaching. — John vii. 46. ..... 256 

Ser. XL VII. — Christ a Prophet. Consequences of his 
Preaching. — John vii. 46 261 

Ser. XLVIIL— Christ a Prophet. Preaching of the 
Apostles.— Mark xvi. 15, 16, 20. ... . 265 

Ser. XLIX. — Christ a Prophet. Preaching of the Apos- 
tles. — Mark xvi. 15, 16, 20 270 

Ser. L. — Priesthood of Christ. Origin, Office, and Char- 
acter of the Priesthood. — Psalm-cx. 4. . . . 275 

Ser. LI. — Priesthood of Christ. His holiness of Charac- 
ter. — Heb. vii. 26 \ . 279 

Ser. LII. — Priesthood of Christ. His Self-government. — 
Heb. vii. 26. 283 

Ser. LIII. — Priesthood of Christ. His Holiness, Impor- 
tance of this Attribute. — Heb. vii. 26. . . 287 

Ser. LIV. — Priesthood of Christ. His example. — I John 
ii. 5 292 

Ser. LV. — Priesthood of Christ. His Atonement. Its 
Nature, Necessity, and Reality. — Rom. iii. 24 — 26. 296 

Ser. L VI. — Priesthood of Christ. His Atonement. The 
Manner in which it was performed. Its Extent. — 
Rom. iii. 24—26 301 

Ser. LVIL- — Priesthood of Christ. His Atonement. 
Objections answered. — Rom. iii. 24 — 26. . . 307 

Ser. LVIII. — Priesthood of Christ. His Intercession. — 
Heb. vii. 24, 25. .312 

Ser. LIX Christ a King — Eph. i. 20—22. . . 317 

Ser. LX. — Miracles of Christ— Acts ii. 22. .' . 322 

Ser. LXI — Resurrection of Christ.. — Acts iii. 15. . 327 

Ser. LXII. — Resurrection of Christ. — Acts iii. 15. 331 

Ser. LXIII — The Amiableness of Christ in Publishing 
the Gospel to Mankind. — Isa. Iii. 7. . . . 336 

Ser. LXIV. — Justification. The Nature: or in what it 
consists. The Source : The Free Grace of God. — Rom. 
iii. 24. ........ 342 

Ser. LXV. — Justification. The Means: Faith in Christ. 
The duty of Believing.— Rom. iii. 28. . . . 347 

Ser- LXVI Justification. The Nature of Faith Rom. 

iii. 28 352 

Ser. LXVII — The Influence of Faith in our Justification. 
— Rom. iii. 28. 35S 

Ser. LXVIII. — Reconciliation of Paul and James. Influ- 
ence of Works in our Justification James ii. 24. 362 

Ser. LXIX — Justification by Faith does not lessen the 
Obligations, or the Motives, to Obedience. — Rom. iii. 31. 367 

Ser. LXX. — Regeneration. The Agent in effecting it. 
The Holy Ghost: his Character — Tit. iii. 5. . 370 

Ser. LXXI.- — Regeneration. Testimonies to the Doc- 
trine of the Trinity from the ancient Christians, Jews, 
and Heathen. — Isa. xlviii. 16. .... 376 

Ser. LXXIL — Regeneration. Agency of the Holy Ghost. 
—Tit. iii. 5. 3S2 



Page 
Ser. LXXIII — Regeneration. Its Necessity and Reality. 

— John iii. 3. ..... 387 

Ser. LXXIV — Regeneration. Its Nature. — John iii. 3. 392 

Ser, LXXV. — Regeneration. Its Antecedents. — Acts 
xvi. 29, 30. . . . . . . . 397 

Ser. LXXVL — Regeneration. Its Attendants, generally 
considered — Eph. iv. 22 — 24. .... 403 

Ser. LXXV1I — Regeneration. Its Attendants: Faith; 
Repentance Matt, xxvii. 3— 5. . . . 408 

Ser. LXXVIII. — Regeneration. Its Attendants: Love; 
Nature of Love; Evidence of its Existence.— Gal. 
v. 22 412 

Ser. LXXIX Regeneration. Its Attendants: Consis- 
tency of Benevolence with providing peculiarly for our 
own. — 1 Tim. v. 8 417 

Ser. LXXX.. — Regeneration. Its Attendants: Consis- 
tency of Benevolence with seeking Salvation Rom. ii. 

6, 7. . . 422 

Ser. LXXXI — Regeneration. Its Attendants: Brotherly 
Love. — John xiii. 34. . . , .. , 426 

Ser. LXXXI1 — Regeneration. Its Consequences: Adop- 
tion — 1 John iii. 2. 430 

Ser. LXXXIII — Regeneration. Its Consequences: Sanc- 
tification — 1 Thess. v. 23. . 1 . . 434 

Ser. LXXXI V — Regeneration. Its Consequences: Peace 
of Conscience — John xiv. 27. .... 439 

Ser. LXXXV — Regeneration. Its Consequences; Joy 
in the Holy Ghost.— Rom. xiv. 17- i'J.^-4 . . 444 

Ser. LXXXVI — Regeneration. Its Consequences: In- 
crease of Grace — Prov. iv- 8. .... 448 

Ser. LXXXVII — Regeneration. Its Consequences: Per- 
severance Prov. iv. 8. . . . 452 

Ser. LXXX VIII. — Regeneration. Its Evidences: What 
are not Evidences. — 2 Cor. xiii. 5. . . . 457 

Ser. LXXXIX — Regeneration. Its Evidences: What 
are real Evidences. — 2 Cor. xiii. 5. . . . 462 

Ser. XC. — Regeneration. Its Evidences. Difficulties 
attending the application of these Evidences to ourselves. 
—2 Cor. xiii. 5 468 

Ser. XCL— The Law of God. Its Perfect Character: 
Comprehended in the Two Great Commandments. — 
Psalm xix. 7 . • 473 

Ser. XCII.— The Law of God. The First Great Com- 
mandment : Love to God. — Mark xii. 28 — 30. . 477 

Ser. XCIII.— The Law of God. The First Great Com- 
mandment : Reverence of God. — Job xxviii. 28. . 481 

Ser. XCIV.— The Law of God. The First Great Com- 
mandment : Humility. — 1 Pet. v. 5. . . . 486 

Ser. XCV.— The Law of God. The First Great Com- 
mandment : Resignation. — Luke xxii. 41, 42. . 491 

Ser. XCVI.— The Law of God. The Second Great Com- 
mandment : Love to our Neighbour. — Mark xii. 31. 497 

Ser. XCVIL— The Law of God. The Second Great Com- 
mandment : The Eflects of Benevolence on Personal 
Happiness. — Acts xx. 35. . . . . . 501 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
XCVIH, — The Law of God. The Second Great 

Commandment : The Effects of Benevolence on Public 

Acts xx. 35 .508 

—The Law of God. The Second Great Corn- 
Utility the Foundation of Virtue. — Acts 

\x. 35 5 14 

B. C. — The Law of God. Comprehended in the Deca- 
logue: The First Commandment. — Exod. xx. 3. . 519 
Ser. CI. — The Law of God. The Second Commandment. 

—Exod. xx. 4—6 524 

Ser. CIL— The Law of God. The Third Commandment: 

The Nature of Prcfaaeness. — Exod. xx. 7. . • 529 
Ser. CHI. — The Law of God. The Third Commandment: 

The Guilt of Profaneness.— Exod. xx. 7. . . 534 

Ser. CIV. — The Law of God. The Third Commandment: 

The Danger of Profaneness. — Exod. xx. 7. . . 539 
3ER. CV. The Fourth Commandment. The Perpetuity 

of the Sabbath. — Exod. xx. S— 11. . . . 544 

Ser. CVI. — The Fourth Commandment. The Change of 

the Sabbath. — Exod. xx. S— 11 548 

Ser. CVII. — The Fourth Commandment. Objections an- 
swered. — Heb. iv. 9. . . . . . • 553 

Ser. CVIII. — The Fourth Commandment. The manner 

in which the Sabbath is to be observed. — Isa. lviii. 

13, 14 560 

Ser. CIX. — The Fourth Commandment. Reflections on 

the Sabbath. — Exod. xx. 11 565 

Ser. CX. — The Fifth Commandment. The Duty of 

Children. — Ex. xx. 12 571 

Ser. CXI.— The Fifth Commandment. The Duty of 

Parents. — Prov. xxii. 6. 576 

Ser. CXII.— The Fifth Commandment. The Duty of 

Parents. — Prov. xxii. 6 5S1 

Ser. CXIII.— The Fifth Commandment. The Duty of 

Rulers. — Exod. xx. 12. 586 

Ser. CXIV.— The Fifth Commandment. The Duty of 

Subjects. — Exod. xx. 12 591 

Ser. CXV. — The Sixth Commandment. Killing; when 

Lawful ; and when Unlawful. — Exod. xx. 13. . . 596 
Ser. CXVI. — The Sixth Commandment. Dueling.— Exod. 

xx 13. . GOO 

Ser.CXVII. — The Sixth Commandment. Suicide. — Exod. 

xx - 13- 605 

Ser. CXVI1I. — The Sixth Commandmeut. Drunken- 
ness. — Eph. v. 18. ... . . . 6io 

Ser. CXIX. — The Seventh Commandment. The Origin, 

Nature, and Benefits of Marriage. — Exod. xx. 14. . 616 
Ser. CXX. — The Seventh Commandment. — Lewdness. — 

Exod. xx. 14 621 

Ser. CXXI. — The Seventh Commandment. Polygamy, 

Divorce. — Matt. xix. 3 — 11. .... 626 

Ser. CXXII. — The Eighth Commandment. Idleness. 

Prodigality.— Exod. xx. 15. .... 633 

Ser. CXXIIL— The Eighth Commandment. Fraud.— 

Exod - xx - 15 63S 



Ser. CXXIV. — The Eighth Commandment. Gaming. — 
Exod. xx. 15 644 

Ser. CXXV.— The Ninth Commandment. The Nature 
and Importance of Truth and Veracity. — Exod. xx. 16. 649 

Ser. CXXVI.— The Ninth Commandment. The Nature 
and Causes of Lying. — Exod. xx. 16. . . • 654 

Ser. CXXVIL— The Ninth Commandment. The Mis- 
chiefs and Preventives of Lying. — Exod. xx. 16. . 651 

Ser. CXXVIII.— The Ninth Commandment. Slander. 
Exod. xx. 16 cm 

Ser. CXXIX. — The Tenth Commandment. Content- 
ment. — Exod. xx. 17 671 

Ser. CXXX.— The Tenth Commandment. Charity.— 
1 Tim. vi. 17—19. . ' 676 

Ser. CXXXI.— The Tenth Commandment. Avarice.— 
1 Tim. vi. 9, 10 esl 

Ser. CXXXII. — The Tenth Commandment. Ambition. — 
Rom. xii. 16 Cs6 

Ser. CXXXIIL— Man's Inability to Obey the Law of God. 
—Rom. viii. 7. .....-• 691 

Ser. CXXXIV.— Faith and Repentance necessary to Re- 
store us to Obedience. — Acts xx. 20, 21. . . 696 

Ser. CXXXV.— The Means of Grace. The Ordinary 
Means of Grace. Proofs that there are such Means. — 
1 Cor. iv. 15 700 

Ser. CXXXVI.— The Ordinary Means of Grace. What 
they are : and what is their Influence. — 1 Cor. 
iv. 15. . . . ' • 705 

Ser. CXXXV1I.— The Ordinary means of Grace. Objec- 
tions answered. — 1 Cor. iv. 15. .... 710 

Ser. CXXXVIII.— The Ordinary Means of Grace. Hear- 
ing the Word of God.— Luke viii. 18. . . 716 

Ser. CXXX1X.— The Ordinary Means of Grace. The 
Nature, Seasons, and Obligations of Prayer. — I Thess. 
v. 17 721 

Ser. CXL.— The Ordinary means of Grace. The Useful- 
ness of Prayer to Individuals. — 1 Thess. y. 17. . 725 

Ser. CXLI The Ordinary means of Grace. » The Useful- 
ness of Prayer to Families. — Eph. vi. 10. . . 730 

Ser. CXLI!.— The Ordinary Means of Grace. The\ T se- 
fulness of Prayer to Communities. — Psal. lxxiii. 28. 736 

Ser. CXLIII.— The Ordinary Means of Grace. The Ob- 
jections to Prayer considered. — Job xxi. 15. % . .741 

Ser. CXLIV. — The Ordinary Means of Grace. Forms of 
Prayer.— Matt. vi. 9—13. . f . . 745 

Ser. CXLV. — The Ordinary Means of Grace. Inter- 
course with religious Men. — Prov. xiii. 29. . . 750 

Ser. CXLVI. — The Ordinary Means of Grace. Religious 
Meditation. — Prov. iv. 26. .... 756 

Ser. CXLVII. — The Ordinary means of Grace. The 
Duty of Educating Children Religiously. Objections. 
— Prov. xxii. 6. ...... . 761 

Ser. CXLVIII.— The Ordinary means of Grace. The 
Manner in which Religious Education is to be Conducted. 
Motives to this Duty. — Prov. xxii. 6. . . 766 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



Ser. CXLIX. — The Extraordinary means of Grace. The 
Character of Members of the Church. — 2 Cor. vi. 14. 771 

Ser. CL. — The Extraordinaiy Means of Grace. Officers 
of the Church. Ministers of the Gospel. Who are 
Ministers. — 1 Pet. v. 1 — 3. .... 778 

Ser. CLI.— the Extraordinary means of Grace. Officers 
of the Church. Ministers of the Gospel. Who are Min- 
isters.— 1 Pet. v. 1—3. 783 

Ser. CLII. — The Extraordinary Means of Grace. The 
End, Nature, and Subjects of Preaching. — Matt, xxviii. 
19 .789 

Ser. CLIII. — The Extraordinaiy Means of Grace. The 
Manner of Preaching. — Matt, xxviii. 19. . . 794 

Ser. CLIV.' — The Extraordinary Means of Grace. Various 
Duties of Ministers. — 1 Thess. iii. 2. . . 800 

Ser. CLV. — The Extraordinary Means of Grace. Officers 
of the Church. Deacons. — Acts vi. 1 — 6. . . 805 

Ser. CLVI. — The Extraordinary means of Grace. The 
Ordinances of the Church. Baptism. Its Reality and 
Intention. — Matt, xxviii. 19 810 

Ser. CLVII. — The Extraordinary Means of Grace. The 
Objections against Infant Baptism Answered. — Matt. 
xxviii. 19. 816 

Ser. CLVIII. — The Extraordinaiy Means of Grace. Direct 
Arguments for Infant Baptism.' — Matt, xxviii. 19. 821 

Ser. CLIX. — The Extraordinaiy Means of Grace. No 
Infants but the Children of Believers proper Subjects of 
Baptism. Mode of Administration. — Acts ii. 38, 39. 827 

Ser. CLX. — The Extraordinaiy Means of Grace. The 
Lord's Supper ; Its Nature and Design. The Qualifi- 
cations of Communicants. — Mark xiv. 22 — 25. . 834 



Ser. CLXI.— The Extraordinaiy Means of G. 

Lord's Supper. Disposition with which it 

tended : and Motives to the Attendance.-— 

22—25 

Ser. CLXII. — The Extraordinary Means of G 

Discipline of the Church. — Matt. xvii. 15 — 
Ser. CLXIII.— Death.— Psalm xc. 3. . 

Ser, CLXIV. — The Immediate .Consequences of Death. 

— Eccl. xii. 7 

Ser. CLXV. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. The 

Resurrection. — 1 Cor. xv. 16. .... 

Ser. CLXVI. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. 

The Final Judgment. — 2 Pet. iii. 10. 
Ser. CLXVII. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. 

The Punishment of the Wicked. Its Duration.. — Matt. 

xxv. 46. ........ 

Ser. CLXVIII. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. 

The Punishment of the Wicked. Its Nature. — 2 Pet. 

ii. 12 

Ser. CLXIX. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. 

The Rewards of the Righteous. The New Creation. — 

2 Pet. iii. 13 

Ser. CLXX. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. 

The Happiness of Heaven. — Rev. xxi, 1 — 3. 
Ser. CLXXI. — The Remoter Consequences of Death. 

The Happiness of Heaven. Rev. xxi. 1 — 3. 
Ser. CLXXII. — Conclusion. General Remarks. — Prov. 






xiii. 6. 



Ser. CLXXIII.— Conclusion. 

xiii. 6. . . . 
Index 



General Remarks. — Prov. 



861 
866 
872 

877 

8S2 

886 

S91 

896 

902 

906 
913 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



Thk authenticity and genuineness of the Scriptures of 
the Old and New Testaments, being incontrovertibly 
established by full and appropriate evidence, the next 
thing to be considered, is their claim to the character of 
an infallible revelation of the will of God. The import- 
ance of this claim, and the momentous consequences in- 
volved in it, demand the deepest seriousness and atten- 
tion in investigating the grounds on which it rests. 

Is it not possible, it may be asked, that Christ was a 
Divine Messenger, that the persons whom he chose to 
be his witnesses to the people, were endued with the 
power of working miracles ; and, yet, that in recording 
the history of his life, and in publishing the doctrines of 
his religion, they were altogether left to the exercise of 
their natural powers ? May not the miracles of Jesus 
and his apostles be received as facts established by his- 
torical evidence, and be considered as proofs that the 
person who performed such works, and who gave to his 
disciples powers similar to his own, was a teacher sent 
from God ; while, at the same time, their writings are 
viewed as human compositions, distinguished from those 
of other men merely by the superior advantages which 
the authors had derived from the instruction and conver- 
sation of Christ ? This is the system of the modern So- 
cinians. They regard the Evangelists simply as histo- 
rians, whose credit must be determined by the circum- 
stances in which they wrote, and the nature of the facts 
which they relate. 

This theory will be proved to be false not merely by 
its utter incompatibility with the purposes for which a 
divine revelation has been given, but by the direct and 
ample evidence which attests the inspiration and infal- 
lible authority of the Holy Scriptures. 

But before we proceed to adduce this evidence, it is 
proper that we notice some theories which have been 
formed with the view of explaining the nature and extent 
of inspiration. These, though held by respectable di- 
vines, appear to me to be not only unwarrantable opin- 
ions, but justly exposing their authors to the charge of 
an attempt to unfold the mode in which the Holy Spirit 
operated on the faculties of the inspired penmen ;• — a 
labour unwise and unphilosophical, and which can never 
lead to any useful result. 

It is certain, that many things which the sacred writers 
have recorded, were known to them without any direct 
revelation ; and it has been therefore inferred, by the 
theorists to whom I allude, that, in relating such things, 
they only required to have been infallibly preserved from 



error. In many of the events narrated by Moses, for ex- 
ample, he himself was concerned : and the apostles were 
eye-witnesses of many of the facts to which they bear 
testimony. In the publication of such facts, it is sup- 
posed that such divine superintendence as was requisite 
to preserve them from mistake, was all that they needed. 
But, to me it appears, that, even in historical narration, 
the holy men of God spake as they were moved by the 
Holy Ghost ; and that the selection ind the recording 
of the facts of which they had personal knowledge, was 
as much by inspiration of God, as the communication of 
the deepest mysteries of the christian faith. It was not 
they, but the Spirit of God which was in them, who in- 
troduced the facts and reflections of which their narra- 
tives are composed ; so that these narratives and the ob- 
servations mingled with them, are not only important 
truth, but form a portion of that divine truth, which God 
in his wisdom and mercy has designed for the instruc- 
tion, the correction, and sanctification of mankind. It 
constitutes a part of that Scripture which cannot be 
broken, which is an infallible rule, and possesses abso- 
lute authority. 

Nevertheless, theorists have presumed to distinguish 
those portions of Scripture to which these observations 
relate from the rest of the oracles of God, by styling 
that supernatural influence under which they were writ- 
ten, the inspiration of superintendency. This distinc- 
tion, it is unnecessary to say, is a mere gratuitous as- 
sumption, without any other support than the idle opin- 
ions of those who make it, and calculated to diminish 
the influence and lower the authority of divine revela- 
tion. 

Further ; it is alleged that there are many portions 
of Scripture which would require in the writers a still 
higher degree of enlargement of understanding, and ele- 
vation of conception. The grandeur both of the thought 
and of the style far surpassed the ordinary powers of the 
penmen ; some of whom were from the lower ranks of 
life, and had not acquired the qualifications to excel in 
the art of composition. It could only be by supernatu- 
ral aid that such men were enabled to give the sublime 
descriptions of the character and majesty of God, which 
they have recorded. Their representations of the high 
and lofty One, are not only elevated in accordance with 
the grandeur of the subject, but are consistent through- 
out, and commend themselves by their truth to every en- 
lightened mind. They required similar elevation of 
conception in describing the character of Christ ; a char- 



Vlll 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



acter which consists of perfect purity, and consummate 
wisdom, and which stands alone in the history of the 
human race. Their memories and understandings must 
have been invigorated by divine influence, in order to 
have been capable of selecting from the numerous events 
in the life of Jesus, and from the sayings, which, in the 
course of his ministry, he uttered, such as were pecu- 
liarly fitted to give a complete view of his character, and 
to furnish, in every future age, instruction and improve- 
ment to mankind. The degree of inspiration required 
in this case, has been termed by the theorists on this 
subject, the inspiration of elevation. 

There is still another distinction made by the persons 
to whom I refer. There is much in the Bible that could 
not have been known to its writers by any natural means : 
nor even by the extraordinary and supernatural eleva- 
tion of the faculties. It contains many truths that are 
not discoverable by human reason, and many predictions 
of events which Omniscience alone could have foreseen. 
The great scheme of redemption, so remote from the 
apprehensions of man, — forming as it does the most won- 
derful of all the results of the wisdom and knowledge of 
God, could not have been known to mortals but by im- 
mediate revelation. The persons, therefore, who were 
employed in publishing it to the world, and in commit- 
ting it to writing, were merely the vehicles of conveying 
the counsel and the will of God ; inasmuch as the thoughts 
which they expressed, and the language in which they 
were clothed, were directly communicated by God. 
Hence the apostle Paul says, that " by revelation the 
mystery was made known to him, which in other ages 
was not made known unto the sons of men, as it was 
then revealed unto his holy apostles and prophets by the 
Spirit :" and having remarked, that " eye had not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither had entered into the heart of man 
the things which God had prepared for them that love 
him," he adds, " but God hath revealed them unto us by 
his Spirit." The degree of inspiration required in this 
case, has been called, in the language of theory, the in- 
spiration of suggestion. 

But these, and all such distinctions, in regard to the 
degree and the extent to which the several parts of the 
oracles of God have been inspired, are unwarranted and 
hurtful. They are unwarranted, for they are made not 
only without the authority of Divine Revelation, but in 
seeming opposition at least to its explicit affirmation, 
that "all Scripture," without distinction, "is given by 
inspiration of God." They are unwarranted, moreover, 
because they are made in a department which is exclu- 
sively God's, to which the human faculties cannot reach, 
and the attempt to intrude upon which savours of folly 
and impiety. They are also hurtful, for they have led 
good men to speak and write concerning some parts of 
Scripture in language derogatory to the authority of 
God's word, revolting to pious minds, and calculated to 
confirm the unbeliever in his infidelity. Every part of 
the sacred volume, whether doctrinal or preceptive, whe- 
ther historical or prophetical, whether it relates to this 
life, or to the glories of immortality, has been given 
alike by inspiration of God, and is to be received 
throughout, without any exception or reservation, not as 
the word of man, but as the word of the living God. 



It is not surprising that the persons who have so un- 
wisely and presumptuously speculated on the subject of 
inspiration, should have maintained the opinion, that in 
the choice of words the sacred penmen were left to their 
own discretion, and that the language of Scripture is 
human, while the matter is divine. Discarding such pue- 
rile fancies, we affirm, in accordance with the dictates 
of enlightened reason and of revelation, that in all the 
expressions which they used, as well as in the sentiments 
which they recorded or uttered, they were under the su- 
pernatural teaching and infallible instruction and guid- 
ance of the Holy Spirit : They spoke not in language 
of their own selection, but in words which were given to 
them by God. 

In proof of this important position, it may be re- 
marked, that the inspired penmen were of themselves in- 
capable of conveying those truths which were new even 
to them, unless He who had communicated them, had 
accompanied them with the words proper to express 
them. The language was as necessary as the thought, 
since without the medium of words the ideas could not 
have been conceived. " No man can write an intelli- 
gible discourse on a subject which he does not under- 
stand, unless he is furnished with the words as well as 
the sentiments :" and that the penmen of Scripture did 
not always understand what they wrote, might be safely 
inferred from the comparative darkness of the dispensa- 
tion under which some of them lived, as is intimated by 
the apostle Peter, when he says, that " the prophets in- 
quired and searched diligently what, and what manner 
of time, the Spirit of Christ, which was in them did sig- 
nify, when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ 
and the glory that should follow." 

Had the sacred writers been entirely left to their own 
discretion in the selection of words, woidd they have in- 
variably succeeded in expressing the whole truth, and 
nothing but the truth ? Every one is aware how much 
the alteration of a word may affect the meaning of a pro- 
position ; and that the full and fair communication of his 
sentiments depends upon the expressions which are em- 
ployed. Uneducated men, as the apostles generally 
were, could not have failed, had they not been under 
supernatural direction, to have written inaccurately, to 
have obscured, overcharged, and misrepresented the 
truth. In order to accomplish the mighty work which 
was intrusted to them,' — to furnish mankind with a vo- 
lume which should have no mixture of error, which should 
be absolutely perfect, and form an infallible standard of 
the mind and will of God, it was necessary that the words 
in which it is expressed, should have been given to them 
by God. Does not the declaration of our Lord to his 
apostles warrant us to believe that this was the case :— 
" When they deliver you up, take no thought how or 
what ye shall speak : for it shall be given you in that 
same hour what ye shall speak : For it is not ye that 
speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in 
you ?" If they were thus assisted when brought before 
kings and governors for Christ's sake, may we not be 
assured that they enjoyed the same supernatural aid, 
when, for the benefit of all succeeding ages, they com- 
mitted to writing the gospel of the grace of God ? Is 
not this affirmed by the apostle when he says in refer- 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



IX 



ence to the doctrines of Christ, — " which things also we 
speak, not in the words which man's wisdom teacheth, 
but which the Holy Ghost teacheth ?" 

The words already quoted, and which apply to every 
■part of the canon of divine revelation, namely, — all 
Scripture is given by inspiration of God — affirm the 
verbal inspiration' of the "lively oracles." For, if all 
the writings contained in the sacred volume, are, as the 
apostle here asserts, inspired, the words written, which 
constitute the writings, must be inspired. He makes no 
distinction between what was well known to the penmen 
employed, and what could only be known to them by 
immediate revelation, between an incidental allusion 
and a fundamental truth : he makes the same claim for 
" all Scripture," that is, for all the writings included in 
the canon ; and consequently declares respecting all the 
words of which these writings are composed, that they 
have been given by inspiration of God. " Holy men of 
God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." 
Their writings are on this ground entitled to the desig- 
nation of " The word of God." 

The objections to the plenary verbal inspiration of 
the Scriptures, are, 

I. That there is an observable difference of style in 
the sacred writings corresponding to the different talents 
and genius of the persons who were employed in their 
composition. But a complete uniformity of style could 
not have taken place unless their mental faculties had 
been entirely suspended, so as to have rendered them 
the passive vehicles of the divine truths communicated. 
On the contrary, we have reason to believe, that the 
writers, while their powers were elevated and controlled 
by supernatural influence, were fully conscious of their 
operation ; and that, therefore, the style of the same 
persons, and much more of different persons, would vary, 
according to the degree in which their native energy was 
exerted. This much we are warranted to infer from the 
information which is given us of the variety of the divine 
operations. There are diversities of gifts, but the same 
Spirit ; and there are diversities of operations, but it is 
the same God who worketh all in all. For to one is 
given by the Spirit the word of wisdom ; to another the 
word of knowledge by the same Spirit. But all these 
worketh that one and the self-same Spirit, dividing to 
every man severally as he will, 

iVs the sacred writers were employed by God in com- 
municating his will to mankind not as passive machines, 
but as intelligent agents, a diversity of style, according 
to their different habits of mind, was the natural result. 
" We grant," says Dr Owen, " that they used their own 
abilities of mind and understanding in the choice of 
words and expressions. So the preacher sought to find 
out acceptable words. But the Holy Spirit who is more 
intimate into the minds and skill of men than they are 
themselves, did so guide and operate in them, as that 
the words they fixed upon were as directly and certainly 
from him, as if they had been spoken to them by an 
audible voice." 

II. Another objection alleged against the plenary 
inspiration of the Scriptures, is the verbal differences 
which are found in the statement of the same facts. In 
two or three of the evangelists, we often find the same 



discourse or sentence of our Lord, expressed by each in 
different words, though with precisely the same sense. 
If, then, we demand a verbal inspiration in any one of 
these cases, it is presumed that we destroy the possibility 
of it with respect to the corresponding passage. But 
the answer to this frivolous objection is obvious. The 
Holy Spirit has made use of that variety of expression in 
relating the same occurrences which would have existed on 
the supposition that the writers had been uninspired men. 
Why should Henot have spoken the same thoughts by 
different persons in different words ? Who would find 
fault with an individual on his oath, who, when required 
to relate the same fact several times, gave each succes- 
sive account with considerable variety of phraseology ? 
Would it not give force to the evidence furnished by the 
testimony of several individuals in regard to any matter 
of fact, that while they were substantially agreed, there 
was that variety in the expressions, as well as in the ar- 
rangement of the details, which is always to be found in 
the statements of witnesses between whom there is no 
collusion. We are so far from feeling any difficulty in 
believing that God, in communicating a revelation of his 
will, made use of this established law of human nature ; 
— and that, in doing so, he dictated to the intelligent 
agents whom he employed, his own words, in such a way 
that they were theirs also, — we are so far from feeling 
any difficulty in admitting this, that the procedure ap- 
pears to us to be worthy of the wisdom and goodness of 
God, and fitted to strengthen the evidence for divine 
revelation. 

III. Admitting the plenary verbal inspiration of the 
original Scriptures, this claim cannot be put forth on 
behalf of translations. No one has ever been so foolish 
as to suppose that it can. The providence of God in 
the use of ordinary means, has secured the general ac- 
curacy of copies and translations of the original text. 
They are made by men of learning and integrity ; and 
should any errors be incidentally conunitted by them, 
they may be corrected by recourse to the original. 

There are some other frivolous objections advanced 
to the plenary verbal inspiration of the whole Scriptures, 
which I shall not particularly notice. One of these is, 
that according to this doctrine, the erroneous opinions 
of Job's friends, and of other speakers introduced in the 
Bible, must be held as inspired. We maintain, not that 
they were inspired, but that their insertion in the Scrip- 
tures was the dictate of inspiration. 

It is further alleged, in regard to certain parts of 
Scripture, that they are uninspired, because the apostles 
" sometimes candidly admit, that they are not speaking 
by inspiration." In the seventh chapter of the first epis- 
tle to the Corinthians, when the writer says, in answer 
to a question about marriage, " I speak this by permis- 
sion, and not of commandment," he is supposed by some 
to disclaim inspiration. But this supposition will ap- 
pear to be utterly unwarranted, when it is observed that 
the meaning of the apostle's words, is, that marriage is 
allowed or permitted by the divine authority, and not 
enjoined as an indispensable duty. A similar mode of 
expression occurs, 2 Cor. viii. 8. At the tenth verse of 
the seventh chapter of his first epistle to this church, ho 
says, " Unto the married I command, yet not I but the 
b 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



Lord:" that is, he had no new commandment to give | 
them in regard to the particular point on which he was 
now addressing them, — he had no new commandment 
from himself only, but one which the Lord Jesus Christ 
had himself personally delivered. But, " to the rest, 
speak I, not the Lord :" that is, there was no command- 
ment given by the Lord in respect to this matter, to which 
he could refer them ; and, therefore, he now, as his in- 
spired servant, delivers to them the will of God con- 
cerning it. In the same way wo understand the words, 
" Now, concerning virgins, I have no commandment of 
the Lord ; yet I give my judgment as one that hath ob- 
tained mercy of the Lord to be faithful." The words 
with which this chapter ends — " I think also that I have 
the Spirit of God," — express strong assurance, and not 
doubt. When he says, 2 Cor. xi. 17 — " That which I 
speak, I speak it not after the Lord, but as it were fool- 
ishly, in this confidence of boasting ;" he refers not to 
the authority, but to the example of the Lord. 

But there are other passages in the New Testament, 
which refer to matters so unimportant, as is alleged, that 
they cannot be the dictates of inspiration. These are, 
1 Tim. v. 23, " Drink no longer water, but use a little 
wine for thy stomach's sake, and thine often infirmities," 
and 2 Tim. iv. 13, " The cloak that I left at Troas with 
Carpus, when thou coinest, bring with thee, and the books, 
but especially the parchments." Even the pious Dod- 
dridge derides the idea " that Paul would need an im- 
mediate revelation from heaven, and a miraculous dic- 
tate of the Holy Ghost, to remind Timothy of the cloak 
and writings which he left at Troas, or to advise him to 
mingle a little wine with his water. 

But this flippant language, so unworthy of the pen 
from which it has proceeded, assumes the , dangerous 
principle, that we are at liberty to select from a book, 
all of which, it is affirmed, has been given by inspiration 
of God, those passages which we , may think relate to 
matters either too unimportant or too well known to the 
writers, to admit of their having been thus communicated. 
Such conduct would be culpable, even if we had been 
unable to ascertain the purposes for which they have been 
inserted in the sacred volume, but with regard to the 
passages in question, we can perceive some valuable 
ends, which their insertion in the Bible was intended to 
serve. To point these out, does not come within my 
present design : but I cannot forbear noticing'with Gro- 
tius and Erasmus, the proof which is incidentally fur- 
nished by the apostle's message to Timothy, regarding 
the cloak which had been left at Troas, of his poverty- 
poverty which is casually brought to our view, and is 
corroborative of the truth of other passages in which it 
is affirmed, — and thus tending to establish by unde- 
signed coincidences the accuracy of those accounts that 
have reached us, of the privations and sufferings of the 
early teachers of the Christian faith. 



We now proceed to consider the evidence which proves 
the divine inspiration and infallible authority of the Holy 
Scriptures. I feel much difficulty in doing justice to 
this important subject within the limits to which I am 
restricted. 



I begin by remarking, that the Bible alone has any 
pretensions, to inspiration and divine authority. We 
enter on the consideration of this great question with 
minds 'perfectly unembarrassed with various and conflict- 
ing religions ; for Mohammedanism and the different 
forms of Paganism are destitute of even such slender evi- 
dence of their divine authority as would entitle them, in 
this view, to a careful examination. The Scriptures of 
the Old and New Testaments have alone professed to 
have been introduced and established by the evidence of 
miracles : all the hopes and expectations of mankind, 
therefore, and all the presumptions arising from the char- 
acter of God that such revelation would be given, centre 
in the sacred volume. This forms the only religion that 
has ever claimed to have been attended in its first pro- 
mulgation with the evidence of miracles. Mohammed 
openly and frequently disclaimed such evidence. Though 
in different ages and countries, numberless enthusiasts 
have arisen, very few have dared to advance this plea, 
and wherever any have had the temerity to recur to it, 
they have found it to prove the bane and not the sup- 
port of their cause. This circumstance affords a strong 
presumption in favour of the divine authority of the 
Bible ; — such presumption in regard to its divine autho- 
rity as gives it a claim to the serious attention of every 
man. 

Many, accordingly, of the wisest and best of mankind 
in every age, have agreed to receive the Scriptures as a 
revelation from God : — persons who have been distin- 
guished by the soundness and perspicacity of their un- 
derstandings, the extent of their erudition, and the can- 
dour and seriousness of their minds ; — who detected, with 
much labour and patient investigation, the impostures by 
which their cotemporaries were duped, but whose as- 
siduous examination confirmed them in believing that 
the Scriptures are the word of God. " I cannot but 
suppose," says the pious and laborious commentator, 
Mr Scott, " that if a being of entire impartiality, of 
sound mind, and holy disposition, should be shown the 
two companies, of those who have received, and of those 
who have rejected the Scriptures ; and slmuld compare 
the seriousness, learning, patient investigation of truth, 
solid judgment, holy lives, and composure in a dying 
hour, without unmanly terror or indecent levity, of the 
one company, with the character and conduct of the 
other, — he would be induced to take up the Bible with 
profound veneration, and the strongest prepossession in 
its favour." 

Besides, all who attentively read the sacred writings, 
must be struck with their perfect consistency and cor- 
respondence. The spirit and manner are not only the 
same throughout ; but there is an entire accordancy in 
the subjects. While there is diversity of style, the same 
design is kept in view from the commencement to the 
close of the sacred canon ; and though the topics no- 
ticed and illustrated are numerous, the spirit and senti- 
ments are harmonious. 

The harmony and intimate connexion subsisting be- 
tween all the partsof Scripture, form a striking peculiarity 
of the sacred volume, and furnish presumptive evidence 
of its inspiration and divine authority. This is the more 
remarkable when we consider that the writers lived in dis- 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



XL 



taut places, and in the different ages included in the long 
period of sixteen hundred years ; — that their education, 
talents, and occupations, were, extremely various ; and 
that the subjects on which they wrote, are momentous 
and profound. While the mode of expression, and the 
illustration vary according to the characteristic genius 
of each, the doctrines and precepts, the representations 
of God, his attributes, government, and providence ;•— 
of man, his fall, recovery, and final destination, are es- 
sentially the same. This exact agreement was not, and 
could not be, the effect of concert on the part of the 
writers. While each was executing the task which was 
assigned to himself, he was ignorant of the part allotted 
to others, and often of the ultimate end of even what he 
himself was required to perform.— The monarch and the 
plebeian, the orator and the poet, the historian and the 
legislator, the learned and the unlearned, had each his 
peculiar part to perform, and all of them tally with the 
most perfect agreement. The ordinary methods of im- 
posture were here of necessity excluded. This entire 
harmony without previous concert and design, — this uni- 
formity without contrivance, form a species of evidence 
in favour of the Scriptures, peculiar to themselves, and 
uhich, the more it is considered, cannot fail to leave the 
impression on the mind, that they have been given by 
inspiration of God. 

This impression is deepened when we attend to the 
peculiar spirit that pervades the Scriptures, — a spirit 
the opposite of that of the world ; — and also reflect on 
the infinitely momentous nature of the information which 
they contain. Consider the representations which they 
give of the character and moral government of God. 
These form a contrast to all human compositions ; and 
especially to such compositions as do not derive what- 
ever excellency they possess from the Bible. In them 
all, the weakness of man appears, prone to mistake and 
error. But when we read the Scriptures with attention, 
we feel that the Spirit which they breathe is heavenly ; 
that we are in the presence of a Benig who is infinitely 
perfect, — holy, just, and good, — the Creator, Preserver, 
and sovereign proprietor of all things. We are taught 
that it is in him, we, and all dependent beings live, and 
move, and have our existence ; that he has formed, and 
continues to sustain every particle of matter no less than 
the numerous planetary worlds, which he guides through 
the immensity of space ; that of Mm, and through him, 
and to him, are all things ; and that glory is for ever due 
to him from all his works. We have thus presented to 
our view, a Being of unrivalled excellence, who is en- 
titled to the supreme homage and obedience of every in- 
telligent creature ; and who commands all to make his 
will the rule, and his glory the ultimate end, of all their 
actions. It is to the Bible alone that mankind owe 
whatever just notions they have of God, of his being, at- 
tributes, government, and laws, and of the worship which 
is due to him. Hence, the least educated christian, who 
knows his Bible, knows more of God, of true religion, 
and of his various duties and obligations, than the best 
informed pagan that ever lived. The inhabitants of the 
heathen world were as to the natural powers of reason, 
not inferior to us who enjoy the light of Christianity ; 
and the visible things of God, which are clearly seen from 



the creation of the world, were as open to their view as 
they are to ours : but their notions of the first prhiciples 
of religion were obscure and erroneous ; darkness cover- 
ed the earth, and gross darkness the people. 

Consider, further, the representations which the Scrip- 
ture gives of the character of Christ. This character is 
perfectly peculiar and divine, and it was impossible for 
the human mind, unaided by supernatural influence, to 
have conceived it. The properties attributed to Christ, 
are of a very extraordinary nature, — those of the divine 
nature, and those which are characteristic of real though 
smless humanity. He is presented to our view as per- 
fectly pure, unerring in wisdom, boundless in power, un- 
failing in kindness and compassion, uniting in himself 
the dominion and majesty of the Deity, with all the vir- 
tues of unfallen man. The character which he sustained 
amid the various circumstances through which he passed, 
is exactly that of a person who is diving and yet human ; 
who, though in the form of God, took upon him the na- 
ture of man, and the form of a servant. 

This character, be it observed, was drawn by unlearned 
men, who were not possessed of extraordinary genius or 
talents, and who had no model in any individual that 
had ever lived hi any country or nation. To account 
for their success, we must not only admit that they painted 
from the life, but that the divine Person whose life they 
described, endued them with supernatural power to guide 
them into' all truth, and to bring all things to their re- 
membrance. Inspiration alone could have furnished a 
perfect delineation of a perfect character. 

The character of Christ, thus distinguished by its mo- 
ral perfection and matchless wisdom, furnishes indubi- 
table evidence of his having been, what he declared him- 
self to be, the Son of God. The moral greatness which 
he displayed was never before exemplified to the view 
of mortals. The best of men have fallen far short of it. 
Why should this faultless and glorious character, remote 
alike from every tiling that preceded, and from all that 
followed it, have been manifested in Christ alone ? 
What was there in the circumstances in which he appeared 
in the world, and in the persons by whom he was sur- 
rounded, fitted to produce it ? He was born, and he 
lived, in an obscure station, was related to those in the 
humbler ranks of life, conversant with persons of similar 
condition and attauiments, excluded from the schools of 
learning, possessed of scanty means of intellectual im- 
provement, and had before him no model save the patri- 
archs and the prophets. After he had passed his early 
1 years in the lowly condition in which he was born, he at 
once presented himself to the view of mankind " perfect 
in the spotless purity of his moral endowments, and in 
that divine wisdom which baffled his opponents, and ren- 
dered his cause triumphant against the utmost exertions 
of policy, power, and malignant cruelty." 

Further : the means which the Scriptures exhibit to 
our view, as employed for reclaiming a sinful race from 
their wanderings, and for restoring them to holiness in 
order to qualify them for happiness, are such as give a 
just representation of the character of God, and make a 
powerful appeal to the feelings of the human heart. No 
one can duly reflect on them, without being forced to 
pronounce them to be in full consistency with all that 



xu 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



can be known, of the laws and principles of God's moral 
government, and the faculties and affections of the mind 
of man. Abstract principles stand forth embodied in 
living action, in a form which developes the divine char- 
acter, which illustrates the extent of the divine law, and 
which is calculated to produce that conformity to the 
will of God, the necessity of which it demonstrates. We 
may say, without presumption, that if God had purposed 
to use means for regaining the love and confidence of 
his disobedient children, and of thus rescuing them from 
final perdition,, means could not have been exhibited 
more likely to attain these great ends than those which 
the gospel brings into operation. 

In extending pardoning and redeeming mercy to sin- 
ful man, it is clear, that to the accomplishment of so 
beneficenta design, it was necessary that a correct re- 
presentation should be given of the character of God, 
and that the boon should be communicated in a way cal- 
culated to insure the grateful return, and the willing 
obedience, of those on whom it is bestowed. Unless it 
had been accompanied with a just representation of the 
character of God, its value would not be appreciated, 
and the nature of his government would be liable to be 
misunderstood : and unless it were given in a way fitted 
to affect the heart, and to attain the holiness of man, 
what would be its utility ? Had it been the design of 
God (had such a design been possible) merely to confer 
forgiveness on the human race without any ulterior ef- 
fect on the renovation and purification of their charac- 
ter, the announcement of pardon might have been re- 
served till the judgment of the great day. But forgive- 
ness in such circumstances, even had its bestowment with 
such limitations been possible, would have been of little 
advantage. In order permanently to benefit man, it 
was necessary that such revelation should have been 
given of the character of God, as would deeply humble 
the sinner before him, awaken in his heart the desire for 
reconciliation, and produce in him hatred of sin, and 
love of holiness. 

The Scriptures accordingly exhibit the mercy and the 
justice of God in away which shows alike his abhorrence 
of sin, and his compassion to the sinner. He is pre- 
sented to our view as the just God and the Saviour ; — 
as sparing not his own Son, but giving him up to the 
death for us all. This divine Person voluntarily sub- 
mitted to unexampled sufferings, underwent the deepest 
humiliation, and became obedient unto death, even the 
death of the cross. While his cross, therefore, shows 
the inseparable connexion between sin and misery, it 
proclaims the greatest love, it unveils the divine perfec- 
tions, and it allures a wayward and rebellious race to 
the love of that God, who has thus demonstrated that he 
has no pleasure in the death of the sinner. 

Forgiveness of sin is thus connected with a sacrifice 
of infinite value, — a sacrifice which unfolds the bound- 
less mercy, and the ineffable purity, and the inflexible 
justice of God, in a way which is admirably fitted to af- 
fect the heart. We see how a belief in its reality be- 
comes the channel through which a principle of vitality 
and renovation is introduced into the soul. The glori- 
ous discovery which God has given of himself, — the di- 
vine remedy which he has provided, — can be of no avail 



to the purification of the heart of the man who discredit 
its existence. Its light and power are excluded by his 
unbelief ; and a remedy, which, under the application of 
the Holy Spirit, works its cure in accordancy with the 
powers and principles inherent in human nature, is per- 
sonally inefficacious, so long as all access to them is re- 
fused by the only appointed medium of operation. 

Do we not see in this glorious scheme the depth of 
the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ? 
Can any one who examines it in reference to the char- 
acter and government of God, and the admitted neces- 
sities of man — hesitate to believe that the sacred writers 
in making it known, spake as they were moved by the 
Holy Spirit? To this divine source, they themselves 
ascribe the doctrine of salvation which they taught. " I 
certify you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached 
of me is not after man, for I neither received it of man, 
neither was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus 
Christ." 

Reflect, further, on the tendency of the Bible. It di- 
rectly inculcates, and it is admirably fitted to produce, 
the practice of whatsoever is just, or honest, or true, or 
lovely, or of good report. It authoritatively enjoins 
the duties which are peculiar to every relation, and to 
all the circumstances of life. It requires purity of heart, 
as well as righteousness of life ; and it allows none, 
whatever be their rank or station, to deem themselves 
exempted from the obligations of morality. In place of 
conniving, as false religion has always done, at sinful in- 
dulgences, it affirms that all inordinate indulgence is of- 
fensive to God, and excludes from the kingdom of hea- 
ven. It commands us to give our hearts to God, to seek 
our chief enjoyment in his favour, to consecrate our- 
selves to his service, and to glorify him by our spirits 
and our bodies which are his. 

Christianity produces this purity of character which it 
requires in its disciples. It begins its operation on the 
heart ; and by its doctrines and precepts, it assumes the 
necessity of that great change which is included in re- 
generation. By the example which it exhibits for our 
imitation, and the high standard of holiness to which it 
teaches us to aspire, it reminds us of our need of the 
purifying influence which the gospel brings to our aid. 
But surely the book which possesses this holy tendency, 
and which has been so extensively efficacious in the 
changing human nature and human character, must have 
been dictated by the God of truth and holiness. It is 
the reflection of his own purity and perfection. 

But we shall now direct our attention to the evidences 
for this great truth, different from those which have been 
mentioned. 

I. Inspiration is necessary. While I admit that this 
forms no proof of its having been granted, I notice it 
here as a circumstance, which, when well weighed, will 
have some effect on every candid mind in coming to a 
conclusion on this subject. All the arguments which 
can be employed to show the necessity of divine revela- 
tion, may be urged to prove that such revelation when 
given, must be inspired. For, such a communication of 
the will of God must be infallible and authoritative — 
free from every mixture of error, — and contain much that 
can be known to man only by revelation from heaven. 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



xin 



The sacred writers accordingly deliver the doctrines 
which they teach, not as matters of opinion,. — not as 
their own thoughts, which we may receive or reject ; — 
but as the oracles of God which demand our assent. 
Thus saith the Lord, is the ground which they assign for 
claiming the submission and obedience of mankind to 
their communications. 

II. It is asserted in Scripture, that all Scripture is 
given by inspiration of God. This testimony is decisive 
of the question. For, if the genuineness and authenti- 
city of the books of Scripture be admitted ; that is, if all 
the thbigs which are there related really happened as 
they are there recorded, no one can doubt that the writ- 
ers were commissioned of God, and that their declara- 
tions regarding their own inspiration and the inspiration 
of one another, are to be received as the oracles of God. 
If the miracles recorded in the Bible be received as mat- 
ters of fact, incontrovertibly established, its testimony 
regarding its own inspiration is just as authoritative and 
final, as its testimony respectnig the ground of justifi- 
cation before God, or the immortality of the soul. 

The reception of the doctrines and institutions of the 
Mosaic economy, as founded in miracles, by the Isra- 
elites who were eye-witnesses, was an acknowledgment 
that Moses was divmely commissioned. The books in 
which these mighty works are circumstantially recorded, 
give an account of supernatural events accomplished at 
the command of Moses in the presence of Pharaoh and 
of the Hebrews, before they were released from capti- 
vity ; of their miraculous transit through the Red Sea to 
the wilderness ; of the miracles which attended the giv- 
ing of the law ; of those which were wrought for their 
sustenance and preservation during forty years in the 
wilderness ; of the visible symbols of the presence of 
God which accompanied them all that period ; of the 
miraculous providence which put them in possession of 
the land of Canaan, and which protected them in the 
observance of the institutions peculiar to that dispensa- 
tion, nearly a thousand years. — It is not more certain 
that the Pentateuch was written by Moses, than it is clear 
that the miracles recorded in that history, were wrought 
by that legislator with the view of proving his divine 
commission, and that all his writings were given by in- 
spiration of God. 

It is not only to the books of Moses, but to all those 
which were received by the Jews on the same divine 
authority, and which, therefore, were included in the 
canon of Scripture, that this character applies. The 
books of the New Testament were received by christians 
on similar evidence, as a revelation from God. These 
writings, while they asserted the inspiration of the Scrip- 
tures of the Old Testament, claimed this also for them- 
selves ; and on grounds which cannot be questioned, this 
claim was admitted, and the New Testament Scriptures 
were received by the church as the word of God. — Let 
us briefly review the evidences for the inspiration of this 
portion of the sacred volume : for if the writers of this 
were inspired, the inspiration of the writers of the Old 
Testament Scriptures must also be admitted. 

I. The inspiration of the apostles is implied in the 
commission which they received from Christ, and it was 
absolutely necessary for its fulfilment. When Jesus had 



completed his personal ministry, and had fully proved 
that he is the Son of God, by the mighty and miraculous 
works which he performed, he commanded his chosen . 
servants to go into all the world, and preach the gospel 
to every creature. " All power is given unto me in 
heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all 
nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and 
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to 
observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you : 
and lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the 
world." 

In fulfilling this commission, it was required that they 
should be faithful historians of the life, ministry, and 
sufferings of their Divine Master ; and become the infal- 
lible guides and authoritative instructors of mankind by 
adding to, and completing, the revelation of the will of 
God. But in order to write a history of what they had 
seen and heard, — to furnish mankind with such a full 
and unerring narrative of the discourses of Christ, and 
of the leading events of his life, as would exhibit to 
every future age a perfect representation of his charac- 
ter and of his religion, it was necessary that they should 
have been under the supernatural power and direction of 
God. On any principle it seems impossible to admit, 
that the numerous discourses recorded in the gospels, 
connected with the places and events which are there 
alluded to, composed, as they generally are, of ques- 
tions, answers, and objections, specified with extraor- 
dinary particularity and minuteness, could have been 
written by the Evangelists, by any mere natural force of 
memory. For the earliest of the gospels was written 
several years after the death of Christ ; and the latest of 
them was composed at least thirty years after that event. 

Consider the nature of the task, which, as historians 
and teachers of religion, they had to perform. Their 
condition was not that of the disciples of a philosopher, 
concerned for the reputation of their Master, and who, 
in order to perpetuate and extend his fame, published 
an account of his character and philosophical creed. 
Such disciples might consider themselves at liberty to 
feign many things concerning the subject of their me- 
moir, because it was of little consequence to the world, 
whether the instruction conveyed to them proceeded from 
one philosopher or another. How different were the 
circumstances and the responsibility of the apostles ! 
The Person whose character they were to portray, and 
whose discourses they were to record, was the Son of 
God, the Saviour of the world, and the knowledge of 
whose work of redeeming love and power is essential to 
salvation. The love of truth, and tried integrity, were 
not sufficient to qualify them for the perfect accomplish- 
ment of this arduous duty : it was necessary that they 
should have been under supernatural influence, to have 
enabled them to communicate, without deficiency or re- 
dundancy, without mistake or error, all the sayings of 
Jesus — to give such an account of his actions and suf- 
ferings as the divine wisdom required, should form a part 
of an infallible revelation from God. We may be as- 
sured, therefore, that He who gave them their commis- 
sion, and who possessed all power in. heaven and in 
earth, would furnish them with that extraordinary and 
miraculous aid which was requisite for its fulfilment. 



XIV 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



Besides their character of sacred historians, the apos- 
tles acted as the authoritative instructors of mankind, by 
adding to, and completing, the volume of divine revela- 
tion. To this high office the Saviour had appointed 
them, when he said unto them, " I have yet many things 
to say unto you , but ye cannot bear them now. Howbeit 
when He the Spirit of truth is come, He will guide you 
into all truth: and He will show you things to come." 
The meaning of this language, is, that the completion 
of the christian scheme in the revelation of divine truth, 
was reserved for the ministry of the apostles. To them 
the task was assigned of giving to the world the full and 
comprehensive development of the plan of redemption, 
! — such a luminous view of the whole, as would show the 
connexion and the harmony of the dispensations of reli- 
gion, and the different parts of divine revelation in 
Christ, who is their sum and their centre, — the way, the 
truth, arid the life. They were to act in Christ's stead, 
as God's ambassadors to man. " As my Father hath sent 
me, even so send I you. And when he had said this, he 
breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye 
the Holy Ghost. Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are 
remitted unto them ; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they 
are retained." This was a trust of the most awful mag- 
nitude, which they were utterly unable to execute by any 
mere human wisdom and strength. They were required 
not to enter upon it till they were endued with miracu- 
lous power : " He commanded them that they should 
not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of 
the Father, which, saith he, ye have heard of me." 

The apostles were thus appointed to an office which 
they could not have discharged, unless they had been 
under the inspiration of God. They were to act as the 
infallible teachers of the human race ; and on the full 
and faithful fulfilment of their commission, the salvation 
of millions of immortal beings was to depend. They 
who believed their statements were to be saved, and 
they who believed them not, were to be condemned. If, 
therefore, we admit the divine mission of Jesus, we must 
also admit, unless we impeach the wisdom of God, and 
charge the Redeemer with folly, that the doctrines which 
the apostles published and wrote in his name, are pure, 
unmixed, infallible truth. But, this we cannot admit, 
without at the same time believing, that they spake as 
they were moved by the Holy Ghost ; that what they 
uttered in the name of Jesus, they delivered under the 
inspiration of God. 

II. This was expressly promised by our Lord. When 
he discoursed to them concerning the difficulties, trials, 
and labours, which should attend the. fulfilment of their 
mission, he said, " I will pray the Father, and he shall 
give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you 
for ever : even the Spirit of truth, whom the world can- 
not receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth 
him. But ye know him, for he dwelleth with you, and 
shall be in you. The Comforter which is the Holy 
Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall 
teach you all things, and bring all things to your remem- 
brance, whatsoever I have said unto you. I have yet 
many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them 
now. Howbeit, when he the Spirit of truth is come, he 
will guide you into all truth ; for he shall not speak of 



himself, but whatsoever he shall hear that shall he speak ; 
and he will show you things to come." 

In this promise, it is expressly declared, that the Holy 
Spirit would descend on the apostles after the ascension 
of Christ ; that he would guide them into all the truth, 
which they could not then bear; that he would show 
them things to come, or endue them with the gift of pro- 
phecy, and that he would fully bring to their remem- 
brance all that Christ had taught them. In this promise, 
are contained all the things that are included in the 
plenary inspiration of the apostles. It is foretold, that 
they should be favoured with the perpetual inhabitation 
of the Spirit, to preserve them from error, and to lead 
them into all truth, in the discharge of their official duty 
as ambassadors of Christ. If this promise was fulfilled, 
then the apostles wrote and preached the gospels under 
the plenary inspiration of the Holy Ghost : and on the 
supposition that Christ is a true prophet, and the Son 
of God, it is impossible that it should have remained 
unfulfilled. Agreeably to the command of their Lord, 
they waited at Jerusalem till, on the tenth day after his 
ascension, the Holy Spirit descended upon them, who 
qualified them for their office by accomplishing in them 
the various things that were included in the promise, and 
by enabling them to speak in foreign tongues, and to 
work miracles. The great seal of heaven having been 
thus appended to their commission, they were constituted 
the infallible instructors of the world, were divinely 
authorized to furnish the rule for the fajth and the prac- 
tice of mankind, to expound the Scripture which had 
been previously written, and to complete and close the 
canon of God's revelation of his counsel and will to the 
human race. The doctrines and commandments which 
they were to deliver or to record, were thus placed on a 
footing, as to their truth and divine authority, with that 
which had been spoken by Christ himself: "He that 
heareth you, heareth me ; and he that despiseth you, 
despiseth me ; and he that despiseth ine, despiseth him 
that sent me." 

It is true, one of the persons employed in writing a 
large portion of the New Testament, was not called to 
be an apostle till after the day of Pentecost, and, there- 
fore, was not favoured with the abundant effusion of the 
Spirit which took place on that occasion. But tins task 
was amply supplied to him. As he journeyed to Damas- 
cus, with authority and power from the chief priests, to 
bring the christians who were there bound to Jerusalem, 
"he saw at mid-day a light from heaven, above the 
brightness of the sun, shining round about him, and them 
who journeyed with him. And he heard a voice saying, 
I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But- rise, and- stand 
upon thy feet : for I have appeared unto thee for this 
purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of 
these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in 
the which I will appear unto thee ; delivering thee from 
the Gentiles to whom now I send thee, to open their 
eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from 
the power of Satan unto God." In this extraordinary 
manner, was Paul called to the apostleship. He him- 
self assures us that he was taught the gospel by an im- 
mediate revelation from heaven ; that his designation to 
his office, and his qualifications for its exercise, werj 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



XV 



alike of God. " Paul an apostle, not of men, neither by 
men, but by Jesus Christ, .and God the Father who raised 
him from the dead. I neither received the gospel of 
man, neither was I taught it, but by revelation of Jesus 
Christ." His profound and comprehensive views of 
divine truth, show how fully the Spirit of revelation 
rested upon him. While his fellow apostles teach the 
same truths, he takes a wider range, by expatiating on 
the divinity of our Lord, the reality and efficiency of his 
priesthood, the excellency of his mediatorial office, the 
doctrine of gratuitous justification by the righteousness 
of Christ, without the deeds of the law ; the connexion 
between the old and the new dispensations ; the glory 
of the Redeemer as exalted to the right hand of the 
heavenly Majesty, far above all dominions, and princi- 
palities and powers. With the exception of the apostle 
John, he gives the fullest representation of the last judg- 
ment, the splendour of the Judge's appearance, the so- 
lemnities which shall accompany the irreversible sen- 
tence which shall fix the condition of mankind, and the 
consequences which shall follow, both in regard to the 
righteous and the wicked. 

III. The apostles affirmed, concerning themselves, 
that they published and wrote the gospels under the in- 
spiration of God. Their having recorded the declara- 
tion of their Master, in which he promised that they 
should be furnished with this inspiration, is a virtual at- 
testation of its having taken place. They .also testify 
that the Holy Ghost descended on them in accordance 
with the promise of their Lord ; that when they were 
assembled together, on the day of Pentecost, they were 
all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they began to speak 
with oth er tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. 
They claimed the character of inspired messengers of 
Heaven, who were commissioned to show unto men the 
way of salvation ; and they demanded from all men, im- 
plicit subjection of the understanding and the heart to 
the doctrines and commandments which they delivered, 
because they were the oracles of God. The appellation 
by which they designated themselves the apostles of 
Christ, shows how fully they laid claim to speak by the 
authority and under the infallible guidance of the Spirit 
of Jesus. " God hath revealed," say they, " the dis- 
pensation of the gospel unto us by his Spirit : for the 
Spirit searcheth all things, yea the deep things of God. 
Now we have received not the Spirit of the world, but 
the Spirit which is of God ; that we might know the things 
which are freely given to us-of God ; which things also 
we speak, not in the words which man's wisdom teach- 
eth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth. If any man 
think himself to be a prophet, or spiritual, let him ac- 
knowledge that the things that I write unto you, are the 
commandments of the Lord. For this cause, thank we 
God without ceasing, because when ye received the word 
of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the 
word of man, but, as it is in truth, the word of God. 
Peter places the commandments which were delivered 
by the apostles in the same rank with the words of the 
holy prophets : and classes the writings of Paul with the 
other Scriptures. John claims inspiration both in re- 
gard to himself and the other apostles : " We are of God : 
he that knoweth God, heareth us ; ho that is not of God, 



heareth not us." Paul commands that his epistles should 
be read in the churches, where those books only which 
the Jews believed to be inspired were read : and he says 
that believers are built upon the foundation of the apos- 
tles and prophets ; — a conjunction which intimates that 
the former was inspired as well as the latter. 

It is proved by these, and other passages, that the 
apostles really believed, and intended that their readers 
should believe, that they wrote and spoke as they were 
moved by the Holy Ghost. To deny their inspiration, 
therefore, is to charge them with daring imposture, 
inconsistent with their whole character, and with the 
miraculous gifts which they unquestionably possessed. 

IV. The validity of their claim to inspiration is proved 
by the miracles which they wrought, and the prophecies 
which they delivered. 

Miracles are the attestation of God of the reality of 
any fact, or the truth of any doctrine which they are 
designed to confirm. On the supposition of a divine 
revelation, is not this mode of attesting its truth both 
suitable and essential ? If, while there was nothing in 
the doctrines taught absurd, impious, or immoral, the 
teacher appealed to God for the truth of his pretensions 
to divine inspiration, by raising in our presence a person 
to life who had been dead, — we should have the most 
satisfactory evidence for regarding such messenger as 
sent from God. Would not the only objection to the 
truth of his declarations arising from the extraordinary 
nature of his claims, be removed by the performance of 
the miracle ? When so much preternatural power was 
visibly communicated to him, no one could reasonably 
question his having received an equal portion of preter- 
natural knowledge. A palpable deviation from the 
known law r s of nature in one instance, is a sensible proof 
that such a deviation is possible in another, it is the wit- 
ness of God to the truth of man. 

A miracle cannot be wrought but by the power of 
God employed immediately by himself, or mediately 
through the instrumentality of others. If it be highly 
probable, considering the necessities of mankind, and 
the goodness of God, that a divine revelation would be 
given, it is not less probable that the persons througli 
whose agency such a revelation is conununicated, should 
have the power of working miracles in confirmation of 
its truth. But it appears to be altogether inconsistent 
with the goodness of God to suffer a miracle to be wrought 
to establish a falsehood, " since it would leave his crea- 
tures in perpetual uncertainty, and an uncertainty that 
would be most painful to the virtuous, who have always 
wished most for a revelation. We have, therefore, a 
moral certainty that the evidence furnished by miracles 
is the seal of God himself to the truth of the facts and 
doctrines which it is designed to certify. It was the 
language of common sense which Nicodemus uttered, 
when he said to our Lord, " Rabbi, we know that thou 
art a teacher come from God, for no man can do these 
miracles that thou doest, except God be with him." 

Accordingly Christ and his apostles appealed to the 
miraculous works which they wrought as unquestionable 
evidence of their divine mission, and of the truth and 
divine authority of their doctrine. " The works that I 
do, bear witness of me, that the Father hath sent me." 



XVI 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



Commissioned to speak in the name, and by the autho- 
rity of God, they affirmed that the doctrines which they 
taught should be received and believed as his oracles ; 
as truths, which He through their agency was pleased to 
reveal ; and all of which, therefore, had the sacred char- 
acter and the sanction of a divine revelation. " My 
doctrine is not mine," said Jesus, " but his that sent me. 
I do nothing of myself ; but as my Father hath instructed 
me, I speak these things." — When, therefore, it is con- 
sidered that the writers of the New Testament who laid 
claim to plenary inspiration, proved the truth of their 
declarations by the miraculous works which they per- 
formed in attestation of them, there can remain no doubt 
with any reasonable mind, that the portion of the sacred 
volume which was written by them, was given by inspira- 
tion of God. 

But miracles of power are not the only external and 
extraordinary evidences of this unquestionable fact. To 
disclose events which are distant and future is a miracu- 
lous interposition of omniscience, and is as much above 
the agency of mortals as the performance of works which 
are characteristic of omnipotence. It furnishes an argu- 
ment the most convincing and irrefragable for the inspi- 
ration and divine authority of the Holy Scriptures. It 
is so admirably adapted to the nature of man, and to 
the circumstances of the human race, that the lapse of 
ages serves only to strengthen the evidence rendered for 
the support of the divine authority of the Bible by the 
fulfilment of prophecy. 

That the prophecies which are contained in the Scrip- 
tures were written, some of them long before the occur- 
rence of the events which they describe, and to which 
they relate, we have the most perfect certainty. Those 
in the Old Testament were proclaimed to a nation sepa- 
rated from the world to be the depositaries of divine 
knowledge, by a succession, not of obscure, but of 
accredited individuals, during upwards of a thousand 
years ; they were not delivered for the purpose of grati- 
fying the passions, or of promoting the worldly views, 
of any class of persons ; and they were publicly incor- 
porated with the records of a kingdom. While they 
served the important purpose of continually reminding 
the Jewish people of the extraordinary character of the 
economy under which they lived, and of confirming their 
faith in the divine authority of the Mosaic Scriptures 
and institutions, they directed their views to the coming 
of the promised Deliverer, who was to introduce a more 
perfect dispensation. The circumstances which ren- 
dered it necessary to separate the Jews from every other 
people, unite in showing the necessity of having con- 
fined the mission of the prophets to the Hebrew nation. 
What would have been the consequences, had the case 
been otherwise, — had they been dispersed indiscrimi- 
nately over the heathen world ? would not their predic- 
tions in all human probability, have become subservient 
to the worst superstitions, and would not their ultimate 
design have been completely frustrated ? " They would 
have been mixed and confounded with all the absurdities 
of the heathen oracles, and must soon have become 
incapable of answering the purposes of a divine revela- 
tion." 
Li proof of the fact, that the prophecies contained in the 



Old Testament, and which relate to the characters and 
events under the christian dispensation, were delivered 
and recorded long before the existence of the persons 
and circumstances which they describe, it may be men- 
tioned, that the Old Testament Scriptures were trans- 
lated into Greek, about two hundred years before the 
christian era ; and were in consequence in circulation 
over many parts of, the Roman empire in the days of our 
Lord. Even had the Jews been inclined, as they cer- 
tainly were not, to have conspired to alter the Scrip- 
tures, they could not, from the rival sects into which 
their nation was divided, have succeeded in the attempt. 
It is morally certain, that persons who differed so widely 
in their opinions as the Pharisees and Sadducees, and 
who were so jealous of each other's influence and repu- 
tation, would exercise a mutual and salutary control in 
reference to their guardianship of the Scriptures. 

In like manner, the prophecies contained in the New 
Testament were recorded long before the occurrence of 
the events to which they relate : and their fulfilment 
affords indubitable proof that the writers were acting by 
divine authority, and that the Scriptures of which they 
were the penmen, were, as they declared, given by 
inspiration of God. They could not have uttered a false- 
hood in the name of the God of truth, whose power mira- 
culously attested the divine origin of their doctrines : 
they could not have set forth a claim which was without 
foundation : they could not have represented themselves 
as inspired, unless they really were so. The seal of 
Heaven visibly affixed to their commission proves that 
all their declarations were true ; — that they were under 
the constant guidance of the Holy Spirit when they 
preached the gospel, and under his infallible direction 
when they committed it to writing. Of the reality of all 
this, " God bore them witness, both with signs and won- 
ders, and divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost." 
V. The claim of the apostles to plenary inspiration 
was fully admitted by the christians of their own day, 
and of the age which followed. The books of the New 
Testament were received by them as the oracles of God, 
as well as those of the Old. They were received by 
them, not with a careless acquiescence in their divine 
authority, and not with the coldness of mere speculative 
assent : but from a sense of duty, and with a firm faith, 
founded upon the most abundant evidence. Men who 
exposed themselves to the loss of all that was dear to 
them on earth, by embracing the religion of Jesus, would 
carefully examine the gTounds on which they received 
as inspired the books in which its doctrines and precepts 
were authoritatively made known. The universal recep- 
tion of these books on the ground of divine authority as 
the Word of God, proves, that those who lived in the apos- 
tolic age beheld the miracles which were wrought by the 
writers, and that they had the fullest conviction and the 
most absolute certainty that they spoke and wrote under 
the plenary inspiration of the Holy Spirit. 

They have, accordingly, left their testimony to this 
important fact. All the christian writers of the first three 
centuries, whose works have reached us, speak of the 
apostles as having been filled with the Holy Spirit, and of 
their writings as the Word, — the Oracles of God. They: 
regard theirplenary inspiration as an incontrovertible fact: 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



XV] 1 



Though Mark and Luke were not apostles, they re- 
ceived like the apostles, the miraculous gifts of the 
Holy Spirit, and the parts of the New Testament of 
which they were the penmen, were admitted by the first 
churches, "under the immediate guidance and superin- 
tendence of the apostles," into the canon of Scripture. 
They were thus placed on an equal footing with the other 
Scriptures, which were received by them as the rule of 
faith and practice, read in their public assemblies, and 
as forming a part of that " Word of God which cannot 
be broken," and by which we shall be judged at the last 
day. 

The inspiration and divine authority of the New Tes- 
tament having been thus established, the inspiration and 
divine authority of the Old Testament follow of course ; 
since the writers of the former invariably acknowledged 
the divine origin of the latter, and affirmed, that Chris- 
tianity is only the accomplishment of its prophecies, and 
the substance and development of its typical institutions. 
It is of the books of the Old Testament in particular it 
is declared, that all Scripture is given by inspiration of 
God : and it is to them our Lord alludes, when he says, 
" Search the Scriptures ; for in them ye think ye have 
eternal life, and they are they which testify of me." The 
Jews were never charged either by our Lord or his apos- 
tles with having introduced into the sacred canon any 
merely human compositions : on the contrary, they refer 
to them as possessed of infallible and absolute authority, 
and speak of them as the Oracles of God — the Word of 
God — the Holy Scriptures which are able to make men 
wise unto salvation. 

All the books of the Old Testament were included in 
three classes by the Jews, namely, the prophets, and the 
Holy writings : to this division our Lord alludes, while 
he gives the sanction of his authority to the inspiration 
of all these Scriptures : " These are the words which I 
spake unto you while I was yet with you, that all things 
must be fulfilled which were written in the law of Moses, 
and in the prophets, and in the Psabns, concerning me." 
In these words there is an explicit acknowledgment of 
the inspiration of each of the books of the Old Testa- 
ment ; from many of which there are quotations in the 
gospels and epistles, introduced by the title, the Scrip- 
ture. There cannot be a stronger recognition of the 
divine authority of the Jewish Scriptures than that which 
is contained ni the words of our Lord, when he says, 
" Think not that I am come to destroy the law or the 
prophets ; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. For 
verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one 
jot, or one tittle, shall not pass from the law, till all be 
fulfilled." The same sanction is given to the writings 
of Moses and the prophets, in the parable of the rich 
man and Lazarus, in which our Lord represents Abra- 
ham, as saying to the rich man concerning his brethren, 
" They have Moses and the prophets ; let them hear 
them. — If they believe not Moses and the prophets, 
neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the 
dead. — On another occasion, our Lord said to the Jews, 
Had ye believed Moses, ye would have believed me, 
for he wrote of me. But if ye believe not his writings', 
how shall ye believe my words ?" 



Our Lord, while he opposed oral traditions, and did 
not once quote the apocryphal writings, some of which 
were then extant, referred only to the books which had 
been received by the Jews, under the direction of the 
prophets, as the Word of God ; and he thus by his repeated 
attestations, established the plenary inspiration of the 
Old Testament Scriptures. Besides his frequent allu- 
sions to the books of Moses, and of the prophets, and 
his quotations from them, he refers to the books of 
Samuel, of the Kings, and the Chronicles, as the Word 
of God ; and he thus authenticated, as parts of inspired 
Scripture, these historical narratives. To the book of 
Psalms, he often referred, and characterised the whole 
as "the Scripture which cannot be broken." Why can 
it not be broken, but because it is the word of Him who 
changeth not, and whose word, therefore, cannot be 
altered or disannulled ? He mentions the writings of 
Isaiah, Hosea, Jonah, Micah, and Malachi ; and he 
gives his attestation to all the prophets, by declaring 
that all things must be fulfilled which w : ere written in the 
prophets, as well as in the law of Moses, and in the 
Psabns, concerning Him. " Indeed, all those passages 
in which Christ speaks of his sufferings, death, and resur- 
rection, with the various circumstances connected with 
them, as what must be, with reference to the types and 
prophecies, prove, as far as men regard his testimony, 
that no one tittle of those sacred books could pass away, 
till the whole had received its full accomplishment : for 
which no other satisfactory reason can possibly be given, 
except this, that the whole is a divine and infallible 
revelation from God : ' For the prophecy came not in 
old time by the will of man : but holy men of God spake 
as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.' " 

To all those who are convinced of the inspiration and 
divine authority of the New Testament, this testimony 
to the inspiration and divme authority of the Old, is 
decisive. It was no more possible for the writers of the 
New to have erred in giving this testmiony, than to have 
been mistaken themselves in communicating the doc- 
trines and duties of the christian religion : and their 
declarations in the one case as well as ni the other, are 
to be considered as the dictates of the Holy Spirit. 
They affirm, that, not only a part, but the whole of the 
canonical books, as received by the Jews, were given 
by inspiration of God ; that whatsoever things were writ- 
ten aforetime, were written for our learning ; that we, 
through patience and comfort of the Scriptures, might 
have hope. ' 

But the inspiration and divine authority of the books 
of the Old Testament may be satisfactorily proved inde- 
pendently of the testimony of our Lord and his apostles. 
If we admit the genuineness and authenticity of the books 
of Moses, points which are established beyond the pos- ' 
sibility of a doubt, it must also be admitted that he laid 
claim to a commission from God, to be a Deliverer, a 
Legislator, and a Prophet to Israel. But the fulfilment 
of this divine commission implied and required super- 
natural influence and inspiration. He could not have 
forced the reluctant consent of Pharaoh to the departure 
of Israel, nor have guided that people through the wil- 
derness, unless he had been the immediate instrument of 
God, and invested with miraculous power. He could 
c 



xvm 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



not have communicated the doctrines which his writings 
contain, and the commandments which they enjoin, with- 
out the inspiration of Heaven. It is unnecessary to say, 
that the numerous prophecies which he delivered, and 
which have been fulfilled, and are fulfilling- at the present 
day, furnish the strongest evidence of his having- spoken 
as he was moved by the Holy Ghost. These fully estab- 
lish his claim to the prophetical character ; and in union 
with the numerous miracles which he performed, afford 
the highest assurance that the whole of what he delivered 
in the name of God, was written under the superinten- 
dence, and by the suggestion of the Holy Spirit. Having 
been supernaturally enabled to attest his divine commis- 
sion by miracles of power and of knowledge, what 
stronger proof could have been given that he was under 
infallible guidance in revealing the will of God ; and 
that the words written by him were not his but God's, 
and are, therefore, possessed of absolute authority ? 

Moses laid claim to inspiration. He affirmed, that 
the doctrines and commandments which he delivered, 
were immediately from God, and the direct communica- 
tion of his mind and will. The words which he uttered 
are said to be the words which the Lord commanded 
Moses to deliver to the children of Israel : and he 
asserted his divine commission and inspiration in the 
following- terms : "Ye shall not add unto the word 
which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought 
from it, that ye may keep the commandments of the Lord 
your God whichT command you. Behold I have taught 
you statutes and judgments even as the Lord my God 
hath commanded me. — The Lord commanded me to 
teach you statutes and judgments, that ye might do them. 
— The Lord will rejoice over thee for good, if thou 
shalt hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God to 
keep his commandments and statutes which are written 
in this book of the law." In these declarations, there 
is a claim to inspiration in its fullest extent. If we 
admit the integrity and veracity of Moses, — and these 
are. placed beyond a doubt by his whole character, by 
the exercise of the miraculous gifts which he unquestion- 
ably possessed, and by the doctrines and precepts which 
he taught, — we must believe that he was the inspired 
Messenger of Heaven, empowered to reveal, without 
mistake or error, the will of God. 

This claim was fully admitted when it was made, and 
it has been admitted ever since by the whole body of 
the Jewish nation. They, in consequence, received as 
of divine authority the five books which Moses wrote ; 
notwithstanding the burdensome rites which they pre- 
scribed, and the purity, both in regard to worship and 
to practice, to religion and morality, which they enjoined. 
Some of the duties which Moses commanded, implied 
and required the miraculous interposition of Providence 
to enable the Jewish people to persevere in their observ- 
ance ; and consequently exhibited a standing and une- 
quivocal proof that their great legislator and prophet 
spoke by the immediate and infallible inspiration of God. 
All the males were commanded to repair thrice every 
year to Jerusalem, and thus to leave the preservation of 
their country from the incursions of its enemies, to the 
extraordinary providence of God. They were also com- 
manded to let their lands lie fallow once in every seven j 



years, and two years together at the Jubilee. Yet, 
Israel received the books as the Oracles of God which 
contained these and other extraordinary injunctions ; 
and their unhesitating reception of them in this character 
may surely be regarded as a proof that such works had 
been performed by Moses in their presence, as fully assured 
them that in all which he did, he was under the super- 
natural and infallible direction of God. The numerous 
miracles which he wrought left them no room to doubt 
in regard to the character which he sustained, as a divine 
Messenger ; and they felt themselves bound to receive 
from the Ambassador of Heaven, as equally true and 
authoritative, every thing which he delivered in the name 
of God, whether law, history, doctrine, or prediction. 

I have only farther to remark with regard to the inspira- 
tion of the books of Moses, that this is fully established 
by the testimony of a long continued series of prophets, 
who affirmed the divine origin of that dispensation of 
which Moses was the founder, and in connexion with 
which they exercised the prophetical office. We have, 
therefore, the testimony of numerous and divinely 
accredited witnesses to the fact, that Moses acted by a 
commission from God. I call them divinely accredited 
witnesses, not only on account of the miracles which 
they wrought in attestation of their office and mission, 
but because of the fulfilment of the prophecies which they 
delivered. Their acknowledgment of the divine autho- 
rity of the Mosaic writings, and of the Mosaic economy, 
is to be viewed as as much the dictate of the Holy Ghost, 
as any other truth which they uttered. 

The inspiration of the books of Moses being - estab- 
lished, that of the other historical, devotional, and pro- 
phetical writings of the Old Testament, follows as a 
necessary consequence. These books were composed 
by men who possessed the prophetical Spirit. The 
divine authority of many of them was confirmed by the 
fulfilment of the prophecies contained in them. The 
writers declared, that the word which they spoke and 
wrote, was the word of God ; and they, therefore, an- 
nounced it to the people by telling- them, " Thus saith 
the Lord God." 

These writings were also received by the Jewish nation 
as the Oracles of God : they were thus received by a 
people " who having already in their possession genuine 
inspired books, were the better able to judge of others 
which advanced a claim to inspiration ; and who, we 
have reason to think, far from being credulous with 
respect to such a claim, or disposed precipitately to 
recognise it, proceeded with deliberation and care, in 
examining all pretensions of this nature, and rejected 
them when not supported by satisfactory evidence. They 
had been forewarned that false prophets should arise, 
and deliver their own fancies in the name of the Lord ; 
and while they were thus put upon their guard, they were 
furnished with rules to assist them in distinguishing a 
true from a pretended revelation. We have a proof that 
the ancient Jews exercised a spirit of discrimination in 
this matter, in their conduct, with respect to the apo- 
cryphal books : for although they were written by men 
of their own nation, and assumed the names of the most 
eminent personages, — Solomon, Daniel, Ezra, and Ba- 
ruch, yet they rejected them as human compositions. 



INSPIRATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



xix 



The testimony, then, of the Jews, who without a dis- 
senting voice, have asserted the Inspiration of the books 
of the Old Testament, authorizes us to receive them as 
those Oracles of God which were committed to their 
care." 

Before concluding these remarks on the evidence of 
the inspiration of the Old Testament Scriptures, I shall 
notice a decisive proof furnished by the Epistle to the 
Hebrews. No reasonable doubt can be entertained that 
that most comprehensively instructive portion of the New 
Testament was written by the apostle Paul. But in 
place of having enforced by his apostolic authority the 
truth which he communicated, according to his usual 
manner when addressing the churches composed of con- 
verts from the Gentiles, he waives the sanction of his 
apostleship probably on account of the prejudices which 
many of the Jews entertained against him ; and con- 
firmed his statements by constant references to the 
Scriptures of the Old Testament. The apostle by this 
procedure, clearly proves, in the first place, that the 
inspiration and divine authority of these Scriptures were 
fully admitted by the Jews ; and, secondly, that their 
belief in these was perfectly accordant with truth. He 
thus certified in a manner peculiarly solemn, that the 
writings of which the Old Testament is composed, are 
on a level as to authority with those of the New ; that 
both are to be received as dictated by the same Holy 
Spirit ; and that as one connected and harmonious 
whole, they form an infallible and divine revelation. 

This is the Word of God ; and its Divine Author has 
solemnly prohibited any attempt to add to it, take from 
it, or, in any way, to corrupt it. In regard to the law, the 
prohibition is, " Ye shall not add unto the word which 



I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from 
it." The division of the Scriptures, called the Holy 
Writings, is guarded in these words, " Every word of 
God is pure : He is a shield unto them that put their 
trust in him. Add thou not unto his words, lest he 
reprove thee, and thou be found a liar." At the close of 
the sacred volume are these remarkable words ; " I tes- 
tify to every man that heareth the words of the prophecy 
of this book, If any man shall add unto these things, 
God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in 
this book : and if any man shall take away from the 
words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away 
his part out of the book of life." 

How great and invaluable are the advantages to be 
derived from the possession of a divine revelation con- 
cerning themes so deeply interesting and momentous as 
are those to which the Scriptures relate ! The know- 
ledge communicated is not only most certain, as pro- 
ceeding from God, but most grateful in itself as the 
expressions of love and mercy, and essentially neces- 
sary to the attainment of man's peace and purity. If 
He who is the predominating theme, the beginning and 
the ending of the Bible, be the Light of the world ; — 
the way, the truth, and the life ; — who alone can rescue 
man from the mazes of ignorance and error in which he 
is naturally lost, may we not address those who are 
favoured with this inspired volume, in the words of the 
prophet, " Arise, shine ; for thy light is come, and the 
glory of the Lord is risen upon thee?" — " The Law oi 
the Lord is perfect, converting the soul : the testimony 
of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple : the statutes 
of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: the com- 
mandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes." 



MEMOIR 



OF THE 



LIFE OF PRESIDENT DWIGHT. 



Men of Letters pass their lives in a course so tranquil 
and uniform, it is generally supposed, as to furnish but 
few incidents for the labours of the biographer, or the 
entertainment of his readers. Mankind are attracted 
rather by what is brilliant in character and daring in ac- 
tion, than by the less splendid achievements of learning 
and piety. The exploits of the hero are recounted 
with applause while he is living, and after his death are 
enrolled with admiration on the records of nations ; but 
the minister of Christ must usually wait to receive his 
honours in eternity, and expect the due estimate of his 
labours only as they are written on the tablet of the 
skies. 

There are, however, exceptions to this remark. Some- 
times the good man, by the uncommon powers of his 
mind, by peculiar incidents in his life, by having exerted 
a commanding influence on the interests of the public, or 
by having acquired an unusual share in their affections, 
presents the most attractive subject of biography. Con- 
temporaries indulge a strong desire to view more mi- 
nutely the life and character of the man, whose living ex- 
cellence they have often felt and acknowledged ; and 
posterity receive with admiration the history of one, 
who so widely blessed a preceding generation. 

The Author of the following discourses claims a 
high rank among men of this class. The testimonies, 
far and wide, given by the public to his excellence, the 
heart-felt sorrow so extensively occasioned by his death, 
and the honours so profusely poured upon his memory, 
persuade us, that we shall be listened to with lively in- 
terest, while we attempt, in the following Memoir, to 
sketch the most important incidents of his life, and to 
delineate the most striking traits of his character. 

Timothy Dwight was born at Northampton in the 
county of Hampshire, and state of Massachusetts, on 
the 14th day of May, a. d. 1752. His parents were 
Timothy and Mary Dwight. The first ancestor of his 
father's family in this country, John Dwight, came from 
Dedham in England, and settled at Dedham in Massa- 
chusetts, in 1G37. From him, the subject of this Memoir 
was descended in.the oldest male line ; and he was able 
to look back on each individual in that line, including 
five generations, and reflect, that he was a member 
of the church of Christ, and had a fair reputation for 
piety. His father received his education at Yale Col- 
lege, where he entered on his bachelor's degree in 1744, 
He was by profession a merchant ; and owned a hand- 
some landed estate in the town in which he lived.. He 
was a man of sound understanding, of fervent piety, and 
of great purity of life. His mother was the third daugh- 
ter of Jonathan Edwards, for many years the minister 



of Northampton, and afterwards president of Nassau 
Hall : — well known in this country and Europe as one of 
the ablest divines of the last century. She possessed 
uncommon powers of mind, and for the extent and var- 
iety of her knowledge has rarely been exceeded by any 
of her sex in this country. Though married at an early 
age, and a mother at eighteen, she found time, without 
neglecting the ordinary cares of her family, to devote her- 
self with the most assiduous attention to the instruction 
of this son, and her numerous family of children, as they 
successively claimed her regard. Perhaps few instances 
can be found, in which this great duty has been per- 
formed with more scrupulous fidelity, than in the case 
now under consideration. With a mind originally vig- 
orous and discriminating, she had been accustomed from 
infancy to the conversation of men of literature, who re- 
sorted in great numbers to her father's house ; and thus 
was forcibly taught the importance of that learning, the 
effects of which she had so often had opportunity to wit- 
ness. It was a maxim with her, the soundness of which her 
own observation through life fully confirmed, that chil- 
dren generally lose several years, in consequence of be- 
ing considered by their friends as too young to be taught. 
She pursued a different course with her son. She began 
to instruct him almost as soon as he was able to speak ; 
and such was his eagerness as well as his capacity for 
improvement, that he learned the alphabet at a single 
lesson ; and before he was four years old he was able to 
read the Bible with ease and correctness. His father 
was so extensively engaged in mercantile and agricul- 
tural pursuits, that he was necessitated to confide the 
care of his family, and particularly the superintendence 
of the early education of his children, chiefly to their 
mother. With the benefit of their father's example con- 
stantly before him, enforced and recommended by the 
precepts of his mother, he was sedulously instructed in 
the doctrines of religion, as well as the whole circle of 
moral duties. She taught him from the very dawn of 
his reason to fear God and to keep his commandments ; 
to be conscientiously just, kind, affectionate, charitable, 
and forgiving ; to preserve on all occasions, and under 
all circumstances, the most sacred regard to truth ; and 
to relieve the distresses and supply the wants of the 
i poor and unfortunate. She aimed at a very early period 
j to enlighten his conscience, to make him afraid to.sin, 
and to teach him to hope for pardon only through the 
righteousness of. Christ. The impressions thus made 
upon his mind in infancy were never effaced. 

A great proportion of the instruction, which he receiv- 
ed before he arrived at the age of sixyears, was at home 
with his mother. Her school -room was the nursery. 



xxn 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



Here lie had his regular hours for study, as in a school : 
and twice every day she heard him repeat his lesson. 
Here, in addition to his stated task, he watched the 
cradle of his younger brothers. When his lesson was re- 
cited, he was permitted to read such books as he chose, 
until the limited period was expired. During these in- 
tervals he often read over the historical parts of the 
Bible, and gave an account of them to his mother. So 
deep and distinct was the impression, which these nar- 
rations then made upon his mind, that their minutest inci- 
dents were indelibly fixed upon his memory. His relish 
for reading was thus early formed, and was strengthened 
by the conversation and example of his parents. At the 
age of six, he was sent to the grammar school, where he 
early began to importune his father to permit him to 
study Latin. This was denied, from an impression, 
that he was too young to profit by studies of that de- 
scription ; and the master was charged not to suffer him 
to engage in them. It was soon found to be in vain to 
prohibit him : his zeal was too great to be controlled. 
Not owning the necessary books, he availed himself of 
the opportunity when the elder boys were at play to bor- 
row theirs ; and, in this way, without his father's know- 
ledge, or the master's consent, studied through Lilly's 
Latin Grammar twice. When his master discovered the 
progress he had made, he applied earnestly to his father, 
and finally obtained a reluctant consent .that he might 
proceed ; though every effort short of compulsion was 
used to discourage him. He pursued the study of the 
language with great alacrity, and would have been pre- 
pared for admission into college, at e^ght years of age, 
had not a discontinuance of the school interrupted his 
progress, and rendered it necessary for him to be 
taken home, and placed again under the instruction of 
his mother. By her, his attention was now directed to 
the study of geography and history. With no other 
help than Sahnon's Grammar, the only work on the sub- 
ject then to be procured in the country, and a set of 
valuable maps of the four quarters of the globe ; under the 
faithful tuition of his mother, he became thoroughly ver- 
sed in the former science. In the latter, his father's li- 
brary furnished him with the requisite books, and the wis- 
dom and affection of his mother with the necessary guid- 
ance. He was previously familiar with the historical parts 
of the Bible. She first turned his attention to Josephus 
and 'Prideaux, and the more modern history of the Jews. 
After this he read Rollin, Hooke's History of Rome, 
Histories of Greece and England, and accounts of the 
first settlers of New England, and their wars with the In- 
dians. Often has he been heard to say, that almost all 
his knowledge of geography and history was acquired at 
this period ; and it is believed, that few persons have 
possessed a more extensive or accurate acquaintance 
with either of these sciences. This domestic education 
rendered him fond of home and of the company of his 
parents ; and led him to feel a livelier interest than is 
usual with boys of the same age, in the conversation 
of those who were older than himself. It also saved 
him from the school-boy coarseness and effrontery ; 
often thought in this rough world a necessary, but by 
no means an ornamental, appendage of the youthful cha- 
racter. 

His father was particularly fond of the society of men 
of education and intelligence ; and his hospitable house 
was the well known resort of gentlemen of this charac- 
ter. To no one of the family were they more welcome, 
than to his son. Even at this very early period of life, 
while listening - to their conversation on the character of 
the great men of the age, both in the colonies and in 
Europe, a deep and last impression was made upon his 
mind ; and he then formed a settled resolution, that he 
would make every effort in his power to equal those, 
whose talents and character he heard so highly extolled. 

In his twelfth year, he went to Middletown, for the pur- 
pose of pursuing his studies, under the late Rev. Enoch 



Huntington, a gentleman of high classical attainments, 
He boarded in the family, and devoted himself to his 
books with unusual assiduity and success. Not content 
with the time regularly allotted to study in the school, 
he spent most of his leisure hours at home in intense ap- 
plication. So entirely was his mind absorbed by his 
books, that it was no uncommon thing for the members 
of the family to pass through his room, and even to call 
him by name, without being perceived by him. During 
his residence at Middletown, his conduct was marked 
with the strictest propriety, his manners were amiable 
and affectionate, his attention to his studies was intense 
and unremitted, and his progress in them rapid and hon- 
ourable. When he left Middletown, he had acquired a 
very accurate knowledge of the Latin and Greek lan- 
guages ; and had read not only those classical authors, 
which were necessary for admission into college, but 
those also which were studied during the two first years 
of collegiate life. 

In September 1765, when he had just passed his thir- 
teenth year, he was admitted as a member of Yale col- 
lege. At that time, unfortunately, the freshman class 
had no stated tutor : but were dependent for their in- 
struction, sometimes upon one officer of college, and 
sometimes upon another : a state of things too irregular 
and unsettled to produce any substantial benefit to the 
pupils. During the winter he had the misfortune to 
break his arm ; and, for several months in the spring 
and summer, he was prevented by sickness from pursuing 
his studies. Near the close of the collegiate year, pre- 
sident Clap resigned his office ; and the students for 
a short time were dispersed : a series of calamities, 
by which the year was in a considerable measure lost 
to him as a student. The discipline of college had 
been for several years chiefly annihilated. Loose opin- 
ions on morals, and religion, prevailed extensively 
in the country ; and their pernicious influence was too 
obviously felt in the various seminaries of learning. 
Owing to the bad state of the college commons, the stu- 
dents had been indulged in the practice of providing en- 
tertainments at their rooms. This naturally produced a 
great degree of inattention to their studies, and gave 
rise to scenes of revelry and riot, in the highest degree 
injurious to the pursuits of literature. It is not surpris- 
ing, that in such a state of things the practice of gamb- 
ling had become unhappily prevalent in College. Un- 
der all these disadvantages, young Dwight gained con- 
siderable reputation for genius and acquirements. His 
information and address rendered his society generally 
pleasing. It was courted, even by members of the 
higher classes ; who strongly solicited him to join them 
in their pernicious amusements. But the instructions of 
Ids parents had made so deep an impression upon his 
mind, that no importunities of this nature could prevail 
upon him to engage with them in gambling. He was 
at length so far wrought upon, however, as to play for 
amusement; and, not being necessitated to study his 
lessons, gradually yielded to their solicitations, until 
much of his time was wasted in this manner. In no in- 
stance, however, did they influence him to play for 
money, or to stake even a farthing. Yet playing for 
amusement had so far become a habit, that, when he re- 
turned to college upon the commencement of his second 
year, he entered upon the practice with considerable 
ardour. From this danger he was fortunately rescued by 
the exertions of his tutor and kinsman, the Hon. Ste- 
phen Mix Mitchel, late Chief Judge of the Supreme I 
Court of Connecticut ; to whom, for this and many other J 
acts of kindness, shown him while a member of college, I 
he ever after acknowledged himself to be most deeply I 
indebted. During the sophomore year, he was badly I 
poisoned ; by reason of which he was confined at his j 
father's house four months, and obliged to discontinue 
his studies during that period. 

It is apparent, from the foregoing recital, that the 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xxm 



two first years of his collegiate life must have been in a 
great measure lost. 

On commencing his junior year, he devoted himself 
seriously to study. He was now fifteen ; had lost a 
great part of the two preceding years, and had but two 
remaining, in which he might hope to redeem his loss 
and lay the foundation for future usefulness and re- 
spectability. He entered on the studies of the year 
with great zeal, and pursued them with unremitting 
assiduity and perseverance. At that time college pray- 
ers were attended at half past five o'clock in the morn- 
ing in the winter, and at half past four in the summer. 
He began the year by qualifying himself, every morn- 
ing, to construe and parse a hundred lines in Homer 
before prayers. This lesson, which formed no part of 
the regular college exercises, was, of course, acquired 
by candle light ; and his object in attending to it was, 
to render himself more thoroughly master of the Greek 
language than he could expect to become in the com- 
mon round of studies pursued by his class. The lesson, 
as he advanced, was gradually increased to a much 
larger quantity. His eyes being seriously affected by 
this intense application, at such unseasonable hours, it 
is not improbable, that the foundation was thus early 
laid of that weakness in them, which caused him so 
much distress during the remainder of his life. 

In addition to the ordinary pursuits of the year, he 
devoted a considerable portion of his time to the im- 
provement of his hand-writing ; and by dint of his own 
exertions, attained a degree of excellence in penman- 
ship, that has rarely been equalled. So elegant, in- 
deed, was his writing, that it was with difficulty distin- 
guished from the handsomest engravings. We have 
seen several of the diplomas, which he wrote for his 
particular friends, and think seme of them decidedly 
'more beautiful than the usual copperplate impressions. 

This is the earliest period in which he is known to 
have paid any attention to poetry and music. The 
date of bis first poetical composition cannot be precisely 
ascertained. Two or three specimens, however, are 
preserved, which bear the date 1767, and, of course, 
were written when he was fifteen years of age. His 
attachment to music, particularly sacred music, was ar- 
dent. His voice was at once melodious and powerful ; 
and his ear exquisitely discriminating. He began a 
collection of church music in the course of the year, 
but left it unfinished, probably because it interfered 
with his more severe and important pursuits. 

This may with propriety be considered as the era of 
his excessive devotion to study, and the acquisition of 
knowledge. At the commencement of the year he 
formed a resolution, to which he faithfully adhered 
during the remainder of his collegiate life, to employ 
fourteen hours each day in close application to his 
studies. Such intense and unwearied diligence, with 
the aid of his natural genius, soon established his repu- 
tation as a scholar, and placed him among the first of 
his class. He received the degree of bachelor of arts 
in the year 1769, when he was a little past seventeen 
years of age. At the commencement, but a single ap- 
pointment was made from the class, which received the 
degree of bachelors. Before giving it out, the presi- 
dent sent for Dwight and Strong,* and informed them, 
that in the view of the officers of college they were at 
the head of the class, and equally deserving of the ap- 
pointment ; but as Strong was the elder of the two, it 
would be given to him at that time, and to Dwight 
when the class entered on the degree of masters. 

A short time after leaving college, he was employed 
to take charge of a grammar-school at New Haven. In 
this situation he continued two ye ( ars, highly esteemed 
as an instructor both by his pupils and their parents. 
This was the commencement of that course of life, 

> The late Dr Strong of Hartford. 



which with very little interruption, he pursued for 
nearly fifty years : a course of life in which providence 
had peculiarly qualified him to excel. Probably few 
men have lived, who, in the same mode, have rendered 
more eminent services to mankind. 

During these two years he made great advancement 
in literature and science. His time was regularly di- 
vided, and occupied : — six hours in each day in school ; 
eight hours in close and severe study ; and the remain- 
ing ten hours in exercise and sleep. 

In September, 1771, when he was past nineteen, he 
was chosen a tutor in Yale college. In this situation 
he remained for six succeeding years, performing its 
duties with distinguished success and reputation. 

When he entered upon the office. More than half the 
members of his class were older than himself ; and the 
freshman, who waited upon him, was thirty-two years 
of age. f Notwithstanding a circumstance generally so 
disadvantageous, he proceeded in the discharge of his 
official duties with firmness and assiduity ; and in a 
short time gained a reputation for skill in the govern- 
ment and instruction of his class rarely known in the 
former experience of the college. It ought here to be 
observed, that the study of the classics and of the ma- 
thematics had been for a number of years vigorously 
pursued, owing to the exertions of several superior 
men ; and the discipline of the seminary raised to a 
higher standard. His associates were men of distin- 
guished talents ; and by their united efforts the institu- 
tion soon acquired a new and most important character. 
The study of Rhetoric had been, till then, in a great 
measure neglected. The period, from 1771 to 1777, 
will ever be considered as forming an era in the history 
of the college. Through the exertions and influence of 
Howe, Trumbull, and Dwight, a taste for those pur- 
suits was excited ; the effects of which have been ex- 
perienced to the present time. The ' art of speaking ' 
had previously been thought scarcely worthy of atten- 
tion. Of so much importance, however, was it consi- 
dered by these gentlemen, that they not only taught it 
to their respective classes, but, from time to time, went 
upon the college stage to enforce their precepts by their 
example. Poetry was cultivated by them, especially 
by Trumbull and Dwight, with all the enthusiasm of 
genius. It was in the first year of his tutorship, at the 
age of nineteen, that the subject of this memoir com- 
menced writing the Conquest of Canaan, a regular 
epic poem, founded upon the portion of Sacred History 
to which its title refers, and which was finished in the 
year 1774, when he was twenty -two years of aga. 

No tutor was ever more faithful in the instruction of 
his class. His attention to their oratory has been men- 
tioned. In addition to the customary mathematical 
studies, he. carried them through spherics and flux- 
ions, and went as far as any of them would accompany 
him into the Principia of Newton. He also delivered 
to them a series of lectures on style and composition, 
on a plan very similar to that contained in the Lectures 
of Blair, which were not published until a considerable 
time afterward. His application to study during the 
time he remained in office was intense. He began to 
study so early in the morning as to require candlelight, 
and continued, the employment until late at night. 

While a tutor, he was inoculated for the small pox. 
The disease affected him mildly ; but upon his recovery, 
he too soon resumed his former habit of severe appli- 
cation to study. Long before this, his eyes had been 
greatly weakened, and probably for that reason were 
more sensibly affected by the small-pox. On being 
subjected to such rigorous exercise, before they had 
recovered their natural energy, they were so far in- 
jured as to cause him, through life, a great degree of 
pain and embarrassment. 

t David Busline II, a man of strong mechanical grnius, and the in- 
ventor of ' the Submarine Boat.' 



XXIV 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



In the year 1772, he received the degree of Master 
of Arts. On that occasion he delivered, as an exercise 
at the public commencement ' A Dissertation on the 
History, Eloquence, and Poetry of the Bible.' This 
production, composed and delivered by a youth of 
twenty, on a subject then so new and of such high in- 
terest, w,as received by the audience with the strongest 
marks of approbation. A copy was immediately re- 
quested for the press ; and it was afterwards republished, 
both in this country and in Europe. We have seen it 
mentioned, in several instances, with very high respect, 
on the other, side of the Atlantic. It is now rarely to 
be met with. Those, who have read it, need not be in- 
formed that it was an effort of no common character. 
It unfolded, at that early age, the bolder features of 
the author's mind ; and evinced uncommon maturity 
of judgment and taste. The style is dignified and 
manly, and formed by a standard truly classical. The 
field of thought was new in this country. The Lec- 
tures of Lowth, if then published, were not known on 
this side of the Atlantic ; nor do we know of any work, 
except the Bible itself, to which the author appears to 
have been indebted for his plan or his illustrations. 
The knowledge of criticism displayed in it is profound ; 
the conceptions are bold and original ; the images are 
beautiful and distinct ; and the very spirit, which 
breathes in the sacred writers, appears to animate his 
own mind. This was his only effort in public which 
his father ever witnessed. 

At a subsequent period, during his residence in col- 
lege as a tutor, he engaged deeply in the study of the 
higher branches of the mathematics. Among the trea- 
tises on this science, to which his attention was directed, 
was Newton's Principia, which he studied with the ut- 
most care and attention, and demonstrated, in course, 
all but two of the propositions in that profound and 
elaborate work. This difficult but delightful science, 
in which the mind is always guided by certainty in its 
discovery of truth, so fully engrossed his attention, and 
his thoughts, that for a time he lost even his relish for 
poetry ; and it was not without difficulty that his fond- 
ness for it was recovered. 

During the second year of his tutorship, he attempted, 
by restricting his diet, to remove the necessity for bo- 
dily exercise, and yet to secure himself from the dul- 
ness incident to a full habit and inactive life. He be- 
gan by lessening the quantity of his food at dinner ; 
and gradually reducing it, until he confined himself to 
twelve mouthfuls. After a six months' experiment of 
this regimen, being still somewhat dissatisfied with its 
effects, and feeling less clearness of apprehension than 
was desirable, he confined himself for a considerable 
period to a vegetable diet, without, however', increasing 
the quantity. His other meals were proportionably 
light and abstemious. 

After this system of study and diet had been pursued 
about a twelvemonth, his health began insensibly to 
decline, and his constitution, naturally vigorous, to give 
way. During the summer of 1774, he first perceived 
the reality of this change ; but had no suspicion of the 
cause. Though he had suffered several distressing at- 
tacks of the bilious colic before the college commence- 
ment, yet after the_ vacation he renewed the same course 
of regimen and of application to study. But a short 
time had elapsed before these attacks were repeated 
with increased violence ; and his friends, becoming se- 
riously apprehensive of the consequences, informed his 
connexions of his situation. His father, on his arrival 
at New Haven, found that his disorder had indeed 
made dreadful ravages in his constitution ; his frame 
was emaciated, and his strength so far reduced, that it 
was with extreme difficulty he could be 'conveyed to 
Northampton. When he left New Haven, his friends 
and his pupils took leave of him as they supposed for 
the last time; and he had himself relinquished all hope 



of recovery. In the course of two months he had nine- ' 
teen severe attacks of the disease. An eminent phy- 
sician, whom he now consulted, after successfully ad- 
ministering to his immediate relief, recommended to 
him, among other things, a daily course of vigorous 
bodily exercise as the only means of restoring his con- 
stitution to its primitive vigour. He followed his ad- 
vice ; and, within a twelvemonth, walked upwards of 
two thousand miles, and rode on horseback upwards of 
three thousand. To his perseverance in this system, 
he was probably indebted for his recovery ; as well as 
for the uninterrupted health and vigour of constitution, 
which he enjoyed for the ensuing forty years. 

In the year 1774, Mr Dwight united himself to the 
college church. At this time, it was his expectation to 
pursue the practice of law ; and, towards the close of 
his residence in college as a tutor, his studies were di-' 
rected towards that object. 

The first class, which he instructed, entered on the 
degree of Bachelors in September, 1775 ; the year be- 
fore the declaration of independence. At that time, 
he delivered them a ' Valedictory Address,' everywhere 
sparkling indeed with brilliant imagery ; but every- 
where fraught also with strong thoughts and noble con- 
ceptions. In two points of view it deserves notice. It 
unfolds to his pupils the duty of fixing upon a very high 
standard of character as intelligent and as moral be- 
ings ; in a manner which proves at once that ' this was 
literally the rule which governed his own conduct ; and 
that he was admirably qualified to influence others to 
adopt it. It also communicates to them views of the 
growth and ultimate importance to this country, which 
were at once new, noble, and prophetic. 

In March, 1777, he was married to Miss Mary Wool- 
sey, the daughter of Benjamin Woolsey, Esquire, 
of Long-Island, the class-mate, room-mate, and in- 
timate friend of his father. They had eight sons ; 
of whom six survive their father. Mrs Dwight is still 
living. 

In May of the same year, the college was broken up. 
The students left New Haven at the commencement of 
the vacation ; and pursued their studies during the 
summer, under their respective tutors, in places less 
exposed to the sudden incursions of the enemy. Mr 
Dwight retired with his class to Weathersfield, and re- 
mained with them till September. Early in June he 
was licensed as a preacher, by a committee of the Nor- 
thern Association in his native county of Hampshire 
in the state of Massachusetts. Besides instructing his 
class, during the summer, he preached on the sabbath 
at Kensington, a parish in Weathersfield* 

The following fact is a striking proof of the respect 
and affection with which he was regarded by the stu- 
dents. It being well ascertained that the existing head 
of the college would relinquish his connexion with it : 
the students, as a body, drew up and signed a petition 
to the corporation, that he might be elected to the Pre- 
sidency. It was owing to his own interference, that the 
application was not formally made. 

He left college early in September ; and soon after 
was appointed chaplain to General Parsons' brigade, 
which was part of the division of General Putnam, in 
the army of the United States. In the British army 
and navy, this office is too often filled by men, who are ; 
distinguished only for their ignorance and profligacy. 1 
We are also compelled to admit, that, during our late JJ 
war, this was most extensively true of those who held ;| 
the same stations among our own forces. But in our ,i 
war of the revolution the very contrary was the fact, p 
The generous enthusiasm, which then pervaded the I 
country, not only prompted our young men of honour ) 
in civil life to take the field, but induced many of our h 
clergy of the first reputation for piety and talents to at- 
tach themselves to the staff. The soldier of the revo- I 
lution need not be told how animating were their ser- t'j 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



XXV 



mons and their prayers, nor how correct and exemplary 
were their lives. 

Mr Dwight joined the army at West Point, in Octo- 
ber, 1777. Although the scene was entirely new to 
him, he was not idle nor inattentive to the business 
which now devolved upon him. He performed the ap- 
propriate duties of his office with strict punctuality and 
with uncommon reputation. The troops, who com- 
posed the brigade, were principally Connecticut far- 
mars ; men who had been soberly educated, and who 
were willing to listen to the truths of the gospel, even 
in a camp. On the Sabbath they heard him with pro- 
found attention. During the week they beheld him 
exerting himself as far as lay in his power to instruct 
them in morals and religion. Several of his discourses 
delivered to the whole army, owing partly to their in- 
trinsic merit, and partly to the feelings of the times, 
gained him high reputation with the American public. 
He also WTote several patriotic songs, which were uni- 
versally popular. They were favourite songs with the 
soldiers, and contributed not a little to kindle their en- 
thusiasm in the cause of freedom. One of them, his 
* Columbia,' will not soon be forgotten. It opened the 
eyes of his countrymen, on a prospect, new, brilliant, 
and delightful ; and exhibited in distinct vision the ris- 
ing glories of our infant empire. His connexion with 
the army enabled him to form an extensive acquaint- 
ance with many officers of distinction ; and among them 
he had the satisfaction to rank the commander-in-chief. 
That great man honoured him with flattering atten- 
tions. Mr Dwight ever remembered his kindness with 
lively gratitude ; and entertained for his character and 
services, military and civil, the highest respect arid ve- 
neration. 

He remained in the army a little more than a year ; 
when the news of his father's death, which reached him 
near the close of October, 1778, rendered it necessary 
for him to resign his office, in order to console his 
mother under that severe affliction, and to assist her in 
the support and education of her numerous family. On 
leaving' the army, he received from his brother officers, 
particularly from Generals Putnam and Parsons, as well 
as from the soldiers of the brigade, the most gTateful 
testimonies of respect and kindness. 

His father, in the midst of health and usefulness, had 
gone in the summer of 1770 to the Mississippi, for the 
purpose of providing a settlement in that country for 
two of his sons, by whom he was accompanied. Him- 
self, with his brother-in-law, General Lyman, had grants 
from the crown of a large track of land, in the S. W. 
angle of what is now the state of Mississippi, comprising 
the present township of Natchez, and a considerable 
extent of adjacent country. Here he commenced a set- 
tlement under prosperous circumstances ; but near the 
close of the following year fell a victim to the disease 
of the climate. He died at Natchez. His two sons, in 
company with the other adventurers, crossed the coun- 
try through the wilderness in the dead of winter ; and 
after innumerable dangers and hardships, reached the 
sea-coast of Georgia in safety. An account of this 
expedition will be found in the Travels of President 
Dwight. Rarely have we met with a more interesting 
or melancholy story. The original papers containing 
the grant were unhappily lost ; and the family have 
never been able to substantiate their title to the land. 
Mr Dwight's personal grant was a considerable part of 
the township of Natchez. He left a widow and thir- 
teen children ; ten of whom were under twenty-one 
years of age. The subject of this. memoir was the eld- 
est ; and on him devolved the care of the family, at a 
period when the situation and circumstances of the 
country rendered the task peculiarly difficult and labo- 
rious. From the time of his entering on the Bachelor's 
degree at college to his leaving the army, he had 
subjected his father to no expense for his own support. 



The intelligence of his death, in consequence of the 
peculiar circumstances of the country, did not reach the 
family until nearly a twelvemonth after the event had 
happened. Upon receiving the information he, with 
as little delay as possible, removed his own family to 
Northampton, and undertook the performance of the 
new duties, which providentially had devolved upon 
him, with the greatest promptitude and cheerfulness. 
In this situation he passed five years of the most inte- 
resting period of his life ; performing in an exemplary 
manner the offices of a son and a brother, and of 
a guardian to the younger children. Here, he was 
emphatically the staff and stay of the family. The 
government and education of the children, as well as the 
daily provision for their wants, depended almost exclu- 
sively on his exertions. The elder as well as the younger 
were committed to his care, and loved and obeyed him 
as their father. The filial affection and dutiful respect 
and obedience which he exhibited towards his mother, 
and the more than fraternal kindness with which he 
watched over the wellbeing of his brothers and sisters, 
deserve the most honourable remembrance. To accom- 
plish this object he postpones his own establishment 
for life and a provision for his family. To accomplish 
it, though destitute of property, he relinquished in their 
favour his own proportion of the family estate ; laboured 
constantly for five years with a diligence and alacrity 
rarely exampled ; and continued his parental care, and 
exertions, and liberality, long after his removal from 
Northampton. Often have we heard his mother, who 
died only ten years since, acknowledge, in language of 
eloquent affection and gratitude, his kindness, and 
faithfulness, and honourable generosity to her and to 
her children. The respect which she felt and mani- 
fested towards him, though perhaps not his inferior in 
native powers of mind, resembled the affection of a 
dutiful child towards her father, rather than the feel- 
ings of a mother for her son. During this period, he 
laboured through the week upon the farm, and preached 
on the sabbath to different vacant congregations in 
the neighbouring towns. He also established a school 
at Northampton, for the instruction of youth of both 
sexes ; which was almost immediately resorted to by 
such a number of pupils, that he was under the neces- 
sity of employing two assistants. At the same time, 
owing to the dispersed condition of the college at 
New Haven, and to his established character as an 
instructor, a part of one of the classes in that seminary 
repaired to Northampton, and placed themselves under 
his care as their preceptor. To them he devoted his 
own immediate attention, until they had completed 
their regular course of collegiate studies. The school 
was continued during his residence there, and uni- 
formly maintained an extensive and distinguished 
reputation. At the same time, he preached almost 
without intermission upon the sabbatli with increasing 
popularity. For about one year, commencing with the 
winter of 1778-1779, he supplied the vacant congrega- 
tion of Westfield ; the year following, that of Muddy- 
Brook, a parish of Deerrteld ; and a year after, that 
of South Hadley. He often mentioned it to the honour 
of the people of Muddy-Brook, that they paid him for 
preaching, not in the depreciated currency of the coun- 
try, but in specie, or wheat at the specie price, at his 
election. The compensation which he received for 
preaching, as well as the profits of his school, were all 
expended in the support of the common family. 

A strong disposition was manifested from time to 
time, by the inhabitants of Northampton, to employ 
him in civil life. In the county conventions of Hamp- 
shire he repeatedly represented the town ; and, in con- 
nexion with a few individuals, met and resisted that 
spirit of disorganization and licentiousness which was 
then unhappily prevalent in many parts of the county, 
and which had too visible an influence in an assembly 
d 



XXVI 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



often fluctuating - and tumultuous. It was owing- emi- 
nently to his exertions, and those of his colleague, the 
Hon. Joseph Hawley, in opposition to the current of 
popular feeling, and to no small weight of talents and 
influence, that the new constitution of Massachusetts 
was adopted by the convention of the most important 
county in the state. Twice he consented to serve the 
town as their representative in the state legislature. 
This was in the year 1781 and 1782, just before the 
close of the war of independence ; when subjects of an 
interesting and perplexing nature, gi-owing out of the 
great controversy in which the country had so long- 
been engaged, extensively agitated the public mind, 
and engrossed legislative attention. Everything was 
then, in a sense, unsettled. That war had sundered 
not only the cords which fastened the colonies to the 
mother country, but those also which bound them to 
each other. The old foundations were, in a sense de- 
stroyed ; and new ones were to be established. Many 
of the old laws and regulations were to be altered ; and 
others, accommodated to the state of freedom and 
independence, were to be devised and instituted. A 
sense of subordination and obedience to law was also 
to be cherished, instead of a spirit of licentiousness 
then widely prevalent. In this situation, inexperienced 
as he was in the business of a politician or a legislator, 
he at once became one of the most industrious and 
influential members of that body, and was greatly 
admired and distinguished for his talents and eloquence. 
All his exertions were on the side of good order and 
good morals ; and indicated a steady attachment to the 
principles of rational liberty, and decided hostility to 
licentiousness. On one occasion he was enabled to 
prove his devotion to the interests of learning. A 
petition for a g-rant in favour of Harvard College was 
before the legislature. At that time such grants were 
unpopular. That spirit of honourable liberality, which 
now happily characterizes the legislature and people 
of that commonwealth, was then far from being univer- 
sally operative. During- his occasional absence from 
the house, the petition had been called up ; and, after 
finding but few, and those not very warm advocates, 
had been generally negatived. On taking his seat, 
Mr D wight learning- what had occurred, moved a 
reconsideration of the vote. In a speech of about one 
hour in length, fraught with wit, with argument, and 
with eloquence, and received with marked applause on 
the spot, from the members and the spectators, he effec- 
tually changed the feelings of the house, and procured 
a nearly unanimous vote in favour of the grant. It 
gave hini high pleasure thus to confer an obligation on 
that respectable seminary : an obligation which was 
gratefully acknowledged by its principal officers, as 
well as by many others of its friends. 

At this period, he was earnestly solicited by his 
friends to quit the profession in which he had engaged, 
and devote himself to public life. In the winter of 
1782-1783, a committee from the delegation of Hamp- 
shire waited upon him with assurances from the dele- 
gation, that, if he would consent, their influence should 
be exerted to secure his election to the continental 
congress ; a place in the gift of the legislature. The 
late Governor Phillips of Andover, who was his friend 
and fellow-lodger, though a man of distinguished piety, 
gave it as his own unqualified opinion, that he ought 
to listen to these proposals and remain in civil life ; 
assuring- him, also, with several of the most influential 
members of both houses, of their cordial support. But 
he had become so thoroughly weaned from his first in- 
tention of practising law, and was so much attached to 
the clerical profession, and so convinced of its superior 
usefulness, that nothing could change his resolution to 
devote his life to the latter. Having preached occa- 
sionally, while attending the legislature, in Boston and 
the neighbourhood, he received invitations, accompanied 



with flattering offers as it regarded compensation, to 
settle as a minister in Beverly and Charlestown ; both 
of which, however, he declined. In the month of May, 
1783, he was invited, by an unanimous vote of the 
church and congregation of Greenfield, a parish in the 
town of Fairfield, in Connecticut, to settle as their min- 
ister. This invitation he accepted on the 20th of July 
in the same year. On the 5th of November following, 
he was regularly ordained over that people ; and for 
the succeeding twelve years remained their pastor. 

The annual compensation which he received at 
Greenfield was a salary of five hundred dollars, the 
use of six acres of parochial land, and twenty cords of 
wood. They also gave him a settlement of one thou- 
sand dollars. From his extensive acquaintance with 
men of consideration in literature and politics through- 
out the country, and a native propensity to hospitality, 
it was very apparent that he could not expect to sup- 
port a growing family, and the expenses incident to 
his standing in the community, upon such an income. 
To supply the deficiency, he immediately established 
an Academy at Greenfield, which he superintended 
himself; devoting six hours regularly every day to 
the instruction of his pupils. In a short time, youths 
in great numbers and of both sexes, not only from 
various parts of New England, but from the Middle 
and Southern States as well as from abroad, resorted to 
his school. This institution was commenced and car- 
ried on absolutely without funds, and depended solely 
on his own character and exertions. He supported it 
during the whole period of his residence there with 
unexampled reputation. We know of no similar insti- 
tution in this country, thus dependent, which has flou- 
rished so long or to such a degree. During the twelve 
years of his residence there, he instructed upwards of 
one thousand pupils. Numbers of them were carried 
through the whole course of education customary at 
college. In his school he adopted to a considerable 
degree one part of the Lancasterian mode of instruc- 
tion ; making it extensively the duty of the older 
scholars, who were competent, to hear the recitations of 
the younger. Many of his pupils were regularly board- 
ed in his family ; so that its usual collective number 
was from twenty to twenty -five. It ought to be mtu- 
tioned, that his female pupils were instructed in many 
of the higher branches of literature, which had not, 
here, previously been taught to their sex ; and that un- 
der his auspices, on the delightful spot where he resided, 
began that superior system of female education, which 
is founded on the principle, that women are intelligent 
beings, capable of mental improvement, and which is at 
present extensively prevalent. Even to this day, how- 
ever, in very few of the higher female schools are they 
carried through the same extensive and solid course of 
study which was pursued by his pupils. Probably to 
the exertions and influence of no one individual are the 
ladies of our country so extensively indebted. No man 
thought more highly of the sex ; no man loved better 
the company of women of refinement and intelligence ; 
and no man did more to exalt the female character. 

Beside the instruction of his school he preached 
steadily twice every sabbath ; and regularly visited his 
people. He also cultivated with Lis own hands a large 
kitchen, fruit, and flower garden. Living but a few 
rods from the public road, in a most delightful village, 
and having numerous family connexions, and very 
many friends and acquaintance, he saw and entertained 
an almost uninterrupted succession of company ; great- 
er, we are led to believe, than any individual whom wo 
have known in the State. Among these were many 
strangers of respectability, from various and distant 
parts of the country. Greenfield was the resort of 
learning, of talents, of refinement, and of piety ; and 
his own hospitable doors were ever open to welcome tie 
stranger as well as the friend. We believe the in- 






LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



XXVI l 



.stances to be rare, in which a single individual has been 
the centre of such extensive attraction to men of supe- 
rior character, or so entirely altered the aspect of so- 
ciety in the region around him. 

When it is considered, that, from his leaving- college 
as .a tutor, his eyes were so weak, as not only to pre- 
clude him almost entirely from reading and writing, but 
to cause him very frequently extreme pain and distress ; 
it will naturally be concluded, that he must have passed 
a very industrious and laborious life. Such, however, 
was his capacity for every kind of business in which he 
was engaged, that he was able to devote as much time 
as was necessary to the calls of company and friend- 
ship, as well as to perform the extra-parochial duties of 
a minister to his people. Previous to his settlement at 
Greenfield, his character as a preacher stood high in 
the public estimation. During the period of his resi- 
dence there, he gained a reputation not often equalled 
in this country. 

Having experienced the disadvantages of too abste- 
mious, as well as too sedentary a life, when engaged as 
tutor in college, he became ever afterward extremely 
attentive to his health. For the purpose of guarding 
himself against the recurrence of his former sufferings 
in this respect, he used a great deal of bodily exercise. 
He not only walked and rode, but he worked steadily 
and vigorously in his garden, and on his land. 

Bebig unable from the weakness of his eyes to wnrite, 
he very early discovered that he must perform his 
stated duties as a preacher without notes, or abandon 
his profession. A very few experiments convinced him 
that he was able to adopt the former course ; and he 
pursued it for many years aknost exclusively. That 
course was to write the heads of his discourse and the 
leading thoughts of which it was to be composed, and 
to fill up the body of it at the time of delivery. What 
was committed to writing occupied him but a few 
minutes. Under all the disadvantages which he expe- 
rienced from the weakness of his eyes, and notwith- 
standing the variety of his avocations and duties, he 
composed and preached while at Greenfield, about one 
thousand sermons ; which, deducting the time he was 
absent during that period, will differ very little from 
two each week. 

In the year 1785, he published the Conquest of Ca- 
naan. This work was begun, as has been remarked, 
when he was nineteen years of age, and finished in his 
twenty-third year. Proposals for printing it were 
issued in 1775, and upwards of three thousand sub- 
scribers procured ; but the circumstances of the country, 
just then commencing the war of independence, which 
lasted till 1783, postponed its publication. A few ad- 
ditions were made to the poem between that time and 
its appearance in 1785, but the great body of it was 
published as it was written in 1773. 

In 1787, Mr Dwight received the degree of Doctor 
of Divinity from the college at Princeton, New Jersey. 
He was then thirty-five years of age. 

In 1791, he was appointed by the Governor of the 
State to preach the Election Sermon, before the legis- 
lature at Hartford. 

In the year 1793, he published a sermon on the 
genuineness and authenticity of the New Testament ; 
and in the following year, a poem in seven parts, called, 
after the place of his residence, ' Greenfield Hill.' The 
Conquest of Canaan and Greenfield Hill were both 
republished in England. 

During his residence at Greenfield, he cultivated an 
extensive acquaintance and intercourse, not only with 
the Congregational clergy of New England, but with 
many in the Presbyterian church in New York, and 
the States farther south. This fact often enabled him 
to exert an auspicious influence in removing the pre- 
judices which unhappily existed in many of both classes ; 
as well as in various instances directly to promote the 



great interests of morals and religion. Among other 
subjects, which early engaged his attention, was that of 
a more intimate union of the Congregational and Pres- 
byterian churches throughout the United States. On 
this subject he entered into an extensive correspon- 
dence with the more influential clergy, both in Connec- 
ticut and New York. A proposition for this object 
was made by him, early in the year 1790, in the parti- 
cular Association of which he was a member. It was 
carried from that body to the General Association of 
Connecticut, which in June of that year met at his 
house. That venerable body proposed it in form to the 
General Assembly of the Presbyterian church and the 
General Convention of Massachusetts. The two for- 
mer bodies appointed each a committee of three to 
form and establish articles of union. This committee, 
of whom Dr Dwight was one, met at New Haven in 
Sept. 1791, and most harmoniously and happily exe- 
cuted their commission. To the union then agreed on, 
the associated churches of Massachusetts, New Hamp- 
shire, and Vermont have since acceded ; an event that 
has been attended with very beneficial consequences to 
religion and the church. 

In the year 1794, he was invited by the consistory 
of the reformed Dutch church in the city of Albany, to 
remove to that place, and settle as their minister. The 
application was unanimous, and the compensation which 
they offered was considered, at the time, as liberal ; 
but it wa6 not accepted, for reasons which were deemed 
by him satisfactory. 

In May, 1795, the presidency of Yale College be- 
came vacant by the death of the Rev. Dr Stiles. In 
fixing on a successor, it may with propriety be said, 
that towards Dr Dwight the attention of the community 
was universally directed. The high reputation as an 
instructer, which he had gained whilst a tutor, and 
which he had maintained and enlarged since he left 
the college, was so universally known and acknow- 
ledged, that there was no difficulty in determining the 
question, which now devolved on the corporation. 
They had nothing to do but to pursue the course pointed 
out by public opinion, which in this case was clearly 
and distinctly marked. Accordingly, he was, with 
great unanimity, appointed to fill that important and 
respectable station ; was inaugurated in September of 
that year, and presided at the public commencement ; 
and, in December following, removed his family to 
New Haven. The people of his parish, with whom he 
had lived for twelve years in uninterrupted harmony, 
heard of his appointment with extreme regret. They 
loved their pastor ; and they were proud of him ; and 
they could not consent to give him up. Never have 
we known a parish part with their minister with more 
reluctance. 

We are now entering upon a very interesting period 
in the life of Dr Dwight. Owing to a variety of 
causes, which it is not necessary to enumerate, the state 
of Yale College, at the time of his accession to the of- 
fice of President, was in many respects unhappy. Des- 
titute in a great degree of public or private patronage, 
its numbers were reduced, its discipline was relaxed, a 
looseness of moral and religious sentiment had become 
fashionable, and its reputation had been for some time 
on the decline through the community. One of the 
greatest evils under which it suffered was an extensive 
prevalence of infidelity amongst the students. This 
pernicious spirit had been derived from the circum- 
stances of the country, at the close of the preceding 
war. As Wcis natural, it found easy access to the minds 
of a collection of youths, who were fascinated with 
ideas of mental, as well as political independence, and 
who were easily induced to shake off what they consi- 
dered the shackles of habit and superstition. The de- 
gree to which it prevailed may be conjectured from the 
following fact. — A considerable proportion of the clasa^ 



xx vm 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



which he first taught, had assumed the names of the 
principal English and French infidels ; and were more 
familiarly known by them than by their own. Under 
circumstances like these, he entered upon the duties of 
his office as President of Yale College. 

The talents, which he possessed for the instruction 
and government of youth, were now called into full 
exercise. A thorough reformation in the system of 
discipline was early commenced, and accomplished with 
as much expedition as the nature of the case would ad- 
mit. Infidelity was assailed by argument and vanquished ; 
and vice was disgraced, and in a great measure banished 
from the college. 

He took upon himself the instruction of the senior 
class, pursuing a system, which produced the most be- 
neficial effects. ' The public,' says Professor Silliman, 
' have been little aware of the extent and diversity of 
the labours of President Dwight, in this institution. 
He has, in fact, discharged the duties of four offices, 
either of which is, ordinarily, considered as sufficient 
to engross the time and talents of one man. He has 
been charged with the general superintendence and re- 
sponsibility constituting the appropriate duties of the 
Presidency ; like his predecessors, he instructed the 
senior class, in their peculiar studies, but on a much 
more enlarged plan ; he voluntarily discharged to a 
great extent, the duties of a professor of Belles Lettres 
and Oratory ; and he has been charged also with those 
of a professor of Theology.'* 

His mode of instructing was peculiarly his own. His 
long experience in this employment, had made him 
thoroughly acquainted with the youthful character, and 
enabled him to teach as well as to govern young men 
with extraordinary success. - The students,' says Pro- 
fessor Silliman, ' habitually expected the senior year 
with much interest, as one in which they looked for the 
most valuable instructions ; nor were they disappointed. 
President Dwight delighted much in the peculiar 
studies which it was his duty to elucidate. Although 
these studies were prosecuted by the students in appro- 
priate text-books, the order of which he observed in 
his recitations, he always thought for himself with much 
independence, but with a respectful deference to the 
opinions of men of eminence. Still the opinions of the 
authors in question he sometimes found reason to con- 
trovert, and while he candidly stated his own views, 
with the grounds of them, he enjoined upon his pupils 
the same independence of mind, and was willing that 
they too should differ from him and think for them- 
selves. The recitations of the senior class, were, in fact 
although not in name, a series of familiar lectures, and 
the driest parts of logic and metaphysics were rendered 
interesting by the ample illustrations of the President ■ 
enlivened by agreeable and apposite anecdote, and by 
sallies of sprightliness ; which, while they took nothing 
from his dignity, greatly relieved the tedium of long- 
discussions. 

' Into his recitations and discussions, he also threw a 
vast fund of practical instruction, on almost every sub- 
ject of life, manners, and human business ; for few men 
have ever observed more carefully and extensively • 
few have conversed more largely, and been more in 
contact with the world, in all its innocently accessible 
points. 

' His object was not only to instruct the younger men 
under his care in the particular sciences which came 
before him, but to fit them, by repeated counsels, and 
by information pressed upon them with parental solici- 
tude, for the various scenes into which they were to 
pass in life. 

' In discussing the various subjects which customarily 
came before the senior class, especially those connected 
with the decision of disputed questions, it was usual for 

* Address, p. 15. 



the President to assume a considerable range of state- 
ment and argument ; and all those, who have had the 
happiness to attend on his instructions, will remember, 
that, not on a few occasions, his mind was kindled with 
his subject ; till, excited by the re-acting stimulus of 
his own thoughts and communications, he has spoken 
even more eloquently, and with a more finished touch 
of feeling, than was usual in his regular written Dis- 
courses. 

' It was never any part of his plan merely to dis- 
charge his duty : he did it with his whole mind and 
heart ; and thought nothing adequately done, till all 
was done that the case admitted of. Till the increase 
of professorships rendered it unnecessary, he heard the 
senior class recite twice as often as had been customary, 
and on most occasions his recitations were of double the 
length that would have been required.' 

In the year 1795, when President Dwight entered upon 
the duties of his office in the College, the whole number 
of students was one hundred and ten. Almost imme- 
diately after his accession. they began to increase, and 
in the course of his presidency amounted to three hun- 
dred and thirteen ; an increase unexampled in any simi- 
lar institution in this country. 

It has been remarked, that at the time of his accession 
to the presidency, infidelity was fashionable and preva- 
lent in the College. To extirpate a spirit so pernicious 
and fatal, he availed himself of an early and decisive 
opportunity. Forensic disputation was an important 
exercise of the senior class. For this purpose they were 
formed into a convenient number of divisions ; two of 
which disputed before him every week, in the presence 
of the other members of the class, and of the resident 
graduates. It was the practice for each division to agree 
upon several questions, and then refer them to the Presi- 
dent to select which he thought proper. Until this time, 
through a mistaken policy, the students had not been al- 
lowed to discuss any question which involved the In- 
spiration of the Scriptures ; from an apprehension, that 
the examination of these points would expose them to- 
the contagion of scepticism. As infidelity was exten- 
sively prevalent in the State and in the Country, the 
effect of this course on the minds of the students had 
been unhappy. It had led them to believe, that their 
instructers were afraid to meet the question fairly ; and 
that Christianity was supported by authority and not by 
argument. One of the questions presented by the first 
division was this ; " Are the Scriptures of the Old and 
New Testaments the Word of God .?" To their surprise, 
the President selected it for discussion ; told them to- 
write on which side they pleased, as he should not im- 
pute to them any sentiments which they advanced as 
their own ; and requested- those, who should wi-ite on 
the negative side of the question, to collect and bring 
forward all the facts and arguments which they could 
produce : enjoining it upon them, however, to treat the 
subject with becoming respect and reverence. Most if 
not all the members of the division came forward as the 
champions of infidelity. When they had finished discus- 
sion, he first examined the ground they had taken ; 
triumphantly refuted their arguments ; proved to them 
that their statements of facts was mistaken, or irrelevant ; 
and, to their astonishment, convinced them, that their 
acquaintance with the subject was wholly superficial. 
After this he entered into a direct defence of the divine 
origin of Christianity in a strain of powerful argument, 
and animated eloquence, which nothing could resist.. 
The effect upon the students was electrical. From that 
moment Infidelity was not only without a stronghold, 
but without a lurking place. To espouse her cause was 
now as unpopular, as before it had been to profess a be- 
lief in Christianity. Unable to endure the exposure of 
argument, she fled from the retreats of learning ashamed 
and disgraced. 

His system of discipline was peculiarly his own ; and. 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



XXlX 



has, from ite success, commanded universal approbation. 
The College Laws in force when he entered on the Pre- 
sidency were the same which were generally in being 
before his admission to College as a student. They 
were compiled by President Clap from the statutes of 
the English Universities ; were made for other times, and 
for a very different state of society. Without proposing 
in the outset any serious alterations in the written code 
of laws, he effectually changed the whole system of 
administration. The government of College became as 
really new, as if every statute had been altered. A 
single clause at the end of the Chapter on " Crimes and 
Misdemeanors," furnished him and his companions with 
authority to introduce and to justify this change, and 
became in a sense the only written law in force. The 
purport of this clause was, that, as the Laws of the Col- 
lege were few and general, the Faculty might proceed, 
in all cases not expressly provided for, according to 
their best discretion. The intercourse between the offi- 
cers and students was placed on a new footing. The lat- 
ter were addressed and treated as young gentlemen ; and 
no other marks of respect were demanded of them, than 
those which gentlemen of course render to each other. The 
distinctions between the classes, so far as they were un- 
necessary, and odious, were prevented. That degrading 
servility to which, under the authority of long established 
usage, the freshman class had been subjected was abo- 
lished. The practice of inflicting fines for infraction 
of the laws was abrogated ; and it is not known that resort 
was ever had to that species of punishment for absence 
from prayers or recitation, or for any other offence of a 
character not more heinous. Instead of pursuing a course 
which seemed only calculated to inflict a penalty on 
the parent, he wished to adopt one which should prevent 
the necessity of every kind of penalty by preventing 
offences. In the room of pecuniary exactions for 
neglect of study, and other violations of duty, he substi- 
tuted private remonstrance. Appeals were made to the 
conscience of the delinquent, as well as to his hopes 
and fears : appeals founded on the guilt of his con- 
duct, on his love of reputation, the happiness of his 
parents, and his prospects in life. These appeals were 
almost always successful. When they failed, early notice 
of this fact was given to the parent. If their united 
remonstrances were unavailing, the offender was pri- 
vately informed, that his connexion with the College had 
ceased. This course was principally pursued during 
the freshman year ; at the close of which, the class was 
regularly relieved of those who had manifested a settled 
disposition to be idle and vicious. It was his sincere 
endeavour to save the character of the young offender. 
If an offence was private, its punishment, if possible, 
was private ; and this, whether the delinquent was per- 
mitted to remain a member of College or not. Many 
of his f upils can remember how kindly and honourably 
he conducted towards them when he had discovered 
their misconduct. 

The system of matriculation, which he introduced, has 
proved highly efficacious and salutary. According to this 
system, those, who are found upon examination to pos- 
sess the requisite literary attainments, do not at once 
become members of College. To be members in full 
standing, their names must be entered in the " matricula- 
tion Book ;" and this cannot be done until they have 
established a fair character for correct moral deportment 
and application to study. Before this takes place, they 
are liable to be sent home at any moment. An important 
favour also was conferred on parents living at a dis- 
tance, by requiring their children to have guardians to 
regulate their expenses. 

He encouraged the students, especially those of the 
Senior Class, in all their difficulties and troubles to 
come to him for advice and assistance. In every such 
case, the instructor was forgotten in the friend and the 
father. He entered into their interests and feelings 



just as if they were his own ; and while he yielded 
the necessary relief, he endeared himself to thein 
permanently by his kindness. The members of the 
Senior Class, who wished to engage for a season after 
leaving College in the business of instruction, applied to 
him regularly to procure them eligible situations. So 
lively was the interest, which he took in their welfare, 
and so willing and active his exertions in their behalf, 
that few such applications failed of being successful. 
He remembered the feelings of a young man, just leav- 
ing College, without a profession, without property, and 
with no means of support but the blessing of God and 
his own exertions. Nothing gave him higher pleasure 
than to encourage the heart of every youth so situated, to 
save him from despondence, and to open to him the road 
to property, to usefulness, and to honour. The number 
of his students, whom he thus essentially befriended, if 
stated, would almost exceed belief. With others, who 
were in more affluent circumstances, he would enter into 
a free and confidential conversation on their plan of life ; 
explain to them their peculiar dangers ; and lead them 
to aim at eminence in their professions, and to form 
for themselves a high standard of moral excellence. 
The respect and the affection manifested towards him by 
his pupils after leaving College, whenever they visited 
New Haven, as well as when they met him abroad, was a 
sufficient reward for all his efforts to serve them ; if he 
had not found a higher reward in doing good. We 
will only add, that his pupils familiarly spoke of him, 
with reference to this subject, by the most honourable 
appellation, " The Young Man's Friend." 

There can be no higher evidence of his qualifications 
for the important place, which he filled, than is furnished 
by the effects of his Presidency. Yale College was 
founded by a number of pious clergymen, without pro- 
perty, who had little to bestow upon it but a few books 
on Theology. It has always struggled forward through 
great difficulties and embarrassments for the want of 
those funds, which are indispensably necessary to its 
highest prosperity. Those at a distance, who know 
nothing of the Institution but its extensive reputation, 
would indeed be astonished, were they told how small is 
the amount of benefactions which it has received. The 
men of wealth in the State where it is situated have not 
sufficiently realized its importance to bestow upon it 
their bounty. The State, also, though at times she has 
assisted it, has not yet rivalled the munificence of her 
neighbours on the North and West towards their semi- 
naries of learning. In her public funds, she is, in pro- 
portion to her population, the richest state in the Union ; 
yet the College emphatically her ornament and her glory, 
has but two sparingly enjoyed her patronage. We have 
already seen its situation, when Dr Dwightwas inducted 
into the Presidency. Under all these disadvantages, 
in his hands, and by his unwearied assiduity and exer- 
tions, and those of his companions in office, it assumed 
a new appearance. Its numbers increased, its discipline 
was revived and invigorated, its morals were purified, 
and its relative character greatly elevated. 

The period during which he presided over the College 
was attended with peculiar difficulties. A general sen- 
timent of insubordination, growing out of the political 
situation of the civilized world, had seized the minds of 
the young as well as the old. High notions of freedom 
and personal independence prevailed among all ages. 
And the first impulse, to which, in many instances, the 
minds of youths, as well as of men, were disposed to 
yield, was resistance to authority. Many of our higher 
seminaries of learning have witnessed its effects in scenes 
of riot and insurrection ; which have, for the time, sub- 
verted their authority and destroyed their usefulness. 
Yale College wholly escaped these evils. No general 
combination of the students to resist its government ever 
occurred during his Presidency. This fact is to be as- 
cribed to the wisdom and firmness of the President and his 



XXX 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



associates in office. He well knew, that the tranquillity 
of such an institution must depend on the respect and 
affection of the students, and the steady watchfulness of 
its officers. Deeply read in the human character, and 
emphatically so in the character of young men, he fore- 
saw the approaches of the storm, which so extensively 
prevailed, and provided in season the means of defence 
and security. On every occasion of this kind, he de- 
rived the utmost benefit from one trait of his character, 
his energy ; a trait which no man ever possessed in a 
more eminent degree. His decision and inflexibility to 
his purpose cannot be surpassed. 

At the commencement of his Presidency the Profes- 
sorship of Theology was vacant. The Corporation 
proposed to appoint him in form to the office. For the 
first ten years he would consent to none but an annual 
appointment. In 1805 it was made permanent. During 
the whole period he preached twice every sabbath ; with 
almost no assistance from his brethren ; and very rarely 
having an opportunity to exchange with the neighbour- 
ing clergy. Early in the year following his induction, 
he commenced the delivery of a Series of Lectures on the 
Evidences of Divine Revelation. This was no part of 
the duties of either office ; but, owing to the extensive 
prevalence of infidelity in the country at that period, 
he viewed it as necessary to guard his pupils against 
the contagion. These lectures were not written out : 
the weak state of his eyes forbade his employing them 
for such a purpose. After collecting materials for about 
fifty, the same difficulty compelled him to desist and 
prevented him from delivering even the whole of that 
number. They were on a plan entirely new ; and were 
listened to with great interest. Had not the battle with 
Infidelity been fought, and the victory won, we should 
regret, still more than we now do, that they were left 
unfinished. No one, not personally acquainted with the 
facts, can realize how great, at this period, were his 
sufferings from weakness of sight. For years it was 
with extreme difficulty that he could read or write even a 
sentence. He was greatly alarmed for a long period, 
with the symptoms of an approaching guita serena. Re- 
peatedly the pressure on the brain was so great as to 
produce momentary blindness, and obviously to threaten 
apoplexy. Occasionally, for weeks together, the 
anguish of his eyes was so intense, that it required 
powerful exertion to draw off his mind to any other 
object. And often after attempting in vain to sleep, he 
has risen from his bed; and, to promote a free perspira- 
tion, has walked for miles in the middle of the night. 

In the prosecution of his duties as Professor of Divi- 
nity, he early began to deliver the Lectures in these 
Volumes. His practice was to preach one on the morn- 
ing of each sabbath in term time. By this arrangement 
he finished the course once in four years. Thus each 
student, who completed his regular Collegiate period, 
had an opportunity to hear the whole series. He first 
conceived the plan of the work at Greenfield. While 
there, he completed it, in short notes, in about one 
hundred sermons ; and delivered them twice to his people 
before his removal. At New Haven, he twice went 
through with them in the same state ; frequently how- 
ever adding to their number, and altering their arrange- 
ment. 

In 1805, when he was permanently appointed Professor 
of Theology, the Corporation allowed him fifty pounds 
per annum to employ an amanuensis. Though the 
compensation was trifling, yet the place was coveted, and 
regularly applied for, a length of time before it became 
vacant. He began immediately to write out these Lec- 
tures ; and wrote one a week during term time, or forty 
a year until they were completed. If not prevented, he 
commenced this task on Monday morning. His progress 
depended, with the exception of casual interruptions, on 
the rapidity of the amanuensis ; which always fell short 
of the rapidity witli which lie dictated. Sometimes, 



though rarely, the sermon was finished in a single day ; 
usually in the course of the second day. The remainder 
of the week was employed in writing his Travels, and 
Occasional Sermons. When interrupted by company, 
if propriety did not forbid, he would proceed with two 
trains of thoughts by the hour together ; conversing with 
the company ; and also dictating to his amanuensis. 

By a standing rule of the College, the President an- 
nually delivers a valedictory Sermon, on the sabbath 
preceding the Commencement, to the Candidates for 
the Bachelor's Degree. Perhaps no part of his clerical 
labours excited more public attention, or were listened 
to with a livelier interest than the Sermons delivered on 
these occasions. 

In the year 1797, he was applied to by the General 
Association of Connecticut to revise Dr Watts' Version 
of the Psalms ; to versify such as he had omitted ; and 
to make a selection of Hymns suited to the general pur- 
poses of public worship. The w ork was completed in 
1800, and laid before a joint Committee of that body 
and of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church ; 
by whom it was approved, and recommended to the use 
of the Congregational and Presbyterian Churches 
throughout the United States. In the performance of 
this difficult task, he made alterations, of more or less 
consequence, in a considerable number of Dr Watts' 
Psalms ; and composed thirty -three entire psalms, con- 
taining about twelve hundred and fifty lines. 

From the time he recovered his health, after the severe 
attack of colic already mentioned, he habituated himself 
to a steady course of vigorous bodily exercise. While 
at Greenfield, notwithstanding the multitude of his avo- 
cations, he walked, and rode on horseback, extensively ; 
and constantly cultivated a large fruit and kitchen gar- 
den with his own hands. For this particular species of 
labour he had a high relish. His garden was distinguished 
for its beauty and its productiveness ; for the excellence 
of its vegetables, the abundance and delicacy of its fruits, 
and the choice variety of its flowers. 

Nor did the habit cease with him after his removal to 
New Haven. He there pursued the same course — 
making it his constant practice, through the whole season 
for gardening, to work at least an hour every morning 
before breakfast. In other parts of the year, he walked 
much and daily ; rode frequently ; and often, in the 
winter, when no other mode of exercise was convenient, 
he would cut his firewood. On this subject he exhibited 
the strictest uniformity and perseverance ; and both 
by precept and example inculcated upon his pupils 
the necessity of a similar course. With reference, in 
a considerable degree, to the same object, in the year 
1796, he commenced journeying on horseback, or in a 
sulky, during the College vacations, particularly in May 
and September. This practice he continued through 
the remainder of his life, except the last year, when 
he was severely attacked by the disease by which it was 
terminated. In these various journeys, it is com- 
puted, that he rode about twenty thousand miles. His 
excursions were chiefly confined to the New England 
States, and the State of New York. He experienced 
the highest gratification from the beauties of scenery ; 
and scarcely a spot can be named within those limits, 
where those beauties are to be found in high perfection, 
which he did not visit and describe. For his own amuse- 
ment, he took notes of the most material occurrences of 
his several journeys ; and afterwards wrote them out for 
the gratification of his family. This suggested to him 
the idea of collecting materials from time to time for one 
or more volumes of travels ; in which should be comprised, 
not only an account of the climate, soil, mountains, 
rivers, scenery, curiosities, and general face of the coun- 
try over which he passed ; but of the state of society, 
of manners, morals, literature, and religion ; the insti- 
tutions, civil, literary, and religious ; and the character 
of the governments and laws, of the above-mentioned 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xxxi 



States. To the performance of this task, he was greatly 
prompted by the very unfair, and illiberal accounts, 
which are given of us by foreigners, who have done little 
else than caricature both the country and its inhabitants. 
In his opinion also there was something peculiar in the 
circumstances of this country, which would render its 
history interesting to the philosopher, the statesman, 
and the christian. These circumstances arose from the 
singular character and romantic history of the abo- 
rigines ; from the recent date of its settlement by civi- 
lized inhabitants ; from the character, views, and history, 
of its first settlers ; from the advancements it had made 
in wealth, science, the arts, the character of its govern- 
ment, laws, and institutions ; and, in short, from its pro- 
gress in all the great objects of a civilized and chris- 
tian community, in the course of a hundred and eighty 
years. 

On these journeys, he visited great numbers of the 
most intelligent and respectable inhabitants of those 
tracts of country over which he travelled ; and derived, 
from his conversation with them, a great collection of 
facts relative to the general state of morals, manners, 
and religion. The information thus gained was ar- 
ranged, reduced to writing, and prepared for publica- 
tion : the whole forming materials for three octavo vo- 
lumes. It is believed, by those who have opportunity 
to examine the manuscripts, that no work has appeared, 
which contains so much correct information concerning 
the subjects of which it treats, as this. It is also believed, 
that, should it ever be published, it will have the effect 
of redeeming our national character from the abuse and 
calumnies which have been heaped upon it by foreign 
travellers. 

These journeys also enabled him to form an acquain- 
tance with great numbers of the clergy, and many other 
persons of a religious character, in the States through 
which he travelled ; and to ascertain the moral and 
religious condition of the people. This information was 
of the highest moment to him, both as it respected his 
feelings, and his pursuits. By these means, and by his 
extensive correspondence, he became possessed of more 
knowledge, general and local, of the religious state and 
interests of the country, than almost any other man ; 
and by the aid of this knowledge, he was able to origi- 
nate, and still oftener to aid, the execution of very 
numerous and extensive schemes of charity, and bene- 
volence. 

To enumerate the various literary, charitable, and 
pious institutions, which he was active in founding, or 
promoting, would be a laborious employment. Some 
of the principal ones may be mentioned. By his exer- 
tions and influence, aided by those of distinguished men 
around him, " The Connecticut Academy of Arts 
and Sciences" was established. This was done in the 
year 1799 ; and the association was incorporated by the 
legislature of that State in October of the same year. 
One of the great objects in view was, to procure a 
Statistical Account of Connecticut. This he had much at 
heart, and flattered himself he should be able to accom- 
plish. For this purpose, the Academy printed and dis- 
tributed a list of inquiries to men of intelligence, 
throughout the State, and to encourage and stimulate 
others to assist in the execution of the plan. Notwith- 
standing the weakness of his eyes, he wrote the account 
of New Haven at an early date, which the. Academy 
afterwards published. Accounts of a few other towns 
were furnished by other gentlemen. But, as it proved 
less easy than he imagined to obtain the performance of 
a task attended with some labour and no profit, the busi- 
ness languished in hands far less occupied than his own, 
and the principal object was never accomplished. 

He was a aealous promoter of the establishment, and 
the exertions, of the Missionary Society of Connecticut ; 
— an Institution pre-eminent in this country for its zeal 
and success, in the great cause for the promotion of which 



it was founded. To its funds, also, he was a liberal 
contributor — having devoted to their increase the profits 
of his edition of the psalms and hymns sold in that 
State. The amount of moneys received from this source 
by the Society, exceeded one thousand dollars. 

He was one of the projectors of the Society for 
Foreign Missions, established in the year 1809, at Bos- 
ton, Massachusetts ; and until his death was one of its 
active and' influential officers. 

Such was the fact, also, with regard to the Theologi- 
cal Seminary at Andover, in that State. From its com- 
mencement, he was one of the visitors of that school, and 
annually attended to the duties of his office with great 
engagedness and punctuality. For it, his labours, his 
counsels, and his prayers, were ever ready ; and in its 
prosperity he was not less interested than in that of the 
College over which he presided. 

From the time of the establishment of the most illus- 
trious and sublime charity that has ever engaged the 
attention, or drawn forth the exertions and the wealth of 
the pious and benevolent — " The British and Foreign 
Bible Society," it was the ardent wish of President 
Dwight to see a similar institution established in the 
United States. Although a friend and promoter of 
smaller and more circumscribed institutions, he viewed 
the subject on a large scale, and was strongly impressed 
with the idea, that a National Society would be much 
more efficient, and far more extensively useful. Al- 
though he was prevented by sickness from being present 
at the establishment of " The American Bible So- 
ciety," during the last year of his life ; yet it was an 
object which not only met with his cordial approbation, 
but had the benefit of his warmest encouragement, and 
his earnest prayers ; and it was a consoling considera- 
tion to him, that he lived to see it accomplished, and 
making rapid progress towards extensive usefulness 
and respectability. 

In addition to the foregoing institutions, a long list of 
more confined, but active and operative societies, formed 
for the purposes of piety, and charity, had the benefit of 
his exertions, and the weight of his influence and patron- 
age. According to his resources he contributed largely 
and cheerfully ; his services he rendered to an extent 
rarely equalled in this country ; and in his endeavours 
to promote their usefulness, and success, he was never 
weary. 

Throughout his whole ministerial life, and especially 
while head of the College, he was resorted toby clergy- 
men, from various parts of the country, for his advice 
and counsel on the subject of their professional concerns. 
Vacant parishes applied to him for his assistance in 
procuring ministers. In all associations of the clergy, 
local and general, of which he was a member, he was 
active and influential ; able in devising, and firm in 
accomplishing measures for the advancement of religion, 
and for the good of the community. His services were 
extensively sought as a peacemaker, in removing diffi- 
culties between ministers and their people, and in restor- 
ing harmony in churches. Applications for private 
teachers and instructers of public schools, from almost 
all parts of the United States, were made to him, in im- 
mense numbers. The infant seminaries of our country 
often requested his assistance in the selection of their 
presidents, professors, and tutors. These various appli- 
cations not only occupied much of his time, but subjected 
him to a laborious correspondence, and to no inconsi- 
derable expense. Yet his ardent desire to do good, by 
improving the education of the young, by diffusing valu- 
able knowledge, by advancing the literary character of the 
country, and by promoting the prosperity of the church 
of Christ, rendered these gratuitous services for others 
not irksome, but pleasant. 

During the period of his Presidency, he was often 
called to preach at the ordination of ministers, at the 
funerals of distinguished individuals, and on other public 






X&X11 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



and extraordinary occasions. Many of these sermons 
were printed. The following is a catalogue of these 
productions, and of various others of a different cha- 
racter, published during that period. 

In 1797, he published two Discourses on the nature 
and danger of Infidel Philosophy, addressed to the 
candidates for the Baccalaureate in Yale College. 
And a Sermon at the funeral of the Rev. Elizur Good- 
rich, D. D. 

In 1798, a Sermon, entitled " The Duty of Ameri- 
cans at the present Crisis, 1 delivered at New Haven, on 
the 4th of July, in that year. 

In 1800, a Discourse on the Character of Washington. 
In 1801, a Discourse on some events of the last cen- 
tury. 

In 1804, a Sermon on the death of Mr Ebenezer G. 
Marsh. 

In 1805, a Sermon on Duelling. 
In 1808, a Sermon on the opening of the Theological 
Institution in Andover, and the ordination of the Rev. 
Eliphalet Pearson, D. D. 

In 1S09, a Sermon occasioned by the death of Gover- 
nor Trumbull. 

In 1810, a Charity Sermon, preached at New Haven. 
In 1812, The Dignity and Excellence of the Gospel : 
— a Discourse delivered at the ordination of the Rev. 
Nath. W. Taylor. 

A Discourse, in two parts, on the Public Fast, in the 
same year. 

A Discourse, in two parts, on the National Fast, in 
the same year. 

In 1813, a Sermon before the American Board of 
Commissioners for Foreign Missions. 

Observations on Language, published in the Memoirs 
of the Connecticut Academy of Sciences, in 181G. 

An Essay on Light, also published by that Institu- 
tion, the same year. 

In the years 1810, 1811, 1812, and 1S1G, he pub- 
lished several important articles in two religious period- 
ical publications in New England. 

In every situation in life, President Dwight was dis- 
tinguished for hospitality. At New Haven he was still 
more liable to company than at Greenfield ; and very 
few men, in any profession, or employment, in that 
State, ever entertained more, and no one with more ab- 
solute kindness and liberality. A great proportion of 
respectable strangers, almost all clergymen and persons 
of a religious character, visiting or passing through that 
town, were desirous of being introduced to him. It is 
believed, that very few, who enjoyed the opportunity, 
ever left him without being gratified with the interview. 
Notwithstanding the variety and importance of his avo- 
cations, he was never unprepared to entertain strangers, 
or to enjoy the conversation of his friends. 

Twice during his Presidency, the Corporation thought 
it expedient to state the circumstances of the College 
to the Legislature ; and to show that body the extreme 
inconvenience under which it laboured, for the want of 
buildings to accommodate the students. They had mul- 
tiplied to such a degree, that about one-third of the 
whole number were obliged to take rooms in the town ; 
and, of course, were placed out of the immediate inspec- 
tion, and control of its officers : — a state of things 
almost necessarily productive of evil to the Institution. 
He was appointed one of the agents of the Board to 
present their statement. It will scarcely be believed, 
that these applications were unsuccessful. On both 
these occasions, his address to that honourable body 
was universally admired as a distinguished specimen of 
forensic eloquence. It drew, from all who heard it, the 
strongest expressions of applause. 

But notwithstanding the failure of these applications, 
the reputation of the College was extended, and its 
numbers increased beyond all former example. Though 
in want of the requisite buildings, though chiefly desti- 



tute of funds and of patronage, it still flourished, and 
was considered, throughout the country, as inferior to 
no seminary of learning in the United States. Stu- 
dents from every part of the Union were to be found in 
it ; and from some of the Southern States a great pro- 
portion of the whole number, who were educated in the 
North. The College thus derived, from the talents and 
exertions of its government, that reputation and advan- 
tage, for which it ought, in a far greater degree, to have 
been indebted to the liberality of the State. 

By such long continued and unintermitted application 
to literary and scientifical pursuits, it would be natural 
to expect, that, at the age of sixty -three, his constitution 
would have begun to experience some marks of decay 
and infirmity. Such, however, was not the fact. The 
regularity of his habits, his temperate manner of living, 
and the uniform course of exercise which he pursued; 
all united to invigorate his constitution, and render him, 
at that age, more active and energetic than most men of 
forty. No apparent declension was discernible in the 
powers either of his body or of his mind. His under- 
standing was as vigorous, his imagination as lively, and 
his industry and exertions as uniform and efficient, as 
they had been at any former period. In September, 
J 815, he undertook a journey into the western parts of 
the State of New York. When he reached Catskill, he 
made an excursion to the summit of the neighbouring 
mountains, with the same views, and for the same pur- 
poses, as he had visited so many similar objects in New 
England. After travelling westward as far as Hamilton 
College, he relinquished the idea of proceeding farther 
in his journey, in consequence of the state of the roads, 
which had been rendered extremely heavy and disagree- 
able by the extraordinary equinoctial storm of that year. 
As usual, he preached every Sabbath on that journey, 
and was thought by his friends never to have discovered 
more force of intellect, or higher powers of eloquence, 
than on these occasions. This was the last journey 
that he ever made. On the meeting of College, in Oc- 
tober, he resumed his customary labours in the chapel, 
and in the recitation room, and performed them with 
his usual vigour, until the month of February ; when he 
was seized with the first threatening attack of the disease 
to which he finally became a victim. The attack w r as 
severe and painful to a degree, of which those who did 
not witness it can have no conception. It made rapid 
and fearful ravages in a constitution which had increased 
in strength and firmness for more than sixty years, and 
which promised, to human expectation, to last to a 
" good old age." His patience, as well as his faith, were 
now- brought to a most severe and heart-searching- test. 
The pain, which he endured, and endured with unyield- 
ing fortitude, was beyond the powers of description. 
For several weeks, during the month of April, scarcely 
any hopes were entertained, either by himself, his 
friends, or his physicians, of his recovery. Amidst all 
his sufferings, not a murmur, not a repining expression, 
escaped from his lips. His mind was perfectly clear, 
and his reason unclouded. Patience under suffering, 
and resignation to the will of God, were exhibited by 
him in the most striking and exemplary manner, from 
day to day. His conversation was the conversation of 
a christian, not only free from complaint, but, at times, 
cheerful and animated ; his prayers were fervent, but 
full of humility, submission, and hope. 

At the end of twelve weeks, his disease assumed a 
more favourable appearance. By surgical aid, he 
gained a partial relief from his distress ; and his con- 
stitutional energy, still unbroken, raised the hopes of 
his friends, that he might recover. He was unable to 
preach in the chapel until after the May vacation. On 
the 2d of June, he delivered to his pupils a sermon, 
composed for the occasion, during his sickness, from 
Psalm xciv. 17, IS, 19. " Unless the Lord had been j 
my help, my soul had abnost dwelt in silence. When I 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xxxm 



said, My foot slippeth ; thy mercy, Lord, held me up. 
In the multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts 
delight my soul." After a pertinent and solemn in- 
troduction, and an allusion to his own sickness and suf- 
ferings, the dangerous situation in which he had recently 
been placed, and the little probability there was, for a 
time, that he should recover ; he proceeded to make a 
practical use of the doctrine, and the subject. The 
scene was peculiarly impressive and affecting. In no 
instance, during his Presidency, until then, had he been 
kept from his pulpit by sickness, or any other cause. 
The change in his countenance and general appearance, 
was great and alarming. The plan of the discourse 
was new, the thoughts were deeply interesting, the lan- 
guage plain but forcible, the manner of delivery solemn 
and impressive. The mind can scarcely imagine a case 
in which an audience, comprised of youths, full of feel- 
ing, and ardent in the pursuit of reputation and happi- 
ness, would be more deeply affected than this must have 
been, when hearing from thelips of their revered pastor 
and teacher the following truths, on the true character 
of worldly good : — 

" To him who stands on the brink of the grave, and 
the verge of eternity, who retains the full possession of 
his reason, and who, at the same time, is disposed to 
serious contemplation, all these things become mightily 
changed in their appearance. To the eye of such a man, 
their former alluring aspect vanishes, and they are seen 
in a new and far different light. 

" Like others of our race, I have relished several of 
these things, with at least the common attachment. Par- 
ticularly, 1 have coveted reputation, and influence, to a 
degree which I am unable to justify. Nor have I been 
insensible to other earthly gratifications ; either to such, 
as, when enjoyed with moderation, are innocent ; or, 
such as cannot be pursued without sin. 

" But, in the circumstances to which I have referred, 
all these things were vanishing from my sight. Had 
they been really valuable in any supposable degree, 
their value was gone. They could not relieve me from 
pain ; they could not restore me to health ; they could 
not prolong my life ; they could promise me no good 
in the life to come. What, then, were these things to 
me? 

" A person, circumstanced in the manner which has 
been specified, must necessarily regard these objects, 
however harmless, or even useful, they may be supposed 
in their nature, as having been hostile to his peace, and 
pernicious to his well-being. In all his attachment to 
them, in all his pursuit of them, it is impossible for him 
to fail of perceiving, that he forgot the interests of his 
soul, and the commands of his Maker ; became regard- 
less of his duty, and his salvation, and hazarded, for 
dross and dirt, the future enjoyment of a glorious im- 
mortality. It is impossible not to perceive, that in the 
most unlimited possession of them, the soul would have 
been beggared, and undone ; that the gold of the world 
would not have made him rich ; nor its esteem honour- 
able ; nor its favour happy. For this end he will dis- 
cover, that nothing will suffice bui treasure laid up in 
heaven ; the loving -kindness of God ; and the blessings 
of life eternal. 

" Let me exhort you, my young friends, now engaged 
in the ardent pursuit of worldly enjoyments, to believe, 
that you will one day see them in the very light in which 
they have been seen by me. The attachment to them, 
which you strongly feel, is unfounded, vain, full of dan- 
ger, and fraught with ruin. You will one day view them 
from a dying bed. There, should you retain your rea- 
son, they will appear as they really are. They will 
then be seen to have two totally opposite faces. Of 
these you have hitherto seen but one. That, gay, 
beautiful, and alluring as it now appears, will then be 
hidden from your sight ; and another, which you have 
not seen, deformed, odious, and dreadful, will stare you 



in the face, and fill you with amazement and bitterness, 
No longer pretended friends, and real flatterers ; they 
will unmask themselves, and appear only as temp- 
ters, deceivers, and enemies, who stood between you 
and heaven ; persuaded you to forsake your God ; and 
cheated you out of eternal life. 

" But no acts of obedience will then appear to you to 
have merited, in any sense, acceptance with God. In 
this view, those acts of my life, concerning which I 
entertained the best hopes, which I was permitted to 
entertain, those, which to me appeared the least excep- 
tionable, were nothing, and less than nothing. The 
mercy of God, as exercised towards our lost race, 
through the all-sufficient and glorious righteousness of the 
Redeemer, yielded me the only foundation of hope for 
good beyond the grave. During the long continuance of 
my disease, as I was always, except when in paroxysms 
of suffering, in circumstances entirely fitted for solemn 
contemplation ; I had ample opportunity to survey this 
most interesting of all subjects on every side. As the 
result of all my investigations, let me assure you, and 
that from the neighbourhood of the eternal world, Con- 
fidence in the Righteousness of Christ is the only foun- 
dation furnished by earth, or heaven, upon which, when 
you are about to leave this world, you can safely, or 
willingly, rest the everlasting life of your souls. To 
trust upon anything else, will be " to feed upon the wind, 
and sup up the east wind." You will then be at the ■ 
door of eternity ; will be hastening to the presence of 
your Judge ; will be just ready to give up your account 
of the deeds done in the body ; will be preparing to hear 
the final sentence of acquittal or condemnation ; and 
will stand at the gate of heaven or of hell. In these 
amazing circumstances you will infinitely need ; let me 
persuade you to believe, and to feel, that you will infin- 
itely need, a firm foundation, on which you may stand, 
and from which you will never be removed. There is 
no other such foundation, but the Rock of Ages. Then 
you will believe, then you will feel, that there is no other. 
The world, stable as it now seems, will then be sliding 
away from under your feet. All earthly things, on which 
you have so confidentially reposed, will recede and 
vanish. To what will you then betake yourselves for 
safety ?" 

On the 17th of June, the same year, the General Asso- 
ciation of Connecticut met at New Haven. It was a 
meeting of unusual interest ; and he was able to be pre- 
sent during most of their deliberations. He rejoiced 
to see the actual establishment of the Domestic Mission- 
ary Society of that State for building up its waste 
churches ; in forming the plan of which, he cheerfully 
lent his assistance. The year preceding was eminently 
distinguished for revivals of religion ; and he listened 
with a heart overflowing with joy and gratitude to the 
account of this glorious work of God. After the recital, 
the eucharist was celebrated ; and upwards of one 
thousand communicants, including about seventy clergy- 
men, received the elements. He was invited by the 
Association to break the bread. Though pale and 
enfeebled by disease, and obviously exhausted'by strong 
emotion, he consented. His prayer, on that occasion, 
was eminently humble, spiritual, and heavenly. It anni- 
hilated the distance between the church in heaven and 
the church around him ; and, for the moment, they were 
together. The address, which blended the affecting 
considerations customarily growing out of the sacra- 
ment, with others derived from the triumphs of the cross 
to which they had just been listening, left an impression 
on the audience, which probably will not disappear but 
with life. 

Although the disease with which President Dwight 
was afflicted, and by which his life had been seriously 
threatened, was not removed ; yet the severity of it was 
so far relaxed, that he was able, through the summer, to 
preach steadily in the chapel, to hear the recitations of 



XXXIV 



LIFE OP THE AUTHOR. 



the senior class, and to attend to a class of theological 
students, Avho were pursuing their studies under his 
direction. Still, he was not in a situation to pass a day, 
without resorting repeatedly to the surgical operation, 
by the aid of which he had in the first instance gained 
relief from his excruciating distress. But his mind was 
not idle during the intervals of his professional and offi- 
cial labours. In addition to the sermon which has been 
mentioned, he wrote, during this season, several Essays 
on the Evidences of Divine Revelation, derived from the 
writings of St Paul, and on other subjects ; the whole 
forming matter for a considerable volume. The last of 
these Essays was finished three days before his death. 
He also wrote the latter half of a Poem of about fifteen 
hundred lines ; a work of the imagination, the subject of 
which is, a contest between Genius and Common Sense, 
on their comparative merits : the question referred to 
and decided by Truth. He had projected a Series of 
Essays on moral and literary subjects, under the title 
of " The Friend" to be published, in the manner of the 
Spectator, once a week in a half sheet. Several num- 
bers were written, as an exercise, for the purpose of 
satisfying himself, by the experiment, how many he 
could compose in a given space of time, without 
interfering with his other duties. He had also pro- 
jected a periodical publication, to combine the common 
characteristics of a Review and Magazine, but upon 
' a much more extensive plan than any single work of 
the kind that has appeared in this country, or even in 
Europe. A prospectus of this publication he had 
drawn up ; and it was his determination, had his life 
been spared, and his health such as would admit of it, 
to have commenced it without delay ; engaging himself 
to furnish one quarter of the original matter in every 
number. It was, however, apparent to his friends, and 
probably to himself, that unless he should succeed in 
gaining relief from the disease which hung about him, 
his constitution, strong and vigorous as it was, must in 
the end give way to such uninterrupted pain and suffer- 
ing. His patience and fortitude, and even his cheerful- 
ness, did not forsake him ; but fearful inroads were 
daily making upon his strength. His mind did not 
lose its activity or its vigour ; but his flesh and 
strength daily wasted so rapidly away, that it was not 
to be expected that he could survive many renewed 
attacks of the distress which his disease occasioned. 
He presided at the Commencement, in September, and 
performed the ordinary duties on that occasion. 

In the six weeks' vacation, his health appeared to 
amend : and he was able usually to attend church, and 
to walk out occasionally during the week. On the 6th 
of October, he preached all day, .and administered the 
sacrament in one of the churches in the town ; and in 
the other, in the afternoon of the 13th before the Execu- 
tive and the great part of the Legislature of the State, 
he bore his public solemn testimony, in the delivery of 
the cxxi. Sermon of the following Series, against the 
unhallowed law authorizing divorces. 

On the 3rd of November, the second sabbath in the 
term, he preached in the morning, and administered the 
Sacrament. Those who heard him will long recollect 
that his text was Matt. v. 16. " Let your light so shine 
before men, that they may see your good works, and 
glorify your Father who is in Heaven." It was his last 
Sermon; and the administration of the Lord's Supper, 
which followed it, his last public act as a minister of 
Christ. 

" Although the paleness of his countenance filled 
every one with anxiety, it was observed," says Professor 
Silliman, " that he uttered himself with his usual force 
and animation ; and in performing the Communion-ser- 
vice he appeared much softened and affected : nor was 
he sensible of uncommon fatigue in consequence of so 
long a service. 

" He began as usual to hear the senior class, and per- 



severed, although often with extreme inconvenience, in 
hearing them at intervals for three or four weeks. He 
often came into the recitation-room languid, and scarce- 
ly able to support himself, expressing his intention to 
ask only a few questions, and then retire ; but insensibly 
kindling with his subject, his physical system seemed 
temporarily excited by the action of his mind, and he 
would discourse with his usual eloquence and interest, 
and even throw a charm of sprightliness and brilliancy 
over his communications. He met the senior class, for 
the last time, on Wednesday, Nov. 27th. He caught 
cold, was worse from the exertion, and did not go out 
again. 

" He still continued to hear the theological class at 
his house. Their last recitation was only a week before 
his death; his sufferings were extreme; his debility 
scarcely permitted him to utter himself at all ; but again 
his mind abstracted itself from its sympathy with an ago- 
nized frame ; and in a discourse of one hour and a half 
on the doctrine of the Trinity, he reasoned and illus- 
trated in the most cogent and interesting manner, and 
left an indelible impression on the minds of his pupils. 
It was his last effort in his delightful employment of 
Instruction." 

During his confinement, however, he was not idle ; 
his mind was as active as when he was in sound health. 
Probably there are very few periods of his life, of the 
same length, in which he wrote more than from June to 
December. 

He continued in this state of labour and suffering, 
until Tuesday the 7th of January. He had been 
recently afflicted by the death of his friends ; the Rev. 
Nathan Strong, D. D. of Hartford, who was also his 
class-mate; and the Rev. Azel Backus, D. D. President 
of Hamilton College, in the State of New York. Upon 
hearing of the death of Dr Strong, he remarked, that the 
lights of his class were nearly extinguished ; alluding to 
the death of that gentleman and those of the Rev. 
Charles Backus of Somers, and the Rev. Dnvid Ely, 
D. D. of Huntingdon. With the latter gentleman, in 
addition to the friendship that had subsisted between 
them from their youth, he had been associated with the 
utmost harmony, throughout the whole period of his pre- 
sidency, as a member of the corporation of the College. 
On Tuesday the symptoms of his disease appeared more 
favourable than they had done at any time previous, and 
his family and physicians were led to entertain very 
strong hopes that it had passed its crisis, and was expe- 
riencing a happy change. On the following morning, 
however, as he got out of bed, he was seized with a strong 
nervous affection, which shook his whole frame, and 
gave rise, in a short time, to the most alarming appre- 
hensions. This paroxysm was succeeded by a high 
fever, and a constant propensity to drowsjness. When 
the physicians visited him at ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon, they found it necessary to bleed him. He conti- 
nued strongly affected by these various symptoms through 
the day. His pulse was quick, his face in- some mea- 
sure flushed, his brain in a considerable degree affected, 
and he felt a continued drowsiness, and, at times, severe 
turns of pain from his local disease. In the evening he 
became more wakeful, and the severity of his distress 
increased. In order to relieve him from the pain, a 
moderate quantity of laudanum was administered. He 
did not converse much on Wednesday ; his excess of suf- 
fering, with the affection of the brain, put it out of his 
power. 

He was restless a considerable part of the night, but 
gained an hour or two of sleep ; owing probably to the 
opiate which he had taken. On Thursday morning he 
got out of his bed, was dressed, and sat in his chair 
through the day. He was not so much inclined to drow- 
siness as on the preceding day ; but frequently groaned 
from extreme pain and distress, and did not enter much 
into conversation through the day. At the same time, 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xxxv 



he answered all questions put to him, with clearness 
and promptitude ; inquired particularly of his friends 
and neighbours, as they called to see him, concerning 
their health and that of their families ; and showed the 
same affectionate interest in their welfare, that he had 
uniformly manifested through life. At evening he 
attempted to make his usual family prayer, and pro- 
ceeded for a few minutes with clearness and propriety, 
but a paroxysm of pain rendered him incapable of utter- 
ance, and he desisted. This was the last attempt he 
made to pray in the family. 

Through Thursday night, he became more disturbed 
and distressed, resting but little ; and in the morning it 
was apparent, from his symptoms generally, and the 
change of his countenance and voice, that his end was 
rapidly approaching. From the great strength of his 
constitution, and the peculiar excitement of his nervous 
system, caused by his disease, and, perhaps, from the 
effect which it had produced upon his mind, it was 
apprehended by his family, that he was not aware of his 
approaching dissolution. The fact was, therefore, 
announced to him, accompanied with a suggestion, that 
if he had any wishes to express, or directions to give, 
with regard to his worldly concerns, it was to be feared 
that it was necessary to attend to the subject without 
delay. He received the intelligence with great calm- 
ness ; and, as soon as his situation would permit, pro- 
ceeded to express his wishes on the subject. Under 
the paroxysms of pain, his mind was more prone to 
wander, than it had been the two former days. It 
recurred, however, to a clear and unclouded state, when 
the paroxysm ceased. At short intervals through the 
day, when he was the most nearly free from pain, he 
conversed on various subjects in his usual manner. 
Subjects connected with the great objects of his labours, 
his desires, and his prayers through life : the outpour- 
ing of the Spirit of God, revivals of religion, the pro- 
pagation of Christianity, and the dissemination of the 
Scriptures ; were not only near his heart, but, when 
mentioned, kindled his feelings and awakened his 
devotion. A day or two previous to his being taken so 
unwell, he had received from the Rev. Dr Marshman, 
at Serampore, a very elegant printed specimen of a 
Chinese translation of the Scriptures. On this sub- 
ject, he was peculiarly interested, and expressed him- 
self feelingly and with force, on the progress of evan- 
gelical truth among the heathen. 

In the course of Friday evening, at his request, the 
eighth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans was read to 
him. He listened to it with great attention ; remarked 
upon a mistranslation in one or two places ; spoke with 
much fervour of pious emotion on the subject of the 
chapter ; and, at the close of it, exclaimed ' what a 
glorious apostrophe !' He also made a number of 
remarks on the opinions and sentiments of some of the 
English divines, particularly Clark and Waterland on 
the doctrine of the Trinity. 

The subject of his approaching dissolution was again 
introdbced in the afternoon of that day. He said he 
was not aware that it was very near ; that he had yet a 
great deal of strength : but still it might be so : as strong 
constitutions did sometimes suddenly give way. Upon 
being reminded, that his religious friends would be 
gratified to learn his views and feelings at the prospect 
of death, he began to make some remarks upon the 
great and precious promises of the gospel, when he was 
seized with a paroxysm of distress, which' prevented 
him from proceeding. A few hours before his death, 
the subject was, for the last time, mentioned. He ap- 
peared to comprehend the object in view ; and, though 
he spoke with difficulty, he answered with entire clear- 
ness : that in the extreme sickness with which he was 
visited in the spring, during some weeks of which he 
had no expectation of recovery, he had experienced 
more support and comfort from religion, and the pro- 



mises of the gospel, than he had ever realized at any 
former period of his life. ' Had I died then,' said he, 
' that fact would doubtless have been considered as 
affording strong evidence of the sincerity and reality of 
my faith : but, as I recovered, it probably made but 
little impression.' It was a sentiment often inculcated 
by him, that it was more safe to rely upon the tenor of 
a person's life, as evidence of the true state of his reli- 
gious character', than upon declarations made upon a 
death-bed. In the above-mentioned remark, there is 
little reason to doubt that he alluded to that subject, 
and intended that it should apply to his former senti- 
ments. 

After this, he requested his brother to read to him the 
17th of John. While listening to the latter verses of 
the chapter, he exclaimed, ' 0, what triumphant truths !' 
Afterwards the 14th, 15th, and 16th chapters were read 
to him. He listened attentively and spoke with lively 
interest on various passages. His mind evidently wan- 
dered while the last chapter was reading, and it was not 
completed. 

A few hours before his death, one of his friends 
observed to him, that he hoped he was able, in his pre- 
sent situation, to adopt the language of the Psalmist, 
' Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me — Thy 
rod and thy staff they comfort me.' He immediately 
replied, ' I hope so.' For several of his last hours, his 
organs of speech were so much affected, that it was with 
difficulty he could articulate distinctly. Many of his 
words could not be understood. There is, however, no 
doubt, that, during that period, his mind was unclouded, 
and his thoughts were fixed on death and heaven. He 
was occupied a great part of the time in speaking, some- 
times in an audible voice, and sometimes in a whisper. 
Repeated instances occurred in which his expressions 
were clearly understood. In all of them, his language 
was that of prayer and adoration. The belief that he 
was engaged in that delightful Christian duty was con- 
firmed by the peculiarly solemn and devotional expres- 
sion of his countenance. His eyes appeared to be fixed 
on that celestial world, whose gates, it is humbly trusted, 
were just opening to receive his departing spirit into 
the mansions of everlasting rest, prepared for him in his 
Father's house. That he enjoyed the use of his reason, 
until a short time before his death, was satisfactorily 
manifested by his answer to one of his friends, who was 
sitting by him, and who asked him if he knew him ? 
upon which, lie immediately turned his eyes towards 
him, looked him full in the face, and said, ' Yes,' with 
so much distinctness, as to satisfy those who were pre- 
sent, that he perfectly understood tiie question, and the 
answer." 

He did not appear, for several hours previous to his 
death, to suffer much pain ; but continued to breathe 
shorter and shorter, until a few minutes before three 
o'clock, on Saturday morning, the 1 1th of January, when 
he expired without a struggle or a groan. 

The deatli of President Dwight spread a deep and 
general sorrow, not only through the State, but through 
New England, and extensively through the Union. 
Beloved by relatives, esteemed by his friends, revered 
by his pupils, and highly honoured by his countrymen ; 
his loss was universally considered as a great public, as 
well as private, calamity. In the city where he had so 
long resided, and where his worth was universally 
acknowledged, he was sincerely and feelingly lamented. 
His funeral was attended on Tuesday, the 14th of 
January, by a large concourse of people, from New 
Haven and the neighbouring towns, and a respectable 
number of the clergy from different parts of the State. 
As a mark of respect, the stores and shops in the city 
were shut, and business suspended. The scene was 
solemn and impressive. A deep gloom pervaded the 
whole assembly, and every one present felt himself a 



XXXVJ 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



mourner. The various religious services exhibited the 
fullest evidence of the affection and respect which the 
reverend gentlemen, who officiated, entertained for his 
private virtues, as well as their deep sense of the loss 
which the church, the college, and the community, had 
sustained in his death. In .many places in different 
parts of the country, sermons were delivered on the 
Occasion. In New York and Albany, meetings were 
held by the alumni of the college, resident in those 
cities, where various public manifestations of their sense 
of his virtues, their regret for his death, and their respect 
for his character, were exhibited. Indeed, we know of 
but one instance that has occurred in this country, in 
which such extensive public expressions of sorrow for 
the death of any individual, or respect for his memory, 
have appeared. 

It cannot be expected, that the character of so great 
and good a man can be fully exhibited in a sketch like 
the present. A mere outline is all that its limits will 
admit. 

The life of President Dwight, approaching within a few 
years to the duration allotted by Infinite Wisdom as the 
ordinary term of the life of man, was passed during one 
of the most important periods, which has occurred since 
the era of Christianity. The truth of this remark will 
be admitted, in whatever light the subject may be con- 
sidered, whether literary or scientific, political or reli- 
gious. In each particular he was called to act, and in 
most of them a very industrious and distinguished part. 
In order to ascertain his true character it may be well 
to view him as a man of genius and a scholar ; as an 
instructor ; as a preacher ; and as a man. 

For native powers of mind, he will doubtless be 
ranked among the first men in the history of our coun- 
try. The proofs, in support of this remark, need not 
be sought from any individual source, or from his 
attainments in any single walk of literature or science. 
They may be found in every pursuit in which he was 
engaged, and be gathered in every stage of his progress 
from the cradle to the grave. In the acquisition of 
knowledge, we have seen, that the earliest efforts of his 
mind, even in infancy, were singular and extraordinary ; 
and that his talents were so strongly marked at this 
early stage of his existence, as perhaps at any subsequent 
period of his life. At every school, in which he was 
placed, though commonly the youngest member, he was 
at the head of his class. In college, notwithstanding 
his extreme youth, and the many other embarrassments 
through which he had to struggle, he was surpassed by 
none of his companions. His acquisitions, during the 
eight succeeding years after he left college, although he 
was constantly occupied in the business of instruction, 
and a considerable part of the time was afflicted with 
disease and debility, and in a great measure deprived of 
the use of his eyes, were extensive and profound, not 
confined to a single science, or to one branch of litera- 
ture ; but comprehending the mathematics and logic, 
the languages and philology, as well as rhetoric and 
poetry. 

The loss of the use of his eyes, at the early age of 
twenty -three, is not to be regarded merely as a cala- 
mity by which he was deprived of the capacity for 
reading and study ; but in connexion with the fact, 
that it constantly subjected him to severe and almost 
uninterrupted suffering. With this insurmountable 
embarrassment he was obliged to struggle through life. 
During the great part of forty years, he was not able 
to read fifteen minutes in the twenty-four hours ; and 
often, for days and weeks together, the pain which he 
endured in that part of the head immediately behind 
the eyes amounted to anguish. His life, it will be 
remembered, was devoted to a learned and laborious 
rofcssion, and to literary and scientific pursuits. The 
nowledge, which he gained from books, after the 
period above-mentioned, was almost exclusively at 



£ 



second hand, by the aid of others : a process slow, tedi- 
ous, and discouraging. Yet he has ever been esteemed 
one of the best informed men this country has pro- 
duced. Industry was indeed one of his most striking 
characteristics ; but it was the industry of a mind con- 
scious of its powers, and delighting in their exercise. 
All his exertions were the effort of easy action. They 
cost no labour ; and occasioned no fatigue. . His per- 
ception was clear and rapid, his discernment acute, hia 
invention rich, his taste correct and delicate, his imagi- 
nation brilliant, his wit genuine, his judgment solid, 
his views comprehensive, and his reasoning faculties 
powerful and commanding. Never was a mind under 
better discipline. All his stores of thought were 
arranged in exact method, and every faculty was ready 
at the moment. This was true in conversation, in his 
lectures to his class, and in his public addresses. No 
emergency, however sudden or pressing, appeared to 
surprise him, or to find him unprepared. In repeated 
instances on the sabbath, when his notes were by acci- 
dent left at home, and he did not discover it until a 
few moments before he was to use them ; he has, in the 
instant, taken a new subject of discourse, and formed 
his plan so happily, and executed it so well, that none 
of the audience conjectured the fact, or suspected the 
want of preparation. His mind always rose with the 
occasion, and was always equal to it. It appeared to 
view every demand upon it as an obvious call of God. 
Trusting in Him, it marched directly to its purpose, 
without even observing those difficulties, which might 
have proved insurmountable to others. 

In one particular, he excelled most men of any age ': 
in the entire command of his thoughts. Having been 
driven by necessity to pursue his many avocations with- 
out the use of his eyes ; his memory, naturally strong, 
acquired a power of retention unusual and surprising. 
It was not the power of recollecting words, or dates, or 
numbers of any kind. It was the power of remember- 
ing facts and thoughts : especially his own thoughts. 
When an event in history or biography, or a fact or 
principle in science, was once known, he appeared 
never to forget it. When a subject became once fami- 
liar to his mind, he rarely, if ever, lost its impression. 
In this respect, his mind resembled a well-arranged 
volume ; in which every subject forms a separate sec- 
tion, and each view of .that subject a separate page. 
He perfectly knew the order of the subjects ; could 
turn to any page at will ; and always found each impres- 
sion as distinct and perfect as when first formed. 

When engaged in the composition of sermons or any 
other literary performance ; not only did the conversa- 
tion of those around him not interrupt his course of 
thinking ; but, while waiting for his amanuensis to 
finish the sentence which he had last dictated, he would 
spend the interval in conversing with his family or his 
friends, without the least embarrassment, delay, or con- 
fusion of thought. His mind took such firm hold of 
the subject, which principally occupied it, that no ordi- 
nary force could separate it from its grasp. He was 
always conscious of the exact progress which he had 
made in every subject. When company, or any other 
occurrence, compelled him to break off" suddenly ; it 
would sometimes happen, that he did not return to his 
employment until after the expiration of several days. 
On resuming his labours, all he required of his amanu- 
ensis was to read the last word, or clause, that had been 
written ; and he instantly would proceed to dictate, as 
if no interruption had occurred. In several instances 
he was compelled to dictate a letter, at the same time 
that, he was dictating a sermon. In one, a pressing 
necessity obliged him to dictate three letters at the 
same time. He did so. Each amanuensis was fully 
occupied ; and the letters needed no correction but 
pointing. 

A single fact will exhibit, in a striking light, the 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xxx \ u 



comprehension of his mind, and the admirable method 
of its operations. The reader is requested to examine 
the ' Analysis,' at the close of this Memoir, and to ob- 
serve how extensive, and yet how logical, is the plan of 
his Lectures. This Analysis was formed from the 
Lectures themselves, since his decease. He wrote no 
plan of them himself; but, in completing- them, relied 
exclusively on the scheme of thought, which existed in 
his own mind. We have rarely seen any work, even 
of much less extent, unless some treatise on mathema- 
tical or physical science, in which the perfection of 
mathematical arrangement is so nearly attained. It 
ought to be added, that the following- volumes * are pub- 
lished as they were dictated to the amanuensis ; with 
almost no corrections except those which were owing to 
the mistakes of the penman, or the illegibility of his hand. 
To conceive, to invent, to reason, was in such a sense 
instinctive, that neither employment appeared to fatigue 
or exhaust him. After severe and steady labour, his 
mind was as prepared for any species of exertion, as if 
it had done nothing : for the activity and sprightliness 
of conversation ; for the closer confinement of investi- 
gation ; or for the excursive range of poetry. Almost 
■ all his poetry, written subsequently to the age of 
twenty -three, was dictated to an amanuensis, after the 
unintermitted application of the day. Not unfrequently, 
in an autumnal or winter evening, would he compose 
from fifty to sixty lines in this manner. The first part 
of his ' Genius and Common Sense ' is in the stanza of 
' The Faery Queene,' the most difficult stanza in English 
poetry. Repeatedly has he been known to dictate four 
of these stanzas, or forty-four lines, in the course of 
such an evening; and chiefly without any subsequent 
corrections. 

The earliest of liis poetical productions, that has 
been preserved, though written at the age of fifteen, 
bears the characteristic marks, both in style and 
thought, of his later and more mature compositions. 
While he was connected with the college, either as a 
student or a tutor, he wrote and published several small 
poems on various subjects, which were very favourably 
received at the time, and are still admired for sweet- 
ness of versification, as well as for delicacy and purity 
of sentiment. 

The early age at which he wrote the Conquest of 
Canaan is to be remembered in forming our estimate 
of the poem. It is not believed, that the history of 
English poetry contains the account of an equal effort, 
made at so early an age. The subject of the poem 
I has been objected to, as not sufficiently interesting to 
render such a performance popular with the great body 
of readers. At the time of its publication, there was 
undoubtedly some ground for this remark. It was 
published a short time after the peace of 1783 : a pe- 
j riod unhappily characterised by an extensive prevalence 
J of infidelity, as well as of loose sentiments with regard 
, to morals. In this state of things, no poem, founded 
on a scriptural story, however meritorious in itself, 
however happy its plan, or brilliant its imagery, or in- 
teresting its incidents, or distinct its characters, or 
noble its sentiments ; could fail to be in a degree unpo- 
pular ; especially, if breathing the purest morality, and 
the most exalted piety. Had its appearance been post- 
poned to a period within the last fifteen years, during 
which time, infidelity has given place to a reverence 
for the Bible, and a general regard for the doctrines 
which it contains ; there is little reason to doubt, that 
. its reception would have been still more flattering to 
the author, and more just to its own merit as a work 
of genius. The Conquest of Canaan contains abun- 
dant evidence of rich invention, of harmonious versifi- 
cation, of a brilliant fancy, of strong powers of descrip- 
tion, of a sublime imagination, of vigorous thought, 
and of the most pure and virtuous sentiment. 

* The work was originally published in r, vols. 8vo. 



In addition to his attainments in classical learning, 
and the sciences in general, President Dwight had 
acquired a vast fund of information, on almost all the 
concerns of human life. His acquaintance with books 
was extensive ; comprising not only those appropriate 
to his profession as a minister, and his office as Pre- 
sident of the College, but on all important and inter- 
esting subjects. He was thoroughly read in ancient 
and modern history, geography, biography, and tra- 
vels. Few works of this description, especially those 
of the two last classes, escaped his attention. With the 
pursuits of agriculture, he was practically as well as 
theoretically conversant. In the cultivation of his 
garden he took peculiar pleasure, and displayed an un- 
common degree of skill and science. Of his extensive 
knowledge on these subjects, his poem called ' Green- 
field Hill ' affords satisfactory evidence. One part of 
that work, entitled ' the Farmer's Advice to the Vil- 
lagers ' contains a body of information, and of sound 
advice, addressed to that valuable class of men, of the 
utmost practical utility. In truth, it is difficult to name 
a subject of any considerable importance, connected 
with the common pursuits of men in the business of 
life, which he had not made the subject of accurate ob- 
servation and close thought ; on which he had not col- 
lected many valuable facts ; or about which he was not 
able to communicate much that was interesting and 
useful. 

It has been seen, that .a large proportion of President 
Dwight's life was devoted to the instruction of youth. 
From the age of seventeen to sixty-four, he was scarcely 
ever entirely disengaged from that employment ; and 
there were not more than two years of that period, in 
which he did not pursue it as his constant business. 
His first effort afforded a sure promise of that high de- 
gree of excellence, in this interesting employment, to 
which he afterward attained. In the course of his life, 
he assisted in educating between two and three thou- 
sand persons. 

In the great change produced in the college, during 
his tutorsliip, by his efforts and those of his associates, 
his own exertions were of primary importance. He 
continued much longer in the office of tutor than they 
did, and, of course, had a greater opportunity to exe- 
cute the plans for improvement which they had jointly 
devised, and put in operation. 

It was unquestionably a fortunate circumstance for 
him, when he entered upon the presidency, that the 
public had full confidence in his capacity to fulfill its 
duties. It is, however, to be remembered, that this 
confidence was not, in any measure, founded upon mere 
expectation, or calculation. It rested upon a thorough 
acquaintance with his experience and success in the 
arduous and difficult business of instruction. The pos- 
session of this confidence enabled him to commence his 
labours in the institution according to his own ideas of 
usefulness and practicability: and to adopt such a course 
of measures as the exigency of the case required. And 
to his independence and energy, his industry and de- 
votion to his duty, is the college eminently indebted 
for the high character to which it was elevated, amidst 
all its difficulties and embarrassments, at the time of his 
accession, and during his continuance in the office. 

One of his most important qualifications as the head 
of such an institution, was an intimate knowledge of 
the character and feelings of young men, which, by 
long- observation, he had acquired. The possession of 
this knowledge, so indispensably necessary, and yet so 
rarely to be met with, enabled him to direct his efforts, 
in the administration of the government, and the ap- 
plication of discipline, in the most judicious and effica- 
cious manner, to accomplish the objects in view. Those 
objects were, the peace and reputation of the college, 
and the character and highest interests of the students. 
Having adopted a system, which was, in its nature and 



XXXVlll 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



tendency, parental, he watched over the conduct and 
welfare of his academical children with affection and 
solicitude. So successful was he in the application of 
this system, that the youths, who were placed under his 
care, loved and revered him as an affectionate father. 
When admonition or censure, or even more severe 
measures, at any time, became necessary, his course of 
proceeding- was in a high degree efficacious and salu- 
tary. These admonitions and censures were delivered 
in a manner, affectionate, indeed, but plain and search 
ing ; and rarely failed of producing their intended 
effect. Many a youth, whose conduct had subjected 
him to the discipline of the college, has found his 
stubborn temper subdued, his heart melted into contri- 
tion, and himself compelled to submission and obe- 
dience, by the private, solemn, but pathetic and eloquent 
remonstrances of his kind and affectionate teacher. 

President Dwight's talents, as an instructor, were 
nowhere more conspicuous than in the recitation-room 
of the senior class. 

The year commenced with the study of rhetoric, in 
which the. Lectures of Blair were the text-book. The 
questions, naturally arising from the lesson, were first 
answered ; and the principles of the author freely exa- 
mined. This usually occupied not more than half an 
hour ; and was succeeded by a familiar extemporane- 
ous lecture on the subject, which filled up the residue of 
the two hours commonly devoted to his recitations. 
This lecture was often enlivened by anecdote and hu- 
mour, and interspersed with striking illustrations. It 
frequently exhibited lively sallies of the imagination, 
and occasionally high specimens of eloquence. Yet it 
was in fact, though not in form, a regular dissertation, 
a connected chain of powerful reasoning, calculated to 
leave a distinct and permanent impression on the mind. 
When the course of rhetoric was completed, that of 
logic and metaphysics succeeded ; in which the regular 
text-books were Duncan, and Locke's Essay on the 
Human Understanding. After this followed ethics; 
when Paley's Moral Philosophy was studied. In these 
recitations, also, a similar method was adopted. Those 
three courses occupied three days in the week through 
the year. On each of these days the class exhibited 
written compositions. Two more were devoted to 
forensic disputation. The discussions of the students 
were commonly written, but at times extemporaneous. 
When these discussions were finished, the President 
closed the debate, in an argument giving- a compre- 
hensive view of the question ; and occupying, accord- 
ing to its importance, sometimes the space of half an 
hour, and sometimes that of several recitations. The 
series of questions thus discussed usually involved the 
more important disputable points in science, politics, 
morals, and theology. Many of his decisions, as speci- 
mens of reasoning and eloquence, were not surpassed 
by his happiest public efforts. On Saturday, Vin- 
cent's < Exposition of the Shorter Catechism ' was re- 
cited. The lesson terminated in a few minutes, and 
was followed by a theological lecture on the subject. 
At the close, he heard declamations. The students 
regularly looked forward to the senior year as pecu- 
liarly interesting and important ; in which their minds 
were to be disciplined and furnished for action. No 
compulsion was necessary to secure their presence in 
the recitation-room. Even those, who had previously 
been indolent, attended of choice. In each of the four 
courses of rhetoric, logic and metaphysics, ethics, and 
theology as taught in Vincent, he spent more time in 
instructing his class than is customarily spent in the 
regular lectures of Professors in those sciences. In 
addition to this, he was the stated preacher twice on 
the sabbath ; addressed the students at length in the 
theological chamber on Saturday evening; superin- 
tended the general administration of the college go- 
vernment ; wrote by the assistance of his pupils or of a 



regidar amanuensis almost all the works which he ever 
wrote ; and attended with marked punctuality to all 
the calls of civility and friendship. It ought here to be 
remembered, that, for the first twenty years of his pre- 
sidency, he was rarely able to read so much as a single 
chapter in the Bible in the twenty-four hours. 

One important feature of his administration was the 
selection of his assistant officers of the faculty. The 
professorship of theology, it has been mentioned, was 
occupied by himself. The others were filled with much 
younger gentlemen than had been usual ; the education 
of nearly all of whom he had superintended; and with 
whose talents and qualifications he was thoroughly ac- 
quainted. The advantages of this course were nume- 
rous ; and the wisdom of it has been fully proved and 
•acknowledged. The college faculty entertained per- 
fect confidence in one another, and entire harmony of 
opinion as to the system of government. The welfare 
of the college was a common interest ; to promote 
which, they lent their whole united influence. In its 
administration, they always moved as one man. The 
experience, judgment, and energy of the President, 
and the active and vigorous co-operation of his younger 
associates, had the happiest effects on its g"ood order 
and regularity, even in times the most turbulent and 
threatening. The consequence was, that Yale College 
was tranquil at & period well remembered, when almost 
every other public seminary in the Union was shaken 
to its centre. 

As a minister and preacher of the gospel, it is not 
easy to convey an adequate idea of his characteristic 
excellence. Having- been compelled, from the weak- 
ness of his eyes, to adopt the plan of preaching without 
notes ; his sermons, except those designed for extra- 
ordinary occasions, were for the first twenty years 
chiefly unwritten. Usually, he barely noted the gene- 
ral divisions, and some of the most important and lead- 
ing ideas. There is no doubt, that this mode had its 
peculiar advantages ; nor that, his style and manner, as 
an extemporaneous preacher, were more popular and 
captivating than at a later period, when his discourses 
were written at length. When unconfined by notes, 
the whole field of thought was before him. Into that 
field he entered; conscious where his subject lay, and 
by what metes and bounds it was limited ; and enjoy- 
ing also that calm self-possession and confidence of 
success, which trial alone can give, and which every 
successive effort had only served to increase. Within 
these limits, his powers had full scope, his imagination 
was left to range at will, his feelings were kindled, and 
his mind became in the highest degree creative. Its 
conceptions were instantaneous ; its thoughts were new 
and striking ; its deductions clear and irresistible ; and 
its images, exact representations of what his eye saw, 
living, speaking, and acting. When we add, that these 
were accompanied by the utmost fluency and force of 
language, a piercing- eye, a countenance deeply marked 
with intellect, a strong emphasis, a voice singular for 
its compass and melody, an enunciation remarkably 
clear and distinct, a person dignified and commanding, 
and gestures graceful and happy ; we need not inform 
the reader, that his pulpit efforts at this period possessed 
every characteristic of animated and powerful eloquence. 
Many instances of its effects upon large audiences are 
remembered, and might easily be mentioned, which 
were most striking proofs of its power over the feelings 
and the conscience. 

In the formation of his Sermons he pursued a course 
in a great degree original. Texts familiar, by com- 
mon use among preachers, to the mind of his audience, 
would form the subject of discourses, new, solemn, and 
impressive. The truth to be illustrated was often new, 
the arrangement and arguments were new 7 , the images 
were always new, and the thoughts peculiarly his own. 
The very weakness of his eyes, which occasioned him 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



XXXIX 



so milch pain and self-deiiiaJ, was in some respects ad- 
vantageous. He could not himself read the sermons of 
others. Religious books of a different class were read 
aloud in his family on the sabbath. And most rarely 
indeed was he permitted to listen to the sermons of his 
brethren. Thus deriving no assistance from the efforts 
of others, he was compelled to depend exclusively on 
the resources of his own intellect. Happily these were 
rich and inexhaustible. It is probably owing to this 
fact that his Sermons bear the characteristic stamp of 
his own mind, and are throughout in the highest sense 
his own. In this respect ; in a fair claim to originality 
of thought, of method, and of illustration ; it is confident- 
ly believed, that the Sermons of President Dwight need 
not shrink from a comparison with those of any other 
writer. 

In his extemporaneous efforts, though his fancy was 
ever visibly active, still it was controlled by judgment 
and taste. They were indeed more richly ornamented 
with imagery than most of his written sermons ; yet 
figures were introduced not merely because they were 
beautiful ; but for the purpose of illustration or impres- 
sion. His own views of the duty of a- minister of Christ 
in this respect are happily conveyed in several of the 
Discourses in this volume ; and still more fully in some 
of his occasional sermons. He considered him bound 
to forget himself, and remember nothing but the pur- 
pose for which he was sent : the salvation of his hearers. 
Every attempt at display, every attempt to exhibit his 
own talents, or taste, or fancy, or learning, in a preacher, 
was in his view an obvious prostitution of his office to 
private and unhallowed purposes. His rules and his 
conduct were in this respect harmonious. 

After his appointment to the office of Professor of 
Theology, in 1805, when he began steadily to employ 
an amanuensis, he turned his attention more to writing 
his sermons at length. The frequent calls upon him to 
preach at different places, on extraordinary occasions, 
and a disposition to render his systematic discourses to 
the students as nearly correct and perfect as possible, 
probably had influence with him in the adoption of 
this course. His systematic sermons had cost him much 
labour and research. They were favourite discourses 
with the public at large, and with his pupils ; many of 
whom took notes of them every sabbath. He thought, 
if they possessed the merit ascribed to them, that they 
ought to be written out. Other considerations also had 
their weight. He observed an increasing attachment 
in some parts of the country to a florid and highly em- 
bellished style of composition : in his own view owing 
to a vitiated taste ; involving a substitution of ornament 
for thought, and of sound for sense ; and wholly sub- 
versive of the very end of preaching. This mode of 
writing was gaining popularity among his own pupils ; 
and he felt desirous as far as possible to counteract it. 
Knowing the efficacy of a teacher's example on the 
conduct of those under his care ; he determined care- 
fully to avoid everything of this nature in his own 
discourses, and to subject his mind, naturally fond of 
imagery, to a severer discipline than it would submit to 
in the moment of extemporaneous effort. 

The Discourses in this volume obviously required 
in this respect, as well as in others, peculiar care. 
Their primary object is to explain and prove the great 
truths of theology ; and their second, to enforce them 
on the conscience, and show their practical influence on 
the heart and life. They are not merely Theological 
Lectures ; but are, in the strictest sense, Sermons. Yet 
as the purpose in the body of each Discourse is the 
discovery of truth, the use of figurative language, 
except for illustration, would there have been improper. 
In the application, it might be admitted to enforce and 
enhance it. The reader will, we think, admire the 
good sense displayed in this particular. In the division 
of the subject he will never find figurative language 



introduced. The body of the Discourse, if, as is must 
commonly the case, the subject be merely argumenta- 
tive, is almost equally destitute of it. If, however, it be 
a subject rather requiring description and enhancement 
than proof; as in the Discourses on Heaven, on the 
Holy Angels, on the creation of the Earth and of Man, 
on the Resurrection, the Last Judgment, and the Future 
Happiness of the Righteous ; it will be seen that the 
author's mind rises with his subject. Having heard 
those Discourses, to which we have just now referred ; ' 
we have ever viewed them as distinguished models of 
sacred eloquence. 

The series of Theological Sermons was written out 
at the close of 1809. After completing it, he wrote 
out many of his Miscellaneous Sermons, both doctrinal 
and practical. These were intentionally less pruned 
than the former, but more so than his earlier efforts. 
There is little reason to doubt, that these, should they 
ever be published will prove more entertaining to the 
mass of readers, than the Discourses in this volume. 
They discover equal talent, present a great variety of 
subject and of manner, and usually require less mental 
exertion in the perusal. Among them are the sermons 
preached on the sabbath preceding the Commencement 
to the candidates for the Baccalaureate. They were 
addressed to his immediate pupils, when just about to 
leave the institution ; to bid adieu to him as their 
instructor, and to each other as companions ; and to 
engage in the busy scenes of life. Over their conduct 
he had long watched with unremitting care ; and for 
their present and future welfare he felt the highest degree 
of solicitude. They contain an accurate development 
of the human character, and of the temptations, follies, 
and vices of the world ; as well as the purest moral and 
religious sentiments, enforced with the feeling and fer- 
vency of parental affection, and accompanied by the 
parting counsels of a wise and experienced preceptor 
and friend. 

Of the Miscellaneous Sermons at large, our limits 
forbid us to attempt a delineation. We will mention 
one of them, which appears to have been conceived in 
a peculiarly auspicious moment ; and has been emi- 
nently followed with the blessing of God. His students 
will realize that we intend the Discourse on Jer. viii. 
20, ' The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we 
are not saved.' In two instances, the delivery of it 
was obviously the commencement of a revival of reli- 
gion among his pupils ; in the first of which nearly half 
of them were united to the college church. Similar 
consequences have been ascribed to its delivery on two 
other occasions in different places. Never have we 
witnessed effects on mixed audiences equally solemn 
and powerful from any sermon as in several instances 
from this. Many beside his pupils ascribed to it their 
first impressions on religious subjects. 

His sermons were uncommonly intelligible to all 
classes of people. His division of his subject was 
natural, neat, and easily remembered. His style, though 
at times highly ornamented and elevated, was still plain 
and perspicuous ; and his delivery, though occasionally 
rapid, was clear and distinct. Owing to these qualities, 
the illiterate, and persons of ordinary capacity, were 
able to understand him without difficulty. 

Another characteristic of his preaching was a con- 
stant regard to practical effect. Even the Sermons 
which compose this volume, the object of which was 
primarily to exhibit to his pupils a complete system of 
Christian doctrines, will be found in their application 
to have this discriminating character. It was impossi- 
ble for him to enter the desk but as the herald of recon- 
ciliation. He could not fail to discover his affecting- 
sense of the greatness of the Being who sent him, or of 
the infinite importance of the message which he brought. 
And his most obvious purpose was to accomplish the 
salvation of those to whom it was delivered. 



xl 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



It is believed, on the best evidence, that this purpose 
was to an unusual extent accomplished by his preach- 
ing. Immediately before the commencement of his 
presidency, the college church among the students was 
almost extinct ; it came at last to consist of only two 
members, and soon after his accession, it dwindled to a 
single person. During the greater part of his continu- 
ance in office it embraced at least one fourth, in various 
instances one third, and in one upwards of half, of the 
students. Perhaps no object of contemplation afforded 
him higher pleasure, towards the close of his life, than 
the number of his pupils, who had become, or were 
intending to become, preachers ; especially when he 
remembered how frequently the labours of the former 
had been crowned with success. 

In the performance of the other exercises of public 
worship, he greatly excelled. His manner of reading 
the Scriptures, and sacred poetry, was peculiarly happy 
and impressive. In the appropriateness, variety, flu- 
ency, copiousness, fervency, and elevation of prayer, as 
regarded subjects, sentiment, and language, he was 
nearly without a rival. Entirely free from form, from 
tiresome repetition, and from lukewarmness ; and under 
the influence of the deepest abasement and prostra- 
tion of soul ; his heart appeared to be melted, and ' his 
lips to be touched as with a live coal from oft" the altar,' 
when he was engaged in this sublime and delightful 
duty. 

But his usefulness as a minister, was not con lined to 
his labours in the pulpit. He was emphatically the 
friend, the counsellor, and the guide of his younger 
brethren in the sacred profession. In the language of 
one of his pupils, ' He was, indeed, a father to New 
England — her moral legislator. His life is an era in 
her history. To the churches of his persuasion in that 
country, he was a guardian, a friend, a counsellor. In 
the hour of trial, they found support in his firmness, 
assistance in his wisdom, and encouragement in his 
prayers. As a peacemaker, he was eminently blessed ; 
for his advice was asked and given in the spirit of 
Christian humility and justice.' Great numbers of the 
clergy, had, first or last, been his pupils ; — he had been 
their friend and adviser, as well as their instructor ; 
and they felt the most implicit confidence in his dispo- 
sition, and his capacity, to assist them in their embar- 
rassments and difficulties. For this purpose they 
resorted to him with perfect freedom, and were received 
by him with the utmost kindness and respect. He 
entered at once into their interests and feelings ; and 
the services, which he rendered them, were numerous 
and important. Having the advantage of long observa- 
tion and experience, an extensive acquaintance with the 
state of the country, and the character, wants, and con- 
dition, of its inhabitants ; and being the centre of appli- 
cation for the supply of instructors both literary and 
religious for a wide extent of country ; he was able to 
adapt his opinions to the exigencies of the various cases 
in which he was consulted ; and to furnish those, who 
sought it, with employment and support. Few imagine 
how many parishes in New England, New York, and 
elsewhere, have, through his agency, been furnished with 
clergymen. 

In short, his character as a preacher may be summed 
up in the language of the writer last alluded to ; ' While 
he shunned not to declare the whole counsel of God, 
he strengthened his arguments by illustrations from the 
history of nations, and the biography of individuals. 
His application of Scripture doctrines and texts to the 
ever -varying aspect of human lift; ; his insight into the 
groundwork of character, and the motives to action ; 
his admirable sketches, as it were, with the very pencil, 
and in the very colouring of the inspired writers, dis- 
tinguished him from the mere commentator on texts, 
and the sentimental moralist. Of his eloquence, as with 
other great orators, few can judge correctly, but those 



who have heard him. They will never forget him, 
either in this world or the next. To simplicity, in 
manner and matter, he added dignity ; to ease he added 
energy ; to fervour he added humility. Preaching too 
often seems, with ministers, the work of a day or an hour ; 
but with him it was the work of eternity. He preached 
as a sinner and dying man himself : he preached as in 
the presence of God, and of the spirits of just men 
made perfect ; he preached as though he saw his crown 
of glory ever before him ; as though he heard the 
Saviour .saying, " Well done, good and faithful servant, 
enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.'" His sermons 
were not adorned with as many decorations of taste, 
and ornaments of imagination, as some other distin- 
guished pulpit orators. But in the primary qualities 
of real eloquence, his sermons were eminently rich : 
in powerful appeals to the heart, in vivid pictures of 
vice and virtue, sketched from the life ; in awful 
denunciations ; in solemn remonstrance ; in fervent 
intercession.' 

It remains only to view President Dwight as a man, 
in the various walks of private life, exhibiting the vir- 
tues which peculiarly adorn that interesting station. 
And, perhaps, no part of the task, which has been under- 
taken in this account, bas been more difficult of execu- 
tion. ' It is rare,' says Professor Silliman, who had 
been long and intimately acquainted with him, in pri- 
vate as well as in public life, ' that a man, so great and 
splendid in the public eye, is in private life so desira- 
ble ; for, to his particular friends his society was 
delightful, and the only effect of long and intimate 
acquaintance with him was to exact towards him every 
sentiment of respect, admiration, and affection.' ' In 
the domestic and social circle,' says another of his 
pupils, ■ Dr Dwight will ever be remembered with the 
tenderest affection, and the most sincere regret.' ' In 
private society,' says a third, ' Dr Dwight possessed 
uncommon powers to please and to instruct. With an 
inexhaustible stock of knowledge on almost every sub- 
ject, and an ease of communication, to which a parallel 
can hardly be found, he easily accommodated his remarks 
to the character and means of improvement of those 
with whom he conversed ; and seldom failed to excite 
the highest respect and admiration. From the weak- 
ness of his eyes, and his consequent inability to employ 
himself much in reading, except by the assistance of 
others, he was led t® devote more of his time to the 
society of his friends, than, perhaps, in other circum- 
stances he would have judged expedient. He ever con- 
sidered the diversified conversation of a social circle, 
as affording the most rational, and, at the same time, 
the most entertaining of all amusements.' ' A disap- 
pointment,' says a fourth, ' is often felt, on our intro- 
duction to men who have attained eminence for talents 
and piety. By habits of seclusion and abstraction, 
they have, perhaps, lost the ability to mingle, with 
interest, in the concerns of the passing day. It was not 
so with President Dwight. In his manners he was, in 
the highest degree, dignified, affable, and polite. Like 
Johnson, he shone in no place with more distinguished 
splendour, than in the circle of the friends he loved ; 
when the glow of animation lighted up his countenance, 
and a perpetual stream of knowledge and wisdom 
flowed from his lips. As his had been a life of obser- 
vation and reflection rather than of secluded study, his 
acquisitions were all practical, they were all at hand, 
ready to enrich and adorn his conversation. In theo- 
logy and' ethics, in natural philosophy and geography, 
in history and statistics, in poetry and philology, in 
husbandry and domestic economy, his treasures were 
equally inexhaustible. Interesting narration, vivid 
description, and sallies of humour; anecdotes of the just, 
the good, the generous, the brave, the eccentric; these 
all were blended, in fine proportions, to form the bright 
and varied tissue of his discourse. Alive to all the 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xli 



sympathies of friendship, faithful to its claims, and se- 
dulous in performing its duties, he was beloved by many 
from early life, with whom he entered on the stage, 
and whom, as Shakspeare says, he " grappled to his 
soul with hooks of steel." It is no small proof of his 
amiableness, that all who gained the most intimate 
access to him, whether associates, or pupils, or amanu- 
enses, admired, revered, and loved him most.' 

These various testimonies, written by so many differ- 
ent persons, all having the best means of judging, while 
they evince his excellence in private life, also show how 
impossible it must be, in a sketch like the present, to 
give an adequate view of the character of a man so 
greatly distinguished in every public station which he 
was called to occupy, so justly admired in the circle of 
his friends, and so tenderly beloved in the bosom of his 
own family. 

The purity of his sentiments and language was equal- 
ly remarkable and exemplary. In conversation, he not 
only observed the strictest delicacy himself, in his re- 
marks, and allusions, and anecdotes ; but, by an influ- 
ence, at once silent and perceptible, induced every one 
else to do the same. The same is true of his writings. 
It is believed, that in the whole of his voluminous works 
there cannot be found a single sentence which is not 
consistent with the most refined purity. Nor, after an 
intimate acquaintance of more than forty years, is the 
instance recollected in which he has been heard to 
utter an expression, or a thought, which would have 
excited the apprehensions of innocence, or wounded the 
ear of female sensibility. 

He was, from infancy, distinguished for the most 
conscientious regard to truth. This was obvious in 
every day's conversation. He never allowed himself 
to exaggerate, nor in any degree to misrepresent. In 
no situation, whether surprised by strong temptation, or 
urged by the most pressing necessity, would he sanction 
the slightest deviation from absolute verity. Equally 
sincere was he in his professions. The kindness and 
services which he rendered, always exceeded the ex- 
pectations which he had intentionally raised. He had 
too much self-respect to keep any man in the dark as 
to his opinions or principles. He entertained none 
which he was not willing to communicate to the world ; 
and his declarations concerning them were mathemati- 
cally true. 

No less was he remarkable for the most scrupulous 
regard to decorum. His manners were those of the po- 
lished gentleman : characterised by ease, grace, and 
dignity. There was no distance, no reserve, no visible 
consciousness of superior intellect. His politeness was 
not a mere exterior. It was the great law of kindness, 
' Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,' exemplified 
in his daily intercourse with those around him. It was, 
thus, universal ; appearing in his countenance, his con- 
versation, and his conduct ; exhibited equally towards 
persons of every condition ; and delicately regarding 
the characters, the circumstances, the feelings, and the 
prejudices, of those who were present. All men were 
easy and happy in his company. Amidst all his avo- 
cations and labours, he was ever ready to attend to the 
calls of hospitality, of civility, and of friendship ; calls 
which were multiplied upon him to an unprecedented de- 
gree, but which were never suffered to pass by unheeded. 
The courteousness of his manners was exemplified in 
his intercourse with the poor and the humble, as well as 
with those in more elevated stations; by his treating 
them at all times with kindness, listening to their wants, 
and, as far as lay in his power, administering to their 
necessities. 

His charities were unceasing, and, in proportion to 
his resources, rarely surpassed. The beggar at the door 
never went empty away. Those, who suffered in si- 
lence, he continually sought out, and sent them unso- 
licited relief. Those, whom the providence of God had 



suddenly impoverished, never applied to him for help 
in vain. To religious charities, to the education of 
young men of piety, to the distribution of Bibles, to the 
support of missions, to the assistance of destitute 
churches, he loved peculiarly to contribute. The only 
privilege of the affluent, which he coveted, w r as the 
good which they might do with their wealth, and the 
pleasure which they might enjoy in doing it. 

No man ever loved his friends with more sincerity or 
constancy, or with warmer affection. His house, his 
hand, and his heart, were always open to welcome them. 
He never deserted them in distress ; or because they 
were the objects of reproach and calumny. Instead of 
this, he chose rather to withdraw from those who at- 
tacked them, however numerous, or wealthy, or power- 
ful. To their failings he was kind ; never, by even a 
remote allusion, giving others reason to suppose that 
he observed them. Their excellencies he loved to ac- 
knowledge. The characteristics in his view, which 
ought especially to govern in the choice of intimate 
friends, were not talents, nor learning, nor wealth, nor 
influence, nor polish, nor fashion : they were sincere 
affection, tried personal worth, and refinement of the 
mind. In this respect few have been more happy. In 
his intercourse with his friends, and with others, all his 
purposes were kind, and generous, and honourable. He 
would not condescend to wear disguise, nor to associate 
with those before whom it was necessary. 

Personal independence and decision of character 
were inwrought in the very texture of his mind. He 
was afraid of no man. The history of his life present- 
ed no vulnerable points ; and he knew that reproach 
and slander could not do him injury. While he re- 
ceived intelligence and advice from every quarter, and 
would change his purpose, if a sufficient reason was 
given ; yet without such a reason, no influence nor 
entreaties, no flattery nor threats, could induce him to 
change it. His purpose was his duty. Motives of a 
higher nature than any which present objects can af- 
ford, led him to embrace it ; and no other motives could 
prompt him to relinquish it. For this, he was ready at 
all times, if it became necessary, to sacrifice the objects 
which are usually most valued ; — the friendship of any 
friend, the civilities and courtesy of the rich, the 
fashionable, and the powerful, and the applause of the 
many. The formation of his opinions on religious 
subjects, he appeared ever to consider as a transaction 
exclusively between God and himself. Aiming to leave 
other things wholly out of view, he resorted to the 
Bible as the perfect standard of faith ; and as absolutely 
obligatory on the conscience ; believing that his own 
mind was darkened by many errors, and needed the 
illumination of the Spirit of light. Various opinions, 
ardently embraced when a youth, he afterward relin- 
quished, from a conviction that they were unfounded. 
His sentiments on all important religious subjects will 
be found in this volume. What he believed to be 
true he would preach, in all the extent in which he 
received it, leaving the consequences with God. His 
views of Christian Catholicism and of the importance ot 
truth, will be found in several of the following sermons. 
His feelings, and conversation, and conduct towards 
those who differed from him, were evangelically liberal. 
Virtue, he described, as ' voluntary obedience to truth ;' 
and vice, as 'voluntary obedience to error.' He held 
the Scriptures to be a plain, intelligible revelation of 
the will of God ; and every man, who has them, to be 
equally responsible for his faith as for his practice. 
No considerations would induce him to be civil to 
error, as such ; or to narrow the distinction between 
error and truth. While he treated those whom he be- 
lieved to embrace errors, even fundamental ones, with 
kindness; on all proper occasions, he exposed their 
errors without hesitation and without fear. The valua 
I of their applause and their friendship was ' less than 
f 



xli 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



nothing,' in comparison with the value of truth, and of 
a clear conscience before God. 

All who have attempted to draw his character have 
mentioned him as eminently disinterested. Few men 
have originated more numerous, or more important in- 
stitutions or measures. Yet it is believed, that in no 
instance whatever was he even suspected to connect a 
private selfish end; his own personal benefit, or the 
advancement of any member of his family; with that 
which was avowed and ostensible. The purposes which 
he professed were the only purposes he had in view. 
To accomplish them, he could not stoop to manage- 
ment and finesse. They were honourable purposes. 
Pie declared them with the sincerity of truth, and pur- 
sued them with the dignity of virtue. So perfectly 
known was his character in this respect, that the in- 
stance probably cannot be named, in which any man 
ventured to approach him for assistance, in a manner 
which was not direct and honourable. 

The love of money appears to have had no influence 
over his mind. He viewed wealth not as a blessing in 
itself, but in the good which it enabled its possessor to 
do to himself, his family, and others. He had a right 
' to eat and to drink, and to enjoy the good of his la- 
bour under the sun,' and to make adequate provision 
for his family. But the residue was vested in his hands 
to promote the well-being of his fellow men. These 
were his principles. Were the amount of property that 
he relinquished for the benefit of the Institution over 
which he presided to be stated ; those who know how 
limited were his resources, would view the degree in 
which they were reduced by his liberality as literally 
romantic. 

His temper was ardent and natively impetuous ; but 
under the discipline of kindness and of principle it had 
been chiefly subdued. If its impetuosity was ever 
manifested, it was against conduct which was base and 
dishonourable. If at any time, through misinformation, 
he had been led to form incorrect views of men or of 
conduct; when convinced of it, no man more cheer- 
fully retracted his error. His ardour was daily con- 
spicuous in his friendships, his love of rectitude, and his 
zeal for doing good. Though ardent, he was amiable 
and affectionate, and possessed an almost childlike 
simplicity and tenderness of heart. Never have we 
known the individual, whose feelings were more uni- 
formly or more powerfully excited by the recital of a 
tale of distress, of a kind and honourable action, or of 
an account of the triumphs of the cross. 

The interest which he took in the great and splendid 
Christian charities, which characterize the present era, 
was extinguished only with the lamp of life. While 
able to converse, the establishment, labours, and suc- 
cess of Bible Societies and Missionary Societies main- 
tained their hold upon his heart. Such was the excite- 
ment which, from time to time, during the few last days 
of his life, the accounts of their success produced upon 
iiis mind, that it was sufficient for the moment to con- 
trol the influence of his disease; to bring back his 
thoughts, occasionally bewildered by the intenseness of 
his sufferings, to entire collectedness ; and to enable 
him to give vent to his feelings in the lively and ani- 
mated language of fervent and pious gratification. 

In the nearest relations of private life, President 
Dwight was an example of almost all that is excellent 
and praiseworthy. As a son, he manifested towards his 
parents, on all occasions, the most dutiful and cheerful 
obedience, and the most reverential affection. So true 
is this remark, that his mother declared a short time 
before her death, that she did not know the instance in 
which he ever disobeyed a parental command, or failed 
in the performance of a filial duty. — As a husband and 
a father, his life was eminently lovely. It was a uniform 
display of conjugal affection and paternal tenderness : 
a daily exemplification of the great principle of bene- 



volence — ' It is more blessed to give than to receive.' 
His highest earthly enjoyment was found at the fire- 
side, in the bosom of his family. Their happiness was 
his own; and to promote it, no exertions were too 
great. — As a brother, it has been seen he was affection- 
ate and generous ; supplying to his numerous brothers 
and sisters, as far as the nature of things would admit, 
the severe loss they had sustained in the morning of their 
lives in the death of an excellent father. — As a friend 
and neighbour, let the united testimony of the various 
communities, in which at different periods of his life he 
resided, give his character. Rarely indeed does an in- 
stance occur, in which the influence of individual ex- 
ample has been more beneficially experienced. It was 
not merely that he was kind to his neighbours, polite 
and hospitable to strangers, and charitable to the poor ; 
and that, as far as in him lay, he followed peace with 
all men — there was a moral charm that uniformly sur- 
rounded him, which was felt in every circle, and spread 
its benign influence through the region in which he 
dwelt. 

His sentiments with regard to personal religion are 
everywhere unfolded in the following work ; but espe- 
cially in the Sermon on the Nature of Faith ; in those 
on Regeneration ; and in those on the Two Great Com- 
mandments. We have met with no other account of 
these subjects which has appeared to us equally definite 
and satisfactory. Religion he viewed as having its seat 
only in the heart ; and himself and all men by nature as 
entirely destitute of it; and remaining so voluntarily 
until renewed by God the Holy Ghost. Wherever it 
existed, he supposed it to be comprehended in love, and 
proved to exist only by the fruits of love visible in the 
life. His views of his own attainments as a Christian 
were unaffectedly humble. On this subject he was re- 
luctant to converse ; conceiving that real piety is unos- 
tentatious, and that mere professions are of little value. 
Rarely if ever has he been known to mention it when 
numbers were present ; and not often before a single 
Christian friend. He never spoke of himself as a 
Christian. His humility in this respect was striking 
in his sermons and his prayers ; when speaking of the 
Christians present, never including himself among 
them. His declarations on this subject, in health and 
in sickness, always were, that he did not know that he 
had any personal interest in the mediation of Christ ; 
that the promises of the gospel were great and glori- 
ous ; that he was usually free from distressing doubts 
and apprehensions ; and that his hopes were often 
bright and supporting. He loved retirement for reli- 
gious meditation, self-examination, and secret prayer ; 
and spent, it is believed, a portion of every day in the 
discharge of these duties. His prayers in the family 
and in public exhibited, so far as the human mind can 
.judge, unusual evidence of contrition, self-abasement, 
trust, resignation, gratitude, and love. We have not 
known the individual whose powers to instruct or to 
interest in conversation were superior to his ; yet it was 
his highest pleasure to converse on religious subjects, 
and where propriety permitted it, on experimental re- 
ligion. Such was the state of his thoughts and feelings 
at all times in company, that his mind seemed willing 
to enter on the contemplation of religion at every op- 
portunity. It was not, however, mere speculation. It 
was a living exhibition of the various affections of 
piety and benevolence as they came warm from the 
heart. 

His life was a steady course of cheerfulness, as well 
as of submission ; and this under trials well calculated 
to determine the character. Probably no man, without 
actual experience, can realize how great a trial of 
patience it is, to endure pain in the eyes every day for 
more than forty years, uninterrupted except by the 
hours of sleep, and often intense and agonizing ; to be 
deprived by it for weeks together of a great part of his 



LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



xliii 



necessary sleep ; to be cut off absolutely from the plea- 
sure of reading ; and to be continually threatened by 
it with blindness, and occasionally with apoplexy. Not 
only, however, did he not murmur nor repine : he was 
resigned. He was more — he was universally cheerful 
and happy ; and always ready to contribute to the 
happiness of those around him. He chose rather 
to remember his blessings than his afflictions ; and felt 
that he had not deserved the least mercy. Nay, his 
very afflictions he viewed as among his greatest bles- 
sings. 

Death often invaded his peace. He lost a father in 
the prime of life and usefulness, whom he ever men- 
tioned with the highest reverence ; three brothers at 
the age of manhood, whom he tenderly lamented ; a 
mother endeared to him by every consideration which 
could affect the heart of filial piety ; two sisters, for 
whom he felt no ordinary warmth of attachment ; and 
a son, a youth of fine promise, at the age of nineteen, 
just after he had completed his education. The effect 
of these repeated strokes was obviously such as a Chris- 
tian should desire. Their evident tendency was to 
soften the heart, to subdue the will, to loosen the attach- 
ment to terrestrial good, to enliven the conscience, and 
to assist the soul in its assumption of the heavenly cha- 
racter. This was peculiarly observable on the death of 
his son. It occurred before the termination of a 
remarkable revival of religion among the students of the 
seminary ; during which he was believed to have become 
possessed of personal piety. Had he lived, he intended 
to have been a clergyman. He died at a distance from 
home ; and his father did not arrive in season to be pre- 
sent at his funeral. Rarely have Ave witnessed par- 
ental sorrow equally intense and permanent. Rare- 
ly could he mention his son without a faltering voice, 
and cheeks suffused with tears. 

Those who witnessed his sufferings during the two 
last years of his life, were not more struck with their 
severity, nor with the fortitude which he discovered 
under them, than with the marked effect of them upon 
his mind. Often, for months together, the pain which 
he endured was not only unintermitted, but, in its sever- 



est forms, spasmodical. During the continuance of 
these convulsions, whicli recurred frequently during the 
day, so intense was the anguish, that the sweat would 
roll down his forehead for many minutes together in 
continued streams. Yet such was his fortitude, that 
though compelled at times to groan from severity of 
distress, he never once forgot himself so far as to mur- 
mur or complain. But while these sufferings thus 
ravaged the body, and prepared it for dissolution, their 
effect upon the soul was obviously salutary. Accus- 
tomed for many years to the daily contemplation of 
death, he now witnessed its gradual approach with sere- 
nity and peace. In the midst of his sorrows, he found 
consolations ' that were neither few nor small.' He 
grew continually more and more humble, gentle, meek, 
and resigned ; more and more disposed to give up every 
trust but in his Saviour. Though his intellect retained all 
its vigour, yet his temper became in an eminent degree 
that of a lowly child. His affections were exquisitely 
tender. Their native character seemed entirely gone, 
and they resembled the affections of heaven. His views, 
his hopes, his purposes, and his joys, were heavenly ; 
and nothing terrestrial seemed to remain except his 
earthly tabernacle, which was just ready to be laid in 
the grave, there to rest in hope. When called to pass 
through the dark valley, his Shepherd appeared to be 
with him : his rod and his staff they comforted him. 
Though frequently bewildered through excess of pain, 
yet no distressing fear assailed him. He saw the pre- 
sence of the grim destroyer with tranquillity and hope ; 
yielded up his soul without a struggle, and, as we trust 
with undoubting confidence, found a glorious welcome 
into the ' house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens.' 

His life was eminently useful and lovely. His death 
was peaceful and happy to himself, but most widely and 
deeply lamented by his countrymen at large, as well as 
by his family, his many friends, and the church of 
Christ. His eternity, we trust, will pass among angels 
and the spirits of the just, in their immortal progress 
in knowledge, happiness, and virtue. 



ANALYSIS OF THE WORK. 



SYSTEM OP DOCTRINES. 



Doctrines 

OF 

Natural 
Religion. 



C Direct Proofs of it. 

Existence of God. \ Atheistical Objections and Schemes of Doctrine considered. 
* Comparative Influence of Atheism and Christianity. 



Unity of God. 



ser. 
Mark xii. 32. I 
Psal. xiv. 1. 2 
Psal. xiv. 1. .'J 

1 Cor. viii. 4. 4 



Attributes of God. 



Decrees of God. 
Sovereignty of God 



Eternity. 

Immutability. 

Omnipresence. 

Omniscience. 

Omnipotence. 

Independence. 

Benevolence : 

Justice. 
Truth. 
Mercy. 
Wisdom. 



Psal. cii. 24—27. 
Psal. cxxxix. ] — 12. 



Gen. xvii. 1. 7 



' As proved by the Works of Creation and Providence. 
As exhibited by Revelation. 



1 John iv. 8. 

1 John iv. 8. 
Deut. xxxii. 4. 
Psal. cxvii. 2. 
Psal. ciii. 8. 
1 Tim. i. 17. 



Works of God. 



Doctrines 
Peculiar 

TO THE 

Christian 
Religion • 

OR THE 

Mediato- 
rial sys- 
tem. 



The Character 
of Jesus Christ, 
the Mediator. 



Job xxiii. 13. 14, 15 



Jer. x. 23. 



1(5 



Heaven. 



pAir. 

I Starry Heaven 

J Supreme Heaven 



J 



Their Rank. 
Their Attributes. 
Their Employments. 



Holy Angels : 

L Fallen Angels. 

pThe Globe itself. . . . . 

r Body. 

I r Its Nature. 

I i»ou. ^ Soul : •) Not Material. 

(_ Not a Chain of Ideas and Exercises. 
I [ Chief End of Man. 

-Probation of Man. .... 

Temptation. 7 



Gen. i. 1. 


17 


Col. i. 16. 


18, 19 


Jude 6. 


20 


Gen. i. 1. 


21 



Earth. 



< 



Fall. 

Sentence. 



5 

r 



Gen. i. 26, 27. 22 

Gen. ii. 7. 23 

Gen. ii. 7. 24 

1 Cor. x. 31. 25 

Gen. ii. 15—17. 26 

Gen. iii. 1—6. 27 
Gen.iii. 14—19.23 



® 1 



Depravity 
of Man: 



f Proved from Revelation and 
Proved She Rejection of 
the Word of God. 
Its Degree. 
I Its Derivation : from Adam. 
LRemarks upon it. . . 

Man cannot be justified by the Law of God. 

(-The Names of God are there given him. 
I The Attributes and Actions of God are 
He is spoken there ascribed to him. 
of as such J DivineUelationsare theresaid to be sus--, 
tained by him. 



Rom. v. 12. 


29 


Jer. viii. 9. 


30 


Eccles. viii. 2. 


31 


Rom. v. 20. 


32 


Rom. vi. 12. 


33 


Rom. iii. 20. 


34. 



in the 

Scriptures. 



Divine Worship is there required to ?■ 
be rendered, and is actually rendered I 



to him. J 

The Deity of Christ is the only ground of Consist -1 

ency in the Scheme of Redemption. 
The Jews otherwise are not chargeable with Guilt in ! 

putting him to Death. 
The Prophets and Apostles cannot otherwise be vin- 
dicated from the Sin of leadingMankind into Idolatry.. 
Objections answered. .... 

Objections to the Doctrines of the Unitarians. 
'-Objections to their manner of Conducting the Controversy, 
i. He is Man; or the Incarnation of Christ. 
a 



Rom. viii. 3, 4. 35 
Rom. viii. 3, 4. 36 

Rom. viii. 3, 4. 37 



Rom. viii. 3, 4. 33 



1 Cor. iii. 20. 39 

1 Cor. iii. 20. 40 

1 Cor. iii. 20. 41 

Rom. viii. 3. 42 



p (g 



ANALYSIS. 

"The Covenant, under which Christ acted: that of Redemption. 

f ["The Necessity of his executing the Office of a 

His Personal J Preacher. 
Preaching : ] The Things which he Taught. 
I The Manner of his Preaching. 
I The Consequences of his Preaching. 
TThe Fact, that they Preached the Gospel 
His Preach- J of Christ. 

ing by his ! The Necessity of their preaching it. 
Apostles : The Things which they Preached. 

LThe Consequences of their preaching 
'Origin, Office, and Character of a Priest. 
Proofs of the Priesthood of Christ. 

r 



Isa. liii. 10. 



SER. 

43 



Doctrines 
Peculiar 

TO THE 

Christian 
Religion • 

OR THE 

Mediato- 
rial Sys- 
tem. 



The Offices which 
Christ sustained. 



Luke xxiv. 19. 
John vii, 46. 
John vii. 45. 
John vii. 46. 

Mark xvi. 15, 16, 20. 
Mark xvi. 15, 16, 20- 



K 



His Character 
as a Priest. 
His Holiness: 



His Atone- 
ment : 



In. what it 
was ex- 
emplified. 



Its Import- 
ance. 



44 
45 
46 

47 

48 

49 

50 
ib. 

51 
52 



Heb. vii. 26. 53 



Psalm ex. 4. 
. . Psalm ex. 4. 

In his Piety. . j 

In his Performance of the Duties > Heb. vii. 26. 

which he owed Mankind. J 

In his Self-Government. . Heb. vii. 26. 

(-To the Distinction of his Character."! 
To enable him to magnify the Law I 
of God. . 

, To give the necessary efficacy to his | 
I suffering for Mankind. . J 
I To his setting before Men an Ex- 
L ample of Righteousness, 
fits Nature. 7 
Its Necessity. j 
Its Reality. ... 

The Manner in which it was performed 
I Its Extent. 

L Objections answered. . . Rom. iii. 24 — 26. 

L Intercession of Christ. .... . Heb. vii. 24, 25. 

L His Kingly Office. ..... . Eph. i. 20—22. 



1 John ii. 5. 
Rom. iii. 24—26. 



54 

55 



The Miracles of Christ. . . . 

The Resurrection of Christ. . ... 

The Amiableness of Christ in publishing the Gospel to Mankind. 



fThe Nature; or in what it consists. 
The Source : the Free Grace of God. 
(-Duty of believing. 
Nature of Faith. 
Influence of Faith in our Justification. 



Rom. iii. 24—26. 56 



57 

5S 
59 

60 



Acts ii. 22. 



The Consequences 
of Christ's Me- ' 

D1ATI0N. 



Acts iii. 15. 61, 62 
Isa. Iii. 7. 63 

Rom. iii. 29. 64 



The means. 
Faith in 
Christ. 



Rom. iii. 28. 
Rom. iii. 28. 
Rom. iii. 28. 



J Reconciliation of James and Paul on this subject. 7 T- mes ;: 04 fis 
1 Influence of Works on our J ustification. t 



Justification by Faith does not lessen the Motives 



« 



I to Obedience. . . . Rom. iii. 31. 

The Agent in f His Character. . . . Tit. iii. 5. 

effecting it: j Testimonies to the Doctrine of the Trinity f~ - 
The Holy] the ancient Christians, Jews, and Heathens, 
Ghost. [ His Agency. . . 

Its Necessity. 7 
Its Reality. J • ' 

Its Nature. ... 

Its Antecedents. ... 
Its Antecedents generally considered. 

T Faith. (See Sermon 66.) 7 
Repentance. . C 

("Its Nature. . 7 

Evidence of its existence. 3 
Love- \ * ts Consistency w >th providing 
I '1 peculiarly for our own. 

1 I Its Consistency with our seeking 

I L Salvation. 

L Complacency. . 

T Adoption. .... 
I Sanctification. 
J Peace of Conscience. 

I Joy in the Holy Ghost. . [ ' 

I Increase of Grace. 7 

L Perseverance unto the End. J 
("What are not Evidences. 
J What are real Evidences. 

J Difficulties attending the Application of these 
L Evidences to ourselves. . . 2 Cor. xiii. 5. 90 



Its Attendants. <| 



Its Conse 
qutnees. 



Its Evi- 
dences. 



Isa. xlviii. 16. 
Tit. iii. 5. 

John iii. 3. 

John iii. 3. 
Acts xvi. 29, 30. 
Eph. iv. 22—24. 

Matt, xxvii. 3— 5. 
Gal. v. 22. 

1 Tim. v. 8. 

Rom. ii. 6, 7. 
John xiii. 34. 
1 John iii. 2. 
1 Thess. v. 23. 
John xiv. 27. 
Rom. xiv. 17. 

Prov. iv. 18. 

2 Cor. xiii. 5. 
2 Cor. xiii. 5. 



69 
70 

71 

72 

73 

74 
75 
76 

77 

78 

79 

80 
81 
82 
83 
84 
85 

S6 

88 

89 



ANALYSIS. 



in 



SYSTEM OF DUTIES. 



" Character of the Law of God. 



r ±? 



Duties 

OF 

Natural ' 
Religion, 



In what it is sum- 
med up. 



a r 



^ S 
SB 



TLove to God. 
The First Great J Reverence of God. 
Commandment, j Humility. 

|_ Resignation. 
("What it requires. 
The Second Great J j. Effects • -f ^ n P ersona l Happiness. 
Commandment. 1 '^On Public Happiness. 

|_Its Foundation: Utility. 
The First Commandment. .... 

The Second Commandment. 

The Nature of Profaneness. 
The Guilt of Profaneness. 
The Danger of Profaneness. 

ES?}" e Sabbath - 

The Fourth Com- 1 Objections answered, 
mandment. | How the Sabbath is to be observed 

L Reflections on the Sabbath. 



The Third Com 
mandment. 







SER. 


Psal. xix. 7. 




91 


Mark xii. 28—30. 


92 


Job xxviii. 2S. 




93 


1 Peter v. 5. 




94 


Luke xxii. 41, 


42. 


95 


Mark xii. 31. 




96 


Acts xx. 35. 




97 


Acts xx. 35. 




98 


Acts xx. 35. 




99 


Exod. xx. 3. 




K10 


Exod. xx. 4. 




101 


Exod. xx. 7. 




102 


Exod. xx. 7. 




103 


Exod. xx. 7. 




104 



Exod. xx. 8—11. 105, 106 

Heb. iv. 9- 107 

Isa. Iviii. 13, 14. 108 
Exod. xx. 11. 109 



The Sixth Com- 
mandment : 



TDuty of Children. . 

The Fifth Com- J Duty of Parents, 
mandment: j Duty of Rulers. 

|_ Duty of Subjects. 
T Killing when lawful. 7 
Murder. J 

J Duelling. . " . 

j Suicide. 
|_ Drunkenness. 
("The Origin, Nature, and Benefits of 

The Seventh Com- T Marriage 

, ] Lewdness. 

mandment: ( Polygamy. 7 

L Divorce. 3 

{Idleness. ~) 
Prodigality. 3 
Fraud. 
Gaming. 
("Nature and Importance of Truth. 
The Ninth Com- J Nature and Causes of Lying, 
mandment: 1 Mischiefs and Preventives of Lying. 

L Slander. 

{Contentment. 
Charity. 
Avarice. 
Ambition. . . . 

i-Man's Inability to obey the Law of God. . ... 

("Mode of Restoration to the Spirit of Obedience : By Faith and Repentance 



Exod. xx. 12. 110 
Exod. xx. 12. Ill, 112 

Exod. xx. 12. 113 

Exod. xx. 12. 114 

Exod. xx. 13. 115 

Exod. xx. 13. 116 

Exod. xx. 13. 117 

.Exod. xx. 13. 118 



Exod. xx. 14. 119 
Exod. xx. 14. 120 

Mat. xix. 3—11. 121 



Exod. xx. 15. 

Exod. xx. 15. 
Exod. xx. 15. 
Exod. xx. 16. 
Exod. xx. 16. 
Exod. xx. 16. 
Exod. xx. 16. 

Exod. xx. 17. 
1 Tim. vi. 17—19. 
1 Tim. vi. 9, 10. 
Rom. xii. 16. 
Rom. viii. 17. 



122 

123 
124 
125 
126 

I5i7 

128 
129 
130 
131 
132 
133 



Duties 

OF THE 

Christian 
Religion. 



Acts xx. 20, 21. 134 



r 



Means of Restora 
tion, or Means < 
of Grace. 



Generally 



|" Proofs that there are such Means. 
J What they are. 



considered: "j What is their influence. j 
(.Objections answered, 
f Hearing the Word of God. 

[-The Nature of Prayer 
I Seasons of Prayer. 

Obligations to Prayer. 
I Usefulness fTo tfie Supplies 
of Prayer; 



1 Cor. iv. 15. 
1 Cor. iv. 15. 
1 Cor. iv. 15. 
Luke viii. 18. 



135 
136 
137 
13S 



Particularly 

considered : 



ins tu ri 

f To 1 
ss \ .. , 

'• £.To( 



1 Thess. v. 17. 139 



Families. 
Prayer: <j '°'™' (_To Communities. 

Efficacy of Prayer in procuring Bles- 
sings. 
Encouragements to Prayer. 
Objections to Prayer. 
.Forms of Prayer. 
Intercourse with Religious Men. 
Religious Meditation. 
., ... ... fDuty of educating Children re- 

Religious Edu- r ■ 1 

.■ a /•! -i ligiously. 

ration oi ChiI-^ Ma 8 neri f, whicliaistobedonej -^ 

( "' en: (.Motives to this Duty. . y x 



1 Thess. v. 17. 
Eph. vi. 10. 



140 
141 



Psal. lxxiii. 28. 142 



Job xxi. 15. 
Matt. vi. 9—13. 
Prov. xiii. 20. 
Prov. iv. 26. 

Prov. xxii. 6. 
ov. xxii. 6. 



143 
144 

145 
146 

147 
148 



ANALYSIS. 



Duties 

OF THE 

Christian ■< 

Religion- of Grace 



Means of Restora- 
tion, or Means 





■ 




Who are 




to use 


ta 


them ; 


2 


or the 


O 


Church 


O 


of Christ: 


c 




c3 




QJ 








^ 




>> 


. 


U 




cd 




C 








'O 




M 




o 




2 








x 




B 


What 




they 




are: 


. 


L 



Officers 
of the 
Church: 



SEK. 

14. 149 
150, 151 



"Ordinary Members of the Church ; their Character. 2 Cor. 
f Who are Ministers. . 1 Pet. v. 1- 

f ["End of Preaching. "J 

Preach- J Nature of Preaching. > Matt.xxviii. 19. 152 
ing : 1 Subjects of Preaching. J 

|_Manner of Preaching. Matt.xxviii. 19. 153 
Study. . . f 

Conducling the Ordinances of I 
Divine Worship. . | 

Presiding over and directing J 1 Thess. iii. 2. 154 

the Discipline of the Church. 
Instructing the Flock in pri- 
vate. . . 
Deacons. 
Reality of Baptism. ~) 
Design of Baptism, j 

{Believing Adults. . Matt, xxviii. 19. 
Infant Children of Believers. Matt.xxviii.19. 
No Infants but those of) 
Believers. . £ Acts ii. S8, 39. 

.Mode of Administration. . J 

I Qualifications of Communicants. "^ Mar kxiv.22— 25. 

Supper: ] Disposition with which to be attended. 7 n/r i, • oo ok iki 

(.Motives to the Attendance. . $ Marlc MV ^— *>■ i01 

Discipline of the Church. . . Malt, xviii. 15— 18. 162 



Baptism : 



Lord's 



Acts vi. 1—6. 
Matt, xxviii. 19. 



155 

156 

157 
. 158 

159 
160 



SYSTEM OF DISPENSATIONS CONSEQUENT ON THE STATE OF PROBATION. 



Death. 



f Immediate Consequences. 



Consequences 

OF 

Death. 



Remoter Consequences. 



Conclusion. 



r Resurrection of the Body. 
Final Judgment. 

Punishment of the Wicked : 
Rewards of the Righteous: 



. 


Psalm xc. 3. 


163 




Eccl. xii. 7. 


164 


. 


1 Cor. xv. 16. 


165 


. 


2 Pet. iii. 10. 


166 


fits Duration. ' 
7. Its Nature. 


Matt. xxv. 46. 


167 


2 Pet. ii. 12. 


168 


f New Creation. . 


2 Pet. iii. 13. 


169 


\ Happiness of Heaven. 


Rev. xxi. 1 — 3. 


170, 171 


... 


Prov. viii. 6. 


172, 173 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



SERMON I. 

ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 



There is one God. — Mark xii. 32. 



The existence of God is the basis of religion. This 
tvuth will be evident, if we remember, that the word 
Religion always denotes either a system of truths, of 
which God is the great subject ; or a system of affections 
and conduct, of which He is the supreme object. If we 
can prove to ourselves the existence of a God, that is, 
of a Being, by whom we were created, and by whom the 
universe is governed ; some such system of truths, affec- 
tions, and conduct, must be also capable of being proved. 
To such a Being we and the universe must sustain im- 
portant relations ; and out of these relations must neces- 
sarily arise to intelligent beings a variety of duties, im- 
mediately, and always, owed to him. Were there no 
such Being, there could be no such relations nor duties. 
Were the existence of such a Being incapable of proof, 
the existence of the relations and duties would be equal- 
ly incapable of being proved. Happily for us, and ac- 
cordantly with his own wisdom, God has not, in this 
most interesting case, left himself without ample wit- 
ness. 

In the text the existence of God is declared in the 
plainest and most direct terms. I shall therefore pro- 
ceed immediately to the examination of this subject. 

The foundation of all reasoning concerning beings and 
events, and ultimately concerning attributes and relations 
also, is a supposed, or acknowledged, connexion between 
cause and effect. By cause, (it will be observed, that I 
am speaking of what is called the efficient cause,) I in- 
tend, that something, be it what it may, which produces, 
or is supposed to produce, existence, or any change of 
existence ; and without which, the existence, or the 
change, would not have been. Between this something, 
styled cause, and the something, styled effect, all man- 
kind, except a few sceptical or atheistical philosophers, 
have agreed, that there is an inseparable connexion. As 
this connexion has been denied by these philosophers, 
and as it is the foundation of all our reasonings on this 
and every other subject, a consideration of it, and of 
the evidence which attends it, will undoubtedly be a 
proper part of the present discourse. 

In the first place : It will be admitted by these 
philosophers, as well as all other men, that we have 
no knowledge of any existence, or any change, which 
has taken place without a cause. 

All beings, and all events, so far as our acquaintance 
with them has hitherto extended, have been produced 



by some agency, or influence, extraneous to themselves ; 
and have never sprung up into existence casually, or 
without such agency or influence. There is, therefore, 
not the least reason furnished by experience, or by any 
thing which we know, why we should believe existence 
to be casual ; or why we should doubt an inseparable 
connexion between cause and effect. On the contrary, 
all the experience, all the knowledge of man, lends its 
whole influence to the doctrine, that existence has been 
invariably caused. The supposition, therefore, that 
existence is uncaused, or that the connexion between 
cause and effect is not inseparable and invariable, is per- 
fectly gratuitous, and without a shadow of support. 
How absurd and ridiculous it is, for a man, professing 
to be a reasonerand a philosopher, to found his opinions 
or his arguments, in any case, and especially in the 
most important case possible, on a mere supposition, I 
need not explain. 

Secondly : All mankind have acknowledged in the 
clearest manner, and in every way of which the sub- 
ject was susceptible, the inseparable nature of this 
connexion. 

The language of every nation is formed only on this 
plan. In every language there are not only many 
words directly expressing ideas of this subject, such as 
cause, efficiency, effect, production, produce, effectuate, 
create, generate, &c or words equivalent to these ; but 
every verb in every language, except the intransitive 
impersonal verbs, and the verb substantive, involves, of 
course, causation or efficiency ; and refers .always to an 
agent, or cause, in such a manner, that without the 
operation of this cause or agent, the verb would have no 
meaning. In this manner have mankind declared, in the 
very structure of their languages, not only that they 
perceived and acknowledged this connexion, but that it 
formed so considerable and essential a part of their 
thoughts, as to necessitate them to think in this man- 
ner only. Thus to think, to speak, to sit, to run, to 
strike, to write, to love, to hate, all denote effects, and 
refer to an agent, or cause of those effects ; and without 
such reference would not contain, nor express any 
meaning whatever. 

I have observed above, that all mankind have agreed 
in the acknowledgment of this connexion, except a few 
atheistical and sceptical philosophers. These men have, 
indeed, denied this connexion in form ; but they havj 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. r. 



acknowledged it, as fully as all others, in their customary 
language. On every subject, except creation, or giving 
existence, they have spoken exactly as other men speak ; 
and the connexion between cause and effect is as often 
declared in their conversation and writings, and as much 
relied on, as in those of other men. This fact is clear 
proof, that they admit this connexion in all cases, except 
those which respect the existence and government of 
God, in the same manner as the rest of mankind. In 
truth, language is so constructed, that it is impossible to 
write, or speak in a different manner. 

Children, so soon as they begin to speak at all, in- 
quire more anxiously, and more universally, concerning 
causation and efficiency, than concerning any other sub- 
ject of investigation. Every one conversant with- them 
must have observed, that they almost continually inquire, 
who did this, that, and the other thing; or produce the 
several changes of which they are witnesses? Who 
made themselves, and the various objects around them ? 
In this manner they teach us, that this is, to man, the 
natural, and the only natural, mode of conceiving; for 
all children think, and speak, in this manner. 

Nor are the views of mankind less forcibly evident, 
concerning this subject, in their actions. No man ever 
acted without regarding himself as a cause ; and without 
expecting to produce some change in himself, or in the 
objects around him, by his efficiency ; nor made use of 
any instrument, without expecting from it a degree of 
efficacy, which should produce some change or other, 
not to be looked for without it. Thus all men eat and 
drink, lie down, and act, universally, with a design to 
effectuate certain changes in themselves, or other ob- 
jects ; and atheists, as truly, and uniformly, as any other 
men. Thus, also, children act, from the beginning. 
Indeed, were men not to act in this manner, they 
would never act at all. No proof of absolute and uni- 
versal conviction, concerning this or any other subject, 
can be more perfect. 

Thirdly: We learn tlds connexion from experience ; 
and in two ways: by the testimony of our senses, and 
by the inspection of our minds. 

Causes operate without us, and within us; and pro- 
duce their proper effects in both cases. Those which 
operate without us, produce their effects before our 
sense» ; and so far our knowledge of the connexion be- 
tween cause and effect arises from sensitive testimony. 
Those which operate within us, produce their effects 
before the eye of the mind only; and so far our know- 
ledge of this connexion is intuitive. I as clearly per- 
ceive, that I think, reflect, remember, choose, wish, love, 
and hate ; that by a determination of my will I turn my 
thoughts from one subject to another, and transfer my 
affections and my conduct, voluntarily, from one object 
to another, and from one course to another, as that I 
exist. I also perceive this in the same manner, and with 
the same certainty : viz. with the bare inspection of the 
mental eye ; commonly termed intuition, and acknow- 
ledged to be attended with the highest possible certain- 
ty. Mr Hume is, therefore, totally erroneous in his as- 
sertion, that the connexion between cause and effect 
exists, or rather is perceived, only in the names ; and 
that, if we would call both by the name, Events, we 
should not suppose any connexion to exist between 
them. 

This opinion is sufficiently refuted by the fact, that 
these names, and not that of events, have been given to 



them. Mankind never give names without ideas : nor 
form any names which do not express such ideas as they 
really have, nor suppose themselves to have ideas which 
they have not, or different ideas from those which they 
really have. Wherever names have been given, the 
very ideas, which they denote, have certainly existed in 
the minds of those by whom they were given. 

The thing which we really perceive in this case is, 
however, merely the fact, that cause and effect are thus 
connected ; and not the nature of the causation, or effi- 
ciency, on which the connexion is founded. That I, 
and not something else, think, and act, in such man- 
ners as have been recited, and that but for me the 
thought and action would not have existed, I perceive 
intuitively; but I do not perceive at all why, or by what 
power, I think and act. The nature of this subject lies, 
in every case, beyond the bounds of the human capacity. 
Yet this infers not in any degree any want of evidence 
attending the fact. The contrary opinion would be 
attended with this absurdity ; that we cannot perceive 
one thing without perceiving at the same time another, 
totally diverse, and in the view of the mind entirely 
separated : an absurdity which cannot need to be ex- 
posed by me. 

Fourthly : The mind cannot realize the fact, that 
existence or change can lake place without a cause. 

This is at least true with respect to my own mind. 
I have very often made the attempt, and with no small 
pains-taking ; but have never been able to succeed at 
all. Supposing other minds to have the same general 
nature with my own, I conclude, that all others will 
find the same want of success. If nothing had originally 
existed, I cannot possibly realize, that any thing could 
ever have existed. Causes absolutely the same, must 
in the same circumstances produce absolutely the same 
effects. This is, I think; certainly self-evident, and ad- 
mitted as such. An absolute want of cause involves an 
absolute sameness of an opposite kind ; and must, with 
nearly the same evidence, continue for ever. The ne- 
cessity of causes to all the changes of being is, so far 
as I know, universally admitted. Mr Hume, particular- 
ly, talks as commonly, or rather as uniformly, in this 
manner, as any Christian does ; and not only argues 
from cause to effect, and from effect to cause, as much 
as other men ; but discusses this subject abundantly, 
and gives directions and principles for this kind of ar- 
gumentation. Indeed, without admitting it, neither he 
nor any other man, could argue at all. But, if no 
change can take place without a cause ; how can it be 
supposed that existence can take place without a cause ? 
Certainly less violence is done to our reason by suppos- 
ing a being to be changed in some respect or circum- 
stance without a cause, than to begin to exist without a 
cause. 

Fifthly : No absurdity can be greater than to argue 
with a man who denies this connexion. 

He himself, in speaking, exhibits himself as a cause 
of all the words uttered to him, and the opinions com- 
municated; and, in the act of arguing, admits you to be 
a similar cause. If his body be not a cause, and your 
eyes another, you cannot see him. If his voice, and 
your ear, be not causes, you cannot hear him. If his 
mind and yours be not causes, you cannot understand 
him. In a word, without admitting the connexion be- 
tween cause and effect, you can never know that he is 
arguing with you or you with him. 



EXISTENCE OF GOD. 



With these observations premised, which you will 
see to be inwoven with this and all other subjects of 
discussion, I observe in the first place, That the exis- 
tence of things, universally, proves the being of God. 

The argument which leads to this conclusion is, for 
substance, conducted by Mr Locke in the following- 
manner. Every man knows, with absolute certainty, 
that he himself exists. He knows also that he did not 
always exist, but began to be. It is clearly certain to 
him, that his existence was caused, and not casual ; and 
was produced by a cause, adequate to the production. 
By an adequate cause, is invariably intended, a cause 
possessing and exerting an efficacy sufficient to bring- 
any effect to pass. In the present case, an adequate 
cause is one, possessing, and exerting, all the under- 
standing necessary to contrive, and the power necessary 
to create, such a being as the man in question. This 
cause is what we are accustomed to call God. The un- 
derstanding necessary to contrive, and the power neces- 
sary to create, a being compounded of the human soul 
and body, admit of no limits. He, who can contrive 
and create such a being, can contrive and create any 
thing. He, who actually contrived and created man, 
certainly contrived and created all things. 

This argument is, in my view, perfectly conclusive : 
nor has it been, or will it ever be, answered, except 
with sophistry, or sneers. I will not insist, that every 
step of it is attended with what logicians call intuitive 
evidence : nor, that it amounts to what is, in the logi- 
cal sense, ail absolute demonstration. But it is, in 
every step, attended with such evidence as excludes all 
rational doubt, and approaches so near to the character 
of demonstration as to leave the mind completely satis- 
fied. At the same time it is opposed by no counter 
evidence. 

Secondly : The state of existing things completely 
proves the being of God. 

The manner in which the argument, derived from 
this source, is conducted by Bishop Berkeley, is clearer, 
and more happy, than any other, within my knowledge ; 
and is substantially the following : 

We acknowledge the existence of each other to be 
unquestionable ; and, when called upon for the evidence, 
on which this acknowledgment is founded, allege 
that of our senses ; yet it can by no means be affirmed 
with truth, that our senses discern immediately any 
man. We see indeed a form, and the motions and ac- 
tions of that form ; and we hear a voice communicating 
to us the thoughts, emotions, and volitions of an intel- 
ligent being. Yet it is intuitively certain, that neither 
the form, the motions, the actions, the voice, the 
thoughts, nor the volitions, are that intelligent being ; 
or the living, acting, thinking thing, which we call man. 
On the contrary, they are merely effects, of which that 
living, acting thing, denoted by the word man, is the 
cause. The existence of the cause, or, in other lan- 
guage, of the man, we conclude from the effects which 
he thus produces. In the same manner, and with the 
like certainty, we discover the existence of God. In 
the universe without us, and in the little world within 
us, we perceive a great variety of effects, produced by 
some cause, adequate to the production. Thus the mo* 
tions of the heart, arteries, veins, and other vessels ; of 
the blood and other juices ; of the tongue, the hands, 
and other members ; the perception of the senses, and 
the actions of the mind ; the storm, the lightning, the 



volcano, and the earthquake ; the reviviscence and 
growth of the vegetable world ; the diffusion of light, 
and the motions of the planetary system ; are all effects, 
and effects of a cause adequate to the production. This 
cause is God, or a being possessed of intelligence and 
power, sufficient to contrive and bring them to pass. 
He, with evidence from reason, equally clear with the 
testimony of the Scriptures, ' thundereth marvellously 
with his voice ; holdeth the winds in his fists ; sendeth 
lightnings with rain ; looketh on the earth, and it 
trembleth ; toucheth the hills, and they smoke ; melteth 
the mountains like wax, at his presence ; causeth the 
outgoings of the morning and the evening to rejoice ; 
and making- his sun to arise on the evil and the good.' 
Him also we are bound to praise, because we are ' fear- 
fully and wonderfully made ' by him ; ' our substance 
was not hid from him when we were made in secret. 
His eyes saw our substance, yet being imperfect, and 
in his book all our members were written, which, in 
continuance, were fashioned by him, when as yet there 
were none of them. He also breathed into our nostrils 
the breath of life ; and the inspiration of the Almighty 
hath given us understanding.' 

Should it be said, that these things are the natural 
and necessary result of certain inherent powers of matter 
and mind, and therefore demand no extrinsic agency ; 
I answer, that this objection affects the conclusion, only 
by removing it one step farther back in the course of 
reasoning. That matter should have possessed these 
powers eternally, without exerting them, is impossible ; 
and that it should have exerted them from eternity is 
equally impossible. As I cannot enter into the conside- 
ration of these two positions at the present time ; as I 
intend soon to resume it, and believe, that I shall be 
able to demonstrate both of them ; I shall, for the pre- 
sent only, take them for granted. If they are true, it 
follows irresistibly, from both of them united, that the 
properties and the exertions of matter are derived from 
an extrinsic cause ; and that that cause is possessed of 
intelligence and power, to which no bounds can be as- 
signed. 

The same argument, conducted in a more general 
and popular manner, may be thus exhibited. The 
agency of God is clearly and certainly seen in the pre- 
servation and government of all things. The existence 
of all the forms and states of being which we behold in 
the universe, is plainly derived ; because it is a change 
in the former state of things, commencing, continuing, 
and terminating ; and, as it is impossible that any being- 
should commence its own existence, derived certainly 
from an extrinsic and adequate cause. This cause can 
be no other than God. 

Thus the production, existence, and structure of ve- 
getables and animals ; their growth, perfection, and 
decay ; their functions and operations, are all plainly 
effects of boundless intelligence and power. The uni- 
verse, of which we are inhabitants, is plainly a system, 
made up of parts, fitted to each other, and arranged 
and proportioned so as to make one great and glorious 
whole. The parts also are, to say the least, in im- 
mense multitudes, subordinate, but wonderful systems. 

To pass by the mineral lungdom, in which however 
there are inumerable proofs of design, art, and ar- 
rangement, fitting the parts of it by a happy subser- 
viency to the accomplishment of many illustrious and 
valuable ends, but demanding more time than can be 



4 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. r. 



allotted, at present, to the consideration of them ; I 
observe, that every organized being, every vegetable 
•ind every animal, is a complete system within itself. 
Each has all the parts and faculties which are suited to 
the purposes of its existence, purposes obvious, useful, 
and wonderful ; and yet regularly and completely ac- 
complished. Thus grass is exactly fitted to adorn the 
earth with beauty, and to become food for tlie suste- 
nance of an innumerable multitude of animals. Thus 
hortulane productions, fruits, grains, and various kinds 
of animals, are fitted to become food for mankind. 
Thus trees are fitted to yield their shade, and to become 
useful materials for furniture, fencing, and building. 
Thus the earth, the air, the rain, and the sunshine are 
suited to the production of vegetable life, of action, 
warmth, and comfort ; together with innumerable other 
things, necessary to preserve and invigorate man. Thus 
the sun is fitted to shine ; the planet to receive light 
from his beams ; and the whole system to move on with 
regularity and harmony, and to accomplish all the great 
and glorious purposes for which it was contrived. 

In every one of these things, even the least of them, 
there is a skill and power manifested, which, were any 
other skill and power employed in labouring to bring 
them to pass, infinitely transcend the efficiency of all 
beings except God. In every one of them, and in all 
parts of every one, He is seen in this efficiency, and is 
therefore present in all. In all, and throughout all, he 
acts. Every moment, in every place, and with respect 
to every being, he preserves, conducts, and manages all 
the parts of this stupendous machine, this vast universe, 
this immense kingdom, which he hath made for himself, 
and not for another. Power and skill, literally infi- 
nite, are every moment conspicuous in every being. 

This mode of arguing is so natural to man, that we 
find it adopted by the most ignorant nations, as well as 
the most enlightened ; by the child as well as the man 
of grey hairs. In every age, and in every country, it 
has struck the mind with a force so great, and in a 
manner so satisfactory, that it has probably precluded, 
in most minds, the apprehension of any necessity for 
farther investigation. Ask any plain man whom you 
meet, why he believes that there is a God ; ask even 
the poor Indian, whose mind, in the language of the 
poet, is wholly ' untutored,' and he will tell you, that 
' he sees him in the clouds, and hears him in the wind.' 
All men believe the things around them to be effects, 
or works ; and all believe them to be the works of a 
God ; of a being, whose power and understanding tran- 
scend all limits. Nor has any man ever doubted the 
soundness of this conclusion, but under the influence of 
a wish that it might not be true, nor without a labo- 
rious effort to convince himself that it was an error. 
So true is it, that ' the fool,' and the fool only, ' hath 
said in his heart, There is no God.' 

The arguments which atheists have employed against 
this doctrine, so far as they are of sufficient importance 
to merit an answer, I propose to consider hereafter ; 
and will conclude this Discourse with the following 



First : How great, awful, and glorious a being is 
God! 

From the things which have been said, it is evident 
that there is, ever has been, and ever will be, a Being 



from whom all things derived then' existence ; on whom 
all depend for their continuance ; and by whom all are 
conducted in the order and harmony visible in the uni- 
verse. Of what character does this exhibition declare 
him to be possessed ? 

He is plainly Self-existent. All other beings are de- 
rived, and begin to be. He only is underived, and 
' without beginning of days, or end of years ; the same 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' Of course, his man- 
ner of being is wholly unlike that of all creatures ; to- 
tally superior, and utterly incomprehensible. Hence 
he says, and says truly, 'lam; and there is none be- 
side me.' Hence he styles himself, I am that I am, 
Jah, and Jehovah ; that is, Existence, to which there is 
nothing like, and nothing second. 

Plainly, also, he is Almighty. The power which 
gave existence, is power which can know no limits. 
But to all beings, in heaven, and earth, and hell, he 
gave existence, and is therefore seen to possess power 
which transcends every bound. The power which up- 
holds, moves, and rules the universe is also clearly illi- 
mitable. The power which is necessary to move a 
single world, transcends all finite understanding. No 
definite number of finite beings possess sufficient power 
to move a single world a hair's breadth ; yet God moves 
the great world which we inhabit, sixty-eight thousand 
miles in an hour ; two hundred and sixty times faster 
than the swiftest motion of a cannon ball. Nor does 
he move this world only, but the whole system, of 
which it is a part ; and all the worlds which replenish 
the immense stellary system, formed of suns innumer- 
able, and of the planets which surround them. All 
these he has also moved from the beginning to the pre- 
sent moment ; and yet ? he fainteth not, neither is 
weary.' 

Nor is this a full description of his amazing agency. 
He works every moment in every part of this vast 
whole ; moves every atom, expands every leaf, finishes 
every blade of grass, erects every tree, conducts every 
particle of vapour, every drop of rain, and every flake 
of snow ; guides every ray of light, breathes in every 
wind, thunders in every storm, wings the lightning, 
pours the streams and rivers, empties the volcano, 
heaves the ocean, and shakes the globe. In the uni- 
verse of minds, he formed, he preserves, he animates, 
and he directs, all the mysterious and wonderful powers 
of knowledge, virtue, and moral action, which fill up 
the infinite extent of his immense and eternal empire. 
In his contrivance of these things, their attributes, and 
their operations, is seen a stupendous display of his im- 
measurable knowledge and wisdom. All these existed 
in the immense, eternal mind, as in a vast storehouse 
of glorious ideas and designs, and existing from ever- 
lasting. In them the endless diversified character ot 
uncreated wisdom, beauty, and greatness, has begun to 
be manifested, and will continue to be manifested -with 
increasing splendour for ever. 

AVhat, we cannot but ask, must be the Knowledge of 
him, from whom all created minds have derived both 
their power of knowing, and the innumerable objects 
of their knowledge ? What must be the Wisdom of 
him, from whom all beings derive their wisdom ; from 
whom the emmet, the bee, and the stork, receive the 
skill to provide, without an error, their food, habitation, 
and safety ; and the prophet and the seraph imbibe their 
exalted views of the innumerable, vast, and sublime 



EXISTENCE OF GOD. 



wonders of creation, and of creating glory and great- 
ness? What must be the Excellence of him, who gives 
birth to all other excellence ; and will improve, refine, 
and exalt that excellence in every virtuous mind, 
throughout ages which will begin for ever ? 

Secondly : How plainly are all beings absolutely de- 
pendent on God for their existence, their attributes, and 
their operations ? 

All beings are just what he pleases, and can do what 
he pleases and permits, and nothing more. Should he 
' command the clouds, that they should not rain ;' how 
soon would the vegetable and animal worlds perish, and 
man accompany his kindred worms to the dust? Should 
he withhold any power, it must cease to be exercised ; 
and Ave could neither speak, think, nor move. The 
human race would be changed into statues, and the 
world would be a dreary waste ; a desert of solitude, 
silence, and despair. 

How vain, then, must be all resistance to God ? The 
very power to resist, the will, the wish, cannot rise into 
being, unless supplied and supported by him. The uni- 
verse of men and angels, the worlds above and beneath, 
united, could not contend against him for a moment. 
All are ' nothing, and less than nothing,' in his sight. 
With a word he called the whole into being. With 
infinite ease he could, with a word, return the whole to 
its original nothing; and, with another word, could 
raise up a second universe in its stead. 

Thirdly: Of this universe God must, of necessity be 
the sole and absolute Proprietor. 

No property is so perfect as that which arises from 
creation. Whatever we make, or fashion, is our pro- 
perty in the highest degree, in which any thing can be 
ours. God, it is to be remembered, not only made, but 
created ; not only made the work, but the materials. 
Hence his property is plainly superior and paramount 
to all others ; and he is a proprietor in a higher sense 
than any other being can be. His property also ex- 
tends to all beings, animate and inanimate, rational and 
irrational, to atoms, vegetables, animals, men and an- 
gels, in the same absolute manner. 

Hence it is evident, that he has an absolute right to 
dispose of all beings as he pleases ; and particularly to 
require, on the most reasonable grounds, that all rational 
beings voluntarily devote themselves to his service with 
such affections, in such a manner, and with such con- 
duct, as are conformed to his will. This right is com- 
plete and supreme, and cannot be denied, nor questioned, 
without sin, without plain and palpable injustice. All 
disobedience to his pleasure is evidently unjust, in the 
same manner as when we withhold the property of our 
fellow-men, and in a degree incalculably greater ; while 
obedience, on the other hand, is nothing more than 
barely ' rendering to God the things which are God's.' 

Fourthly : Of the same universe, He is of course, the 
only Ruler. 

The nature of this vast work, and the wisdom and 
power displayed in it, prove, beyond debate, that it was 
made for some end suited to the greatness and number 
of the means which are employed. This end is such, 
and so important, that it was proper for him to create, 
and uphold, a universe, for its accomplishment. This 
end, originally so valuable as to induce him to com- 
mence, and continue this mighty work, must ever be 
equally valuable in his view. But it can never be ac- 
complished, except by his own government of all things. 



No other being can govern them at all. All created 
power, wisdom, and goodness, are infinitely unequal to 
such a task, even for one day, or one moment. But 
He can rule the work for ever, and with infinite ease ; 
and can and will, thus accomplish the end which he 
proposed from everlasting. 

For this end every thing was created, the least as 
truly as the greatest ; the atom as the world, the worm 
as the angel. His providence therefore extends, with 
absolute evidence, to all. Each, however minute, how- 
ever momentary, is really necessary in its place, and 
for its time. Each, therefore, needs to be conducted, 
throughout its existence, to the purpose for which it 
was made. His care extends, therefore, and must ex- 
tend, to minims, ephemei'a, and atoms as truly and as 
exactly, as to the concerns of cherubs and seraphs in 
the heavens. 

Accordingly, we actually behold him, alike animating 
the blade, the stem, and the leaf, in the vegetable king- 
dom ; living in the mite and the insect, the bird and 
the beast ; thundering marvellously with his voice, 
sending lightnings with rain ; rolling the billows of the 
ocean, making the earth to quake at his presence ; 
shining in the stars, glowing in the sun, and moving 
with his hand the various worlds which compose the 
universe. At the same time, his presence and agency 
are more sublimely visible in the universe of minds, in all 
the amazing powers of thought, affection, and moral ac- 
tion, in the knowledge, virtue, and the enjoyment of the 
myriads which form the peculiar kingdom of Jehovah. 

Fifthly : It is equally evident, that this end must be 
Himself. 

Before God made the universe, there was nothing 
beside him. Whatever motive prompted him to this 
great work must of course have been found in himself; 
because, beside him, there was nothing. It must also 
have been found in himself, because, when other beings 
existed, all were nothing in comparison with him ; and 
therefore, in the same comparison, undeserving of his 
regard. But this end could not respect any change in 
himself; any increase, diminution, or alteration of his 
greatness, power, and glory. It was, therefore, the 
manifestation of himself alone which could be the end 
of this mighty work. Himself is the sum of excellence ; 
of all that is great, or wise, or good The manifesta- 
tion of himself is, therefore, only the manifestation of 
boundless excellence to the creatures which he has 
made. The manifestation of all attributes, though ca- 
pable of being made in declarations, is principally dis- 
cerned in actions. Excellence therefore is discovered 
chiefly by doing what is great and wise and good All 
this is so evident as to need no illustration. 

God, when he intended to disclose his perfections to 
the universe, intended therefore to exhibit them, chiefly, 
by an endless course of action, in which wisdom, great- 
ness, and goodness should be supremely and most 
clearly discovered. The highest blessedness, he has 
told us, and therefore the greatest glory, is found in 
communicating good, and not in gaining it ; in giving, 
and not in receiving. To this decision reason necessa- 
rily subjoins her own Amen. The great design of God 
in all things is, therefore, to do good boundlessly and 
for ever, and in this conduct, to disclose himself as the 
boundless and eternal good. 

It must of necessary consequence be supremely pleas- 
ing to him, that his intelligent creatures voluntarily 



6 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SeR. El. 



unite with him in loving and promoting this divine 
purpose, while all opposition to it must be supremely 
displeasing. How important then must it be to us, that 
we cheerfully coincide with his perfect pleasure in this 
great end, and devote to the advancement of it all our 
faculties ? Should we resist his designs, so excellent, 
so dear to him ; how unworthy in itself, and how pro- 
voking to him, must be the conduct. What terrible 
consequences must spring from the exertion of such 
power and knowledge, exerted to manifest his anger 
against those who thus disobey his will, and oppose his 
designs ! What must they not feel ! What ought they 
not to fear ! 

On the contrary, what a universe of good, immense 
and endless, may he be expected to provide for those 
who voluntarily unite with him in this glorious design, 
and cheerfully perform his pleasure. Such good he 
can make, and give, and repeat for ever, with a wish 
and with a word. To make and give it is his delight 



and glory. It will therefore be done. In this wonder- 
ful work how divinely great and good does God appear ! 
How deserving of all admiration, love, homage, obedi- 
ence, and praise. How amazing the wonders which 
he has done. How much more amazing the transcen- 
dent purpose for which they were done ! Who would 
not fear, who would not bless, who would not adore. 
' that glorious and fearful name,' Jehovah our God ; 
the Being self-existent, eternal, and immense ; and 
without beginning, limits, or end ; united with eternal 
and immeasurable wisdom and power; from whom are 
derived all worlds, and all their inhabitants ; on whom 
all depend ; and by whom all are preserved, governed, 
and blessed, and conducted with supi-eme wisdom and 
goodness to an end immortal and divine. ' Blessing 
and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that 
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever 
and ever.' 



SERMON II. 



ATHEISTICAL OBJECTIONS AND SCHEMES OF DOCTRINE CONSIDERED. 



The fool /talk said in Itis heart, There is no God. — Psal. xiv. 1. 



In the preceding Discourse, I endeavoured to prove the 
existence of God, by arguments which have appeared 
to men of great distinction for learning and wisdom, 
to be not only satisfactory but unanswerable. Plain 
men also, though comprehending them imperfectly, 
have admitted both the force of the arguments them- 
selves, and the point which they are intended to esta- 
blish, without a question, and almost without an excep- 
tion. Yet it cannot be denied that there have been 
atheists, speculative as well as practical. A few of them 
may have existed in the uneducated classes of mankind, 
but almost all have been found among those, who, pro- 
fessedly at least, have been more or less learned. 

But to whatever class these persons may belong, and 
whatever pretensions they may make to knowledge and 
wisdom, they are in the text universally characterized 
by folly. ' The fool,' says David, ' hath said, There is 
no God.' In other words, every man, who says this, is 
a fool ; and the assertion is the result of his folly only. 

It is remarkable, that this assertion is declared to be 
made in the heart of the fool ; that is, to flow from his 
wishes, and not from his understanding. For the words, 
there is, in the translation, there is nothing in the 
original. Hence it has been supposed by some com- 
mentators, that the passage ought to be rendered, Let 
there be no God. Whether this rendering be admitted 
or not, there can be no doubt, that the chief reason why 
the assertion is adopted at all, is the indisposition of 
the heart to acknowledge the existence of the Creator. 

That we easily believe, what we wish to believe, is a 
truth so obvious as to have passed into a proverb. He 
who hates the control, disrelishes the character, and 
dreads the inspection, judgment, and retribution of his 



Maker, and intends to persevere in a course of sin, will 
find no refuge from anxiety and alarm, and no source 
of quiet in sinning so comfortable, or in his view so 
safe, as the belief that there is no God. It is not 
strange, therefore, that this belief has been cherished 
by such beings as mankind are ; and particulai'ly, by 
such beings as atheists have universally been. 

Still, this conduct cannot be denied to be folly of a 
very gross kind. As our belief can make no difference 
in the fact ; as if God exists, he will continue to exist ; 
as our danger from his anger against our sins is exactly 
the same whether we believe it or not ; as our quiet in 
sin will in this cnse only cheat us into ruin ; and as the 
little consolation which we find in the indulgence of 
this belief, will only enhance our wretchedness by add- 
ing to it the anguish of disappointment ; no sober man 
will hesitate to pronounce this conduct foolish in the 
extreme. To him who walks over the edge of a preci- 
pice, what benefit can it be to shut his eyes ? What 
greater stupidity can there be, than to shut our eyes, 
when this conduct will prove the certain means of con- 
veying us to this scene of absolute destruction ? 

Atheists have however determined to encounter this 
hazard, and boldly i-esolved that there is no God. 
Against the doctrine of the Divine existence they have 
raised up several objections, which they declare to be 
satisfactory, at least to themselves. These they have 
also formed into a scheme, and presented it to the pub- 
lic with a face of bold assurance. Even this has not 
satisfied them. They have triumphed in the most open 
manner, in the supposed ingenuity of their efforts ; and 
in the boasted strength of their arguments, have ridi- 
culed the arguments of their antagonists ; and have 



ATHEISTICAL OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 



treated the doctrines not only of Christianity, but even 
of Theism, with contempt. It is the design of this 
Discourse to examine the objections of these men, and 
the principal doctrines with which they have been con- 
nected. 

The first of these objections which I shall mention, 
is, that Creation is so great a ivork, as to make it 
seem impossible, even for God to accomplish it. 

This was the great difficulty in the mind of Aristotle. 
This singular man, in the early parts of his life, found 
his thoughts so much perplexed with this consideration, 
that he for a time gave up the doctrine of creation, and 
determined that the universe, as to its substance at least, 
had existed from eternity. I cannot help remarking 
here the difference between him and the modern op- 
posers of the divinity of Christ. Arians and Socinians 
nave very generally insisted, that creation is so easy a 
work, as to afford no proof of divine agency ; and de- 
clared, that, even if Christ did in fact create all things, 
this fact does not infer his divinity. To Aristotle it 
appeared too difficult a work, even for God himself to 
perform. 

To this objection we are furnished with a conclusive 
answer. God does actually, and daily, create the hu- 
man soul, in innumerable instances ; and the creation 
of the soul evidently demands all the power necessary 
to the creation of matter. He who can give existence 
to the soul, can plainly give existence to any thing, As 
I propose, in the progress of these Discourses, to dis- 
cuss at large the immateriality of the soul, I shall at 
present take it for granted. 

This objection is also completely overthrown by the 
fact, that God upholds, moves, and governs the universe. 
Had Aristotle known the doctrines of the Copernican 
Astronomy, and beheld God moving, with entire and 
unabated ease, the systems of worlds which compose 
the universe, his capacious mind Avould, I think, have 
been irresistibly led to admit, that the hand which 
moves them, could with the same ease have created 
them. Indeed this great man appears, in the later parts 
of his life, not to have placed any serious reliance on 
this objection. 

Secondly : It is objected, that the state of the world 
is such as to forbid the belief, that it is the work of 
a God. 

' The world,' say the objectors, ' is full of imperfec- 
tion, and of suffering. The course of nature is such as 
to entail upon all its animated inhabitants, pain, dis- 
ease, and death. Nor is the moral state of things ma- 
terially different from the natural. . Depravity, in all 
its odious forms, appears to have existed from the be- 
ginning ; and has ever constituted, to say the least, no 
small part of the character of mankind. God, on the 
part of all enlightened men, who believe in the exist- 
ence of such a being, and particularly on that of Chris- 
tians, is declared to be possessed of infinite perfection. 
Can a being of such perfection be supposed to be the 
author of so imperfect, incongruous, and deformed a 
work ? Is it not plain, that God either did not make 
the world, or that he has forgotten it, and left it wholly 
to the control of chance ?' 

To this objection, which is attended with a degree of 
speciousness, and fitted to awaken fretfulness, where it 
will not produce conviction, I answer, 

1. That all the real weight of it lies in the exist- 
ence of moral evil: a subj.-ct which I shall here occa- 



sion to examine, when I come to discourse on the bene- 
volence of God, and on the apostasy of man. 

2. The whole force of this objection lies in the inex- 
plicableness of certain things which it alleges; and 
amounts to no more than this, that there are several 
things in the world, the nature, use, and end of which 
we cannot understand. The argument contained in it, 
if resolved into a general principle, will stand thus : 
Nothing, the nature, use, and end of which we cannot 
understand, can be the work of God. This argument 
needs only to he proposed, to be exploded ; for it is ab- 
solutely certain, that God can do very few things, whose 
nature, use, or end, can he comprehended by us. It is 
equally certain, that, according to this rule of conclud- 
ing, the same thing may, at the same time, be proved 
to be, and not to be, the work of God. . One man may 
distinctly comprehend the nature of a thing, and discern 
in it certain proofs of divine workmanship. Another 
man may, at the same time, be wholly ignorant of the 
nature of the same thing ; and his ignorance will, ac- 
cording to this rule, be decisive proof, that it is not a 
divine work. The man also may, according to this rule, 
in the different periods of childhood and manhood, he 
able to prove a thing to be, and not to be, wrought by 
the hand of God. The evidence of the divine agency, 
and the want of it, are here placed, not in the nature of 
the work, but in the nature of the optics, by which it 
is perceived : an absurdity too palpable to need any 
farther discussion. The real proof in this and every 
other case must, if it be found at all, be found in some- 
thing which we know, and not in our ignorance. But 
it has not been, and cannot be shown, that in the exist- 
ing world there is any thing inconsistent with the doc- 
trine, that it was created, and is governed by God. It 
is readily acknowledged, that in the system, of which 
we are a little part, mystery and inexplicableness are 
found everywhere, and in every thing, in the view of 
such minds as ours. At the same time it is also certain, 
that nothing else can be rationally looked for in the 
works of Him, ' whose ways are higher than our ways, 
as the heavens are higher than the earth.' The myste- 
ries alleged, instead of being an objection against the 
doctrine, that the world was made by God, are a strong- 
presumptive argument in its favour. 

3. The direct proof of the divine agency in the for- 
mation and government of this very world, found in 
innumerable things which itself contains, is hitherto 
unanswered, and is plainly unanswerable. This, hav- 
ing its foundation in what we know, can never be af- 
fected in any manner by what we do not know ; or in 
other words, by the mere inexplicableness of the ob- 
jects around us. 

Universally, until we know thoroughly the nature, 
use, and end of the things, on which the objection is 
founded, it must be a mere and miserable presumption, 
that they have not such a nature, use, and end, as are 
worthy of God. 

The doctrines which atheists have connected with 
these objections, and which are deserving of any serious 
attention, are the following : 

I. That things have existed in an eternal series : 

II. That their existence is casual : and, 

III. That all distinct or separate bodies owe 
their existence to the powers and operations of 
matter. 

These I shall consider in the order specified. 



8 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See. it. 



I. It is asserted by atheists, that there has been a?i 
eternal series of things. 

The absurdity of this assertion may be shown in 
many ways. 

1. Each individual in a series is a unit. But 
every collection of units, however great, is, with intu- 
itive certainty, numerable ; and therefore, cannot be 
infinite. 

2. Every individual in the series (take, for example, 
a series of men) had a beginning. But a collection of 
beings, each of which had a beginning, must, however 
long the series, have also had a beginning. 

This, likewise is intuitively evident. Should it be 
said, that the first in each series had not a beginning, 
but was from everlasting ; which is the only possible 
method of evading the answer already given ; I reply, 
that according to this supposition, the first in each se- 
ries was uncaused and self-existent; and, containing in 
itself the principles of eternal existence, could never 
have ceased to be. At the same time, an endless mul- 
titude of finite self-existent beings must be admitted on 
this supposition, possessed in all instances of few and 
feeble active powers, and in most instances of none but 
such as are merely passive. Thus, for example, there 
must have been an eternal man, an eternal lion, an eter- 
nal eagle, an eternal oak, an eternal rose, eternal grass, 
and in a word, as many eternal self-existent beings, as 
there are kinds and sorts of existences in the world : 
for no being of one kind can possibly produce, or bring 
into existence, a being of any other kind. Of course, 
there must have been one, eternal and self-existent, at 
the head of every existing series ; and at the head of 
every series of animated beings an eternal self-existent 
pair. From these also, the whole series must have 
sprung without any contrivance, and in most instances, 
■without any consciousness. All this, with a train of 
absurdities following it, literally endless, must be ad- 
mitted on this supposition. For what purpose must all 
this be admitted ? Truly, to relieve us from the diffi- 
culty of admitting the existence of One self-existent 
Being. At the same time, the existence of such a finite 
self-existent being is a mere hypothesis, without a sha- 
dow of support. 

Beyond this, all such beings must have lived, as we 
do, through a succession of years, and their whole ex- 
istence must be made up of parts, or divisions, succeed- 
ing each other. These parts are a collection of units ; 
and are therefore numerable. 

Should it be said, that saints and angels in heaven 
are immortal, and will therefore exist through an infi- 
nite duration ; that this duration will also be made up 
of successive parts ; and that, of course, there may be 
an infinite duration made up of successive parts : I an- 
swer, that there is a total difference between these cases. 
In the former, the supposed infinite duration is com- 
pleted : in the latter, it will never be completed. It is 
true that saints and angels will never cease to be : but 
it will never be true, that they have lived infinitely, or 
through an infinite duration. An endless addition of 
parts may be supposed ; but an infinite sum of parts, 
which have actually had existence, is a self-contradic- 
tion. 

3. It is justly observed by the learned and acute Dr 
Kentley, ' that, in the supposed infinite series, as the 
number of individual men is alleged to be infinite ; the 
number of their eyes must be twice, the number of 



their fingers ten times, and the number of the hairs on 
their heads many thousand times as great as the number 
of men.' 

What then must be the number of the hairs on the 
bodies of animals ; of leaves on the trees, and of blades 
of grass on the earth ? According to this supposition 
then, there is an almost endless multitude of numbers, 
greater, and many of them incalculably, than an infinite 
number. To such palpable absurdities are we reduced 
by supposing an infinite succession. 

4. It is also observed by the same excellent writer, 
1 that all these generations of men were once present.' 
One of the individuals, viz. the first, existed at an infi- 
nite distance from us. His son. who may be supposed 
to have been forty years younger, was either at an in- 
finite, or at a finite distance from us. If at an infinite, 
then the infinite distance of his father was forty years 
longer than the infinite distance of the son. If the son 
was at a finite distance from us, then forty years, added 
to a finite distance, will make it infinite. 

It is unnecessary that I should dwell any longer on 
this complication of folly. 

The same arguments are, with the same force, appli- 
cable to all possible successions. Every succession is in 
its nature made up of parts, each of which has a begin- 
ning. 

The only subject on which rests even a seeming ob- 
scurity in this respect, is what is called ' continued mo- 
tion.' Some persons have considered motion of this 
kind, such for example as that of the planets, as not be- 
ing successive ; because, when viewed in the gross, the 
successive parts were not separable by the human mind. 
Divide the circuit, as a wheel is divided by its cogs, or 
teeth ; or fix upon a number of stars, by which the 
planet shall successively pass ; and the delusion, occa- 
sioned by the continuity of the parts, will vanish in a 
moment. It will be seen of course, and with perfect 
distinctness, that motion, in all its forms, is as truly a 
succession of changes, as successive thought, or succes- 
sive being. 

II. Atheists assert, that the existence of things is 
equal. 

In this assertion, the connexion between cause and 
effect, and the very existence of causation, are denied, 
so far as the production of being are concerned. All 
beings are supposed not to have been produced, or 
caused, but to have happened : their existence being 
supposed to be a mere contingency. Some, perhaps 
most of those, who have adopted this system, have how- 
ever at the same time believed matter to be eternal. 
On this scheme of existence, I observe, 

1. That it is a mere hypothesis, unsupported by any 
evidence whatever. — The doctrine of casual, or contin- 
gent existence, precludes all reasoning by its very na- 
ture. The very demand of a reason from him who 
adopts it, is itself an absurdity ; because he declares to 
you in the very nature of the doctrine, that neither the 
existence nor the doctrine, admits of the application of 
any reason. Of course, the fact, that existence has 
happened in any case, is in its own nature capable of 
being evidenced only by testimony, and of this evidence 
it is in fact incapable, because no witness was ever pre- 
sent at such a contingency. The doctrine, therefore, 
stands on exactly the same ground with that of all 
other mere assumptions ; such as, that the soul of man 
is blue, or triangular ; that the inhabitants of Jupiter 



ATHEISTICAL OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 



9 



walk with their heads downward ; or that the sun is a 
body of melted glass. 

2. The abettors of this doctrine have, in their endea- 
vours to form a system, founded on it, been driven, un- 
avoidably, into a continued succession of absurdities. 

Epicurus, the principal vender of this system, sup- 
posed, that innumerable solid atoms existed from eter- 
nity in infinite space ; that they were of different sizes 
and figures, and were all separated from each other ; 
and that they were originally quiescent, or motionless. 
When it was objected, that they must then have re- 
mained for ever motionless ; he invented for them a co- 
natus ad motum ; an endeavour, or tendency, towards 
motion ; which he declares to have been inherent in 
them eternally. When it was objected, that unless they 
were moved eternally by this conatus, they could never 
have moved at all ; he avoided this difficulty by deter- 
mining, that they had moved from eternity in parallel 
directions. It was objected again, that with this mo- 
tion they would never have approached any nearer to 
each other. To escape this difficulty, he gave them a 
motion in a small degree oblique. The cause of their 
motion he declares to be their weight ; and their direc- 
tion to be downward : not knowing, that there is no 
weight where there is no attracting body ; and that 
every direction towards the centre of the earth is down- 
ward. I will not pursue this mass of absurdities any 
farther ; and will only observe, that those who have 
followed him, have not rendered the system a whit bet- 
ter than they found it. 

3. The actual state of things is a complete refutation 
of this doctrine. 

Regularity is a direct and perfect proof of the ab- 
sence of casualty in the formation of that in which the 
regularity exists ; and the whole system of things is, in 
its parts, and their union in a whole, one immense and 
multiform system of regularity. 

The twenty-four letters of the alphabet, small as the 
number is, are proved arithmetically to be capable of 
more than six hundred thousand millions of billions 
of different horizontal arrangements. Were they to 
be thrown up into the air, and to fall in any suppos- 
ed order, the chances against their falling, a second 
time, in the same order, are at least as great a num- 
ber as that which has been specified ; and just so many 
chances exist against their falling in any given posi- 
tion. 

In the human frame there are probably more than a 
million of parts, greater and smaller ; all of which we 
behold united in a perfect and most regular system. 
The relative horizontal positions only, of which these 
are capable, must be expressed by more than a million 
of arithmetical figures ; their vertical and oblique posi- 
tions must be expressed by several millions more ; and 
• all these combined, must be expressed by the multipli- 
cation of these immense sums with each other. The 
chances, therefore, against such a union of the parts of 
the human body, as actually exists, even after we sup- 
pose the several parts actually formed, would be such 
,' as would be expressed by this aggregate of figures : a 
number which all the human race, who have existed 
since the Mosaic date of the creation, would not have 
been able to count, had they busied themselves in no 
other employment during their lives. In addition to 
' this, the number of chances against the original forma- 
tion cf these parts is immensely greater, than against 
the fact of their coming together. Nor are we yet at 



the end of the climax : for we perfectly well know, that 
if all the parts were actually and perfectly formed, they 
could neither put themselves together, nor be united 
by any human skill or labour, however long employed. 
Beyond all this, if they were all formed, and all per- 
fectly united, so as to constitute exactly, both within 
and without, a human frame, it would still be a mere 
corpse, without life or motion. Were we to admit still 
farther, that the frame thus formed, might become pos- 
sessed of life, it would yet be destitute of a soul, and 
therefore infinitely distant from the intelligent being, 
whom we call Man. 

All these difficulties must be surmounted, a second 
time, in order to the existence of mankind ; one of each 
sex being originally and absolutely necessary to the 
existence of succeeding generations. In the same man- 
ner, the same process must be repeated, in order to the 
production of every kind of animals ; and in most cases 
in order to the production of the kinds of trees, shrubs, 
and plants. 

He who can believe this system, can believe any 
thing ; and his faith must undoubtedly be the nearest 
approximation to casualty, which has been hitherto re- 
corded in the history of man. 

The body of man is a system made up of parts, won- 
derfully numerous and diversified, and still more won- 
derfully united and arranged. Every one of them is 
regularly found in all the bodies of men, in its own 
place ; and that the best place possible. The hair of 
the head, which for aught that appears, might as natu- 
rally have grown on the face, grows only where it is 
needed to cover the cerebrum, and cerebellum, so tender 
and vital, from the injuries of both heat and cold ; and 
to become, at the same time, a beautiful ornament. The 
eyes are placed where only they are needed, or could 
be materially useful, to direct the hands and the feet ; 
the teeth, where alone they could serve their great pur- 
pose of mastication ; the throat, immediately behind 
and beneath them, where alone it could answer its own 
purpose of receiving the food, after it has been chewed, 
mixed with the saliva, and thus prepared for digestion ; 
the stomach, beneath the throat, or more properly be- 
neath the oesophagus, to receive through it the food, 
thus prepared, and render it useful to the preservation 
of life by digestion. In the same manner, the heart is 
situated in exactly that position, with respect to the 
lungs and the greater arteries and veins, in which it 
communicates to them, and through them to the whole 
body, in the most advantageous manner, the blood, 
which is the great instrument of sustaining life. The 
lungs also are in the same happy manner connected 
with the throat by the trachea so as to receive, and de- 
compose the air, on which we live, after it is admitted 
into the nostrils. The great bone of the neck and back, 
commonly called the spine, is so formed and placed, as 
to sustain the body in an erect posture ; as to defend, 
in a manner indispensably necessary, the spinal marrow, 
so essential to life ; and as, through orifices in the ver- 
tebra, of which it is composed, to permit the nerves to 
pass, and give sensation to every part of the body ; and 
as, at the same time, to enable us to bend into every 
useful position. The tongue is so constructed and 
posited, as to answer exactly its various important pur- 
poses, particularly tasting and speaking ; the hands, 
where alone they could be employed, in their innumer- 
able uses ; and the feet, where alone they could enablo 
us to stand or walk. 



10 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. 



This course of illustration might be pursued through 
a volume, or rather through many volumes ; and the 
more minutely and extensively it was pursued, the 
more clearly would it evince, at every step, a design 
most wonderful in itself, originally and exactly formed, 
and perfectly executed; every part of which is with 
the greatest felicity fitted to the important ends of hu- 
man existence. 

Let us now for a moment consider, what would be 
the consequences of mere casualty with regard to this 
subject. Suppose the eyes only placed (where they 
might as easily have fallen by chance, as in their proper 
place) in any one of those innumerable positions, fur- 
nished by the body ; for example, on the top of the 
head, or on the soles of the feet : what would have be- 
come of the man ? Suppose the mouth, the throat, the 
trachea, the lungs, the stomach, or the heart, to have 
been removed even a very little distance from their 
present places. How soon must life, if we suppose life 
at first to exist, be extinguished ? Or rather, how im- 
possible must it have been for life to exist at all? 
Were the hands and feet to interchange positions ; 
were the thumb to grow from the back of the hand ; 
or the joints of the fingers to be turned outwards, nearly 
every purpose which man is fitted to accomplish, must 
be entirely prevented. The truth is, all the parts of 
the human body are of high importance to our well- 
being, both as to their structure and to their position, 
and very many of them are in both respects absolutely 
indispensable. A very small change in any one of 
these, would be equally fatal to comfort and to life. 

Whence then has it come to pass, that in so many 
millions of the human race, all the parts of the human 
body are exactly formed, and exactly placed, in their 
proper and relative position ; that the blood has flowed 
in its thousand channels, and regularly returned to the 
fountains, in all its various courses ; that the food has 
ever been digested ; the processes of secretion aimed 
on with exactness ; the juices separated without mix- 
tiu-e ; and the nutriment of the whole body conveyed 
to every part, however minute, and however distant? 
That the organs of sensation have ever been formed ; 
and the bones, muscles, and sinews, furnished with 
strength, and the nerves with sensitive perception; and 
that thus the body has become a frame, a tenement, 
suited to the inhabitation of an intelligent mind ? 

Let me farther ask, has mere casualty been the source 
of contrivance, of thought, of volition, of virtue ? Has 
an immaterial existence, possessed of these wonderful 
powers, started into being by a mere contingency? 
That the soul is immaterial, I shall, as I have before ob- 
served, attempt to prove in another Discourse, and shall 
therefore take it here for granted. Will it be held, 
that souls are also progenitors, and propagate each other, 
after chance has given birth to the first in the series ? 

The first proofs of design, viz. the provision of means 
adapted evidently to the accomplishment of ends, are 
also found in every animal body ; in every organized 
structure ; in the mineral kingdom, to a vast extent ; 
and universally in the figure, positions, motions, and 
appurtenances, of the worlds composing the planetary 
system. Their magnitudes, their distances from the 
sun, the position of their axes, their diurnal and annual 
revolutions, their furniture of moons ; the central sta- 
tion, size, and splendour, of the vast luminous world 
around which they roll ; the regularity and harmony of 



all their motions ; are overwhelming proofs of design 
and wisdom, such as can be attributed only to a bound- 
less and uncreated mind. 

III. Atheists assert, that the several beings found 
in the universe, owe their existence to the operations 
of matter. 

In opposing this scheme we return again to argu- 
ments, derived from the connexions between cause and 
effect : for here a cause is not only supposed, but di- 
rectly alleged by the atheist, and is regarded by him as 
being adequate to the production of all beings. It will 
be my business to prove from the inadequacy, and the 
consequent inefficacy of the alleged causes, that it was 
not the real source of existence to the beings, visible in 
the world around us. For the accomplishment of this 
purpose, I observe, 

1. That matter is acknowledged by the atheist, with 
whom I am now arguing, to be destitute of intelligence ; 
it being the great object of his scheme to prove, that 
his own existence, and that of other beings, was not 
derived from an intelligent cause. 

2. The eternal existence of matter is a merely gra- 
tuitous supposition, unsupported by any evidence what- 
ever. 

3. If we admit, that matter existed from eternity, 
its properties and operations must all have been also 
eternal. As the properties of matter are inherent in it, 
they must, in the case supposed, have been eternally 
inherent. Of course, whatever powers matter possessed, 
it possessed them eternally ; there being no cause, in- 
trinsic or extrinsic, to increase, lessen, or alter them. 
Hence it is certain, that they must have operated from 
eternity, in every way in which they could operate at 
all. All the beings therefore, and all the changes which 
its operations could produce, it must have produced from 
eternity. Hence it is plain, that there must have been 

| an eternal and infinite series of men, of animals, of ve- 
getables, of motions, and of changes of every other kind, 
in the universe. But this has been demonstrated to be 
a self-contradiction. The premises whence it is derived 
are therefore false. That matter should have possessed 
these powers from eternity, without exerting them, and 
that it should have exerted them from eternity, are thus 
proved to be, as I asserted in the former Discourse, plain 
impossibilities. It follows then undeniably, that if mat- 
ter existed eternally in one uniform state, that state was 
entirely quiescent ; and that no change, however small, 
could ever have taken place in it, but from an extrinsic 
cause. Thus the supposition of the eternal existence of 
matter is so far from accounting for the existence of 
the beings and the changes in the universe, that it will 
not account for any tiling, not even for the least change 
in the position or circumstances of an atom. 

4. There is no fact which gives even the appearance 
of plausibility to this scheme. The only facts, which, 
so far as I know, have ever been seriously alleged to 
this purpose, are the production of insects and plants 
by what is called equivocal generation ; according to 
which, by the mere fermentation of various kinds of 
matter, the insect is supposed to be produced without a 
parent, and the plant without a seed. 

To this I answer, 

(1.) That this is at best a mere supposition, no evi- 
dence having been ever furnished of the fact which it 
alleges. 

(2.) Frar.cisco de Redi, and Malpighi, two eminent 



ATHEISTICAL OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 



11 



Italian philosophers, have, by a long train of ingenious 
and accurate experiments, unanswerably proved, that 
equivocal generation is a groundless hypothesis ; and 
that no matter in any process of fermentation will pro- 
duce an insect without a parent, or a p'lant without a 
seed. As therefore all the powers and operations of 
matter must, if eternal, be eternally the same ; and as 
matter now produces no such beings as are alleged ; it 
follows unanswerably, that matter was never the cause 
of any such production. 

5. Innumerable facts directly refute this scheme. 

(1.) That this world in its present form, was not 
eternal is certain ; because its surface is continually 
changing, and approximating towards a level. If we 
suppose one particle only to have descended from the 
higher towards the lower parts of the surface in an 
age, or in a million of ages ; the whole, unless coun- 
teracted by opposing causes, (and in most places there 
is no trace of such causes,) must have become an en- 
tire level, at a period too distant to be conceived by any 
mind, or expressed by any numbers. Yet millions of 
tons annually descend towards the centre. The date 
of the earth, in its present state, must therefore have 
begun at a time not far distant. 

(2.) If, contrary to truth, we admit gravitation to be 
an inherent property of matter, it could not possibly have 
caused the revolution of the planets. Let the planets 
be placed at any supposable place and distance, within 
the reach of the sun's attraction ; the only direction in 
which they could possibly move, would be a straight or 
right line towards the sun ; because this is the only di- 
rection in which his gravitation and theirs can possibly 
act. It is easily and mathematically proved, that to the 
circular motion of the planets round the sun, a projec- 
tile force or impulse, acting in the direction of a tangent 
to the planetary orbit, was originally indispensable. So 
far therefore would the planets have been from moving 
in their proper orbits round the sun by the mere power 
of gravitation, that they could only have fallen directly 
to the sun. Should it be said, that the planets have 
moved eternally in their present orbits ; and that the 
earth, for example, has performed an infinite series of 
revolutions ; it must also be said, that the moon in her 
circuit round the earth has performed a series thirteen 
times, and the earth in its rotation round its axis, a se- 
ries three hundred and sixty-five times as great as that 
infinite series. 

(3.) The diurnal motions of the planets, the positions 
of their axes, and the attendance of their satellites, 
which accord with no regularity, or proportion to their 
magnitudes, or their distances from the sun, and cannot 
be explained in any consistency with mere material prin- 
ciples, prove themselves, unquestionably, to have been de- 
rived from an extrinsic and intelligent cause. 

6. From a sufficiently regular course of observations, 
employed on the eclipses of the sun and moon, and a 
series of correct calculations concerning them, it is 
proved by Ferguson, that the ancient eclipses, noted in 
history, took place at times, differing sensibly from 
Ihose which the calculations require ; that these differ- 
ences of time regularly diminish, as the times approach 
nearer to us ; and that the orbit of the moon was there- 
in fore more distant from the earth formerly, than it is 
now. Hence it is certain, that the moon's motion 
round the earth, instead of having been eternal, has 
existed only during a little period. 

In the last place, for I will not dwell on this atheis- 



tical dream any longer, if all these impossibilities were 
removed, and all these proofs given up, another would 
still remain, which completely refutes this scheme ; viz. 
that matter cannot be the cause of intelligence. Quod 
non habel,non dare potest ; what a cause does not contain 
or possess, it cannot communicate, is a maxim, or self- 
evident proposition. That matter, therefore, which can- 
not think, will, or originate motion, should communicate 
thought, volition, and motivity, is plainly impossible. 

Thus have I considered the only atheistical schemes 
of existence, which merit any serious attention. Were 
I disposed to exhibit the abettors of these schemes in a 
ridiculous and contemptible light 5 the efforts of Anax- 
imander, Epicurus, the Egyptian philosophers, the 
Count de Buffon, and many others, both ancient and 
modern, to explain the origin and progress of things, 
would furnish me with ample materials. But such an 
exhibition would ill become this sacred place. I shall 
only add, the existence of the very matter to which so 
much is attributed, and on which such reliance is 
placed, by atheistical philosophers, can never be evinced. 
I myself believe indeed that it exists, but I also know 
that its existence cannot be proved. 



From these observations it is evident, 

1. That atheism in all its forms is a specimen of the 
most absolute credulity. The three great atheistical 
schemes of existence here recited, and undoubtedly the 
best which have been formed, are founded on mere as- 
sumptions, or gratuitous hypotheses, unsupported by a 
particle of argument or evidence. But to adopt a mere 
assumption, especially in a case of infinite importance, 
is credulity in the extreme, and folly which cannot 
plead even a pretence. More than this, each of these 
schemes is refuted by direct demonstration. Beyond 
even this, they are unanswerably proved, not only to 
be false, but to be impossible. Still the atheist goes on 
quietly with his faith in these hypotheses, and resolves 
to believe, in defiance of demonstration and impossi- 
bility. 

2. There are still men, in considerable numbers, and 
of no small ingenuity, -who profess themselves atheists ; 
and who thus prove, that atheism has its seat in the 
heart, and not in the understanding. Nothing ran be 
more evident, than that these doctrines can never have 
been embraced from argument or conviction, or by an 
unbiassed understanding. They were therefore cer- 
tainly adopted under the influence of the heart ; and 
believed, only because they were loved, or because God 
was dreaded and hated. Thus the heart is the true 
source of the belief that there is no God ; and he is a 
fool who, governed by its wishes, thus believes against 
all reason and evidence. 

3. As such men have thus believed under such an 
influence, so, if we indulge such wishes, we maybe given 
up by God to these or any other fatal doctrines, and of 
course to destruction. The great danger lies in the heart, 
and in its hostility to God and his character. What we 
wish, we easily believe ; and what we dread or hate, 
we easily disbelieve. As we dread the anger of God 
against sin, and against ourselves particularly as sinners, 
and all his designs to punish it ; as we hate to renounce 
it, and its pleasures ; we contrive easily, and naturally, 
to disbelieve his designs, character, and existence. Es- 
pecially is this the case, when God, provoked by our 



12 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. in. 



rebellion and opposition, gives us up to a reprobate 
mind. 

How greatly ought we then to fear this mass of guilt, 
danger, and ruin ! How earnestly ought we to watch, 
and strive, and pray that we fall not into this train of 
temptations and miseries ! Let us resolve to ' receive 



the truth,' at all events, however humbling or painful, 
- in the love of it.' And may God grant that it may 
make us ' free from the bondage of corruption, and 
translate us into the glorious liberty of his children.' 
Amen. 



SERMON III. 

COMPARATIVE INFLUENCE OF ATHEISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 



The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. They are corrupt ; they have done abominable works : 

there is none that doeth good. — Psal. xiv. ] . 



In my last Discourse, I considered the objections of 
atheists against the being and government of God ; and 
those doctrines concerning the origin and existence of 
things, which they have substituted for the doctrines of 
Theism and the Scriptures, on this most important sub- 
ject. The objections I endeavoured to prove unsound 
and nugatory, and the doctrines to be mere hypotheses, 
demonstrably false, and plainly impossible. Hence I 
concluded them to be the doctrines of the heart, and 
not of the intellect. Hence also I concluded, that he 
•who embraces them, is, according to the language of 
the text, ' a fool.' There is no more absolute folly than 
to believe doctrines because we love them, and to re- 
ject doctrines because we hate them ; or in other words, 
to suffer our inclinations to govern our understanding. 

The consequences of these doctrines, or of atheism 
generally, are in the text declared in these words, ' They 
are corrupt ; they have done abominable works : there 
is none that doeth good.' In other words, atheists are 
corrupt ; they do abominable works ; there is none of 
them that doeth good. This character of atheists, seen 
by the psalmist and declared by the Spirit of God three 
thousand years ago, has not changed for the better at 
any period down to the present day. They have ever 
been corrupt, they have ever done abominable works ; 
there has never been among them a single good or 
virtuous man. 

It cannot but be a useful employment to examine this 
interesting subject, and to learn from such an examina- 
tion, the manner in which these false principles, dictated 
and embraced by a bad heart, contribute in their turn, 
as powerful causes, to render that heart still more cor- 
rupt ; to till the life with abominable actions ; and to 
prevent every one who embraces these doctrines, from 
assuming the character of virtue. 

Before I enter upon the direct discussion of this sub- 
ject, it will be proper to observe, that, Virtue is nothing 
but voluntary obedience to truth ; and Sin, nothing but 
voluntary obedience to falsehood. Or more generally, 
virtue and sin consist in a disposition or preparation of 
the heart, flowing out into acts of obedience, in the 
respective manners which I have mentioned. From 
these definitions, which it is presumed cannot be suc- 
cessfully denied, it is evident that every false doctrine 
which is relished by the heart, will, of course, govern 
its affections and volitions ; and will therefore control 
the conduct. Nor is it less evident, that in the present 



case, the doctrines in question, being embraced only 
because they are loved, will eminently influence the 
heart which has dictated them, and eminently affect all 
the moral conduct. 

It will also be clear to all persons accustomed to the 
investigation of moral subjects, that the character of a 
man must, at least in a great measure, be formed by his 
views of the several subjects with which he is acquaint- 
ed. As these are expanded, magnificent and sublime ; 
or narrow, ordinary, grovelling ; the taste, the charac- 
ter, and the conduct, will be refined and noble, or gross 
and contemptible. A man accustomed to an exalted 
sphere of life, and to a regular intercourse with great 
objects, will assume, of course, a dignity and greatness 
of mind, and a splendour of personal character, which 
cannot be assumed by him whose views have ever been 
limited to few and small objects, and whose life has 
been passed in actions of no significance. There is 
something princely, of course, in men even of moderate 
endowments, when properly educated for the inherit- 
ance of a throne. There is every thing diminutive, of 
necessity, in him who is trained only to be a camp-boy 
or a shoe-black. 

When men are educated to contemplation and science, 
it may not unnaturally be imagined, that their minds, 
allowing for the difference of their endowments, will, 
from the similarity of their pursuits, be formed into a 
similarity of character. This, however, is to a great 
extent, a mistaken opinion. The very objects with 
which such men are equally conversant, may, from 
their respective modes of viewing them, become totally 
unlike, and even contradictory, in their apprehension. 
It will not be questioned that the mind of a heathen, 
studying, with the views of a heathen, the polytheism 
of Greece and Rome, would be affected very different- 
ly from the mind of a Christian, investigating the same 
subject. The manner in which we regard any object 
of inquiry, may differ from some other manner almost 
as much as any two objects of inquisition may differ 
from each other. The views of him who regards the 
firmament as a great blue canopy, and the stars as little 
sparks of light, differ from the views of the astrono- 
mer, who considers the firmament as a boundless ex- 
pansion, and the stars as an innumerable multitude of 
suns, almost as widely as the two objects of contempla- 
tion diffex-. The manner, therefore, in which human con- 
templations are directed may be very various, although 



ATHEISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 



13 



the objects are the same. In truth, it is not the gran- 
deur or diminutiveness of the objects, but the greatness 
or littleness of the views entertained of them, which 
affect and form the character. 

The taste or relish of the mind, particularly, will in 
a great measure, if not wholly, be formed by this cause. 
The mind, by an early habit accustomed to little views, 
will soon learn to relish no other. Accustomed from 
the beginning to a connexion with grovelling objects 
only, it soon ceases to be pleased with any other objects. 
Accustomed to form diminutive and debased schemes of 
■ action, it becomes easily and finally disgusted with every 
thing of an enlarged and superior nature. 

As these things are true of all the views entertained 
by man, so they are especially true of those which may 
be called original and fundamental ; which involve ail 
subordinate ones, which direct every future course of 
thought, and to which the mind thinks it necessary to 
reconcile every succeeding purpose, relish, and opinion. 
If the stem here be a mere twig, the branches must be 
poor and diminutive indeed. Thus he, the basis of 
whose religion was an idol, must form a system of the- 
ology and ethics dismally lean and contemptible. 

All the motives to human conduct are found, either 
in the objects with which we converse, or in the views 
with which we regard them. If the objects or the views 
be low and debased, low and debased motives only will 
arise out of them. But motives originate all our con- 
duct, regulate its progress, and determine its nature. 
If they be low and debased, the conduct will partake of 
the same characteristics, and will, of course, be grovel- 
ling, unworthy, and odious. 

! Thus the objects with which Ave are conversant, and 
the views which we form of them, will determine both 
the internal and external character of man. 

It will be remarked, that I have considered this sub- 
ject independently of the peculiar doctrines of Christian- 
ity ; and for this reason, that I am arguing with those 
who deny a divine revelation. 

These things being premised, I assert, in accordance 
with the text, that the proper, natural, and necessary 
influence of atheism is to contract, and render grovel- 
ling, the views, to corrupt the character, and to deform 
the life of man. The truth of this assertion I shall at- 
tempt to illustrate under the following heads. 

I. The views which the atheist forms of the natural 
world : 

II. His views of the moral world : 

III. His views of the future world. 

All these I shall also, from time to time, compare 
with the views which the Christian entertains of the 
same subjects. 

I. I shall consider the views which the atheist forms 
of the natural world. 

In this consideration, I am disposed to allow the 
atheist all the advantages which he can derive from en- 
dowments or acquisitions. He may, with my consent, 
be, what I well know he can be, a chemist, a botanist, 
a mineralogist, or an anatomist. He shall, if he pleases, 
be a mathematician, a natural philosopher, an astrono- 
mer, a metaphysician, or a poet. I mean that he may 
be any or all of these, so far as one man of his opinions 
can be reasonably supposed to sustain the several cha- 
racters specified. I will not even avail myself of the 
celebrated remark of Lord Bacon, ' that a little philoso- 
phy will make a man an atheist, but a great deal will 



make him a Christian ;' although I entertain not a 
doubt of its truth. My business is not to dwell on mi- 
nute things, but to show the nature of those which are 
of higher importance. 

The atheist then may, with enlarged understanding 
and skill, contemplate the structure of the heavenly bo- 
dies. He may, with the eye of a naturalist, explore the 
organization of the vegetable kingdom ; may analyse 
the chemical principles and combinations of plants and 
minerals ; and may trace, to use his own language, the 
hidden walks of nature, in her mysterious progress 
through the system. Or with the imagination of the 
poet, and the science of the astronomer, he may be fas- 
cinated with the beauty, splendour, and sublimity of 
the landscape, or delighted with the distances, magni- 
tudes, motions, harmony, and magnificence of the plane- 
tary and stellary systems ; still his views of all these, and 
all other natural objects, although in his mind the most 
illustrious objects which exist, will be poor and pitia- 
ble. 

All of them, in his opinion, owe their being to fate, 
accident, or the blind action of stupid matter. They 
exist for no end, and accomplish none. They spring 
from no wisdom, and display none. They are there- 
fore what they would have been, had they been made 
and moved by an intelligent cause, without any purpose 
or design in their creation, a vast apparatus of splen- 
dour and magnificence assembled together for nothing ; 
an immense show, in which nothing was intended, and 
from which nothing can be gained. The mind, in sur- 
veying them, asks instinctively and irresistibly, How 
came this train of wonders into being ? and is answered 
with nothing but perplexity and folly, but doubt and 
despair. In the same manner it inquires, Of what use 
will this mighty assemblage of worlds and their furniture 
pro\-3 ? The only reply is, Of none. All, with all 
their motions, furniture, and inhabitants, are the result, 
and under the control, of that iron-handed necessity 
which exists in the blind operations of unconscious 
matter ; that gloomy fate of the heathens, to which 
they sullenly submitted because they deemed it inevita- 
ble ; and which, while it showered calamities in abun- 
dance, cut oft" every hope and every effort for the attain- 
ment of deliverance. To the wretch whose mind is 
effectually imbued with this scheme of things, the uni- 
verse is changed into a vast prison, where himself and 
his companions are confined by bolts and bars, forged 
by the hand of blind, immoveable, and irresistible des- 
tiny ; where no heart is found to pity their sufferings, 
and no hand to lend relief; where no eye looks with 
sympathy, and no ear listens with tenderness ; where 
the walls reach to heaven, and are hung with clouds and 
midnight ; and where every effort to escape, conducts the 
miserable tenants only to the sullen cavern of despair. 

Should the atheist, sick with the forlorn and hope- 
less contemplation, turn his eyes from this scheme of 
things to his only alternative, the doctrine of Chance, 
he will find himself equally distant from refreshment 
and from hope. Here, himself and all other beings in 
earth, sea, and sky, with all their properties and opera- 
tions, are mere accidents, involved and perplexed in 
their movements, like the particles of dust in a whirl- 
wind. In his view, if he understand his system, and 
will think consistently with himself, his thoughts, voli- 
tions, and efforts, the continuance of his own being, and 
that of all other things, are mere casualties, produced 



14 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb, 



by no cause, upheld by no support, directed by no wis- 
dom, and existing to no purpose. Mere abortions, pre- 
carious in the extreme, possessed only of a doubtful and 
fluctuating existence, they tremble and flutter in a 
dreadful state of suspense, over the gloomy abyss of 
annihilation. All here is doubt and discouragement 
Not a plan can be rationally formed, not a hope con- 
sistently indulged. Where every thing is to happen, if ' 
it exist at all ; or where the result of the casualty is,* 
with the same probability, seen to be any thing or no- 
thing ; it is plain that nothing can be expected. Against 
every expectation, the chances are millions of millions 
to one ; for every supposable thing is as likely to exist 
as any other. 

Should it be said, that the atheist refutes these de- 
clarations by his conduct, because he lives and acts like 
other men, and is no more influenced than others by a 
regard either to fate or chance, I answer, that the ob- 
jection is erroneous. The atheist, instead of refuting 
these observations, refutes himself. He denies his own 
principles, and avails himself of the principles which 
he opposes. If he understands his own scheme, he 
cannot but know that the necessity of existence, which 
he professes to believe, is irreconcilable with all freedom 
of mind, with all voluntariness, with all contrivance. 
He knows that connection cannot spring from chance, 
that order cannot arise out of accident ; that whatever 
exists fortuitously, exists independently of all things 
else, and can never be connected with any other thing, 
by any moral or useful relation. If therefore he would 
think and act rationally, he would neither contrive, ex- 
pect, fear, nor hope ; neither build nor plant, neither 
reap nor gather ; but would yield himself up to the con- 
trol of irresistible destiny, or to the capricious disposal 
of contingence. 

The works of God are in their own nature beautiful, 
magnificent, sublime, and wonderful ; and by every eye 
which sees them, their nature must in some degree 
be discerned. It is readily admitted, therefore, that the 
atheist himself, if he be not a sot, must in some degree 
perceive the sublimity and splendour, which are inhe- 
rent in the earth and the heavens. But from these 
illustrious attributes he subti-acts immensely, when he 
denies that they owe their origin to an intelligent and 
eternal mind ; when he denies that they are moved and 
ruled by infinite perfection ; and that by the same per- 
fection they are conducted to a divine and glorious end, 
a purpose infinitely excellent and desirable. Without 
this consideration, all their lustre becomes feeble and 
fading ; a dim taper, gradually declining on the sight 
towards a final extinction. At the same time, by attri- 
buting their existence to fate, chance, or matter, he con- 
tracts their greatness, and lowers their elevation, to a 
measure equally humble and painful, and covers even 
the bright lights of heaven with a shroud of gloom and 
obscurity. 

When the Christian beholds the earth and the hea- 
vens, how different are his views of the same illustrious 
objects ? To him the vast congregation of worlds is the 
immense and eternal empire of the Self-existent and Om- 
nipresent Jehovah, contrived by his boundless wisdom, 
chosen by his boundless goodness, and executed by his 
boundless power. This single thought, like the rising of 
the sun upon thisbenighted world, imparts to the universe, 
in a moment, a diffusive and illimitable splendour, in- 
resting, explaining, and adorning, all the beings of which 



it is composed. On all, the sublime impression of design 
is instamped as a living image, glowing in living colours. 
The universe becomes a vast assemblage of means, di- 
rected to an immortal purpose ; arranged in perfect order, 
adjusted with exact symmetry, and operating with com 
plete harmony : and all, from the glory of that purpose^ 
and the perfection of their arrangement, symmetry, and 
operations, derive an elevation and grandeur, of which 
they are otherwise utterly incapable. 

God, before whom all things are as nothing, is in- 
vested by his perfections with a greatness and sublimity, 
in comparison with which, all other magnificence, se- 
parately considered, becomes ' less than nothing and 
vanity.' Eternal, omnipresent, and immutable power, 
wisdom, and goodness, are objects so high, so vast, that 
all the worlds and suns which they have created, dimi- 
nish when compared with them, to ' the drop of the 
bucket, and the small dust of the balance.' But in the 
view of the Christian, these worlds, and every thing 
which they contain, derive a glorious lustre from be- 
ing an immediate exhibition of these attributes, and of 
the incomprehensible Being in whom they reside. 
Wherever the Christian casts his eyes, he sees all things 
full of God. The omnipresent, all-creating, and all- 
ruling Jehovah, lives, and moves, and acts, in every 
thing which meets his view. In the spring, he comes 
forth in his beauty and beneficence, clothes the naked 
world in the richest attire, and awakens universal life 
and joy. In the summer, and the autumn, ' he openeth 
his bountiful hand, and satisfieth the wants of every 
living thing.' In the winter, ' he hath his way in the 
whirlwind, and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust 
of his feet.' The heavens recall to the mind of the 
Christian the day when God said, ' Let there be a 
firmament, and there was a firmament :' In the sun 
still resounds that voice which commanded, ' Let there 
be light, and there was light' 

In the meantime, all things borne on, in the view of 
the atheist, in a blind and relentless career by irresisti- 
ble necessity, or dancing in fortuitous and endless 
mazes, like the imaginary atoms supposed by him to 
have produced them, and therefore dark, cheerless, and 
hopeless, are, in that of the Christian, directed by the 
wisdom, power, and goodness of the Creator ; and are 
therefore to him, full of expectation, hope, and comfort. 
Wherever he is, there God is. His ear is always open 
to his prayers ; his eye, to his dangers, sorrows, and 
fears ; his hand, extended to supply, to relieve, to com- 
fort, and to save, An Almighty Friend is every where 
found by him, in the crowd and in solitude, by night 
and by day ; never absent, never forgetful, never un- 
kind, never encumbered, by any concerns which will 
prevent his wants from being regarded, nor surrounded 
by any difficulties which can hinder them from being- 
supplied. Between this friend and him, time and place 
can never intervene ; he is every where, and is every 
where to him a God. 

In this vast particular, the difference between the 
views of the atheist and those of the Christian, I need 
hardly observe, is incalculable and immense. The efli 
cacy of these views on the mind must, it is obvious, be 
proportioned to their nature. 

II. I will now examine the view which the atheist 
forms of the moral world. 

The moral world is the world of minds, or of intell 
gent beings. The importance of this world will in some 



ATHEISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 



15 



good measure be conceived from these considerations ; 
that the individuals who compose it are the only beings 
by whom good can be contrived or done, and the only 
beings by whom it can to any extent be enjoyed. Of 
this world, the conceptions of the atheist are, in a far 
greater degree, inferior to those of the Christian. 

The only object which the atheist knows in the moral 
world is man, and man lowered to the humblest possi- 
ble level of intellectual existence. His origin, in the 
view of the atheist, is the same with that of a mush- 
room ; and his character that of a mere animal. He is 
the subject of no moral government, insusceptible of 
moral obligation; incapable, therefore, of virtue, excel- 
lence, and loveliness; possessing attributes, which, like 
himself, are the offspring, and under the control, of ne- 
cessity or chance ; united to his fellow-men by nothing 
but time and place ; insulated in all his interests, and 
those the interests of a swine only ; without the know- 
ledge of the existence of law or government, merit or 
reward ; and born merely to breathe, to eat, to drink, 
to sleep, to propagate his kind, to decay, and to die. 
How obvious is it, that on these views of man, there 
can be erected no personal worth, enjoyment, or hope ; 
no common good, no sense of rectitude, and no efforts 
for the promotion of general happiness. 

Personal worth is all dependant on the existence of 
laws and government, formed by one who has a right 
to enact the former and administer the latter ; a right 
founded on the relations which he sustains to those 
who are under his government. To these relations also 
must the laws and the government be conformed in 
such a manner, as that that, and that only, shall be 
enacted, which requires the conduct suited to these re- 
lations, and promotive of general and individual happi- 
ness. In the same manner must be directed the rewards, 
punishments, aud administrations. But on the scheme 
of the atheist, there is no such ruler, and no such right 
to rule ; there are no such relations, and no such duties. 
Rectitude, the sum of personal worth, consists in render- 
ing voluntarily, that which others have a right to claim. 
But on his scheme no claim can be founded, and none 
exists. There is therefore nothing due ; of course, no 
duty can be performed, and no rectitude experienced. 
Hence that high, unceasing, and refined enjoyment, 
which attends the sense of rectitude, can never be found 
by the atheist. 

As the atheist is without rectitude or moral principle, 
and destitute of the sense and enjoyment of it ; so it is 
plain, that his whole conduct must be directed by a re- 
gard to mere convenience ; or rather by a regard to 
what his passions, unrestrained, rendered intense by 
habitual indulgence, and fastening their view only on 
the present object, may deem convenient. In other 
words, his conduct must be dictated merely by the ex- 
isting passion and appetite ; and must therefore be that 
very conduct, which has produced almost all the mise- 
ries and complaints of mankind. 

If this scheme be true, all men ought undoubtedly to 
be governed by it. What would become of such a 
world, and of the atheist himself in the midst of such a 
world? No man, it is evident, could exercise confi- 
dence towards any other man. The loss of the enjoy- 
ment, furnished by this single delightful emotion, an 
enjoyment absolutely indispensable even to comfort and 
to safety, would infinitely overbalance every good which 
atheists ever found. Without confidence, no society 



can be happy. Without confidence, no society, no 
friendship, no union, no connexion, between intelli- 
gent beings can exist. Even thieves and robbers, as 
has ever been proverbially acknowledged, cannot, with- 
out confidence, form even their dreadful state of society. 
The world, dispossessed of it, would become an image 
of hell ; and distrust, jealousy, wrath, revenge, murder, 
war, and devastation, overspread the earth. In the 
midst of millions, the atheist would find himself in a 
desert. His situation would be that of a hermit, his 
character that of a fiend. By day, he would hide him- 
self in his den ; by night, he would prowl as a wolf, for 
the prey on which he was to live. 

To such a world it is obvious, ' hope, which,' in the 
language of the poet, ' comes to all,' could ' never come.' 
On hope, even as the world now is, men in a great 
measure live. The prospect of something better to- 
morrow, brightens all the comforts of man, and tinges 
with light the clouds of melancholy and affliction, to 
day. Were all the enjoyments of human life to be 
fairly reckoned up, it is not improbable that those which 
hope brings in her train, would be the greatest mass, 
both in number and value. But in these, the atheist 
could not share, because from fate or chance nothing 
can be rationally expected ; and because, from his fel- 
low-men, governed by his doctrines, there could arise 
nothing but danger, distrust, and fear. 

Should it be said, that this situation of things would 
be so absolutely intolerable, that mankind, unable to 
exist in it, would be compelled to unite in society, and 
establish government : I admit the conclusion, and per- 
fectly accord with the premises from which it is drawn. 
But what would be the nature of this government, and 
on what basis would it be founded ? Its basis Avould 
plainly be dire necessity, existing in the impossibility 
of living without it, and its operations would be only 
those of force. The rulers would feel no sense of rec- 
titude, possess no virtue, and realize no moral obliga- 
tion. To all these things their fundamental principles 
would be hostile, and Avould render the very thought 
of them ridiculous. God is the only acknowledged 
source of moral obligation ; but to them there would 
be no God, and therefore no such obligation. Comfor- 
mity to his laws is the only rectitude ; but to these men 
there would be no such laws, and therefore no recti- 
tude. Convenience, of course, or, in better words, pas- 
sion and appetite, would dictate all the conduct of these 
rulers. The nature of a government directed by pas- 
sion and appetite we know, imperfectly, by the histo- 
ries of Caligula, Nero, and Heliogabalus ; and more 
thoroughly, though still imperfectly, in those of Dan- 
ton, Marat, Robespierre, and their associates. Who 
would be willing to see such a tissue of madness, cruel- 
ty, misery, and horror, woven again ? 

The subjects of such a government would at the 
same time be, in the same manner, under the influence 
of the same doctrine. Their conduct would according- 
ly be an exact counterpart to that of their rulers. Ap- 
petite would change every man into a swine, and pas- 
sion into a tiger. Right would neither be acknowledg- 
ed, nor be felt, nor exist. Whatever was coveted would 
be sought and obtained, if it could be done with safety. 
Whatever was hated would, so far as safety would per- 
mit, be hunted and destroyed. To deceive, todefraud, to 
betray, to maim, to torture, and to butcher, would be 
the common employment, and the common sport. The 



16 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



(Skr. if. 



dearest and most venerable relations would be violated 
by incestuous pollution ; and children, such of them I 
mean as were not cast under a hedge, thrown into the 
sea, or dashed against the stones, would grow up with- 
out a home, without a parent, without a friend. The 
world would become one vast den, one immeasurable 
sty, and the swine and the wolf would be degraded by 
a comparison with its inhabitants. 

Should it be doubted whether even atheism would 
terminate in such doctrines, and such practices, the 
means of removing the doubt are at hand. Hobbes, 
Shaftesbury, and other English infidel writers, some of 
whom have disclaimed the character of atheists, and 
wished at least to be considered as embracing theism, 
have directly declared that there is no right except that 
which the leviathan, or civil magistrate, pronounces to 
be such ; and that rectitude, instead of being founded in 
the nature of things, or in the will of God, is the result 
of human institutions, and arbitrary decisions mei'ely. 
Little consideration is necessary to enable us to discern, 
that this single principle involves all the consequences 
which I have attributed to atheism, dissolves at once 
all obligations to duty, annihilates virtue, and crumbles 
the bands which hold society together. Accordingly, 
Hobbes declares it to be lawful to do, and to get what- 
ever Ave can with safety ; and multitudes of his coad- 
jutors and followers have taught, that pollution in al- 
most every form is lawful and desirable, and that ani- 
mal enjoyment is the only real good. The infidels of 
the French school, who have not found it necessary, 
like the English, to regard any appearances, have open- 
ly denied and ridiculed all the fundamental principles 
of morality, as well as of piety. I have been informed, 
by what I esteem good authority, that a numerous as- 
sembly of French literati, being asked in turn, at one of 
their meetings, by their president, whether there was 
any such thing as moral obligation, answered in every 
instance, that there was not. This happened a little 
before the French revolution. Since the commence- 
ment of that stupendous event, as well as in very many 
instances before, the body of French infidels have not 
only denied all the obligations which bind us to truth, 
justice, and kindness, but pitied and despised, as a con- 
temptible wretch, bewildered by ignorance and folly, 
the man who believes in its existence. 

The only instance in which infidels of any descrip- 
tion have possessed the supreme power and government 
of a country, and have attempted to dispose of human 
happiness according to their own doctrines and wishes, 
is that of France, since the beginning of the revolution. 
If we consider this government as established over a 
nation, educated for ages to the belief and obedience of 
many doctrines of Christianity, and retaining, as to a 
great "majority of the people, the habits formed by that 
education, the state of that nation will evince, beyond 
a question, that all which I have said is true without 
exaggeration. France during this period, has been a 
theatre of crimes, which, after all the preceding-perpetra- 
tions, have excited in the mind of every spectator, amaze- 
ment and hoi-ror. The miseries suffered by that single 
nation, have changed all the histories of the preceding 
sufferings of mankind into idle tales, and have been en- 
hanced and multiplied, without a precedent, without 
number, and without a name. The kingdom appeared 
to be changed into one great prison, Ihe inhabitants con- 
verted into felons, and the common doom of man com- 



muted for the violence of the sword and the bayonet, 
the sucking boat, and the guillotine. To contemplative 
men it seemed for a season, as if the knell of the whole 
nation was tolled, and the world summoned to its exe- 
cution and its funeral. Within the short time of ten 
years, not less than three millions of human beings are 
supposed to have perished in that single country, by the 
influence of atheism. Were the world to adopt and be go- 
verned by the doctrines of France, what crimes would not 
mankind perpetrate ; whatagonies would they not suffer? 

Let us now turn our view from this prospect of guilt 
and desolation, this dark and final abyss of sin and ruin, 
where no solitary virtue gleams, where no ray of hope 
or comfort trembles through the profound midnight ; 
and refresh the weary sight by casting a momentary 
glance over the moral world of the christian. Here, 
at the head of the vast chain of moral being, reaching 
like Jacob's ladder from earth to heaven, sits on the 
throne of infinite dominion the God of Abraham, the 
God of Isaac, the God of Jacob ; the God of all, who 
like them believe, worship, and obey their Creator. In 
him, the self-existent and infinite mind, the Christian be- 
holds unceasingly, an object of boundless sublimity, 
grandeur, beauty, and loveliness ; commanding by the 
disclosure of his character, and exhausting all finite ad- 
miration, complacency, love, and praise; expanding eve- 
ry view, refining every affection, and ennobling every 
attribute. From the immediate contemplation of this 
glorious Being, raised to a superiority and distinction, 
of which he could otherwise have never conceived, he 
casts his eyes abroad into the universe, which that Be- 
ing has created. There he beholds an endless train of 
intelligent minds, reflecting, with no unhappy lustre, 
the beauty and glory of their Maker. From the pre- 
eminent dignity of the archangel, through the glowing 
zeal of the seraph, and the milder wisdom of the che- 
rub ; through the high endowments of Moses, Isaiah, 
and Paul ; down to the humble but virtuous inhabitant 
of a cottage, one spirit lives, and breathes, and actuates, 
in all ; and that spirit is divine. Each wears and exhi- 
bits in his own manner, and that manner a delightful 
and useful one, the image and beauty of Jehovah. All, 
though of different magnitudes, diffuse a real light ; all 
are stars, though ' one star diff'ereth from another star 
in glory.' All are the subjects of virtuous affections ; 
all are fitted to admire and adore, to glorify and enjoy 
their Creator ; all are formed and disposed voluntarily 
to fill up their existence with doing good, with promot- 
ing individual enjoyment, and increasing universal happi- 
ness : all are bound together, as children of one God, and 
brethren of each other, by ' love, the bond of perfection.' 
Every one, therefore, is lovely in the sight of his Maker. 

To this universe of minds, the Christian believes, 
that the Creator, who is of course the rightful law- 
giver, has given laws for the direction of its members, 
which require perfect conduct, and ensure to it perfect 
happiness. These laws extend to all the thoughts, 
words, and actions alike, and regulate each with unerr- 
ing propriety. Their obligation is, and is acknowledged 
to be, divine : nothing can sunder, nothing can lessen 
it. This, instead of being a source of regret to him, 
is his delight ; for what these laws require is better 
than any thing else, and more fraught with self-appro- 
bation, worth, and enjoyment. Of course, in all the 
relations and situations in life, as a parent or a child, a 
neighbour or a friend, magistrate or a subject., he feels 



ATHEISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 



17 



himself, on the one hand, irresistibly obliged, and on the 
other, entirely delighted, to obey their dictates. As 
these dictates reach every moral being in every situa- 
tion, and with respect to every action, they provide of 
course, and universally, for that conduct in every being, 
which is commendable and desirable. 

Here an immovable foundation is laid for peace 
within, for dignity of mind, for real and enduring en- 
joyment, in the recesses of solitude ; and for the end- 
less train of duties and blessings, necessary to the hap- 
piness of society. A ruler formed in this manner, will 
govern only to bless. Subjects of the same character 
will obey, because rectitude demands their obedience, 
and because their obedience will ensure the happiness 
both of themselves and their rulers. 

III. i" will now examine the views which the atheist 
forms of the future world. 

On this subject, a few observations only will be ne- 
cessary. The whole of the atheist's creed, with respect 
to the other world, is comprised in the following sum- 
mary : That his body, begun by chance or necessity, is 
continued without design, and perishes without hope ; 
and that his soul is a mere attribute of his body, use- 
less and worthless while he lives, and destined at his 
death to rottenness and corruption : ' Death an eternal 
sleep,' he engraves on the gate-posts of every church- 
yard, and consigns by his mandate the numerous inha- 
bitants to the dark and desolate regions of annihila- 
tion. 

By this sweeping sentence, which he passes on all 
the human race, he takes away from himself, and his 
fellow men, every motive, furnished by the fear of fu- 
ture punishment, or the hope of future rewards, to vir- 
tuous, upright, and amiable conduct. 

From these three sources, expressed by the sevei'al 
heads of discourse, arise all motives and all tendencies 
to virtuous conduct ; to truth, justice, and kindness be- 
tween man and man. From the two former, we have 
already seen, the atheist derives neither motives nor 
tendencies to this conduct. The source, under consi- 
deration, is to him, if possible, still more barren of both. 
There is therefore nothing in his scheme which mil 
prevent him from doing evil, or induce him to do good. 
How deplorable then is his system, if it may be called a 
system, of doctrines ! 

On the other hand, how glorious are the Christian's 
views of the future world ! From the promise of his 
Creator he learns, that his body, sown here in corrup- 
tion, weakness, and dishonour, shall be raised beyond 
the grave, in incorruption, power, and glory, with so 
many attributes of mind, or spirit, as to be denominated 
by him who made it, ' a spiritual body.' Ever young, 
active, and undecaying, it shall be reunited to the im- 
mortal mind, purified from every stain and every error. 
This perfect man shall be admitted, ' with an open and 
abundant entrance,' into the heaven of heavens, the pe- 
culiar residence of infinite majesty, and the chosen seat 
of infinite dominion. In this noblest of all habitations, 
this mansion of everlasting joy, he shall be united with 
an innumerable multitude of companions like himself, 
sanctified, immortal, and happy. Enrolled among the 
noblest and best beings in the universe, a child, a 



priest, a king, in the house of his heavenly father, his 
endless and only destination Mill be to know, love, 
serve, and enjoy God : to interchange the best affec- 
tions and the best offices with his glorious companions, 
and to advance in wisdom, virtue, and happiness for ever. 

In the future world of the Christian , therefore, motives, 
endless in their number, and infinite in their power, ex- 
cite him unceasingly to the conduct which can make him 
useful and lovely, which can promote the happiness of his 
fellow creatures, or secure the approbation of his God. 

Thus have I taken a summary comparative view of 
these two schemes of existence. In that of the Chris- 
tian, an intelligent mind, possessed of boundless power, 
wisdom, and goodness, existed from everlasting ; com- 
manded into being the universe of matter, and the uni- 
verse of minds ; is present in every place ; sees, with 
an intuitive survey, every thing ; controls all things 
with an almighty and unerring hand ; and directs all to 
the accomplishment of the divine and eternal purpose, 
for which all were made. Over the universe of minds, 
destined to an immortal existence, he exercises a moral 
and eternal government ; and prescribes laws which re- 
quire the best conduct, and ensure the greatest happi- 
ness. To obedience he promises an endless reward, to 
disobedience he threatens an endless punishment. From 
this great source the Christian sees himself derived, to 
this glorious end believes himself destined ; and in this 
sublime scheme is presented with all motives to do him 
good, and with all means to make him happy. 

The atheist, on the contrary, supposes all things de- 
rived from chance or necessity ; originated without de- 
sign, existing to no purpose, and terminating, whenever 
they do terminate, by the coercion of fate, or the sport 
of accident, as they began. Himself he regards as a 
lump of organized matter, without a mind, without law 
or government, except that of fate or force ; without 
moral action, incapable of obligation or rectitude, united 
to his fellow men only by time and place, formed only 
to animal enjoyment, and destined to perish with his 
kindred brutes. By this scheme, all that is glorious, 
divine, andlovely, in that of the Christian, is annihilated, 
and all which in the natural world, cannot be anni- 
hilated, and which possesses an inherent greatness and 
sublimity, is miserably contracted and degraded. No- 
thing is left to expand his views, refine his affections, 
or ennoble his conduct. Motives to virtue, dignity, and 
usefulness, he obliterates from the creation. In the 
future world he finds no such motives, for to him the 
future world is nothing. His evil passions, in the mean 
time, (for such passions, whencesoever derived, he pos- 
sesses,) are let loose without restraint, to rage and riot 
without control. Of all motives to do evil his scheme 
is prolific, of motives to do good it is absolutely barren. 
At the same time it is founded on mere hypotheses, 
sustained by no evidence, and believed against demon- 
stration and impossibility. 

Thus it is, I think, unanswerably evident, that he who 
hath said, ' There is no God,' is a fool : that his atheism 
is a scheme dictated only by an evil heart ; that it cor- 
rupts, of course, the whole moral character : that it is pro- 
ductive of all abominable works, and that it completely 
precludes the performance of any thing that is good. 



18 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. to 



SERMON IV 



ON THE UNITY OF GOD. 



There is none other God but one. — 1 Cob. viii. 4. 



In the three preceding Sermons I have attempted to 
prove the existence of God; to refute the objections, 
and expose the systems of atheists ; and by an exami- 
nation of ihe necessary influence of these systems on 
the intellect, heart, and life, compared with that of the 
Christian system, to show the malignant efficacy of the 
former, and the desirable consequences of the latter. 

The text is a direct declaration of the unity of God, 
the next subject of discourse in the order which I have 
proposed. 

That there is but one God, is a doctrine acknowledged 
in this country by every man. No attempt, therefore, 
to prove the soundness of this doctrine by arguments, 
can be necessary, in order to produce conviction of its 
truth. My design in choosing it for the subject of the 
present discourse is, to exhibit the manner in which 
we become possessed of it, and the evidence with 
which it is attended. In pursuing this design, I shall 
inquire, 

I. What arguments are presented to us by the works 
of creation and providence, insupport of this doctrine : 

II. What views men have entertained concerning it, 
under the direction of reason : 

III. What has been the influence of revelation on the 
reception and continuance of this doctrine. 

I. I shall inquire, what arguments are presented to 
us by the works of creation and providence , in support 
of this doctrine. 

In answer to this inquiry, I observe, that the works 
of creation and providence furnish to reason, unaided 
by revelation, the following considerations: — 

1. The human mind, whenever it has admitted the 
being of one infinite God, has plainly found a difficulty 
in admitting the existence of more. 

This argument I have chosen to express in these 
general terms, because I am aware that different men 
have thought differently concerning this subject. This 
indeed is not at all to be wondered at, when we remem- 
ber the peculiarly abstruse nature of those doctrines 
which respect infinity. The only conception which the 
human mind is capable of forming concerning infinity 
is, that it exists. This fact we distinctly understand, 
and from it we can argue with success ; but the nature 
of the thing, which is infinite, or, in more proper lan- 
guage, the nature of infinity itself, we cannot under- 
stand, nor can we argue from it at all. As the idea 
cannot enter our minds, so it is plain, we can never 
compare it with any other idea ; for it is self-evident, 
that an idea which we have not, can never by us be 
compared with another idea. Of course, no proposition 
can be formed by us in this case, and no argument 
founded or conducted, with any knowledge or evidence. 
In every such case, when men think that they conceive, 
argue, conclude, and demonstrate, they deceive them- 
selves ; and will, if they examine, find that they have 
formed propositions without ideas, or mere collections 



of signs without any thing signified ; so far at least as 
they are concerned. 

Multitudes of mankind have considered it as obvi- 
ously impossible, that two infinite beings should exist. 
As an infinite being and finite beings can, however, co- 
exist in time and place, I see no decisive evidence, that 
two infinite beings cannot coexist. In truth, there is 
no perceptible difficulty arising from the nature of the 
case, in supposing, that spirits or immaterial beings, 
can occupy the same place at the same time. The con- 
trary opinion seems at least to attribute to spirits a pro- 
perty, or mode of being, substantially the same with 
what is called solidity, or impenetrability, in matter. 

Others, and so far as I know, all who have acknow- 
ledged one infinite God, have regarded the acknowledg- 
ment of more as an absurdity. In this sentiment have 
concurred the Patriarchs, Jews, Christians, Mahomme- 
dans, and all those modern infidels, who have not de- 
nied the existence of such a God. These classes of men 
have with one voice renounced the idea of more than 
one such God. Such a general accordance in men, dif- 
fering in other respects so widely, clearly indicates, that 
the admission of one infinite God brings with it to the 
human mind, serious difficulties against the admission 
of more ; and plainly implies, that more cannot be ad- 
mitted by the mind without violence done to the un- 
derstanding. 

Some degree of force is lent to this argument by po- 
lytheism. Wherever more gods than one have been 
acknowledged, it is remarkable, that none of them have 
been considered as infinite. 

•The ideas of polytheistical nations concerning their 
gods have, I confess, been confused and contradictory. 
But it appears to me evident, that no such nation, and 
no individual holding a plurality of gods, has ever in- 
troduced an infinitely perfect being into a religious 
creed. From this fact it would seem, that the idea of 
infinite perfection was, in the view of the human mind, 
incompatible with polytheism. 

Several ancient nations, as well as individuals, parti- 
cularly the Persians, Egyptians, Chaldeans, and Greeks, 
according to Plutarch, agreed in the acknowledgment 
of two gods. Plutarch himself also, and according to 
his testimony Plato, in his old age, together with the 
Pythagoreans, acknowledged two gods ; the one the 
author of good, the other the author of evil. From the 
account given of this subject, taken in all its parts, it 
would seem, however, that the evil god, or ^yj/niov^yos, 
was inferior to the ccyu9ou^yo;, or good god. Two 
equal original causes seem not to have been received 
into any scheme of theology, much less two infinite 
original causes. That such was generally the fact, if 
not universally, will I presume be acknowledged with- 
out a question. 

From all these facts taken together, it may I think 
be fairly concluded, that the sense of the human mind 



Skr. iv.] 



UNITY OF GOD. 



19 



lias every where been against the admission of more 
than one infinite God. 

2. Although the proofs of the existence of God are 
complete, yet there is no proof of the existence of more 
than one God. 

The argument for the being of God, which I men- 
tioned as exhibited in the happiest manner by Mr 
Locke, proves unanswerably the being of one eternal 
self-existent cause, possessed of sufficient intelligence 
to contrive, and sufficient power to create the universe 
of worlds, and all which it contains. The existence of 
one such cause completely removes from the mind every 
difficulty, and satisfactorily accounts for every thing. 
But this argument proves nothing concerning the exis- 
tence of a second cause ; nor does it possess the smallest 
influence to persuade us that a second exists. 

The argument, which I mentioned as managed with 
peculiar felicity by Bishop Berkeley, exhibits in a dif- 
ferent manner, but with conclusive evidence, one uni- 
versally present and universally acting power, animate 
ing, directing, and controlling all things; but it furnishes 
not a single trace of evidence that there is a second. 

From the existence of evil, a considerable number of 
men have, I acknowledge, imagined, that there was rea- 
son to suppose the existence of a second original cause ; 
they appear to have argued in this manner : 'The good 
and perfect cause cannot be the source of evil Parti- 
cularly, he cannot in any sense be concerned, or con- 
nected, with the existence of moral evil. Such evil 
however exists, and has therefore been produced. Of 
course, there must have been some other cause beside 
the good and perfect one.' 

This argument is specious, but plainly unsound. For, 
should it be admitted, as perhaps it safely may be, that 
evil cannot proceed immediately from the perfect God ; 
yet no argument can be alleged to prove that he cannot, 
with entire propriety, create such moral beings as, left 
to themselves, may yield to temptations, necessarily ex- 
isting in the nature of things, and thus fall into sin. In 
any supposable world, pleasure may of course attend 
transgression ; because good may, and must, exist, (if 
good exist at all,) which cannot be lawfully enjoyed. 
The good which lawfully belongs only to others, may 
be seen, coveted, and seized ; and thus, for the time, en- 
joyed. Finite beings may therefore be induced by the 
present prospect of this pleasure to transgress, or, in 
other words, to sin. It has not hitherto been shown 
(as I presume it cannot be shown), that God is, by his 
perfections, obliged to prevent the existence of moral 
evil, originated in this manner, nor of natural evil, as 
its proper punishment. 

Should it be said, that the perfection of God cannot 
fail to operate in such a manner as to produce the 
greatest good ; I acknowledge it. Still it cannot be 
proved, nor be rendered in any degree probable, that 
the greatest possible good will not be found in a system 
into which evil has admission. That, in such a system 
great good may exist, is unquestionable. The scrip- 
tural scheme of redemption proves unanswerably, to all 
who believe the Bible, that good will, and to those who 
do not believe it, that good may spring, in a world where 
evil is found, greater than any other which can be 
imagined by the human mind. This argument is there- 
fore wholly lame, with respect to the purpose for 
which it is introduced, and furnishes not the least rea- 
son for supposing such a second cause. 



3. If there were more gods than one, it is incredible 
that no proof should be furnished of their existence. 

As no intelligent being can act at all without an end 
in view, for which he acts ; so, as has been heretofore 
observed,* the end proposed by the Creator of all 
things, must have been found in himself, and could 
have been no other than the manifestation of his own 
glory. The end of the creation of man must of course 
have been, that he should coincide with this great de- 
sign in the exercise of all his faculties ; that he should 
discern it with his understanding, relish it in his affec- 
tions, and promote it with his active powers. But if 
more gods than one were concerned in the creation of 
man, and of the universe, it is evident that this, the 
only supposable end of their acting at all, cannot, as far 
as respects man, be possibly accomplished. That man 
may either discern or relish the excellence, or in the 
exercise of his active powers promote the designs, of 
his Creator, it is absolutely necessary that he should be 
furnished with some knowledge and therefore with some 
proof of his existence. 

To his Creator, man is indebted for existence, and is 
therefore his property. Of course, man is absolutely 
his subject, rightfully governed by his will, rightfully 
subjected to his law, rightfully disposed of at his plea- 
sure, and therefore wholly bound to coincide, volun- 
tarily, with all his designs. From the Creator, also, 
man derives all his blessings ; and is therefore under 
the highest obligations to exercise towards Him un- 
ceasing gratitude, and to perform all the actions which 
gratitude can dictate or inspire. Finally, the Creator 
of man, must be, of course, a Being infinitely great 
and glorious ; and in this character claims from him, as 
an intelligent creature, his highest adoration, love, com- 
placency, and praise. In these several methods, and in 
these only, is man capable of glorifying his Creator. 
In these therefore is found the whole, and. the only end 
which his Maker could propose in creating man. 

But to man's performance of all or any of these 
services, it is absolutely necessary that he should know 
the Being who created him, and become acquainted, in 
some degree at least, with his character ; and to this 
knowledge the previous knowledge of his existence is 
indispensable. To an unknown being man cannot be 
conscious of indebtedness or obligation. By an un- 
known being he cannot be voluntarily governed. To 
the laws of an unknown being he cannot be voluntarily 
subject. To an unknown being he Cannot be thankful. 
The character of an unknown being he can neither 
adore, admire, love, nor praise. If then his Creator be 
unknown, and necessarily unknown, man cannot possi- 
bly, however virtuously he may be disposed, fulfill the 
only purpose for which he was made. Of course his 
Creator has, in the case supposed, made man for a sin- 
gle end ; and has yet so ordered the state of things, as 
to preclude him from any possibility of answering this 
end. In other words, he has created man solely to ac- 
complish a certain purpose ; and has at the same time, 
on his own part, prevented that purpose from any pos- 
sibility of accomplishment. 

What I have here said of one Creator, or one God, is 
with exactly the same force, applicable to two or three 
or more creators. If two or more gods sustaining the 
same character of infinite perfection, have been con- 

* Si'C Sermon I. 



20 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sax. iv. 



ceraed In the creation and providence of this world ; it 
is unquestionable, that they made the world, and man 
upon it, for some end, and that this end must hare ter- 
minated, as I have already in substance remarked, in 
themselves ; or in other words, must have been the ma- 
nifestation of their own glory. In the same degree it is 
evident, that man must have been alike indebted to them 
all, for his being and his blessings ; must be subject to 
their laws and government, must be bound voluntarily to 
coincide with their designs, and must owe them equal 
adoration, wonder, love, and praise. In order to the 
possibility of his fulfilling this end, and performing 
these duties, it is absolutely necessary that he should 
know his obligations to them ; and to this knowledge 
it is absolutely necessary that he should know their ex- 
istence. Whence, then, if two or more such beings exist 
to whom man is equally indebted for his being and his 
blessings, has it come to pass that he is precluded, by a 
natural impossibility, from discovering the existence of 
any more than one ? Whence is it, that all his sense 
of obligation for these high benefits ; whence is it that 
his gratitude, his voluntary subjection to divine govern- 
ment, his voluntary coincidence with the divine designs, 
his love, his reverence, his complacency, and his obe- 
dience, due alike to all his glorious authors and bene- 
factors ; are, by absolute necessity and without a possi- 
bility of its being otherwise, confined to one ? Whence 
is it, that man is so situated as to make the very at- 
tempt, the very design, to render any part of this ser- 
vice to any other, besides one God, a crime, an act of 
impiety, ingratitude, and rebellion ? Whence is it that 
his other creators, who formed him only that he might 
render to them these solemn acts of regard, have fur- 
nished him with no trace of their agency, with no proof 
even of their existence ; and have thus put it out of his 
power to render them any regard whatever. 

As this state of things must, if it exist, have been 
produced by the voluntary act of these supposed gods, 
it will, I think, be conceded, that these questions, taken 
in their connexion with the preceding observations, can 
admit of no answer. If this opinion be just, it will al- 
so be conceded, that this argument from reason, for the 
Unity of God, is not far from being conclusive. 

4. The unity of design and agency, in creation and 
providence, furnishes another argument in proof of the 
existence of but one God. 

So far as we are able to understand the works of cre- 
ation and providence, we discern a general simplicity 
and harmony, in the nature and operation of all things. 
Amid the immense complication which surrounds us, 
we perceive one set of laws, in accordance with which 
all things proceed in their course. The same causes 
produce, uniformly, the same effects in every place and 
period. Vegetables spring from the same seed, germi- 
nate by the same means, assume the same form, sustain 
the same qualities, exist through the same duration, and 
come to the same end. Animals also are born in one 
manner, and exhibit the same life, powers, and tenden- 
cies. Man has one origin, form, life, system of faculties, 
character, and termination. All things in this world, 
are, in one regular manner, made subservient to his use 
and happiness ; and are plainly fitted by one design, and 
conducted by one agency, to this end. Day and night 
uniformly return by a single power, and with exact re- 
gularity. With the same regularity and simplicity, the 
seasons pursue their circuit. The sun shines, illumi- 



nates, warms, and moves the pianets by a single law, 
and with exact uniformity. By one law, the planets 
keep their orbits, and perform their revolutions. The 
face of the heavens is but one : and the oldest sphere 
which is known, presents to our view the same constel- 
lations which we now behold in the nightly firmament. 

Thus all things, so far as our knowledge extends, 
present to our view a single design, regularly executed 
by a single agency. But unity of design is a proof of 
one designer ; and unity of agency, of one agent. 

This argument has ever struck the minds of thinking 
men with no small force. Were we able to compre- 
hend the universe, and to discern perfectly the manner 
in which all the parts of it are conducted, it is not im- 
probable that this argument would be complete. In the 
present state of our knowledge, it must be confessed 
that its influence is less satisfactory than is here sup- 
posed. Where there is ignorance, there may, and na- 
turally will, be doubt : and where there is doubt, there 
will not be complete satisfaction. Its whole force how- 
ever is lent to the doctrine, that there is but one God. 
Against the existence of two infinite beings of opposite 
characters and designs, it is, I think, unanswerable. 
Should it be alleged, that it is no proof against the ex- 
istence of two or more infinite beings, of the same cha- 
racter and designs, I admit the allegation ; but observe, 
that the beings alleged, having, according to the suppo- 
sition, exactly the same knowledge, disposition, and 
power, must of course exercise exactly the same agen- 
cy, and would therefore constitute but one Supreme 
Agent, or one God. 

I will not assert that these arguments amount to a 
demonstration, yet it cannot be denied that they are at- 
tended with high probability. The third of them, in 
my view, cannot be shaken. United, they reasonably 
require our belief of one God only : and at the same 
time evince, that the existence of more gods than one 
is a mere hypothesis, the admission of which is, of 
course, a contemptible absurdity. I shall now inquire, 

II. What views men have entertained of this doctrine, 
under the direction of reason. 

In answer to this inquiry, it may be observed, 

1. That all the ancient nations, of whose religious opi- 
nions we have a distinct account, appear, in the early pe- 
riods of their existence, to have acknowledged one 
God. 

Among the nations, may be mentioned the Persians, 
Hindoos, Chinese, Tartars, Chaldeans, Phenicians, Ca- 
naanites, Arabians, Egyptians, and Romans. Thus Abi- 
melech, Pharaoh, Job, his three friends, Elihu, Melchi- 
zedec, Nahor, and Laban ; Zerdusht or Zoroaster, Lao 
Kiun, Confucius, the ancient Brahmans, the author of 
the Orphic Hymns, and Numa Pompilius ; all appear to 
have believed in one original and perfect cause of all 
things. The people of the Thebaid, or Upper Egypt, 
for a long time worshipped this God alone. From these 
facts, connected with many others, which cannot now 
be mentioned, particularly from the fact, that Noah 
lived three hundred and fifty years after the flood, and 
that Shem lived five hundred and twelve years (accord- 
ing to the chronology which I choose to adopt), it may 
be assumed as a certainty, that all ancient nations ac- 
knowledged one God. 

2. All these nations, and all others with them except 
the Jews, some sooner and some later, fell into the gross 
idolatry of polytheism. 



UNITY OF GOD. 



21 



By the labours of Sir William Jones and Mr Bryant, 
it appears to me evident, that the polytheistical system 
ivas originally one and the same. From the united ac- 
counts of other writers concerning this subject, I am 
equally satisfied that it continued to be one; not how- 
ever without many modifications and varieties intro- 
duced into it by superstition, ignorance, accident, ca- 
price, and several other causes. 

This system I consider as originated by that body of 
men, who followed Nimrod into the plains of Shinar, 
and built the tower of Babel ; and who, being principal- 
ly descendants of Cush, were called Cushites, through 
many succeeding generations. Indeed, a part of their 
descendants, inhabiting the mountains of Habesh, on 
the south-western borders of the Red Sea, call them- 
selves by that name at the present time. These people, 
in consequence of their dispersion by means of the con- 
fusion of their language, and of several subsequent at- 
tacks made upon them by the descendants of Shem and 
Japheth, in two successive instances, under the com- 
mand of Chedorlaomer, and afterwards by the Egyp- 
tians, were dispersed ultimately into Persia, Hindostan, 
and the countries eastward of it ; into Canaan, Egypt, 
the Lesser Asia, Thrace, and all the countries bordering 
on the Mediterranean. Wherever they went, they spread 
their polytheistical idolatry, which in this manner ulti- 
mately filled the world. The confusion of tongues I 
place four hundred and eleven years after the deluge. 

From these two facts compared, I deduce this impor- 
tant doctrine ; that the knowledge of one God was, 
among all ancient nations, derived in fact from tradi- 
tionary instruction ; and that the only result of such 
investigations, as the reason of man entered into con- 
cerning this subject, was either polytheism or atheism. 
While this traditionary instruction was conveyed and 
received without mixture, mankind acknowledged and 
worshipped Jehovah, the living and true God. But so 
soon as the tradition became corrupted, the knowledge 
and worship of the true God became corrupted also, 
and by degrees vanished. Traces of both indeed re- 
mained for periods, differing in different nations ; but 
their perfection was lost and forgotten. 

The nearer we approach to Noah, the nearer we in- 
variably come to the pure and perfect character, the 
unperplexed knowledge, and the unblemished worship 
of Jehovah. The farther we recede from this patriarch, 
the deeper we find ourselves regularly sinking into the 
abyss of polytheism. Were the unity and perfection of 
God inferred by reason from the works of creation and 
providence, this progress would, of course, be inverted. 
The traditionary state would be the state of obscurity, 
imperfection, and error; because then, men reasoned 
less, and believed upon authority more. As philosophy 
advanced, and investigations multiplied ; as the subject 
was more frequently taken up in form, and professedly 
examined and discussed ; the proofs of the unity and 
perfection of God would be accumulated, and the know- 
ledge of this great subject rendered, progressively, more 
clear, certain, and unobjectionable. The fact, however, 
has been uniformly contrary to this representation. As 
tradition has declined, this knowledge hasdeclined with 
it. As it has been corrupted, the knowledge has been 
corrupted ; where it has been lost, the knowledge has 
been also lost. 

The origin of polytheism is found in human reason- 
ings only. In Asia and in Europe alike, philosophy has 



devised, extended, and established this miserable sys- 
tem ; and as philosophy has been advanced, the errors 
of polytheism have been enhanced and multiplied, or 
have terminated in atheism. In the most flourishing 
state of philosophy in Greece, Rome, Egypt, Persia, and 
Hindostan, polytheism has been the most absurd, its 
errors the most numerous, and its worship the most 
abominable. The doctrines of the American savages 
concerning God, religion, and duty, are far less per- 
plexed, censurable, and ridiculous, than those of these 
learned countries. Nor were their own doctrines in 
any measure deserving of such severe condemnation 
before, as at and after the prevalence of their philoso- 
phy. Atheism appears to have been the offspring of 
philosophy alone. If we except the Bos-jesmans, the 
lowest and most persecuted people of Caffraria, and 
more unable and unlikely to preserve traditionary 
knowledge than any other nation in the world (and 
concerning even these there is a doubt), and if we add 
to them the other CafFres, there is no solid reason to 
believe, that atheism was ever adopted by plain and 
unlearned men, or admitted by the exercise of common 
sense. Nor, if we allow this people to be ignorant of 
a God, is it true that they have adopted atheism. Their 
ancestors may have lost the knowledge of God, and 
they may not have recovered it. But atheism is a thing 
totally diverse from the mere want of the knowledge of 
a God. It is the disbelief and rejection of God, after 
the idea and the character of God have been presented 
to the mind, and proofs furnished of his existence. 
Atheism, in this, its proper sense, has probably never 
been adopted by plain unlettered men. But in this 
sense it has been originated, defended, and gloried in, 
by many sects of philosophers, in many ages and in 
many countries. 

To the account which I have here given of the result 
of human reasonings on the subject of this Discourse, 
it may perhaps be objected, that Pythagoras, Thales, 
Socrates, Plato, and .Aristotle, held and taught the doc- 
trine of one God. I admit the assertion with some 
qualifications, but deny that it is any objection to what 
I have said. It is well known that Pythagoras and 
Thales, the founders of the Ionic and Italic sects of 
philosophy, were the parents of all the philosophy of 
the Greeks. It is equally well known that these two 
men founded their doctrines concerning subjects of this 
nature, chiefly on traditions, which they collected from 
different nations, with intense assiduity. Pythagoras, 
particularly, travelled in quest of information in theo- 
logy and morals into Egypt, Judea, Babylon, Persia, 
and Hindostan. Of this we are directly informed by 
Jamblichus, Diogenes Laertius, and Porphyry ; and 
also by Hindoo records now in being. Porphyry par- 
ticularly declares, that he resided seven years on Mount 
Carmel. Thales also, whose mother was a Phenician 
woman, travelled into Syria, Phenicia, and probably 
into Judea. Some of the followers of these distinguish- 
ed men adhered more, some less, and others not at all, 
to the system of doctrines and the scheme of philoso- 
phizing which they pursued. Those who adhered most 
to their doctrines, and the traditions on which they 
were founded, entertained the most correct and defensi- 
ble opinions concerning God. Those who wandered 
farthest from them, entertained the most elroneous opi- 
nions. Plato and Socrates were of the former class, 
and Aristotle of the latter. Plato resided twelve years 



22 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



rs* 



in Egypt, where he conversed extensively with both 
Egyptians and Jews. In different parts of his writings 
he has abundantly taught us, that his best doctrines 
were derived from traditions, holden by barbarians, or 
foreigners ; of whom he declares in one place, that they 
were more ancient than the Greeks, and lived nearer to 
the gods. But even he, and his master Socrates, when 
they left their traditionary knowledge, began to wander 
from truth, and taught a collection of idle dreams which 
they dignified with the names of philosophy. The cor- 
rectness of some of ''their doctrines, therefore, furnishes 
not the least objection against the observations which 
I have made. 

It may be farther objected, that in asserting the re- 
sults of reason on this subject to be what I have said, 
I lower the importance and usefulness of reason to a 
degree beneath what candour and justice will warrant ; 
and in a manner discordant with the very account which 
I have given concerning this subject, in the former part 
of the present Discourse. 

In answer to this objection it is to be observed, that 
the account which I have here given, is a mere recital 
of a matter of fact ; namely, of what reason has actually 
done relative to this doctrine, and not an explication of 
what reason is able to do. With this subject, I have at 
present no concern. Still I cannot but observe, that 
when we appeal to reason as a guide in subjects of the- 
ology, its true character, as such a guide, can be esti- 
mated only by the decisions which it has actually made. 
A man reasoning, as he actually is, under the real in- 
fluence of his passions, prejudices, and biases, and not as 
he might be, divested of them, exhibits his true charac- 
ter as a reasoning being, and the actual extent and 
power of his reason. This observation is equally true of 
all men. We are therefore to look only at what reason 
has actually done, to learn what it can be expected to do. 
Whether I have exhibited reason in a more disadvan- 
tageous light than is just, I will leave my audience to 
judge, after I have recited a very few, out of the end- 
less multitude of absurdities taught by philosophy. The 
three* great arguments of Ocellus, Lucanus, Aristotle, 
and the modern Platonists, against the creation of the 
world, are these : 

(1.) It is inconceivable, that things should ever have 
been in any other state than that in which they are. 

(2.) There is no other way of production but genera- 
tion. 

(3.) God is not a free agent, but produced the world 
by a necessity of nature. 

The first of these arguments is a falsehood ; and if it 
were true, would be ridiculously alleged ; because it 
cannot in the remotest manner affect the point in ques- 
tion. 

The second is a mere assumption, taken gratuitously 
from the birth and progress of vegetables and animals; 
and might with the same propriety be employed to 
prove, that men could never exist, unless they had been 
originally planted in the ground, and sprung up under 
the nutritive influence of the earth, rain, and sunshine. 
Yet Ocellus was so satisfied of it, that he believed the 
earth to have been thus generated: to have grown from 
iwi infantine to an adult size; and to be destined to de- 
cline, and dissolve, like an animal body ; and all this in 
direct contradiction to his main principle, the eternity 
of the world. Aristotle, who derived his doctrines on 

* Stillingfleet's Origines Sacra. 



this subject from Ocellus, supposes, that if the first 
matter were not created, it must have been generated 
by some preceding matter ; and so on, ad infinitum; not 
perceiving, that he was here teaching a self-contradic- 
tion for sound philosophy. Plato taught, that !/A»j, or 
the chaos, was the source of moral evil ; and in this 
opinion was followed by a multitude of others. These 
doctrines, taught by philosophers of the first rank, will 
I presume, exonerate me from this charge, but I could 
fill a volume with specimens of a similar nature. I will 
only add to them that memorable declaration of Cicero; 
' Nihil tarn absurdum, quod non dixerit aliquis philoso- 
phorum.'f With respect to that part of the objection, 
that my own observations are discordant, I answer, that 
under the first head of discourse, I have alleged such 
arguments as we, possessed of all the advantages de- 
rived from revelation, are enabled to gain from the 
works of creation and providence. We already know 
the existence and character of God. These were the 
very points in question with the philosophers whom I 
have named. The revelation to which we are indebted 
for this knowledge, has also enabled us to reason on 
these subjects in a manner which was impossible to them, 
great as their abilities were. The arguments which I 
have alleged, therefore, except perhaps the last, were 
probably never thought of by these men. Indeed, I do 
not know that the third of them is found in any book 
whatever. 

3. No nation which has lost the knowledge of one 
God, derived from tradition, has been ever known to 
regain it, unless by the aid of revelation. The an- 
cients plainly derived this knowledge from Noah ; and 
when they had lost it, fell universally into hopeless 
polytheism. Nor is there a single exception to the re- 
mark, that whenever revelation has not revived this 
knowledge, mankind remain polytheists to the present 
hour. 

It is scarcely necessary for me to observe, that Jews, 
Christians, Mohammedans, and Infidels, have derived 
this knowledge wholly from the Scriptures. 

4. No account exists of any individual who, by the 
mere exercise of his reason, discovered the existence of 
one God. Immense multitudes of great and learned men 
have, in different ages, employed themselves laboriously 
in speculations of a theological nature. Had any one 
of them made the discovery in question, an event so im- 
portant, so new, so singular, so honourable, could not 
have been unnoticed or unrecorded, amid thousands of 
discoveries of infinitely less consequence and distinction, 
carefully treasured up in the volumes of history. In 
truth, the idea of one perfect God is neither so obvious 
nor so pleasing to such minds as ours, as, when once 
lost, to be with any probability ever recovered again by 
the mere efforts of reason. When known and admitted 
by the early descendants of Noah, it was soon lost ; and, 
without the direct aid of succeeding revelation, would 
have been lost for ever. In the same manner the 
Israelites wandered, notwithstanding the presence of the 
Shechinah, and the awful denunciations of their pro- 
phets continually fulfilled before them, notwithstanding 
the wonderful miracles which they beheld, and the ter- 
rible punishments which they suffered almost yearly, 
into polytheism and idolatry. Such a God as, when 
known by us, we are unwilling to acknowledge and to 
worship — atiod whom ' we do not like to retain in our 

t Cicero De Nat. Deorum. 



UNITY OF GOD. 



23 



knowledge' — we cannot be supposed, with any proba- 
bility, to seek after, when unknown, nor to search with 
earnestness for arguments to prove his being or perfec- 
tions. 

III. I shall now inquire, what has been the influence 
of revelation on the reception and continuance of this 
doctrine. 

1. That God revealed himself to Adam, and to the 
succeeding patriarchs, down to the time of Moses. 

2. In the written revelation, begun by Moses, and 
completed by the succeeding prophets and apostles, the 
existence of the one perfect God is declared by himself, 
in every manner, from the beginning to the end ; and 
made the foundation of all the doctrines, precepts, and 
ordinances, contained in the sacred volume. 

3. This doctrine is directly attested by a great variety 
of miracles, wrought either immediately or ultimately, 
as testimonies to this truth. 

4. All the declarations of this import are proved by 
the character of the testifier, as unfolded in the works 
of creation and providence. 

5. The same declarations are evinced to be true by 
the character of the testifier, as unfolded in the Scrip- 
tures. 

On this character I shall have occasion to dwell par- 
ticularly hereafter. At the present time, I can only 
observe summarily, that it is evinced by the perfect ac- 
cordance of his declarations with facts : 

Of his promises, with his performance of them ; 

Of his predictions, with their fulfilment ; 

Of his precepts, with absolute rectitude ; and 

Of his doctrines, so far as they can be examined by 
us, with truth. 

It is also illustrated, in a glorious manner, by the per- 
fect holiness of the scheme of worship prescribed, and of 
the system of providence recorded. 

In all these several ways, one eternal, self-existent, 
immutable, and perfect Jehovah, is directly and abun- 
dantly declared on the one hand ; and, on the other, all 
gods beside him, are proved with the same evidence to 
be false and imaginary. The character given of this 
great and awful being is such, as to banish from the 
mind the remotest suspicion of a second, even if a se- 
cond were not directly denied. All perfections are 
ascribed to him, and all things declared to proceed from 
him and to be under his absolute control. The universe 
is exhibited as nothing in comparison with him — as 
holden in existence and harmony by his hand, and as 
formed to be the instrument of his glory. 

This evidence furnished by revelation of the unity of 
God is such, that it preserved this doctrine among the 
patriarchs ; and, in spite of all their tendencies to idola- 
try, continued it among the Jews till the Babylonish 
captivity : and after that event, established it beyond a 
question. Since the completion of the Christian canon, 
there has been among those who have acknowledged its 
divine origin, scarcely a debate on the subject : Chris- 
tians, with the exception of a few gross heretics, who 
never deserved the name of Christians, having with a 
single voice acknowledged and worshipped the one Je- 
hovah, the only living and true God. They have not 
probably regarded these arguments as amounting to a 
' logical demonstration ; but they have justly regarded 
1 them, as removing every rational doubt, and as furnish- 
ing them, when coming to God, with an immovable 
foundation for believing, with full assurance, ' that he is, 



and that he is the rewarder of all them that diligently 
seek him.' 

Two remarks shall conclude this Discourse. 

1. This doctrine of the unity of God strongly exhi- 
bits the wickedness of mankind. 

The one perfect God was anciently and fully known 
to all nations, and has been since often declared to a 
great part of the habitable world. Yet singular, solemn, 
and interesting as this great object is, and impossible as 
it seems, that it should be lost by any man who has 
once possessed it, it has still been wantonly forgotten or 
wilfully rejected by the great mass of mankind. In the 
place of Jehovah have been substituted gods innumera- 
ble, sinful, stupid, blind, deaf, and dead ; and these have 
been zealously worshipped in preference to the glorious 
Creator of all things. Man has made his gods, and then 
prostrated himself before them. 

The true and only reason of this conduct is, that men 
' loved not to retain God in their knowledge.' No 
higher proof of corruption can be given than this. God 
is infinitely excellent and lovely. A good mind natur- 
ally regards him as infinitely more desirable than all 
other objects : and delights to contemplate, love, and 
obey him, in entire preference to all other enjoyments. 
A gross and guilty mind, therefore, is the sole cause of 
this apostasy and rebellion. The degree of this guilt 
is strongly seen in the completeness of the apostasy. 
God has been totally banished : and creatures, totally 
opposite to him in every attribute, have been worship- 
ped in his stead. Thus the mind has loved to recede 
as far as possible from its Maker ; and not only refused 
its proper love and homage to him, but rendered them 
to the vilest and most unworthy of his creatures. 

2. From the observations made in this discourse, ap- 
pears in the strongest light the necessity of revelation. 

Revelation, as I have shown, originally began, and 
has always continued, the knowledge of the true and 
living God in the world. This is infinitely the most 
important of all knowledge, and the most absolutely in- 
dispensable to the well-being of man. From God all 
the good which will ever be enjoyed must be derived. 
But no permanent or solid good can be expected from 
him, unless he be pleased. To. be pleased, he must be 
obeyed, and to be obeyed, he must be known. But 
without revelation he has never been known in this 
world. Thus to the attainment of permanent and. solid 
good, revelation is indispensably necessary, and infinite- 
ly important 

The love of God also, is wholly built on the know- 
ledge of his existence and character. But the love of 
God is the best of all characteristics, the foundation of 
all other good, and in itself the best good. Thus, in 
order to our moral and natural good, to our holiness 
and happiness alike, revelation is supremely necessary 
to man.* 

* See these subjects farther pursued in the Sermon on the Second 
Commandment. 



24 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Srr, v. 



SERMON V. 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD ETERNITY AND IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



/ said, my God, take me not away in the midst of my days; thy years are throughout all generations. Of 
old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of thy hands. They shall 
perish, but thou shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment, and as a vesture shalt thou 
change them, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end. — Psalm 
cii. 24—27. 



In the preceding Discourses I have evinced, by such 
arguments as appear to me conclusive, the existence of 
God ; considered the objections and schemes of atheism, 
and the influence of those schemes on the understand- 
ing, heart, and life of man, compared with that of the 
Christian system ; and examined the manner in which 
the unity of God is presented to us by reason, and by 
revelation. I shall now proceed to consider such attri- 
butes of this great and glorious Being as demand a par- 
ticular discussion. Those which naturally claim our first 
attention, are his eternity and immutability ; subjects so 
intimately connected, as to be most advantageously con- 
sidered together in the manner in which we find them 
in the text. 

After a series of discouraging and distressing thoughts 
on his own troubles, and repeated supplications to God 
for deliverance ; and after various hopes and predictions 
of the kindness of God to himself and to the church, 
recited in the context ; the psalmist takes up his final 
consolation in the perfections, particularly in the power 
wisdom, goodness, eternity, and immutability, of his 
Creator. In the text, these are exhibited as certain 
proof, that the children of God shall endure for ever, 
and their seed be established before him. In the sublime 
language of this divine writer, the foundation of the 
earth, and the formation of the heavens are presented to 
us as the handiwork of Jehovah, who is considered as 
building the universe as a man erects his own habita- 
tion. With not less magnificence is the same wonderful 
agent represented, as taking these heavens and folding 
them up, as a decayed garment is folded by its owner, 
and laying them aside as useless to any future purpose. 
In this imagery there is obviously a direct reference to 
the consummation of all things ; when the present hea- 
vens and earth, being set on fire, shall be dissolved and 
flee away, and no place be found for them any more. 
Mutable in their own nature, and destined to temporary 
purposes only, they will be continued while their use 
continues, and then perish for ever. To this changing 
character of even these great and splendid works of 
his hands, the psalmist studiously contrasts the charac- 
ter of God. ' They shall perish, but thou shalt endure ; 
yea, all of them shall wax old as doth a garment, and 
as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be 
changed : but thou art the same, and thy years shall 
have no end.' 

In these words is presented to us, not only a direct 
assertion, but a highly poetical, sublime, and glorious 
exhibition of the eternity and immutability of God, 
strongly impressed on the mind by the contrast which 
it forms to the vanishing character of these great works 
of his hands. The passage is indeed declared by the 



apostle Paul, to be a description of the character and 
agency of the Lord Jesus Christ, the second person in 
the divine Trinity. But to us, who regard Christ as 
being unquestionably God, it has exactly the same im- 
port as if applied to the Father or to the Godhead at 
large. In this light I shall therefore consider it, and 
proceed under this guidance to examine these illustrious 
attributes of the Creator. 

I. God is eternal : or in other words, his existence 
is without beginning or end. 

Of this doctrine the text is a direct assertion, and 
therefore a complete proof: but it is only one among a 
vast multitude of such assertions in the Scriptures. No 
attribute of God is perhaps more frequently declared, 
more variously recited, or more universally diffused, 
throughout the sacred pages. In the very first verse of 
Genesis, it is said, ' In the beginning God created the 
heavens and the earth.' He existed, therefore, before 
the beginning of created things ; or in other words, from 
everlasting. In the last chapter of the Apocalypse, 
Christ solemnly declares this character of himself; ' I 
am Alpha and Omega,' saith he, ' the beginning and the 
ending, the first and the last.' In the xcth psalm and 2d 
verse, the divine writer exclaims, ' Before the moun- 
tains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the 
earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlast- 
ing, thou art God.' - ' I lift my hand to heaven,' says 
God, Deut. xxxii. 40, ' and say, I live for ever.' ' I am,' 
that is, I exist alike in all times and places, in eternity 
and iiiimensity. Jehovah and ' Jah,' that is, existence 
illimitable by space and duration, are, you well know, 
the peculiar and incommunicable names of the God- 
head ; in accordance with which, ' the eternal God,' and 
' the everlasting God,' are current phraseology of the 
Scriptures. From this source, then, it cannot be neces- 
sary to adduce any farther proofs of the doctrine. 

To this full evidence from the Scriptures, reason sub- 
joins her fullest attestations. That God existed before 
all things, has been heretofore, as I trust, sufficiently 
proved. The universe was plainly derived from him, 
the first or original cause. Consequently he' was un- 
caused, underived, and of course, from eternity, or with- 
out beginning. 

That God will for ever exist is plain also from rea- 
son, beyond dispute. He cannot be supposed to ter- 
minate his own existence. Without insisting on the 
natural impossibility of this fact, it may be safely as- 
serted to be morally impossible. The Being who has 
all good in his power, possession, and enjoyment, must 
be infinitely delighted Avith perpetual life, or existence. 
The contemplation of his perfections, designs, and 
works, the purpose of accomplishing eternally the sh- 






ETERNITY AND IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



25 



preme good of the universe, the manifestation of his in- 
finite beauty, glory, and loveliness, to the intelligent 
system, for ever rising, enlarging, and improving, and 
the complete assurance that all his pleasure will be ac- 
complished, constitute at once an aggregate of happiness 
which must be regarded by him with immense compla- 
cency, and render his existence infinitely desirable in 
his own eyes. 

It is scarcely necessary to observe, that creatures can 
in no way afreet the. existence or the happiness of God ; for 
being absolutely dependent on him, they can be, and do, 
nothing, but what he permits. From these considerations 
it is plain, that God must continue to exist for ever. 

God is immutable. 

By this I Intend, that he is subject to no change in 
his manner of being, his perfections, thoughts, desires, 
purposes, or determinations. 

This doctrine also is directly asserted in the text. 
' They shall be changed ; but thou art the same.' It 
is also declared in various other passages of the Scrip- 
tures. ' I am the Lord ; I change not.' Mai. iii. 6. 
' Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, 
and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom 
is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.' Jam. i. 
17. ' Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for 
ever.' Heb. xiii. 8. In these passages we are taught 
not only that there is no change in God ; but no varia- 
bleness, no capacity or possibility of change. 

Of this doctrine also, reason furnishes to him who 
admits the existence of an intelligent cause of all things, 
an absolute demonstration. God gave being to all 
things. Of course he contrived them all. Every being, 
and every event, which has been, is, or will be, toge- 
ther with all their qualities and operations, existed in 
his mind ; or, in the beautiful language of David, were 
' written in his book, and what day they should be 
fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.'* 
They can therefore furnish to him not a single new 
thought or idea. His thoughts were the cause of these 
beings and events. They therefore cannot be the cause 
of his thoughts. Hence it is manifest, that neither 
from himself, nor from his creatures, can God receive a 
single new thought But if no change can exist in his 
thoughts, it is obvious that none can exist in his de- 
sires, designs, or determinations. New desires must be 
originated, and new designs and determinations formed 
if they should exist at all, in consequence of some new 
views of the mind in which they exist ; some change 
in the object viewed, or in the manner in which the 
mind regards the object. As all the works of God are 
thus proved to have been, according to the declaration 
of St James, Acts xv. 18, ' known unto him from the 
beginning;' it is evident, that no such change is possi- 
ble to him. His desires, designs, and determinations, 
must therefore be precisely the same for ever. 

From these considerations it follows, that the eter- 
nity of God is a totally different thing from that which 
is ascribed to created, particularly to intelligent, beings. 
The Scriptures attribute eternity in a certain sense to 
angels and men ; but this is wholly unlike the eternity 
of God. All creatures change incessantly ; and no idea 
, can be formed of their duration, but that of a continual 
succession of changes. Their thoughts, desires, pur- 
poses, and determinations, together with their existence, 

* Psalm exxxix. 16, margin. 



are, and can be, no other than a continued series of 
changes. God, on the contrary, is not, and cannot be, 
the subject of the least possible change. His eternity 
is, of course all one present time. To him there is no 
past, and no future ; nothing old, and nothing new .; 
nothing gone, and nothing to come. Past and future 
are modes of created existence only ; and have no ap- 
plication, no possible reference, to the Creator. 

This glorious and sublime truth, though thus demon- 
strated by reason, seems to have been first and alone 
communicated by revelation. ' One day,' saith St Pe- 
ter, ' is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a 
thousand years as one day.' The apostle does not here 
speak, as he has sometimes been supposed to speak, in 
comparative, but in absolute, language. He does not 
declare that, because the eternity of God is such an 
amazing duration, a thousand years will be so lost in 
this abyss, as to be comparatively the same thing with 
one day. On the contrary, he intended to declare what 
he actually declares ; that a thousand years are to God 
exactly the same thing with one day. In his existence 
there is no long, nor short duration ; nothing fleeting, 
nothing successive. His duration is a mere and eternal 
now. In our own existence, the clearest resemblance 
to the duration of God is found in the contemplation 
of a single present moment of our being, without tak- 
ing at all into view the succession even of that which 
immediately follows. 

This doctrine is also most sublimely exhibited in that 
singular declaration of Isaiah, ' Thus saith the High 
and Lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity,' that is He 
who fills eternity at once ; who inhabits it, just as lie 
also inhabits immensity. As he is present in all the 
regions of immensity at once ; and does not come from 
the west, pass by the present place of our existence, 
and go to the east ; so he fills eternity at once, and 
does not come from the past, go by the present, and 
enter the future. 

The same transcendently glorious mode of existence 
is also sublimely indicated in the incommunicable names 
of God I am, and Jehovah ; that is, Existence, pre- 
sent in every place, and through every period of dura- 
tion alike. 



1. How great and glorious a character of God is pre- 
sented to us by these perfections. 

'Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever 
he had formed the earth and the world, even from ever- 
lasting to everlasting, he is God.' Possessed of perfect 
excellence, contemplating with infinite complacency his 
glorious attributes, and containing in himself a bound- 
less sufficiency for the accomplishment of every thing 
great and desirable, he saw that it was becoming his 
character to unfold his perfections, and communicate 
his goodness, to an endless and innumerable race of 
being. From an infinite height, he took a survey of 
the immeasurable vast of possible beings ; and in an 
expansion without limits, but desolate and wild, where 
nothing was, called into existence with a word the 
countless multitude of worlds, with all their various 
furniture. With his own hand he lighted up at once 
innumerable suns, and rolled around them innumerable 
worlds. All these he so dispersed and arranged, as 
that all received light, and warmth, and life, and com- 
fort ; and all at the same time he stored and adorned 



26 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. v. 



with a rich and unceasing- variety of beauty and mag- 
nificence, and with the most suitable means of virtue 
and happiness. Throughout his vast empire, he sur- 
rounded his throne with intelligent creatures, to fill the 
immense and perfect scheme of- being, which originally 
existed with infinite splendour in his own incompre- 
hensible mind. Independent of all possible beings and 
events, he sits at the head of this universe, unchanged, 
and incapable of change, amid all the successions, toss- 
ings, and tumults, by which it is agitated. When em- 
pires are overthrown, or angels fall ; when suns are 
extinguished, and systems return to their original no- 
thing ; he is equally impassive and unmoved as when 
sparrows expire, or the hairs fall from our heads. No- 
thing can happen, nothing can be done beyond his 
expectation, or without his permission. Nothing can 
frustrate his designs, and nothing disappoint or vary his 
purposes. All things, beside him, change, and fluctuate 
without ceasing. Events exist and vanish. Beings 
rise, and expire. By his own existence, the thoughts 
which he entertains, the desires which he admits, the 
purposes which he forms, are ' the same yesterday, to- 
day, and for ever.' Throughout the coming vast of 
eternity also, and the boundless tracts of immensity, he 
sees with serene complacency his own perfect purposes 
daily and invariably advancing, with a regular fulfil- 
ment towards their absolute completion. In its own 
place, in its own time, and in its own manner, each 
exists in exact obedience to his order, and in exact ac- 
cordance with his choice. Nothing lingers, nothing 
hastens : but his counsel exactly stands, and all his 
pleasure will be precisely accomplished. 

2. How necessary are these attributes to the character 
of God as the ruler of all things. 

By his eternity this glorious Being is always in ex- 
istence, to know, and to bring to pass, to approve or to 
condemn, to reward or to punish, whatever he pleases, 
and whatever is done by his intelligent creatures. As 
an eternal Being only, can he form plans of existence 
and administration which shall extend through eter- 
nity, and propose designs invested with boundless per- 
fection. As an eternal Being only, is he qualified to 
execute those designs in an everlasting progress, and 
to complete for ever the infinite good which he has 
begun. 

By means of his eternity only, is he able to offer to 
his creatures eternal rewards, and place before them in- 
finite motives to obedience and virtue : rewards and 
motives, in their nature, differing immensely from all 
others. Without this attribute, with whatever wisdom 
the system of his works was planned, however bright 
and benevolent the designs which he formed, however 
just and excellent his administrations, while they con- 
tinued ; still, at a period comparatively near, the splen- 
dour and the promise of this day-spring would set in 
darkness, and the sun of glory and of good be extin- 
guished for ever. The universe of matter and of 
minds, holden in being by his hand, would at an un- 
timely day find that hand withdrawn, and itself, with 
all the prospects formed, the hopes indulged, and the 
blessings enjoyed, by the unnumbered hosts of intelli- 
gent beings, sink at once into the abyss of annihilation. 

By his immutability, God is possessed of immeasur- 
able dignity and greatness ; and fitted to be entirely 
feared, loved, honoured, and obeyed, by all his rational 
creatures. The humble and imperfect dignity of created 



beings is entirely dependent for its existence on stability 
of character. Infinite dignity cannot belong to a cha- 
racter, which is not literally unchangeable. Created 
dignity is completely destroyed by fickleness ; the least 
mutability would destroy that which is uncreated. The 
least possible change would be a change from perfection 
to imperfection ; change infinite in itself, and infinitely 
for the worse. God, if changed at all, would cease to 
be God, and sink down, from his infinite exaltation of 
being and character, towards the humble level of im- 
perfect creatures. How differently, in this case, would 
his nature, his laws, his designs, and his government 
appear to us ! Were the least change to commence ; 
who can divine its consequences, or foresee their pro- 
gress and their end ? Who can conjecture what would 
be its influence on his character, his designs, or his con- 
duct ? Who can foretell the effects which it would pro- 
duce on the empire which he has created, and on the 
innumerable beings by which it is inhabited ? Who 
does not see, at a glance, that God could no longer be 
regarded with that voluntary and supreme veneration, 
now so confessedly his due, because lie had descended 
from his own infinite dignity, and was no longer decked 
with majesty and excellency, nor arrayed in glory and 
beauty ? Who does not feel, that a serious apprehen- 
sion of such a change would diffuse an alarm through 
all virtuous beings, and carry terror and amazement to 
the most distant regions of the universe ? 

By his immutability, God is qualified to form and to 
pursue, one great plan of creation and providence ; one 
harmonious scheme of boundless good ; and to carry on 
a perfect system, in a perfect manner, without varia- 
bleness or shadow of turning. An immutable God 
only can be expected to do that, and nothing but that, 
which is supremely right and desirable ; to make every 
part of his great work exactly what it ought to be ; and 
to constitute of all the parts a perfect whole. In this 
immense work, one character is thus every where dis- 
played ; one God, one Ruler, one Sun of Righteous- 
ness ; enlightening, warming, and quickening the in- 
numerable beings of which it is composed. Diversities, 
indeed, endless diversities of his agency, exist through- 
out the different parts of this work ; but they are mere 
changes of the same light, the varying colours and 
splendours of the same glorious sun. 

Without this uniformity, this oneness of character, 
supreme dignity could not exist in the great agent. 
Without this consistency, safety could not be found ; 
reliance could not be exercised by his creatures. God 
is the ultimate object of appeal to intelligent beings, 
the ultimate object of confidence and hope. However 
injured, deceived, or destroyed by his fellow-creatures, 
every rational being still finds a refuge in his Creator. 

To him, ultimately, he refers all his wants, distresses, 
and interests. Whoever else may be deaf to his com- 
plaints, he still is assured that God will hear. Whoever 
else withholds the necessary relief of his sufferings, or 
the necessary supplies of his wants, still he knows that 
God will give. This consideration, which supports the 
soul in every extremity, is its last resort, its final re- 
fuge. Could God change, this asylum would be finally 
shut ; confidence would expire, and hope would be 
buried in the grave. Nay, the immortal mind itself, 
unless prevented by an impossibility inherent in its na- 
ture, would languish away its existence, and return to 
its original nothing. 



ETERNITY AND IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



21 



It ought here by no means to he forgotten, that this 
glorious attribute, so absolutely indispensable to the 
government of all things, is in an illustrious degree 
manifested in that government The laws of nature, 
as they are customarily called, or as they are in much 
better language styled in the Scriptures, the ' ordi- 
nances of heaven,' are eminent and affecting displays 
of the immutability of God. These laws are no other 
than rules or methods which God has formed for the 
guidance of all things, and in conformity to which he 
is pleased to act. Thus, by the attraction of gravita- 
tion, all the atoms of which the material universe is 
composed, are drawn towards each other, by a power, 
diminishing exactly in proportion to the increase of the 
squares of the distances between them. By this law, 
atoms are united into worlds, and worlds into systems. 
By this law, moons perform their revolutions round the 
planets, and planets and comets round the sun. By this 
law, summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, so useful 
and so necessary to mankind, regularly perform their 
successions. In the same regular manner the planets 
revolve around their axes ; and furnish us with the 
delightful, and indispensable, vicissitudes of day and 
night. By other laws, equally uniform, the vegetable 
world is regulated from its first implantation in the soil 
to its full growth, and thence to its final decay. By 
others still, animals are born, arrive at maturity, de- 
cline, and die. The mind, also, with all its faculties 
and operations, is by similar laws governed, and con- 
ducted towards a future immortality. Thus, indepen- 
dently of the few miraculous events, originally inwoven 
in the great system, as useful, indubitable, and inten- 
tional, proofs of the immediate agency of God for par- 
ticular, important purposes, all things are directed, each 
in its own manner, by fixed, uniform laws. These, like 
their author, have been unchanged from their com- 
mencement. In the language of the scoffers in the last 
days, mentioned by St Peter, all things have continued 
as they were from the beginning of the creation ; and 
instead of proving, according to their atheistical sug- 
gestions, the failure of the promise of his coming, they 
clearly, and only, display the immutability of the crea- 
tor. This divine attribute we are thus enabled to trace, 
in the regularity manifested by the progress of the 
vegetable, animal, and mineral kingdoms ; in the 
steady confinement of the ocean within its bounds ; the 
permanency of the mountains, and the stability of the 
earth. We read it in lines which cannot be mistaken, 
in the exact and wonderful revolutions of the planets ; 
in the unaltered position, aspect, influence, and glory 
of the sun ; and in the uniform stations and brilliancy 
of the stars. In all, one immutable purpose, one uni- 
form agency, is every where seen ; and must, if reason 
be permitted to decide, be every where acknowledged. 

This agency of God is remarkable in all cases, where 
we are able to understand its nature, for its extensive 
efficacy ; producing at the same time and by the same 
thing, many important consequences. In this respect 
it is in a great measure a contrast to our agency ; which 
usually employs many things which bring to pass a single 
consequence. Thus the uniformity of this agency, 
together with the regularity and stability which it gives 
to the universe at large, is the foundation of almost all 
our knowledge. From this source are derived the two 
great principles, that the same causes produce the same 
effects, and that similar causes produce similar effects. 



These principles are the basis of all our analogical 
reasoning, and of the analogy from which we reason. 
This analogy runs through creation and providence ; 
and is the source whence we derive almost all the 
knowledge, which we possess of the works of God. It 
extends alike to the natural and the moral world ; and 
without it we could hardly be said to know any tiling. 
In this manner, therefore, is displayed not only the 
immtuability, but also in a glorious manner the wisdom 
of God. 

3dly. By these attributes, the character of God is 
peculiarly rendered awful in the sight of wicked 
beings. 

By his eternity he will exist for ever ; and they 
cannot but know that he will exist for ever, to execute 
his threatenings against all the impenitent workers of 
iniquity. By his immutability every hope is forbidden, 
that he will change any purpose, which he has formed, 
or fail to accomplish any declaration, which he has 
made. If he has ever been infinitely opposed to sin, 
and to sinners ; this opposition cannot but be always 
and unchangeably the same. Of course, impenitence 
cannot rationally indulge a single hope of escaping 
from the punishment which he has denounced. All 
rational beings are, from this source, presented con- 
tinually with a character of God inconceivably awful. 
Dreadful indeed will God be, in this character, to the 
finally impenitent. ' How will they abide in the day 
of his anger ? How will they stand in the fierceness 
of his eternal indignation ?' A fearful looking for of 
judgment must that be, which is derived from a full 
conviction, that all the threatenings denounced by God 
in the scriptures, against sinners, dying without repen- 
tance, and faith in the Lord Jesus, will be exactly 
executed. At the same time, this awful character will 
contribute as much, perhaps, if not more than any thing 
else in the divine kingdom, to preserve righteous beings 
in a state of unchanging obedience. Obedience cannot 
be the result of constraint and coercion. The number 
and nature, the power and presence, of motives, only, 
can produce, or continue, in the minds of moral beings, 
a disposition to obey. Among these, the immutable 
hatred of God to sin, and his immutable determination 
to execute vengeace on obstinate sinners, are pre-emi- 
nently cogent ; and, united with his unchangeable love 
to holiness, and his unchangeable determination to 
reward it, may be regarded as the chief means of retain- 
ing virtuous beings in their allegiance and duty. At 
the same time, these motives have a primary and com- 
manding influence in the present world, to produce the 
awakening, conviction, and conversion of wicked men. 
' Knowing the terrors of the Lord,' says the apostle 
Paul, ' we persuade men. Knowing the terrors of the 
Lord, men are actually persuaded to turn from the error 
of their ways, and save their souls alive.' 

4thly. These attributes, especially, render God the 
object of supreme confidence to virtuous beings. 

Confidence, every man knows, can never, though 
chiefly an emotion of the heart, exist rationally or 
permanently, unless firmly founded in the conviction 
of the understanding. Of course, the being who is 
rationally confided in, must be seen, with solid convic- 
tion, to possess those qualities, on which confidence may 
safely repose. Immutability of character, and the 
immutability of purpose and conduct resulting from it, 
are undoubtedly the only objects, in which rational 



28 



SYSTEBI OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. v. 



beings can ultimately confide. A being possessing 
these attributes must, if he love holiness at all, love it 
invariably and for ever. That which he loves, he will 
bless, of course. All his designs to reward those who 
possess it, must be unchangeable ; all his declarations 
true ; and all his promises exactly fulfilled. That 
faithfulness, by which they are fulfilled, is no other 
than the moral immutability of God, and an essential 
part of his infinite glory. On this character every vir- 
tuous being places an entire and safe reliance ; a hope 
which can never make him ashamed. However vast, 
however rich, however incredible in appearance, the 
promises of future happiness may seem to such minds as 
ours ; we know, that they are the promises of Him, who 
can neither deceive, nor change ; and that, therefore, 
every one of them will be carried into complete execu- 
tion. According to these observations, the immutability 
of God is directly asserted in the scriptures to be the 
only foundation of safety to righteous men. ' I am 
Jehovah ;' says God, in the passage already quoted 
from Malachi, 'I change not; therefore ye sons of 
Jacob are not consumed.' The backslidings and provo- 
cations, even of the best men in this world, are in all 
probability, great enough to shake any purposes of 
kindness in any mind, which is not absolutely incapable 
of change. The eternal God is the true and final refuge 
of his children, only because he cannot change. Amid 
all their wanderings, their unbelief, their hardness of 
heart, and their multiplied transgressions, they have 
hope and security, because ' his truth is as the great 
mountains, steadfast and immovable ; and his promises 
endure for ever.' 

Were God, contrary to this glorious character, to 
begin to change, what a mighty difference would be 
introduced into his being, his attributes, and his con- 
duct ? As he is possessed of all power, knowledge, and 
goodness, it is intuitively certain that he cannot have 
more. Of course, any change must be a diminution of 
one or other of these attributes ; and God must, in the 
case supposed, become less powerful, less knowing, or 
less good. How fearful, to all virtuous beings in the 
universe, must such a change be ? How plain is it, 
that it might, for ought that appears, be the beginning 
of a course of mutability, endless in its progress ; that 
God would ever after exist, as a successive changeable 
being ; have no fixed purposes ; and be divested of that 
unalterable faithfulness, on which, now, his intelligent 
creatures rest with confidence and safety ? What might 
not in this case be dreaded, in the everlasting change 
of his administrations, by all who love good, either in 
the creator or in his creatures ? 

5thly. How great encouragement do these attributes 
of God furnish to prayer ? 

All encouragement to prayer is derived from these 
two considerations ; that God has required it of us as a 
duty, and that he has promised blessings in answer to 
our prayers. Were he a mutable God, it would be 
impossible for us to know, that what was his pleasure 
yesterday, would be his pleasure to-day ; that what he 
required yesterday, he would not prohibit to-day ; or 
that what he promised yestei-day, he would be willing 
to perform at any future period. 

It is impossible to determine, that a mutable God 
would not alter, not his conduct only, but his views, his 
principles of action, and the rules by which he governed 
his creation. What he now loved, he might hereafter 



hate : what he now approved, lie mi^ht hereafter con- 
demn : what he now rewarded, he might hereafter 
punish. Of course, virtuous beings now loved, ap- 
proved, and rewarded by Him, might one day be 
hated, condemned, and punished. Wicked beings, on 
the contrary, now the objects of his hatred, and de- 
clared to be hereafter the objects of his punishment, 
might one day become the objects of his friendship 
and favour ; and triumph over the good in a manner 
equally unreasonable and dreadful. 

Of these changes we could gain no possible know- 
ledge, unless he should choose to communicate them to 
us by an immediate Revelation. From his mode of 
being, so diverse from ours, we could learn and con- 
jecture nothing. From his past designs and adminis- 
trations we could never argue at all, to those which 
were future. Equally barren of instruction would be 
the nature of things : for we could never be assured 
that he would, or would not, regard this subject ; or in 
what manner he would regard it at any period to come. 
Even if he should reveal his designs and his pleasure, 
we could never be certain that he had revealed them 
truly ; and, if we were assured of this fact, the Reve- 
lation could be of no material use, except for the mo- 
ment. What he disclosed he might at any time re- 
voke : and nothing could be known to be acceptable 
to him any longer than during the moment in which 
the disclosure was made. In the mean time, his power 
and his knowledge would still be such, that no hope 
could be indulged of either resistance or escape. Ex- 
istence would in this case be, therefore, a dreadful suc- 
cession of suspense ; and immortal being, so far as we 
can discern, undeserving of a wish. 

In such a situation of things, what encouragement 
would remain for prayer? The humble and faithful 
suppliant, coming to God with a firm belief ' that he is, 
and that he is the re warder of them that diligently seek 
him,' might find the manner of his praying, the spirit 
with which he prayed, and his prayers themselves, un- 
acceptable and odious. The things heretofore most 
proper to be urged, might hereafter be the least proper. 
The considerations w'hich once insured success, might 
at another time insure rejection. The prime, the only 
motives to prayer; would therefore be taken away. 

In the same manner the whole use of this duty, as it 
is intended to affect advantageously the character of 
the suppliant, would be finally removed. The great 
use of prayer in this view, is to establish in the heart an 
humble dependence on God, and a firm confidence in 
him. Confidence, as I have already observed, would, 
in the case supposed, be shaken and destroyed ; and 
without confidence, dependence Avould possess neither 
use nor worth. In the present state of things, these 
attributes constitute the proper, and the only proper 
temper of the soul, for the reception of blessings : the 
spirit which is eminently beautiful and lovely in the 
sight of God, and which is accordingly chosen by him 
as the proper object of his unchangeable favour. In 
the case supposed, these attributes could not be united, 
because confidence could not exist : since the mind 
could not hut perceive, that a changing God might, 
and probably would, in the infinite progress of things, 
become the subject of infinite change. If therefore it 
could feel satisfied or safe, for a hundred or a thousand 
years, it would still rationally fear, that at some un- 
known and more distant period of eternity, the order of 



OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE OP GOD. 



23 



all things would be inverted; and its former obedience 
and former prayers rise up at this dreaded season in the 
character of crimes, and prove the causes of its future 
suffering. Dependence therefore, existing solitarily, 
would degenerate into anxiety arid alarm ; and, instead 
of being the means of union between the soul and its 
Maker, would become a wall of dreadful separation. 

The immutability of God has often, but erroneously, 
been imagined to involve inexorability in his character. 
The scriptural account of this great Being is, on the 
contrary, that he is immutably exorable ; or, in other 
words, that he is immutably disposed to hear and answer 
prayer. His own words are, * Every one that asketh 



receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth, and to him that 
knocketh it shall be opened.' This and this only is his 
true character, agreeably to which the system of his 
dispensations is immutably established. In this system, 
infinite encouragement is holden out to every suppliant, 
and to every faithful prayer. Here the petitioner 
knows, that what is once acceptable to God will be 
always acceptable : and that the things which he has 
once required, he will require for ever. His faith 
therefore is built on the Rock of ages; and with what- 
ever violence the rains may descend, the winds drive, 
or the floods beat, their rage and fury will assault him 
in vain. 



SERMON VI. 



OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE OF GOD. 



Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my down-sitting, and my up-rising ; thou under- 
standest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path, and my lying down, and art acquainted with all 
my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast 
beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me ; it is 
high, I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I go from thy Spirit ? or whither shall I jiee from thy pre- 
sence ? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if J make my bed in hell, behold thou art there. If 1 
take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead 
me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall 
be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness 
and the light are both alike to thee. — Psalm cxxxix. 1 — 12. 



In my last Discourse, I considered the eternity and im- 
mutability of God. As motivity, or active power, the 
power by which all motion and action are originated, 
cannot be conceived to reside in any other than an in- 
telligent being ; the knowledge of God becomes natur- 
ally the next subject of investigation. As his presence 
is most intimately connected with his knowledge, it will 
be advantageously united with it in a discourse of this 
nature. Accordingly these attributes are frequently 
joined together by the divine writers. 

In the text, the knowledge and presence of God, 
usually termed, from their extent, his omniscience and 
omnipresence, are in the fullest manner declared. The 
Psalm, of which the text is a part, is one of the most 
remarkable poetical compositions ever seen in this 
world ; and, did the time permit, would richly repay 
the labour of an extensive critical investigation. In 
comparison with it, the most admired odes of heathen 
antiquity are the mere effusions of children. 

My audience cannot but have observed, that the man- 
ner in which these perfections are attributed to God is 
not that of plain logical discussion. The subject is as- 
sumed as a thing granted and acknowledged, as a thing 
equally removed beyond debate and doubt. The writer, 
animated with the most enthusiastic ardour, of which a 
sublime imagination is capable, seizes these great themes 
of his attention ; and amid his enraptured contemplation 
of them, pours out a succession of the boldest and loftiest 
conceptions that were ever uttered concerning these 
subjects. Himself, his thoughts, his words, his actions, 
he declares, with a mixture of awe find exultation, to be 



all perfectly known to God. From this knowledge, he 
at the same time informs us, there is no possible escape. 
Should he ascend into heaven, or make his bed in hell ; 
should he, borne on the sunbeams, hurry, with their 
celerity, into the distant regions of the west, still God 
would be present in all these and all other places alike. 
Were he still farther to place his hope of a secure re- 
treat in the darkness of night, he perceives the night to 
shine in the presence of God as the day, and the dark- 
ness and the light to be both alike unto him. 

With these views of the psalmist, those of every other 
divine writer on this subject exactly conspire ; and all, 
with a single voice, attribute these perfections to Jeho- 
vah. Thus, Jer. xxiii. 23, 24, ' Am I a God at hand, 
saith the Lord, and not a God afar oft'? Can any hide 
himself in secret places, that I shall not see him ? Do 
not I fill heaven and earth, saith the Lord ? The hea- 
ven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee. 
Great is the Lord, his understanding is infinite.' 

In accordance with this doctrine only is all our obe- 
dience, particularly our worship, prescribed in the Scrip- 
tures. We worship and obey God every where, and 
are commanded thus to do, because God is every where 
present, to see, and know, and accept our services, to 
protect our persons, and to supply our wants. It ought 
to be here observed, that these attributes are directly 
ascribed to all the persons of the Trinity. Thus Christ 
says of himself, ' Where two or three are gathered to- 
gether in my name, there am I in the midst of them.' 
Again, ' Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end 
of the world.' Peter says to him, John xxi. 17, ' Lord, 



30 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skh, v'i. 



thou knowest all things.' Christ says of himself, ' And 
all the churches shall know that I am he, who searcheth 
the reins and the hearts,' Rev. ii. 23. And again, 
Matt. xi. 27, ' No one knoweth the Son, but the Father ; 
neither knoweth any one the Father, save the Son, and 
he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.' 

The omnipresence of the Spirit of grace is emphati- 
cally asserted in the question, contained in the seventh 
verse of the text, Whither shall I go from thy Spirit ?' 
especially as connected with the answers following. 
' The Spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you,' that 
is, Christians universally, saith St Peter, 1 Epist. iv. 14. 
' Your body, saith St Paul to Christians, ' is the temple 
of the Holy Ghost,' 1 Cor. vi. 19 ; and, ' The Spirit 
searcheth all things, even the deep things of God,' 
1 Cor. ii. 10. 

These attributes of God are also demonstrated, and 
holden out continually to our inspection, by reason and 
[experience. 

* In every part of the universe to which we turn our 
eyes, we discern in the inanimate, animated, and intel- 
ligent worlds, most evident proofs of an agency, which 
it is impossible rationally to attribute to any other 
being but God. In the motions and powers of the 
elements ; in the growth, structure, and qualities of 
vegetables and animals ; and in the thoughts, volitions, 
and actions of minds, we perceive a casual influence, an 
efficiency, totally distinguished from every other ; as 
distant from that of man, as the agency of man from the 
movements of an atom. This character is never mis- 
taken by savages, nor even by children, when once in- 
formed of the character of God 

This agency is conspicuous in all places, at all times, 
and in all things ; and is seen in the earth, the ocean, 
the air, and the heavens, alike. Equally evident is it 
in the splendour and life-giving influences of the sun ; 
in the motions, order, and harmony of the planetary 
system ; and in the light and beauty of the stars ; as in 
the preservation, direction, and control of terrestrial 
things. 

No agent can act where he is not. As therefore God 
acts everywhere, he is everywhere present. In this 
agency, contrivance and skill, to which no limits can be 
set, are everywhere manifested : it is of course equally, 
and unanswerably, a proof of the omniscience of God. 

This attribute of God is also inferred with absolute 
certainty, from his omnipresence. As God exists every- 
where, so he is in all places the same God ; all eye, all 
ear, all intellect. Hence it is impossible that he should 
not know every thing, in every place, and at every 
time. 

Again, all things are derived from God ; and received 
their nature, attributes, and operations, from his con- 
trivance, as well as from his power. All things were 
therefore known to him, antecedently to their existence. 
Nor are possible things less perfectly known to him, 
tlian those which are actual. Nothing is possible, but 
what he can bring to pass ; and whatever he can bring 
to pass he cannot but know. 



1. How majestic, awful, and glorious a manifestation 
of God is furnished to us by this passage of Scripture, 
thus considered. 

We are here taught, that God is essentially present 
in all places, and to all beings. We are taught, that he 



is equally 'at hand, and afar oft';' that he is equally 
present in this world, and in the heavens; that he dwells 
alike throughout the universe of being, and the unin- 
habited regions of immensity. In all places also he is 
Jehovah, the same God, possessing the same attributes, 
and operating with the same wonderful agency. From 
the same passage we also learn irresistibly, that he 
comprehends, at the same moment of time, and with 
the same intuitive survey, every thing possible and 
actual ; that eternity past and future is perfectly present 
to his eye, and that no distance of place or duration can 
be any thing to him ; that no retreat can conceal, and 
no darkness cover any being, or event, from his sight. 
The mind of man is here exhibited as equally open to 
his view with the body ; the thoughts and affections 
as the words and actions ; hell as equally naked and 
present to him as heaven, and the destroyer and the 
seraph as alike without a covering. It is indubitably 
certain therefore, that he is able to attend, and actually 
attends, to all things at the same moment ; to the mo- 
tions of a seed, or a leaf, or an atom ; to the creepings 
of a worm, the flutterings of an insect, and the journeys 
of a mite ; to the excursions of the human mind, and, 
the efforts of an archangel ; to the progress of a world, 
and the revolutions of a system. 

2. How necessary are these attributes to the govern- 
ment of all things. 

This interesting article may be advantageously illus- 
trated in the following particulars. 

(1.) God is eminently qualified by these attributes for 
the preservation of all things. The universe is a work 
of stupendous greatness, composed of worlds innumer- 
able by us, and inhabited by beings still more empha- 
tically surpassing number. The characters and kinds 
of these beings are incomprehensibly various, and their 
circumstances beyond measure more various. As these 
are hourly existing and advancing in an endless pro- 
gress, they demand a providence minute, comprehensive, 
and enduring without a limit. 

Every one of these is also a part of one immense 
whole. Each has its station allotted to it, the part 
which it is to act, the duties which it is to perforin, and 
the purposes to which it is intended to be subservient, 
together with powers and circumstances suited to the 
accomplishment of them. Should one being fail of ful- 
filling its appointed end, a chasm, a defect would of 
course be found in the system, which could not be 
remedied. No finite measure can correctly determine 
the importance and danger of such a defect, however 
minute it may seem to a created understanding. Even 
the improper fall of a leaf, nay, the improper position 
of an atom, may, for aught that appears, be followed 
by consequences injurious, in the course of eternity, 
both to the character of the Creator, and the good of 
his creatures. The motions of a fly are capable of ter- 
minating the most important human life, or of changing 
all the future designs of a man, and altering the char- 
acter, circumstances, and destiny of his descendents, 
throughout time and eternity. Such defects may, 
unless prevented by him, continually take place in 
every part of his vast kingdom. It is therefore indis- 
pensably necessary that he should be present to every 
being, at every moment, to perceive and regulate every 
event ; to farther every part of his infinite designs, and 
to prevent every obstruction and failure. An exact, un- 
remitted attention on his part, is necessary to the greatest 



OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE OF GOD. 



31 



and to the least alike ; a knowledge intimate, entire 
and perfect, of all their relations, changes and circum- 
stances. 

Of this attention, this consummate knowledge, the 
presence of God is the real foundation. In consequence 
of his presence in all places, he sees that every thing is 
contained in its own proper sphere of being and action, 
and discerns every approach towards exposure, and 
towards defect. Hence his great work is always guard- 
ed, advanced, and prospered. In this world, his pre- 
sence, attention, and knowledge, are indispensable, to 
renew, refine, and strengthen in virtue, the souls of his 
children ; to guide them in the paths of duty, to relieve 
their distresses, to supply their wants, and to brighten 
their hopes of a blessed immortality. 

Equally indispensable is it to advance the general 
cause of truth and righteousness, to befriend his church 
in all its interests ; to prevent the gates of hell from 
prevailing against it, to confine rebellion within the 
destined bounds, and to inflict the proper judgments on 
the workers of iniquity. In a word, his presence is in- 
dispensable here to bring light out of darkness, order 
out of confusion, and good out of evil. 

In the world of punishment his presence is equally 
necessary, to confine the prisoners of his wrath ; to 
render to every impenitent sinner the reward due to 
his crimes, to teach the abominable nature and the de- 
plorable consequences of sin, and to show his unchange- 
able hatred of iniquity. 

In the various worlds where virtue and happiness 
reside, he is necessarily present to inspire, invigorate, 
and quicken the obedience of their inhabitants ; to dis- 
tribute the innumerable and diversified rewards which 
tie has annexed to obedience, and cause to arise and 
shine the endless varieties of beauty and loveliness, of 
which their happy spirits are capable. 

In heaven, the brightest and best of these worlds, he 
is indispensably present, to perfect that glorious system 
of virtue and happiness, which he has ordained through 
the mediation of his Son, and promised to all the redeem- 
ed. There he has instituted a perfect scheme of dis- 
pensations, which is the consummation and the crown of 
'all his works. There every inhabitant receives, and loves, 
and keeps his own place, duties, and enjoyments ; and 
consecrates with all his heart, without weariness and 
without end, his exalted faculties and immortal life, to 
the sublime purposes of glorifying his Maker, and ad- 
vancing the universal good. To this end, God there 
lives in every being, in a manner wholly peculiar ; and 
diffuses a peculiarly quickening influence through every 
object. Hence ' the river' which proceeds from his 
throne, is styled ' the water of life ;' and ' the trees' 
which grow on its banks ' bearing twelve manner of 
fruits,' are named ' trees of life.' The body he ani- 
mates with vigour, youth, and beauty, which cannot de- 
cay : the mind he informs with a divine and superna- 
tural quickening, which empowers it to advance without 
intermission, and with incomprehensible celerity, in 
knowledge, virtue, and enjoyment. Li that world, God 
unfolds himself in infinite diversities of beauty, glory, 
and majesty ; enables them to ' see eye to eye, and to 
behold his face in righteousness.' In that world he 
exhibits, with clear and unalterable conviction, that the 
great work which he has made, the system of dispen- 
sations which he has chosen, is a perfect work, a system 
vf perfect wisdom and goodness, in which no real good 



is wanting, and into which nothing which upon the 
whole is evil is admitted. Particularly, he manifests the 
transcendent wonders of forgiving, redeeming, and 
sanctifying love ; and the supreme desirableness of re- 
storing, through the Redeemer, apostate sinners to the 
character and privileges of the children of God. Here 
also he unfolds in a perfect manner the inherent ten- 
dency of virtue to make intelligent minds wiser, better, 
and happier for ever. 

It is hardly necessary to remark, that unless God 
were present in heaven, all these divine purposes must 
necessarily fail of being accomplished. 

(2.) The presence of God is equally indispensable, to 
supply the innumerable wants of his creatures. In every 
other world, as well as in this, every creature is de- 
pendent on God ' for life, and breath, and all things/ 
Here, as we well know, ' all creatures wait upon God, 
that they may receive their supplies in due season. 
That which he giveth them, they gather : he openeth 
his hand, and satisfieth the wants of every living thing. 
He hideth his face : they die, and return to their dust.' 
These wants are endless in number, kind, and degree ; 
exist every moment in every creature, are natural and 
spiritual, and respect alike both time and eternity. 
When God gives, creatures receive : when he withholds, 
they are destitute. Where he is not, where he gives 
not, there good is never found. But if these wants ave 
to be supplied, they must be known ; and to know them, 
he must be present. Hence he must exist in every 
place, and in every being. 

(3.) His presence is indispensable, that he may know 
the moral character of his intelligent creatures. The 
actions of intelligent beings are of a moral nature ; or, 
in other words, deserving of praise or blame, reward 
or punishment. These are originated in the soul ; and 
in the soul receive their whole moral character. Hence, 
in order to know the true nature of the conduct of 
such beings, God must continually reside in every soul, 
to discern their rising motives, the commencing affec- 
tions, and the infant designs ; to trace them through 
their progress, and to witness their completion. In 
this manner ' he searches the hearts, and tries the 
reins ;' and discerns, intuitively, the moral nature of all 
the conduct. All words he is present to hear, and all 
actions to behold. In this manner is he perfectly qua- 
lified to perform those great ' acts of governing the uni- 
verse, and judging and rewarding his intelligent crea- 
tures ' according to their works.' 

3. From the omniscience and omnipresence of God it 
is evident, that all things must come to pass either by 
his choice or permission. 

As God is thus ever present in all places, and to all 
things, it is impossible that he should not know what- 
ever comes to pass, or is about to come to pass. But of 
every possible thing it is truly said, that ils existence 
is, upon the whole, either desirable, or undesirable. If 
it be desirable, or undesirable, God cannot but be per- 
fectly acquainted with its true nature, in either case, 
because he cannot fail to see every thing as it is. It 
he sees any thing to be, upon the whole, desirable, it 
is impossible, that he should not choose its existence ; 
if he sees it to be undesirable, he cannot but choose that 
it should not exist. If there is in the nature of things 
a foundation for preferring the existence of any thing 
to its non-existence, he cannot fail to discern this fact, 
and choose accordingly that it should exist : and thus, 



32 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser vi. 



vice versa. Whatever he chooses should not exist, can- 
not. Whatever he chooses should exist, must exist of 
course. 

The same things are equally true of the time and 
place, modes and circumstances, events and attributes, 
in connexion with which beings exist, as of the beings 
themselves ; for there is nothing, beside his choice, 
which could originally give these or any of them birth. 
If, for example, it has appeared to him good to endue 
creatures in any case with such powers as constitute an 
efficiency properly their own, and permit them after- 
ward to accomplish by this efficiency whatever will 
result from the nature and tendency of such powers, 
then this will be the mode in which such creatures will 
exist and act ; and in this manner all those things which 
result from their existence and action will take place. 
Should he at the same time see it to be desirable, that 
himself should exert a controlling, regulating, coincid- 
ing, or assisting influence, with regard to the agency of 
such beings, then this influence will, for the same rea- 
son, be exerted. 

But whatever be the manner in which events are in- 
troduced into existence, whether by his single imme- 
diate agency, or by the instrumentality of created be- 
ings, nothing can take place which is contrary to, or 
aside from, his choice or permission ; unless something 
can escape his knowledge, or overcome his power. 

4. It is evident from what has been said, that God 
attends to evei'y individual being and his concerns, as 
perfectly as if there were no other being. 

Not a small number of men, and among them many 
philosophers, and what is more strange, many professed 
Christians, have believed and taught, that God cannot 
be supposed to attend to the concerns of individuals ; 
but that he regards only the greatest affairs of empires, 
worlds and systems. 

This opinion springs, not improbably, from three 
sources : first, Want of examination : second, An ap- 
prehension, that it is beneath the dignity of God to re- 
gard things of such minuteness : thirdly, A dread, in the 
mind, of such attention on the part of God, to its own 
concerns, because they will not bear divine inspection. 

The first and third of these articles need no com- 
ment. The second appears to have arisen from the 
strong propensity in man to think God almost, if not 
c altogether such a one as himself ;' and is fraught with 
the rankest absurdities. If it is beneath the dignity of 
the Godhead to regard individuals ; how much more 
was it beneath his dignity to make them ? The end 
for which they were made, is unquestionably more im- 
portant than themselves., who were only means to it ; 
and claims proportionally a higher regard. Indivi- 
duals also compose empires, and worlds, and systems. 
If then, God do not attend to the concerns of indivi- 
duals, he must cease, of course, to attend to those of 
empires, worlds, and systems; since the affairs of these 
great collections of rational beings are only aggregates, 
made up of the affairs of individuals. 

The concerns of one individual often constitute the 
hinge, on which all the great concerns of empires are 
turned. Thus the concerns of Cyrus, Alexander, and 
Ca3s.ar, changed in a great measure the situation of those 
states, of which they were sovereigns, and put a new 
face on a great part of the habitable world. Even the 
conduct of Ravillac altered in a great measure the state, 
not only of France, but of Europe. Nay, from an early 



period of their republic, the state of the whole Roman 
empire, and consequently of a great part of mankind 
down to the present day, was essentially changed by 
the cackling of a goose. 

Again, God created all individuals for certain ends, 
in themselves good and desirable, and,' of course, de- 
signed by him to be accomplished. But these ends 
cannot be accomplished, unless his providence supply 
the powers and faculties, and regulate all the actions 
and events, necessary to their accomplishment ; and 
would therefore be frustrated, were he not always pre- 
sent, and always attentive to them, for these purposes. 

Every individual also is a part, and exactly a desir- 
able, proper, and necessary part, of the great work 
which God has begun. If then one should fail, the 
whole would be disordered : and consequences would be 
produced, the extent and mischiefs of which, no mind 
less than infinite could comprehend. 

Each of these arguments refutes this doctrine. But 
we need not recur to them, or to any of them, for this 
refutation. The nature of God proves this doctrine to 
be false. He is everywhere present ; and is all eye, all 
ear, all consciousness. Of course, he cannot but attend 
to every thing, and know every thing. This is essen- 
tially and unchangeably his character. He can no more 
fail of regarding an insect than an angel, an atom than 
a world. As we, when our ears are open, cannot but 
hear ; when our eyes are open, cannot but see ; when 
our minds are directed to any object, cannot but per- 
ceive ; so God, who is all mind, all perception, cannot but 
perceive all things. Among all things he cannot but 
perceive whatever is preferable, or upon the whole de- 
sirable, in the least as well as in the greatest ; and 
cannot, without denying his nature, fail to choose its 
existence, rather than that to which it is thus prefer- 
able. The least, also, is as truly necessary and indis- 
pensable to the whole as the greatest, and cannot there- 
fore fail to be chosen and accomplished. 

Besides, experience unanswerably proves the doc- 
trine which I have asserted. None but God can form 
or preserve, direct or regulate, an atom, a leaf, a mite, 
or an insect, any more than an angel, a world, or a 
universe. We see his power, wisdom, presence, and 
agency, in these least things, as truly and. as constantly 
as in the greatest : and so clearly discern it to be the 
agency of an infinite hand, as to be incapable, when we 
open our eyes, of mistaking it for any other. In per- 
fect harmony with these observations, the Scriptures 
declare, that God clothes the grass of the field ; conti- 
nues the life, and directs the death of sparrows ; and 
numbers the hairs of our heads. What employment 
can, according to the opinions of those who contend 
against this doctrine, be less suitable than these to the 
dignity of God ? Yet these, he has been pleased to de- 
clare, are things about which he is employed. The 
truth is, this universal attention to the several parts of 
the universe is infinitely glorious to his character. To 
be able to attend to the infinite multitude of beings and 
events, at the same and at all times ; to render an en- 
tire regard to the least, without lessening at all the at- 
tention due to the greatest ; to be able to see that every 
individual continues in his proper place and circum- 
stances ; answering the proper end of his being ; to se- 
cure in this manner the well-being of the whole ; and 
to do all this without weariness, or confusion ; is to 
possess the highest state of being, of dignity, and of glory. 



ETERNITY AND IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



33 



5. From the above considerations how solemn, how 
affecting, does our own existence appear. 

This use of the doctrines contained in the text is 
made particularly, and in the most illustrious manner, 
by David, throughout the psalm from which it is taken. 
It cannot therefore fail to be profitably made by our- 
selves. 

From the observations contained in the preceding 
part of this Discourse, it is evident that we are at all 
times, and in all places and circumstances, surrounded 
by God. In our walks, amusements, and business, at 
home and abroad, when we are asleep, and when we 
are awake, God is with us as really and as evidently, 
as we are with each other. Every thought in our minds, 
every word on our tongues, every action of our hands, 
is perfectly naked to his all-seeing eye. Of what amaz- 
ing importance is it then, that these thoughts, words, 
and actions, ' be acceptable in his sight :' be sucli as we 
should be willing to have him witness, such as he can 
approve, justify, and reward ! Those certainly are the 
only wise, the only prudent human beings, who conti- 
nually remember this great truth ; and who at all times, 
in their amusements as well as in their serious business, 
say in their hearts, ' Thou God seest me.' No consi- 
deration is so solemn, so affecting, so useful as this. 
None possesses the same influence to restrain the hands 
or the heart from sin ; to produce, preserve, or quicken 
obedience ; or to awaken unceasingly the most profit- 
able attention of the soul to its everlasting welfare, or 
its remembrance of that awful judgment, where all its 
thoughts, words, and actions will be displayed in '. the 
light of God's countenance,' and become the reason and 
the measure of its final reward. 

On the contrary, how imprudent, how sottish, how 
delirious is the conduct of him, who habitually forgets 
the pi-esence of God ; of whom it is truly said, ' that 
God is not in all his thoughts ;' and who, settled upon 
his lees, quietly persuades himself, that ' the Lord will 
not do good, neither will the Lord do evil.' This man 
has either negligently or intentionally removed from 
his mind the chief source of virtuous conduct, the well- 
spring of hope, the great security against temptation, 
the prime preventive of sin. He is left unguarded, 
therefore, in circumstances infinitely dangerous, and 
voluntarily exposes himself to evils of infinite magni- 
tude. Compared with this man, the prodigal, who 
causelessly squanders a throne and an empire, is a mi- 
ser ; and the soldier, who, when the enemy surrounds 
the citadel, sleeps at his post, is a faithful watchman. 

6. Let every sinner remember, that God is present 
at the commission of all his crimes. 

When thoughts of rebellion, profaneness, and ingrati- 
tude, arise in the soul ; when thoughts of pride, envy, 
malice, deceit, injustice, and cruelty deform ; and when 
thoughts of intemperance, levity, and lewdness, debase 
it ; then God is in the polluted guilty mind, searching- 
its secret chambers, and laying open to the full sun- 
shine all the hiding places of iniquity. 

When the sinners who are in this house rise up in 
rebellion against their Maker; when you murmur against 
his government, lay your sins to his charge, impeach 
his justice, mercy, and truth, and wish that he were to 
exist and rule no more ; when you form impure, un- 
just, amd fraudulent designs ; proceed to acts of violence 
and cruelty and become ' stout-hearted,' and therefore 
,i eminently ' far from righteousness ;' when you devise 



false doctrines and systems to lead yourselves and others 
astray ; deceive yourselves with arguments formed to 
justify sin, and flatter conscience into quiet and security ; 
when you oppose the truth of God, dishonour his name, 
revile his Son, grieve his Spirit, and profane his sabbath 
and sanctuary, his commands and ordinances ; when, 
finally, you ensnare, pollute, and destroy others as well 
as yourselves, by carrying all your evil designs into a 
guilty and dreadful execution ; then, however, you may 
imagine yourselves concealed by the shades of solitude, 
or the curtains of midnight, from the view of every eye, 
God is present, sees, hears, and takes an account of all 
your thoughts, words, and actions. Then his eye, as a 
flame of fire, lights up a clear and searching day in your 
souls, and around your steps ; and shows in sunbeams 
the iniquities which you devise, utter, and perpetrate. 

7. Let every child of God remember also, that his 
Creator is equally present with all his conduct. 

The Christian may be, in his own view, he may be in 
fact, poor, ignorant, little, and insignificant. When he 
reviews himself, he may not unnaturally exclaim, ' I am 
a worm, and no man :' when he reviews his services, 
he may pronounce them too worthless to be remembered 
of God : when he reviews his sins, he may believe them 
so great as to cut him off from every reasonable hope 
of a share in the divine attention. But notwithstanding 
his insignificance, fears, and doubts, he is not forgotten 
here, and will not be forgotten in the day when God 
makes up his jewels. The tears which he has shed, the 
prayers which he lias offered up, the two mites which 
he has consecrated to God, the cup of cold water which 
he has given to a fellow-disciple, were neither unnoticed 
nor unregarded. God was present, when each act of 
humble and sincere obedience was performed ; marked 
it with his eye, recorded it in his book, and will ac- 
knowledge it at the final day. 

From this constant, kind, and merciful regard of his 
Maker, no situation, no circumstances will preclude 
him, even for a moment. However, lowly, however 
solitary, however forgotten of mankind, his course 
through life may be, himself and his interests, his wants 
and his woes, are tenderly as well as continually re- 
garded by his God. 

In seasons of sorrow, of sickness, bereavement, or 
desertion ; when he has lost his parents or his children, 
or is forsaken by his former friends and companions : 
when the world begins to seem to him a desert, and 
life to be a burden : God is then at hand, his Father, 
and everlasting Friend ; and will be ' better to him than 
sons and daughters.' The physician of the body, as 
well as of the soul, will administer healing to his dis- 
eased frame; pour the. balm of consolation into his 
wounded spirit, and enable him to say, ' Why art thou 
cast down, my soul ; and why art thou disquieted 
within me ? Hope thou in God ; for I shall yet praise 
him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God. 

When those around him become hostile to his char- 
acter, and to his religion ; when he himself is hated, 
despised, and persecuted; when for help he looks 
through the world in vain, and is ready to sink in the 
gulf of dispair : let him remember that God has been 
present to behold all his sufferings, and will effectually 
guard him from every fatal evil. He may indeed be 
' persecuted,' but he will * not be forsaken ;' he may be 
' cast down,' but he will ' not be destroyed.' Let him 
also remember, that ' his afflictions,' though they may 

E 



34 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



seem heavy, are ' but for a moment,' and <*u-e therefore 
really ' light ;' and that they will ' work for him an ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory.' 

In seasons of temptation, when his resolution to re- 
sist, his fortitude to endure, his patience to suffer, his 
wisdom to devise means of escape, and his diligence 
and faithfulness to use them, fail and decline ; or even 
when, immersed in sloth and security, he ceases to 
watch over himself, and to guard against impending- 
evil : God still is present, to supply all his wants, to 
renew his vigour, to support his yielding constancy, to 
awaken in him new vigilance, to quicken in him a con- 
trite sense of his backsliding, to deliver him from the 
unequal contest, and to bless him with returning hope, 
peace, and safety. 

When self-confidence, self-flattery, and self-righteous- 
ness inflate, deform, and betray him : when no Christian 
friend is near, to know, to pity, or to rescue him : God 
even then is present, to humble, to guide, and to restore 
him : and to enable him to find a safe path over the 
otherwise insurmountable obstacles to his continuance 
in the way of life. 

Does lie, with other humble followers of the Redeem- 
er, ' mourn in Zion ' the hidings of God's face, his own 
backslidings, or the depression and sufferings of his 
fellow Christians ; and feel, as if both himself and the 
church were deserted and forgotten ? Let him remem- 
ber that although his heavenly Father ' hath smitten 
him for his sins with a rod, and for his iniquities with 
stripes ; yet his covenant he will not take away, nor 
forget his mercy ; that the walls of Zion are continually 
before him, and that she is graven on the palms of his 
hands ; that although a woman may forget her sucking 
child, that she should not have compassion on the son 
of her womb; yet will the Redeemer not forget his 
church ; and that He will keep her in the hollow of his 
hand, and preserve her as the apple of his eye.' Let 
him remember, that Jehovah will soon lift upon him, 
and his fellow saints, the light of his countenance ; and 
will soon ' appoint unto them all, beauty for ashes, the 
oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for 
the spirit of heaviness.' 

Is he come to a dying bed ? Is eternity, with all its 
amazing scenes beginning to be unveiled ? Is his final 
trial ready to commence ? Is his account even now to 
be given, his sentence to be pronounced, and his endless 
allotment to be fixed ? Behold on the throne of judg- 
ment that glorious Person, who has promised ' that he 
will never leave him, nor forsake him.' He is the judge 
by whom he is to be tried, the rewarder by whom his 
destiny is to be fixed for ever. This divine Redeemer 
will now remember him as one of those for whom he 
died, as one of those for whom he has made unceasing 
intercession before the throne of the Majesty in the 
heavens. 

3. What an affecting and amazing display will be 
made of the omniscience of God, at the last judgment. 

On this solemn day, all mankind will be judged ' ac- 
cording to the deeds done in the body.' That these 
may be the foundation of ' the righteous judgment of 
God,' it is indispensable that they should be known 
clearly and certainly : the sins, together with all their 
aggravations and palliations ; the virtues, with all their 
diminutions and enhancements. To the same end it is 
equally necessary that the system of reti-ibution should 
also be perfectly comprehended, so that every admini- 



stration of reward, both to the righteous and the wick- 
ed, should, throughout eternity, be measured out to each 
individual exactly as his whole character demands. 
Of course, the knowledge which will here be indis- 
pensable, will be a perfect comprehension of this system, 
together with all the moral conduct, and all the circum- 
stances, of the innumerable beings who will be judged. 
The display of this knowledge, it is evident, will be 
the greatest display announced by the Scriptures, and 
infinitely greater than any other, conceivable by the 
human mind. The display will be also far more affect- 
ing than any other, for on it will depend all the immor- 
tal concerns of the innumerable children of Adam. Yet 
such a display will certainly be made, to such an ex- 
tent, as to exhibit God in the character of an upright 
judge, an impartial dispenser of good and evil to his 
creatures ; as to stop every mouth, and force every heart 
to confess ' that he is just when he judgetb, and clear 
when he condemneth.' 

What manifestations of the human character will 
then be made ! How different will be the .appearance 
which pride, ambition, and avarice, sloth, lust, and in- 
temperance will wear in the sight of God, in the sight 
of the assembled universe, and in the sight of those who 
have yielded themselves up to these evil passions, from 
that which they have customarily worn in the present 
world! How low will the haughty man be bowed 
down ! How will the splendour of power and conquest 
set in darkness ! How will the golden mountains of 
opulence melt away, and leave the dreaming possessor 
poor, and naked, and miserable, and in want of all 
things ! How will the sensualist awake out of his mo- 
mentary vision of pleasure, and find it all changed to 
' vanity and vexation of spirit !' How little, in innu- 
merable instances, will the worldly great then appear ! 
How contemptible the renowned : how weak the power- 
ful : how foolish ' the wise men and disputers of this 
world !' On the contrary, with what confidence and 
joy will the poor, despised, humble Christian ' lift up 
his head,' and take his proper place in the great scale 
of being, because he ' beholds his redemption arrived ! ' 
Here, first, his character will be openly acknowledged, 
and his worth confessed. Last in the present world, he 
will be numbered among the first in the world to come. 
A feeble, faded, half-extinguished lamp on this side of 
the grave, he will ' shine forth as the sun in the king- 
dom of his Father.' 

How differently will our own characters appear, from 
what we imagine them to be, during our present life ! 
Here most of our sins are forgotten ; there they are all 
recorded in the book of God's remembrance. Here 
vast multitudes of them are concealed ; there they will 
all be displayed in the open day. Here they are often 
mistaken by self-flattery for virtues ; there they will be 
irresistibly seen in all their native deformity. How de- 
lightful will it then be to find, that they have been 
' blotted out ' by the divine mercy ' as a thick cloud ;' 
that they have been expiated by the blood of the Re- 
deemer ! What a consolation, what transport will it he 
to find, that numerous and great as our iniquities have 
been, yet our whole character was such in the eye of 1 
the heart-searching God, as to entitle us through the 
merits of Christ, to a reward of endless life and glory! 



OMNIPOTENCE AND INDEPENDENCE OF GOD. 



35 



SERMON VII. 

OMNIPOTENCE AND INDEPENDENCE OF GOD. 



I am the almighty God Gen. xvii. 1. 



In my last Discourse, I considered the omnipresence 
and omniscience of God. The next subject in the na- 
tural order of discussion is his almighty power. 

In the text, this attribute is asserted directly by God 
himself to Abraham, when he renewed with him the 
covenant of grace, and instituted the sacrament of cir- 
cumcision. In a manner equally explicit are similar 
declarations made throughout every part of the Scrip- 
tures. 

The omnipotence of God is also easily demonstrated 
by reason ; so easily, that no divine attribute has per- 
haps been so strongly realized, or generally acknow- 
ledged. So general is this acknowledgment, that a so- 
ber attempt to persuade a Christian audience of the 
truth of this doctrine would be scarcely considered as 
serious, or as compatible with the dictates of good 
sense. An attempt to impress this doctrine on the 
mind is not however liable to the same objections, nor 
indeed to any objection. It cannot but be a profitable 
employment to examine briefly several things, in which 
we find the most striking displays of this perfection. 
To such an examination I shall therefore proceed ; and 
observe, 

I. That the power of God is gloriously manifested in 
the work of creation. 

Creation may be defined, the production of existence 
where nothing was before. The power displayed in 
the act of creating, not only exceeds all finite compre- 
hension, but is plainly so great as to exclude every ra- 
tional limitation. It is impossible to believe that the 
power which originally gives existence, cannot do any 
thing, and every thing which in its own nature is ca- 

i pable of being done ; or in other words, every thing, 
the doing of which involves not a contradiction. When 

] .we contemplate creative power, we neither attempt 

. nor pretend to form any estimate of its extent, but are 
lost in wonder and amazement at the character of him 
who gives being wherever he pleases. 

On the simple act of creating, however, it is not easy 

| for such minds as ours to dwell. A single glance of 
the mind makes us possessed of all which we know 

I concerning this effort of omnipotence, as it is in itself. 
But there are several things relative to the effects 

, which it produces, capable of mightily enhancing our 
ideas concerning this astonishing exertion of powei'. 

, Of this nature is, 

1. The vastness and multitude of the things which 

L were created. 

The world which we inhabit, is itself a vast and 

';. amazing work. The great divisions of land and water, 

n the continents and oceans into which it is distributed ; 

L nay, the mountains and plains, the lakes and rivers, 

j with which it is magnificently adorned ; are, severally, 
sufficiently wonderful and affecting to fill our minds, 
and to engross all the power of contemplation. Nor 
are our thoughts less deeply interested by the vast 



multitude of plants, trees, and animals, with which 
every part of the globe is stored at every period of 
time. All these also rise and fall in an uninterrupted 
succession, When one perishes, another immediately 
succeeds. No blank is permitted, and no vacuity 
found : but creating energy, always operating, produces 
a continual renovation of that which is lost. 

When we lift up our eyes to the heavens, we are 
still more amazed at the sight of many such worlds, 
composing the planetary system. The comets which 
surround our sun, greatly increase our amazement by 
their numbers, the velocity of their motions, and the 
inconceivable extent of their circuits. It is still more 
enhanced by the union of these numerous worlds in 
one vast system, connected by a common centre, and 
revolving round that centre with a harmony and splen- 
dour worthy of a God. 

But this system, great and wonderful as it is, is a 
mere speck, compared with the real extent of the cre- 
ation. Satisfactory evidence exists, that every star 
which twinkles in the firmament, is no other than a 
sun, a world of light, surrounded by its own attendant 
planets, formed into a system similar to ours. Forty- 
five thousand such stars have been counted, by the aid 
of the Herschelian telescope, in so small a part of the 
heavens, that supposing this part to be sown no thicker 
than the rest, the same telescope would reach at least 
seventy-five millions in the whole sphere. By means 
of new improvements in the same optical instrument, 
they have been found to be numerous to a degree still 
more astonishing. Every one of these is, in my view, 
rationally concluded to be the sun and centre of a sys- 
tem of planetary and cometary worlds. Beyond this, 
I think it not at all improbable, that were we trans- 
ported to the most distant of the visible stars, we 
should find there a firmament expanding over our 
heads, studded in the same manner with stars innume- 
rable. Nay, were we to repeat the same flight, and be 
again wafted through the same distance, it is not im- 
probable that we should behold a new repetition of the 
same sublimity and glory. In this manner immensity 
appears, in a sense, to be peopled with worlds innume- 
rable, constituting the boundless empire of Jehovah. 
How amazing then must be the power and greatness 
of him, who not only ' telleth the number of the stars, 
and calleth them all by their names,' but with a word 
spoke them all into being ! 

2. The peculiar nature and splendour of many of 
these works strongly impress on our minds the greatness 
of creating power! 

Of this nature are all those vast works in the hea- 
vens, which I have mentioned under the last head. 
To single out one of them : How glorious a work is 
the sun ! Of what astonishing dimensions ; of what 
wonderful attraction ! Possessed of what supreme, un- 
changeable, and apparently immortal glory ! Of what 



36 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. vii. 



perpetual and incomprehensible influence on the world 
which we inhabit ; not only causing it to move around 
its orbit with inconceivable rapidity, but producing over 
its extensive surface, warmth and beauty, life and ac- 
tivity, comfort and joy, in all the millions of beings by 
which it is inhabited ! 

Magnificent however as this object is, one mind is a 
more wonderful, more important, more illustrious dis- 
play of creating power, than the whole inanimate uni- 
verse. Suns with all their greatness and glory are still 
without life, without consciousness, without enjoy- 
ment ; incapable in themselves of action, knowledge, 
virtue, or voluntary usefulness. A mind, on the con- 
trary, is possessed of all these exalted powers, and is 
capable of possessing all these sublime attributes. A 
mind can know, love, and glorify its Creator ; can be 
instamped with his image, and adorned with his beauty 
and loveliness : and can appear desirable and delightful 
to his eye. It can ' reflect, as a mirror, the glory of the 
Lord,' (for so ought the passage * to be translated,) 
' and be changed into the same image, from glory to 
glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord.' It can love and 
bless its fellow minds, be loved and blessed by them ; 
and become a useful and honourable instrument of ad- 
vancing endlessly the universal good of the intelligent 
kingdom. In all these glorious attainments it can ad- 
vance with an unceasing progress throughout eternity. 
In this progress it can rise to the heights where angels 
now dwell ; and passing those heights, can ascend higher 
and higher, till in the distant ages of endless being, it 
shall look down on the most exalted created excellence 
which now exists, as the mere dawnings of infantine in- 
telligence. Worlds and suns were created for the use 
of minds ; but minds were created for the use of God. 

3. The same impressions are strongly made, when we 
regard God as the author of life. 

The communication of life is a creative act entirely, 
and illustriously superior to the mere communication 
of existence. In the wonderful power manifested in 
this communication, the glory of God, in the character 
of the Creator, is pre-eminently displayed. According- 
ly, ' the living God, and the living Father ;' that is the 
God who has life originally and independently in him- 
self, and is the source of it to all living beings, are titles 
chosen to unfold especially the glory of the divine na- 
ture. In the same manner also our Saviour challenges 
this wonderful attribute to himself, as a direct and un- 
questionable proof of his divinity. ' As the Father,' 
saith he, ' hath life in himself, so hath he given to the 
Son to have life in himself. As the Father raiseth up 
the dead, and quickeneth ; even so the Son quickeneth 
whom he will.' In the same manner it is elsewhere 
said, ' It is the Spirit that quickeneth.' 

The possession of life confers on every thing which 
is the subject of it, a distinction by which it is raised 
at once above all inanimate matter. Even vegetables, 
of which life is predicated in a figurative sense only, 
derive from it a total superiority to all those beings 
which are found in the mineral kingdom. Animal life, 
which is life in its humblest degree, raises the being in 
whom it exists, totally above all those things which 
are not animated, by making them at once, objects on 
which the emotions of the soul may be employed, and 
subjects of pleasure or pain, happiness or misery. Of 

*2Cor. iii. 18. 



these great distinctions, every one knows, no part of 
the mineral or vegetable world is susceptible. 

Rational life is an attribute of importance and dis- 
tinction far higher still, and is the most wonderful 
display of the divine energy which the universe con- 
tains. Indeed, it is in a sense the end for which all 
things else were created, and without which there is 
no probability that they would ever have been. In 
exact accordance with the views which I have ex- 
pressed on this subject, we find a peculiar attention 
rendered to it by God, in the creation of man. Other 
things had been called into being, antecedently to this 
event ; and man, as the most important of all terrestrial 
beings, and the end for which they were made, was 
reserved to be the closing work. The world, his mag- 
nificent habitation, was finished before the tenant was 
formed, by whom it was to be occupied. Then God 
held a solemn consultation on this new and interesting 
work, and said, ' Let us make man in our own image, 
after our likeness.' This consultation, holden by the 
persons of the Godhead on the subject of communicat- 
ing rational life, plainly and aftectingly declares it to 
be a higher and more noble object of divine power, 
than all those which had preceded. From this pre- 
eminent importance it arises, that the termination of 
it, usually denominated annihilation, is, in the view of 
the mind, invested with intense gloom, and the deepest 
horror ; and that immortality, or the endless continu- 
ance of rational life, is an object always encircled with 
radiance, and regarded with exultation and rapture. 

4. The manner in which the Scriptures exhibit the 
work of creation as being performed, most forcibly im- 
presses on our minds the greatness of creating power. 

The greatness of power is discerned not only in the 
magnitude of the effects which it produces, but in the 
ease also with which they are produced. In this Ave 
are led rationally and indeed irresistibly to discern, 
that the whole of the power possessed is not exerted ; 
and that other and greater effects would, of course, 
spring from superior efforts, of which the same power 
is obviously capable. When ' God created the heavens 
and the earth,' he said, ' Let there be light: let there 
be a firmament : let the waters be gathered into one 
place ; and let the dry land appear.' All these and 
other similar commands were exactly and instantane- 
ously obeyed. In a moment, light invested the world ; 
the firmament arched above it ; the waters rolled back- 
ward into their bed ; the dry land heaved ; and the 
mountains lifted their heads towards heaven. The 
world with all its furniture and inhabitants, the heavens 
with all their magnificence, arose out of nothing, at a 
command. How superior to all finite comprehension 
must be the power of him, ' who spake,' and this stu- 
pendous work ' was done.' 

II. The omnipotence of God is divinely displayed 
in the government of all things. 

The existence and attributes which God has given 
to all beings, he only can continue. He only holds 
together the innumerable atoms which compose the 
innumerable material forms, found in the universe ; the 
plants and trees, the hills and mountains, the rivers and 
oceans. His power is the only bound by which worlds 
are bound, or t>y which they are united in the planetary 
systems. This union, this continuance of their being, 
is both an effect and a proof of the same energy from 
which they were all originally derived. The same en- 



OMNIPOTENCE AND INDEPENDENCE OF GOD. 



37 



ergy upholds all their attributes, and conducts all their 
operations. 

These beings are endless in their multitude, im- 
mensely distant in times and places, wonderful often 
in their greatness and importance, and, to finite minds, 
innumerable in their diversities. All, also, are parts of 
one vast and perfect whole ; to the perfection of which, 
each, in its appointed place and time, is indispensably 
necessary. What a power must that be, which at one 
and the same moment works in every vegetable and 
animal system in this great world ; which upholds, 
quickens, and invigorates every mind ; which at the 
same moment, also, acts in the same efficacious manner 
in every part of the solar system, and of all the other 
systems which compose the universe. What must be 
the power of him who sends abroad every moment, 
immense oceans of light from the sun, and innumerable 
such oceans from the stars ; who ' holds all worlds in 
the hollow of his hand,' retains them exactly in their 
places, and rolls them through the fields of ether with 
unceasing, most rapid, and at the same time perfectly 
harmonious motions ; and who, thus accomplishing 
every purpose for which they were made, prevents the 
least disturbance, error, or imperfection ! 

III. The omnipotence of God is strongly impressed 
on our minds by the consideration, that it is unaltered 
and undecaying. 

These mighty exertions have been already made 
through many thousand years : still they are perfectly 
made. They are made without intermission, rest, or 
relaxation. From century to century their energy oper- 
ates night and day, and operates now with the same 
force and effect as at the beginning. Every where it is 
seen, and is seen everywhere to be the same. It is 
therefore wholly unspent, and plainly incapable of be- 
ing spent or diminished. 

In this wonderful fact is exhibited unanswerable 
proof of that sublime declaration of the prophet -. ' Hast 
thou not known, hast thou not heard, that the Ever- 
lasting God, Jehovah, the Creator of the ends of the 
earth, fainteth not, neither is weary ?' 



From this doctrine we learn, 
1. That God is absolutely independent. 
By the absolute independence of God I intend, that 
he needs, and can need, nothing to render his ability, 
either to do or to enjoy whatever he pleases, greater 
or more perfect ; but that he possesses, in and of him- 
self, all possible ability for both these purposes ; so that 
his desires can never be opposed, nor his designs frus- 
trated, either from want of knowledge to discern, or 
power to accomplish, whatever is desirable or useful. 
The proof of this independence is complete, in the ac- 
count which has been given of the omni presence, om- 
niscience, and omnipotence of God. He who contrived, 
who created, and who governs all things, can contrive, 
create, and do whatever involves not a contradiction. 
He must therefore have .all good in his power and pos- 
session, and can plainly need and receive nothing. 
Every created thing he made, and gave it just such at- 
tributes as he pleased. Every thing continues in ex- 
istence for just such a time, and in just such a state as 
he chooses ; and operates in that manner only which 
is prescribed, or permitted by him. Nothing therefore 
can do or be, what is on the whole, contrary to his 



choice. Of course he cannot be disappointed of any 
purpose, unless we were to suppose him pleased to be 
disappointed, a self-contradiction too manifest to be 
admitted even by a child. According to this scheme, 
he says of himself, ' My counsel shall stand, and I will 
do all my pleasure.' * And again, ' He doth according 
to his will in the army of heaven, and among the in- 
habitants of the earth ; and none can stay his hand, or 
say unto him, What doest thou ? ' 

2. By this perfection, God is eminently qualified for 
the government of all things. 

From what has already been said of the manifesta- 
tion of this divine attribute in the government of the 
universe, we cannot but perceive, that to this purpose 
the omnipotence of God is indispensable. The same 
power which formed this vast machine, is absolutely 
necessary to continue in their proper places the several 
parts, and to conduct the operations of the whole to 
the ends which they are destined to accomplish. By 
this attribute only is God able to prevent all disorder 
and decay, and to frustrate all opposition. Many of 
the intelligent creatures which he has made, are pos- 
sessed of such powers, as, if uncontrolled by him, 
might occasion important obstructions to the progress 
of many parts of his great kingdom, and a consequent 
frustration or prevention of many of his designs. The 
mischiefs and miseries which in the course of eternity 
might be introduced into the universe, might easily 
exceed all finite estimation. But to every one of these 
beings he is able to say, and actually says, as he said 
in ancient times to the restless ocean, ' Hitherto shalt 
thou come, but no farther.' 

In the same manner he is infinitely able also to fur- 
nish all beings, animate and inanimate, rational and 
irrational, with that energy by which they operate to 
the unceasing promotion of the infinite good which he 
has begun to accomplish. The kingdom of God is a 
kingdom of means. With infinite wisdom and benig- 
nity he has chosen to adorn his intelligent creatures 
with such faculties as enable them to become subordi- 
nate agents in the great system, to coincide voluntarily 
with him in the furtherance of his perfect designs, and 
thus to sustain the character of moral excellence, and 
become lovely in his sight. Even the inanimate world 
as a passive instrument in his hands and theirs, of pro- 
moting the same designs, claims in this manner a spe- 
cies of inferior but real importance, and shows forth 
the praise of its divine Author. But all the powers 
and faculties by which his creatures perform the re- 
spective parts allotted to them, are continued as well 
as given by his omnipotence, which in this manner is 
everywhere glorified, and is everywhere the Hock on 
which is founded the great building of the universe. 

As God by his omniscience and omnipotence is pos- 
sessed of a complete suflicience for the accomplishment 
of all his pleasure, and thus rendered absolutely inde- 
pendent, it is evident that he must be infinitely re- 
moved from all fear on the one hand, and from all 
favouritism on the other. From the former of these 
considerations it is certain, that he cannot in any de- 
gree be deterred from the performance of any thing 
which is right and good ; and from the other, that he 
cannot possibly be allured to the production of any 
thing which is wrong, or injurious to his creatures. 

* Isaiah xlvi. 10. D;in, iv, 35. 



38 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sea. 



To him who is raised above all actual and possible 
want, who can do what he pleases, and has therefore 
every thing in his possession, unchangeably and eter- 
nally, there can be no private, partial interest ; no con- 
ceivable prejudice, no bias, no undue regard towards 
any being. His views, aud his conduct alike, must be 
impartial, public, founded on the real state of things, 
and directed towards all beings according to their pro- 
per character and real desert. His creatures can plain- 
ly present no motive to Him to depart from that course 
of conduct, which in his view is wise and good. Here 
then, in the character and circumstances of the Deity, 
an immovable foundation is laid for universal, perfect, 
and glorious rectitude. 

From the omnipotence of God also is derived that 
awful character, regai-ded by sinful beings with supreme 
dread, and by virtuous ones with supreme reverence. 
Intelligent beings are governed only by motives. In 
this attribute, especially as inseparably connected with 
omniscience, all such beings find most solemn and 
cogent motives to ' fear that glorious and fearful name, 
Jehovah their God ;' to be terrified at the thought of 
sinning against him, to tremble at the effects of his 
anger, and to abstain from rebellion against his govern- 
ment. Here the righteous find the strongest motives 
to resist temptation, and the wicked to return to their 
duty. A powerless God, however lovely and excellent, 
could neither defend his own honour, nor protect his 
creatures, however dutiful, from injustice and ruin. To 
a ruler of free agents ; therefore, power is indispensable 
for the support of his own dignity, and the safety and 
peace of his subjects. To the ruler of all the free agents, 
omnipotence is indispensable for the perfect establish- 
ment of his infinite glory, and the obedience and con- 
sequent happiness of his immense and eternal kingdom. 

3. How terrible an enemy to obstinate and impenitent 
sinners is an omnipotent God. 

' I love them that love me, and will cause them that 
love me to inherit substance ; I will render vengeance 
to mine enemies, and reward them that hate me,' is 
language completely descriptive of the designs and dis- 
pensations of Jehovah towards his rational creatures. 
This is the only exhibition of the divine government 
in the Scriptures : it is the only view which can be 
satisfactorily formed of that government by reason. 
No man can for a moment seriously believe, that God 
can love and reward those who hate him, or hate and 
punish those who love him. Such conduct would be 
wholly inconsistent with the nature of an intelligent 
being, and cannot therefore be attributed to the Author 
of all intelligence. 

Let me now bring this subject home to the heart of 
every member of this audience. Let me ask, and let 
each individual solemnly answer in his own mind, Do 
you love God? Do you desire to please him? Do 
you cheerfully obey his commandments? Do you 
humbly and faithfully walk in his ordinances ? Or do 
you, with the wicked of old, and of all succeeding 
ages, ' say unto God, Depart from us, for we desire 
not the knowledge of thy ways? What is the Al- 
mighty, that Ave should serve him ; and what profit 
should we have, if we pray unto him ?' 

Call to mind, I beseech you, how many denuncia- 
tions of future vengeance against impenitent sinners 
are uttered in his word. Remember that all these 
were uttered by him, with a perfect knowledge of the 



guilt of sin,, and of the extent of the punishment 
which it demands ; with a perfect conviction of the 
rectitude of his own designs, and with an immovable 
purpose to carry them into execution. How certain 
it is then, that they will he exactly executed ; and that 
the impious and the profligate, the impenitent and the 
unbelieving, will drink the dregs of divine indignation. 
Consider in how many forms of alarm these threaten- 
ings are delivered ; what woes they contain, and what 
that is terrible, they do not contain. With these affect- 
ing things in view, remember, that he who has de- 
nounced these woes, he who will execute these denun- 
ciations, is the Almighty God. How fearfully able is 
such a God to inflict every punishment, and to execute 
every threatening ! What amazing sources of suffering 
are within the limits of his omniscience and omnipo- 
tence ! How easily can we make every pore, faculty, 
and thought, the channel and the seat of inexpressible 
anguish ! 

Think, I beseech you how utterly unable all other 
beings are to deliver out of his hand. Who on earth, 
or in heaven, ' has an arm like God, or can thunder 
with a voice like him ?' His hand can reach, as his 
eye can pierce, beyond all limit. No caverns, no soli- 
tudes, no depth of the earth or the ocean, can hide 
from him the miserable objects of his wrath. ' Should 
they ascend up into heaven ; he is there. Should they 
make their bed in hell ; behold, he is there. Should they 
take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the utter- 
most parts of the sea ; even there would his hand lead 
them, and his right hand would hold them. Should 
they say, Surely the darkness will cover us ; even the 
night would be light about them.' 

Let these most affecting things sink deep into your 
hearts. Remember that you were made, and are pre- 
served in life, health, and comfort, in probation and 
hope, by the almighty power of God ; and that on him 
you depend for every blessing, present and future, for 
safety from every evil, and for final deliverance from 
every danger. On his pleasure alone is your being 
suspended, and your welfare. Of what importance 
then is it to every one of you, that he should love you, 
and be pleased with you ; and, of course, that you 
should love him, and faithfully labour to please him ! 
Have you ever brought this subject home to your 
hearts, and pondered it with that solemnity which its 
importance requires ? Has the amazing interest which 
you have in obtaining the favour of God, been realized 
by you ? Is it now a part of your plans for future 
life, to begin the great work of attaining his approba- 
tion at some approaching period ? Is this period fixed 
and known ? Are the terms on which this immense 
possession may be gained, considered and adopted by 
you ? Have you remembered, that Christ ' is the only 
true and living way, to acceptance with God ; and that 
through faith in his blood alone is found the justification 
of life ? Have you remembered that he has said, ' To- 
day, if ye will hear my voice, harden not your hearts ?' 

Are you, on the other hand, prepared to encounter 
the exertions of that power which formed the earth 
and the heavens, when employed to inflict on you the 
terrible evils threatened to all those who displease 
him ? Have you devised, or can you devise any 
means of escape or safety in the day of visitation ; any 
means to which you dare trust your souls, and with 
which you dare launch into eternity ? He has told 



OMNIPOTENCE AND INDEPENDENCE OF GOD. 



39 



you of one way in which safety may certainly be found, 
and which leads directly to heaven. Do you know 
any other which terminates in that happy place, and 
will conduct you to everlasting joy ? 

4. How useful a friend must such a God be to the 
righteous. 

That God is a faithful and steadfast friend to the 
righteous, cannot be questioned : because they love and 
labour to please him, and must therefore be loved of 
him ; and because they are the friends and followers of 
his Son. Accordingly, he has disclosed in his word 
designs of mercy and goodness to them, so great as 
almost to transcend belief, and to leave the mind rather 
lost in astonishment, than filled with expectation. He 
who regards his own character with the candour and 
humility of the gospel, who considers how greatly and 
how often he has sinned, how guilty his life must ap- 
pear before God, and how utterly unworthy he is of 
the least of all his mercies ; cannot but exclaim, when 
he casts his eye over the promises of the gospel, ' Who 
am I, O Lord God, that thou hast brought me hitherto ? 
For thy word's sake, and according to thine own 
heart, hast thou spoken all these great things to make 
thy servant know them. Let thy name be magnified 
for ever : for now, Lord God, thou art God, and thy 
words be true ; and thou hast promised this goodness 
unto thy servant ; and with thy blessing let me be 
blessed for ever.' * 

In the covenant of grace there are contained trea- 
sures of good, to which no limit can be assigned. On 
this subject the apostle Paul, in comments of unrivalled 
sublimity, has expressed the most accurate, as well as 
the most exalted and astonishing sentiments, which 
can be found even in the Scriptures. ' All things,' 
saith he to Christians, ' are yours. Whether Paul, or 
Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or 
things present, or things to come ; all are yours :' And 
again, ' I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor 
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things pre- 
sent, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor 
any other creature, shall be able to separate us from 
the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' 
And again, ' We know that all things do labour f to- 
gether for good to them that love God.' From these 
declarations we learn, that all things are the property 
and the destined possessions of the righteous ; that no 
being or event shall preclude them from the enjoyment 
of this mighty inheritance ; but that, on the contrary, 
every being and every event is employed, with one 
vast and united effort, to place this boundless good in 
their hands. Whatever therefore is really needed by 
them, whatever is really good for them in the present 
life, whatever can render their future immortality bless- 
ed and glorious, God has covenanted to bestow on them 
through the mediation of Christ. 

When he who can truly ' say to corruption, Thou 
art my father, and to the worm, Thou art my mo- 
ther, and my sister,' turns his eye to these wonderful 
promises, and to the immense assemblage of blessings 
which they convey ; he is naturally lost in amazement, 
and prepared to believe them only in a loose and ge- 
neral manner. Scarcely can he persuade himself that 
they are not the language of bold and sublime exag- 
geration, of ardent and daring hyperbole, rather than 



» 2 Samuel vii. 



t limtyj 



sober communications of simple truth. Were the re- 
wards promised as the result of his own obedience, well 
might he doubt. But when he remembers, that ' God 
has not spared his own Son, but delivered him up for 
us all,' he cannot, if he would act rationally, fail to 
unite with the apostle in exclaiming, ' How shall he 
not with him also freely give us all things?' The be- 
nevolence necessary to the origination and the com- 
munication of these blessings, is in this event proved 
beyond a question. 

In the omniscience of God we are presented with 
ample ability to contrive, and in his omnipotence with 
ample ability to accomplish, every part of this amazing 
sum of good. To him who willed the universe into 
being, it is equally easy to create great enjoyments as 
little, many as few, endless as momentary. The vast 
system of good which he has promised, he can call 
into existence in a moment, with the same ease with 
which he can create an insect or an atom. Whatever 
he gives, his store cannot be lessened ; nor can a pre- 
ceding communication of good be with him a reason for 
refusing, or neglecting to communicate again. Immea- 
surably bountiful, he can never be weary of giving ; im- 
measurably powerful, he can never be weary of providing. 

From the omnipotence of God every righteous man 
may then confidently expect a final deliverance from 
all his enemies, sorrows, and sins, from death and the 
grave, from future perdition and eternal woe. He may 
be certainly assured, that the same glorious and ever- 
lasting Friend will communicate to him, and to his 
fellow Christians, immortal life ; will enlarge their 
minds with increasing knowledge, will improve them 
with ever-growing virtue, and supply them with endless- 
ly advancing happiness. 

5. How great and glorious does God appear, as in- 
vested with almighty power. 

- Great is the Lord,' says the psalmist, ' and greatly 
to be praised. One generation shall praise thy works 
to another, and shall declare thy mighty acts. All thy 
works praise thee, O Lord, and thy saints shall bless 
thee. They shall speak of the glory of thy kingdom 
and talk of thy power. Thy kingdom is an everlast- 
ing kingdom, and thy dominion endureth through- 
out all generations.' ' Canst thou,' says Zophar, ' by 
searching find out God ? Canst thou find out the Al- 
mighty unto perfection ? It is high as heaven, what 
canst thou do ? Deeper than hell, what canst thou 
know ? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, 
and broader than the sea.' ' Who hath measured the 
waters,' says Isaiah, ' in the hollow of his hand ; and 
meted out heaven with a span ; and comprehended the 
dust of the earth in a measure ; and weighed the moun- 
tains in scales, and the hills in a balance.' 

The Being who made, upholds, and governs, the 
universe, discloses in these acts his own proper cha- 
racter ; a character infinitely greater and more glorious 
than the highest creature can sustain or comprehend. 
' All things are before him as nothing, and justly ao' 
counted unto him less than nothing, and vanity.' 

We were not, indeed, present at the birth of this 
wonderful work. We did not behold the boundless 
midnight enlightened with suns, or the desolate wilds 
of immensity filled with worlds and their inhabitants. 
We did not hear ' the morning stars sing together, and 
the sons of God shout for joy.' But in the history of 
the creation, dictated by the voice of God, we are pre- 



40 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. vii t. 



sented with such sublime views of this amazing subject, 
as stretch our imagination to the utmost, and fill our 
understanding with astonishing ideas. In the same 
work, as it is daily seen by our eyes, we discern won- 
ders surpassing number and measure, and gloriously 
illustrating the power by which all are accomplished. 
In the history of past events, also ; in the deluge, the 
destruction of Sodom, the wonders of Egypt, of Sinai, 
and of Canaan ; in the miracles of the prophets, of 
Christ, and of the apostles, are such manifestations of 
almighty power, as cannot fail to astonish every mind, 
and fill every heart with the most awful apprehensions 
of its Maker. 

In the daily providence of God, we are also wit- 
nesses of the amazing effects of his omnipotence, In 
the rising and setting of the sun, and the revolutions of 
the heavens, we behold a hand whose exertions disclaim 
all limit. We hear him also ' thundering marvellously 
with his voice ;' we see him 'sending forth lightnings 
with rain,' making the earth to tremble, and the moun- 
tains to fall ; pouring out rivers of fire from the volca- 
no, and whelming cities and countries in a general con- 
flagration. 

On the other hand, what pleasing and glorious proofs 
of the same power are exhibited in its softer and gent- 
ler, its less awful, but no less solemn exertions through 
the circuit of the seasons : in the spring, particularly, 



when God appears ' as the light of the morning when 
the sun ariseth, even of a morning without clouds ; and 
as the clear shining of the sun after rain, upon the 
tender herb of the field.' Then, with a hand eminent- 
ly attractive and wonderful, he diffuses life and warmth, 
and beauty and glory, over the face of the world ; and 
from the death of winter, bids all things awake with a 
general and delightful resurrection. The successive 
seasons are replete with successive wonders, wrought by 
the same almighty hand. ' Day unto day, indeed, ut- 
tereth speech, and night unto night showeth know- 
ledge,' concerning this great subject. He who does 
not mark these astonishing disclosures, made in heaven 
and in earth, in ten thousand and ten million forms, 
must be a brute ; and he who, surveying them, does 
not regard God as infinitely ' wonderful in counsel, 
and excellent in working,' has indeed ' eyes, but he 
sees not ; ears, but he cannot hear ; and a heart, but 
he cannot understand.' Every good man, on the con- 
trary, must admire and adore him, ' who doeth all these 
things ;' must rejoice with humble gratitude and divine 
joy, in all the stupendous displays of his goodness ; 
must tremble at the ' terrible things ' which he doeth 
' in righteousness, when his judgments are abroad in 
the earth ;' and must on every occasion be ready to 
exclaim, ' Who is like unto thee, Lord ? gloi'ious in 
holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders.' 



SERMON VIII. 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD, PROVED FROM THE WORKS OF CREATION AND PROVIDENCE. 



For God is love 1 John Iv. 8. 



Having considered the existence and the natural attri- 
butes of God at some length, I shall now proceed to 
the next subject of theological inquiry ; viz. his moral 
attributes. In the order best suited to the method of 
discussion which I have preferred, that which first of- 
fers itself for examination is his benevolence. 

This perfection is ascribed to God in the text, in a 
singular manner. It is not asserted, that God is bene- 
volent, but that he is benevolence ; or that benevolence 
is the essence, the sum of his being and character. 
The force and beauty of this assertion will be felt by 
every one who attends to it, without any remarks from 
me. 

That Ay«Tu signifies the kind of love which in 
English is called benevolence, will not, I presume, be 
questioned. If any one is at a loss concerning this 
fact, he may be satisfied by reading St Paul's extensive 
definition of this word, contained in the 13th chapter 
of the first Epistle to the Corinthians. 

In canvassing this important subject, I propose to 
inquire in what manner it is exhibited to us. 

I. By reason ; and, II. By revelation. 

I. I propose to inquire in what manner it is exhibit- 
ed to us by reason. 

In examining this part of the subject, I shall, first, 
allege several arguments furnished by reason, in proof 



of the benevolence of God ; and, secondly, answer the 
principal objections to this doctrine. 

The importance of the question, whether God is a 
benevolent being, is no less than infinite. Every thing 
therefore which seriously affects it, must be of high 
moment to every intelligent ci-eature. The decisions 
of reason on this subject undoubtedly affect the ques- 
tion in a serious manner, and are of course very in- 
teresting to us. Although I can by no means admit, 
with many of my fellow men, respectable for their 
understanding and worth, that the benevolence of God 
is not capable of being completely proved, or that it is 
not in fact completely proved by the Scriptures, inde- 
pendently of all other sources of argument ; yet I can* 
not help believing, that if the proof furnished by reason 
be satisfactory also, and can be fairly exhibited as satis- 
factory, the minds of many men at least will rest on 
this subject with a conviction more unmingled, a con- 
fidence less exposed to danger and disturbance. To 
compass this object, if it can be compassed, will then 
be very desirable. 

It is hardly necessary for me to observe, that the 
question concerning the amount of the evidence which 
reason gives concerning this doctrine, has long been 
and is still disputed. It is well known to many of this 
audience, that divines and other Christians, as well as 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 



41 



other men, differ in their opinions about it ; and that 
the proofs of the divine benevolence from reason are 
regarded by ninny persons of reputation as insufficient. 
I have myself entertained, heretofore, opinions on this 
subject, different from those which I now entertain. 
As I have not seen it discussed in such a manner as 
satisfied my own wishes, I shall now consider it with 
more particularity than might otherwise be necessary. 

The self-existence, eternity, immutability, omnipre- 
sence, omniscience, and omnipotence of God, have, I 
flatter myself, been clearly proved by arguments de- 
rived from reason. From these attributes it has, I 
trust, been unanswerably evinced, that God is abso- 
lutely independent ; that all things which can be done 
or enjoyed are in his power and possession, and that 
he can neither need nor receive any thing. From these 
considerations it is evident, 

1. That God can have no possible motive to be male- 
volent. 

It will not be pretended that the nature of things 
can furnish any such motive. That to be malevolent 
is a more desirable character or state of being than to 
be benevolent, cannot be asserted nor believed. Nor 
can any motive to this character be presented to God 
from without himself, or from other beings. 

As all other beings, together with every thing per- 
taining to them, are and cannot but be just what he 
pleases ; it is certain that he can gain nothing to him- 
self by the exercise of malevolence. Finite beings 
may discern goods in the hands of others which they 
may covet, and at the same time be hindered from pos- 
sessing, unless by the indulgence of fraud, injustice, or 
unkindness ; or by attacking and injuring such as pre- 
vent them from gaining the beloved object. Those 
who possess it, they may envy or hate. Those who 
hinder them from gaining it, they may regard with re- 
sentment or anger : and under the influence of these 
malignant passions, may be induced to disturb their 
rights and invade their happiness. But it is plain that 
these considerations can have no more application to 
God, than the circumstances which gave them birth. 
All good is actually in his possession : there is there- 
fore nothing left for him to desire. All beings and 
events are exactly such as he chooses either to pro- 
duce, or to permit ; and such as he chose, antecedently 
to their existence. He can therefore have nothing to 
fear, or to malign. As he gave all which is possessed 
by other beings, he can evidently neither gain nor re- 
ceive any thing. If he be malevolent, then, he must 
sustain this character without a motive. 

2. An omniscient Being cannot but see that it is more 
glorious to himself, and more beneficial to his creatures, 
to susiainand to exhibit a benevolent character, than its 
contrary ; or, in other words, in every respect more de- 
sirable. 

The glory of the Creator, and the good of his crea- 
tures, involve every thing that is desirable. That this 
character, in its existence and exercise, is on both 
these accounts more desirable than its contrary, cannot 
be questioned. We, narrow as our faculties are, per- 
fectly know this truth. It is therefore absolutely de- 
sirable. That this truth must be seen by an omniscient 
Being, in a manner infinitely superior to that in which 
we see it, hardly needs to be asserted. 

The desirableness of this conduct, arising from the 
glory of the Creator, and the good of his creatures, 



seems to present, when we consider it as extending 
through eternity, an infinite motive to the Creator, to 
cherish a benevolent character, and to manifest it in 
all his conduct. To the power of this motive there is 
at the same time, no motive opposed. On the contrary, 
we know, and the Creator, in a manner infinitely more 
perfect, knows, that the existence and exercise of a 
malevolent character would be infinitely dishonourable 
to himself, and in the progress of eternity infinitely in- 
jurious to his creatures. Each of these considerations 
presents to the Creator an infinite motive to exercise 
benevolence on the one hand, and not to exercise ma- 
levolence on the other. If, then, he has in fact exer- 
cised malevolence, he has done it without any motive, 
and against the influence of both these ; each of them 
of infinite importance. 

Thus it is, I think, clearly certain, that God cannot 
be induced to exercise a malevolent spirit because ma- 
levolence is in itself a desirable character ; nor because 
the nature of things offers any enjoyment, which upon 
the whole is good, to the indulgence of this disposi- 
tion, nor because he does not perfectly know these 
truths. If he is malevolent, then, he is so from an ori- 
ginal inherent propensity in his own nature ; a pro- 
pensity uninfluenced by truth, and immovable by mo- 
tives. 

How far such a character can be rationally supposed 
to be possible in a Being who has all things in his 
power, it is difficult to determine. The observations 
already made, clearly prove, that such a Being must 
discern with absolute certainty, the infinite disadvan- 
tage of indulging this spirit. The difference between 
rejoicing in all his works, as means of glory to himself, 
with a consciousness that he has formed and conducted 
them to this exalted end, and feeling the gloomy dread- 
ful pain of boundless malice, is in itself obviously 
boundless. If then God has not chosen this enjoyment, 
he has failed to choose it, with a clear discernment 
that it was in his power, and under the influence of a 
disposition which would not yield to conviction, nor 
to motives infinite in their magnitude. That he has 
not exercised this disposition I shall now proceed to 
show ; and for this purpose observe : 

3. The only conduct which a Creator can receive 
with pleasure from his creatures, must plainly be attach- 
ment, reverence, and the voluntary obedience which they 
produce. 

Whether the Creator be benevolent or malevolent, 
it is impossible that he should not choose to be loved, 
reverenced, and obeyed. But the real Creator has so 
formed his works, and so constituted his providence, 
that the minds of men, irresistibly and of absolute ne- 
cessity, esteem a benevolent being more than one of 
the opposite character. 1 do not mean here, that this 
is the dictate of the heart ; but I mean that it is the 
unavoidable dictate of the intellect, of the conscience 
and understanding. The intellect is so formed by the 
Creator, that it is impossible for it to think otherwise. 
Any person who will make the attempt, will find it 
beyond his power to approve of malevolence at all. 
If therefore the Creator be malevolent, he has so formed 
his intelligent creatures in this world, that they cannot 
possibly esteem his character. In other words, he has 
made them incapable, by a natural necessity, of ren- 
dering to him that regard which, in itself, or in its con- 
sequences, is the only possible conduct, on the part of 



42 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. viii. 



his intelligent creatures, which a Creator can have 
proposed when he gave them existence. 

Should it be objected, that benevolence is estimable 
in the nature of things ; that to see its nature is the 
same thing as to esteem it; and that therefore intelli- 
gent creatures cannot avoid experiencing this esteem : 
I answer, should it be granted, as I think it must, that 
all this is true, still an omnipotent Creator might, for 
aught that appears, have formed intelligent creatures 
with such optics, with powers of understanding so di- 
rected that they might have seen his character in an 
estimable light. Hypochondriacal and insane minds 
are direct proofs, that minds can exist with directly 
opposite views to those which intelligent creatures in 
this world usually experience. Nor is there any evi- 
dence that an omnipotent Being could not so form in- 
telligent creatures, as to vary their modes of percep- 
tion in any manner, and to any extent, which pleased 
him. At the same time it is perfectly obvious, that as 
we are wholly passive in receiving ideas and impres- 
sions, he might with entire ease have given us just 
such ideas as he pleased, by presenting to us only those 
objects from which they would be derived. In this 
manner be might have prevented us from forming any 
conceptions of his moral character, and led us only to 
admire his omniscience and omnipotence in the stu- 
pendous works which they are capable of producing. 
This, it is believed, involves no contradiction ; and eve- 
ry thing which does not involve a contradiction, such a 
Being can confessedly perform. 

Should the scheme which I have here suggested, 
not be admitted, I answer again ; There was no neces- 
sity that he should create intelligent beings at all ; and 
there is no conceivable motive which could induce an 
infinite Being to form intelligent creatures, who, from 
their nature and their circumstances, could not possi- 
bly esteem, but from absolute necessity, must disesteem 
him. 

But this is not all. Men are so formed as irresisti- 
bly to hate and despise malevolence. This conduct, 
on their part, is the unvarying dictate of mere in- 
tellect, as well as of the heart. It is therefore abso- 
lutely necessary, the unavoidable result of that state of 
things which he himself has formed : is his own imme- 
diate work ; and, so far as we know, the only work of 
an intelligent nature which he has produced; being 
found in all men, and therefore justly presumable of 
all other intelligent creatures. It is hence unavoidably 
concluded to be a direct and genuine expression of his 
choice. If, then, we suppose the Creator to be a ma- 
levolent being, he has thus necessitated, beyond a pos- 
sibility of its being otherwise, his intelligent creatures 
to hate and despise that which he supremely loves and 
approves ; viz. his own moral character : and to esteem 
and love that which he supremely hates and despises ; 
viz. the moral character which is directly opposed to 
his own. This he has farther necessitated them to do, 
with the entire and irresistible approbation of their 
own understanding and conscience ; and therefore with- 
out any possibility of a future conviction, on their part, 
that this conduct is -wrong in them, or that they are on 
this account guilty, blame-worthy, and justly punish- 
able. On the contrary, they are furnished with com- 
plete conviction, that this conduct is right, praise-wor- 
thy, and rewardable ; a conviction which can never be 
removed nor weakened, and which will attend them 



through every period of their future being. Thus he 
has, in the most perfect manner, and, at the same time, 
in the manner most perfectly unaccountable, formed 
intelligent beings so as effectually to prevent the only 
end which he could propose in their creation, from 
ever being accomplished. 

4. The Creator has placed mankind either in a state 
of trial, or a state of reward . but our present state is, 
on neither of these suppositions, compatible with the doc- 
trine that he is malevolent. 

I say, that mankind are placed either in a state of 
trial, or a state of reward; because rational creatures 
can exist in no possible situation, except one of these 
two. If then we are placed in a state of reward, we 
are beyond measure more happy and less miserable, 
than is consistent with the character of malevolence in 
the Creator. No man can say or believe, that the pre- 
sent state of the human race is so unhappy, as to sa- 
tisfy the desires or accomplish the purposes of infinite 
malevolence. 

If we are in a state of trial, our circumstances are 
equally inconsistent with the designs of a malevolent 
disposer. All our opposition to his character and de- 
signs is necessarily and perfectly approved by our own 
consciences ; and all our approbation and love towards 
the opposite characteristics is equally approved by the 
same umpire. In the meantime, our approbation or 
adoption of malevolence, or our disesteem and rejec- 
tion of benevolence, is in the same necessary and per- 
fect manner condemned by our consciences. But these 
are the only kinds of conduct in which we can possi- 
bly be guilty of revolt or disobedience to a malevolent 
Creator : for these only can we then be tried and con- 
demned by him. Should we, accordingly, be con- 
demned and punished, we shall still necessarily, cer- 
tainly, and for ever discern, beyond a doubt, that in 
all that for which we are punished, we acted with en- 
tire rectitude. Of course, whatever punishment we 
receive, we shall still be supported by the entire approba- 
tion of our own minds ; and shall therefore be far re- 
moved from that finished misery, which could not fail 
to be destined by infinite malevolence for the punish- 
ment of its enemies. We should know that our con- 
duct was right and excellent ; should dwell upon it 
with entire satisfaction ; and should feel no small sup- 
port, no contemptible alleviation of our sufferings, in 
the conviction that our punishment was unmerited and 
unjust ; and that the evil for which we suffered, existed 
not in ourselves, but in our iniquitous sovereign. 

If it can be supposed that such a Being could confer 
rewards on any of his creatures, it is evident that he 
must confer them on such as resembled him in their 
disposition, and approved of his moral character ; and 
for this very resemblance and approbation. But it is 
perfectly easy to perceive, that the happiness which 
would constitute their reward, must be embittered by 
a complete conviction, that the conduct for which they 
were rewarded, was in itself wrong, vile, and despicable, 
and they themselves were vile and despicable in loving 
and practising it ; that their happiness is wholly unme- 
rited ; and that those who are punished by the same Be- 
ing, are far more excellent than themselves, and in truth 
are the only excellent beings. Of course, their happi- 
ness must be deeply embittered by a miserable sense of 
unworthiness, by a perpetual self-condemnation. Such 
must be the manner in which this supposition exhibits 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 



48 



the conduct of the Creator towards his enemies on the 
one hand, and towards his friends on the other. 

All these considerations are enhanced hy the great 
fact, that God has so constituted the world as to make 
misery the only legitimate and natural consequence of 
malevolence, and happiness the only natural conse- 
quence of benevolence. In this manner has he irresis- 
tibly impressed these truths on the minds of men ; ex- 
hibited them as practical certainties, visible in all their 
practical concerns, and thus fixed them beyond re- 
moval in the minds of his rational creatures. When 
we remember that these things were contrived and 
chosen by an omniscient Being, who of course dis- 
cerned their real nature and import before he chose 
them, we cannot but discern that they grow necessa- 
rily out of the character of a benevolent Creator, but 
are utterly inconsistent with the opposite character. 

5. The goodness of God displayed in the present world, 
is a strong argument that he is a benevolent Being. 

St Paul observes, that God ' left not himself without 
witness' to the heathens, ' in that he did good, and 
gave them rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, fill- 
ing their hearts with food and gladness.' * In this 
passage God himself declares that his goodness to man- 
kind, in the several particulars here recited, is a wit- 
ness to them of his true character. What the Scrip- 
tures here declare, the reason of man has in every age 
approved. All nations have supposed God to be a 
good being ; and whenever they have employed them- 
selves in accounting for the origin of evil, by attribut- 
ing it to the agency of superior beings, they have, in 
no case within my recollection, attributed it to the ori- 
ginal or supreme God. Him they have uniformly be- 
lieved to be a good or benevolent Being. 

When we examine the works of creation and provi- 
dence, we are liable, in pursuing this argument, to a 
considerable degree of perplexity, arising from the vast 
multitude and perpetual complication of the things to 
be examined. To prevent this perplexity, into which 
men fall very easily, I know of no better method than 
to lay hold of certain prominent and distinguishing 
features of these works, from which we may derive cor- 
rect general apprehensions of iheir nature, without con- 
founding ourselves by dwelling on particulars. This, 
after premising that in every part of such an examina- 
tion we must carefully separate what is done by men, 
from what is done by God, I shall attempt to accom- 
plish under the following heads : 

(1.) God makes mankind the subjects of extensive 
enjoyment in the present world. 

Our health, food, and raiment, are means of enjoy- 
ment to us daily, throughout our lives. Our friends 
and connexions, also, continually and extensively con- 
tribute to our happiness. The pleasantness of seasons, 
the beauty and grandeur of the earth and the heavens, 
the various kinds of agreeable sounds ever fluctuating 
on our ears, the immensely various and delightful uses 
of language, the interchanges of thought and affection, 
the peace and safety afforded by the institution of go- 
vernment, the power and agreeableness of motion and 
activity, the benefit and comfort afforded by the arts 
and sciences, particularly by those of writing, printing, 
and numbering, and the continual gratification found in 
employment, are all, in a sense, daily and hourly 



sources of good to man ; all furnished, either directly 
or indirectly, by the hand of God. If we consider 
these things with any attention, we shall perceive that 
some of them are unceasing, and that others of them 
are so frequently repeated as almost to deserve the 
same appellation. We shall also perceive that~ they are 
blessings of high importance to our well being ; and 
that, notwithstanding this character, they are apt to be 
forgotten in the fist which we form of our blessings, 
and to be numbered among those which we call things 
of course. It ought to be remembered, that in this 
manner we are prone to diminish both the number and 
the greatness of our blessings, and the goodness of God 
in bestowing them ; and that we are thus apt to regard 
them with a very erroneous estimation. But if we con- 
sider the number and the importance of these and the 
like blessings, the frequent recurrence of some of them, 
and the uninterrupted continuance of others ; we can- 
not fail, if influenced by a just and candid spirit, to 
unite with the psalmist in his earnest wish, ' that men 
would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his 
wonderful works to the children of men.' 

(2.) God has furnished mankind with many allevia- 
tions and many remedies, for the evils which they suffer 
in the present world. 

Of this nature are the innumerable medicines which 
he has provided for the relief, or the cure of our dis- 
eases ; fire, for our deliverance from the evils of cold •, 
shade, from those of heat ; rest from those of labour ; 
sleep, from those of watching ; together with innumer- 
able others, which cannot here be mentioned. I feel my- 
self obliged however to take notice of the attention which 
God has given to the preservation of life, of health, 
and of safety, in the warnings which our senses give 
us of the approach or the existence of injuries, in an 
innumerable variety of ways ; and in the various in- 
stinctive efforts by which we are, in a sense involun- 
tarily, either guarded or relieved. Thus, on the one 
hand, pain warns us of almost all injuries to which 
our bodies are exposed, or by which they have begun 
to be affected. On the other, the eye, by its power of 
contracting the pupil, instinctively exercised, defends 
itself from the blindness which would otherwise ne- 
cessarily ensue from the admission of too great a quan- 
tity of light. The hands, also, and other members, are 
instinctively employed to defend us from evils in many 
cases where contrivance would come too late for our 
safety. To mention one more example ; fear, the most 
active and sudden of all our passions, is a continual 
preservative against innumerable evils by which we 
are threatened. Nor ought I here by any means to 
omit the self-restoring power of our bodies, so remark- 
able in recovering us from sickness, in the healing of 
wounds, and in the renewal of our decayed faculties. 
These and innumerable other things, of a nature gene- 
rally similar, are certainly strong proofs of the good- 
ness of God to mankind. 

(3.) The original and main design of each particular 
thing appears plainly to be benevolent. 

This is an argument of Dr Paley on the subject of 
the present Discourse ; and it is certainly a sound one. 
The eye is made to furnish us with the benefit of see- 
ing ; the ear, of hearing ; and the palate, of tasting. 
The organs of speech are manifestly intended for the 
purpose of articulation ; the hands and the feet for their 
well known important uses. The evils to which these 



4% 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[S 



HR. VIII. 



several things are subject, are in the meantime inci- 
dental, and not parts of the main design. No anato- 
mist, he observes, ever discovered a system of organiza- 
tion calculated to produce pain and disease. But the 
character, the disposition of the contriver is, undoubt- 
edly, chiefly seen in the main design of the contrivance ; 
and this is justly observed to be universally benevolent. 
In the state and circumstances of infants, where this 
contrivance is complicated with few appendages, we 
see usually the most pure, unmingled enjoyment ; al- 
though even here it is not a little alloyed by many 
mixtures, derived from the agency of man. 

(4.) All the blessings experienced by mankind are be- 
stowed on sinful beings. 

The subject of moral evil will be further examined 
under the head of objections against this doctrine. At 
the present time I am only concerned with the fact, 
that it exists in the human race. On these guilty be- 
ings, then, the blessings of this world are bestowed. It 
will not be denied, that the communication of good to 
an evil ungrateful creatine is a far higher manifestation 
of goodness, than the communication of the same good 
to a virtuous and grateful one. As therefore all the 
blessings found in the present world are in every in- 
stance given to creatures of this evil character; the 
goodness of God in giving them is enhanced beyond 
our comprehension. An impartial and contemplative 
mind, when observing the conduct and marking the 
character of the human race, cannot but be struck at 
the sight of such extensive beneficence, communicated 
unceasingly for so many ages, to beings of such a cha- 
racter. The patience and forbearance of God, parti- 
cularly, towards such a world as this, are an illustrious 
proof of his benevolence. Mankind rebel against his 
government ; accuse him of weakness, injustice, and 
cruelty ; murmur against his dispensations, profane and 
blaspheme his name, refuse to him the only regard 
which they can render him, namely, reverence, love, 
and obedience ; and pay this regard to men and beasts, 
reptiles and stocks. In the meantime they deceive, de- 
fraud, pollute, hate, oppress, and murder each other ; 
and make it a great part of their whole employment 
to carry violence, death, and devastation through the 
world. All these have also been their employment and 
their character, ever since the apostasy ; a character, 
perfectly understood and comprehended by God. Still 
he has patiently waited on them six thousand years, 
has forborne to execute the vengeance which this evil 
conduct has universally merited ; has returned day and 
night, summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, to 
this polluted world ; and has given its inhabitants, un- 
ceasingly, ' rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, fill- 
ing their hearts with food and gladness.' Can our 
minds conceive of a character, at once wise and just, 
and at the same time fraught with higher benevolence ! 

II. I shall now attempt to answer the objections usu- 
ally made to this doctrine. 

These are all reducible to two — (1.) The existence of 
moral evil ; and, (2.) The existence of natural evil. 

1. On the existence of moral evil, I observe, 

(1.) That God cannot be proved to be the efficient 
cause of sin. 

It is, I think, dictated by reason, as well as revela- 
tion, that ' no man may say, when he is tempted, I am 
tempted of God : for God cannot be tempted with evil, 
neither tempteth he any man : but every man is tempt- 



ed, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. 
Then, when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin ; 
and sin when it is finished, bringeth forth death.' 

It will not be disputed that we ought not to admit 
the doctrine, that God is the efficient cause of sin, un- 
til it is proved. Until this is done, therefore, man is 
unquestionably to be acknowledged as the cause of his 
own sin. 

(2.) It cannot be proved that God was obliged, either 
by justice or benevolence, to prevent sin from existing. 

A state of trial supposes a liability to sin ; and it 
cannot be proved that it is inconsistent with justice or 
benevolence, for God to place his rational creatures in a 
state of trial. The benevolence of God in this case is 
to be estimated by a clear and complete comprehension 
of all the ends which he has in view ; and of the nature, 
fitness, or unfitness, of all the means to those ends. But 
of such a comprehension we are not possessed ; and 
therefore are certainly unable to discern, that it is in- 
consistent with perfect benevolence to place us in such a 
state. If we are to be rewarded, it would seem necessa- 
ry, as well as proper, that we should be tried ; because 
our own conduct is the only thing for which we can be 
rewarded. That benevolence may propose such atrial, 
in order to such a reward, appears to be the natural and 
universal dictate of reason. 

All that justice seems to require in this case is, that 
more and higher motives to obedience, than to diso- 
bedience, should be presented to the mind of the pro- 
bationer. This in the present case is certainly and in- 
variably the fact. 

(3.) It cannot be proved that the existence of sin will 
in the end be a detriment to the universe. 

Until we know what will be both the progress and 
the end, we certainly can never prove this proposition, 
because the means of proof lie beyond our reach. All 
moral beings are governed by motives only. What 
motives will upon the whole produce the greatest good, 
united with the least evil, to the intelligent kingdom ; 
and how far the fall and punishment of some moral be- 
ings may, in the nature of the case, be indispensably 
necessary to the persevering obedience of the great 
body, cannot be determined by us. But until this is 
done, and indeed many other things of great moment 
to the question, it can never be proved that the exist- 
ence of moral evil is injurious to the universe, or the 
permission of it inconsistent with the most perfect good- 
will on the part of God. 

At the same time, I acknowledge myself utterly un- 
able, and my complete conviction that all other men 
are unable, to explain this subject so as to give to an 
inquirer clear and satisfactory views, by the light of 
reason, of the propriety of permitting the introduction 
of moral evil into the intelligent system. 

The only object which I have in view, or which is 
necessary to my present purpose, is to show, what I per- 
suade myself I have shown, that no proof can be drawn 
from this source against this attribute in the Creator. 

2. The existence of natural evil is also objected 
against the benevolence of God. 

On this subject I observe, 

(1.) That in considering this objection, we are bound 
to separate carefully the evils which are caused by God, 
from those which are produced by men. 

Were this separation accurately made, we should all 
be astonished to see how small would be the number of 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 



45 



evils of which God is the proper author. Were we to 
consider attentively the multitude of sufferings brought 
upon mankind by the evil disposition of themselves and 
their fellow men, either mediately or immediately, the 
mass would rise so much higher than our expectations, 
as to disappoint every preconception which we had 
formed on this subject. Even in those cases in which 
we acknowledge the infliction to be derived from our 
Maker, we should be astonished to see how great a pro- 
portion of our sufferings is produced by ourselves, or by 
our fellow creatures. We suffer greatly from poverty. 
How large a part of human poverty is created by sloth, 
profusion, intemperance, rashness, fraud, falsehood, con- 
tention, oppression, and war. We suffer greatly from 
disease. What a vast proportion of the diseases in this 
world owe their origin to indolence, imprudence, in- 
temperance, passion, and other causes merely human. 
The same observations are applicable to many other 
things of the same general nature. In truth, men in 
almost all cases either originate or increase the evils suf- 
fered in the present life. 

(2.) The evils inflicted by God are always less than 
the subjects of them merit by their sins. 

A strictly just being is a benevolent being. Certainly 
then he who inflicts less than justice will warrant, or 
than the criminal deserves, is benevolent. If the general 
position therefore be true, it is perfectly evident that 
the very evils which are here alleged as proofs that 
God is not benevolent, are unanswerable proofs that 
he is. But no sober man will for a moment pretend 
that the evils which himself suffers, are greater than he 
deserves. Every such man will acknowledge readily, 
that he suffers much less than he merits. Of course, 
the aggregate of human sufferings is less than is merits 
ed by the aggregate of human guilt. 

It will perhaps be here replied, that these sufferings 
fall as heavily upon the best men as upon the worst, 
and that they experience greater evils than they have 
deserved. If this should indeed be said and believed, 
it can only spring from gross inattention to the sub- 
ject, and gross ignorance of the demerit of sin : an in- 
attention and ignorance, it must be acknowledged, 
most unhappily common among men. The doubt, if it 
exist, may be easily removed. Go to as many such 
men as you please, and every one of them will inform 
you, that his own sufferings are much less than he is 
conscious of having deserved. In truth, good men 
never call this fact in question ; but find themselves suf- 
ficiently employed in lamenting, on the one hand, their 
own guilt, and in thankfully admiring", on the other, the 
forbearance of God. 

But it will be farther said, that infants, also, are sub- 
jected to sufferings, and that beyond any desert which 
can be imputed to them. The situation of infants, and 
the dispensations of providence towards them, I acknow- 
ledge to be in many respects mysterious, to a degree 
beyond my ability satisfactorily to explain. But I ut- 
terly question the ability of any objector to show, that 
they suffer more than they deserve. We can never 
know the moral state of a mind which possesses no 
means of communication with our minds, sufficient to 
explain that state to us. Yet it is with the highest pro- 
bability argued from reason, since every infant which 
advances to the state of childhood proves himself to be 
a sinful being, that infants, if moral beings at all, are 
also sinful beings in their infancy. The contrary con- 



clusion no objector can maintain. The objection there- 
fore fails entirely of proof. 

Besides, it is reasonably argued, that the same God 
who never afflicts adults, whose case we can understand, 
beyond their deserts, does not afflict infants, whose case 
we cannot understand, beyond their deserts ; and that, 
as there are plain proofs of benevolence in the former 
case, so it is justly to be presumed in the latter. This 
analogical argument is the more forcible, because no 
reason can be imagined, why even a malevolent being 
should take any peculiar pleasure in afflicting infants. 

(3.) These evils are necessary parts of a benevolent 
system of dispensations towards a sinful world. 

That in such a world it is absolutely necessary to 
check iniquity in its progress, and prevent it from ac- 
complishing those miseries which it is its universal ten- 
dency to accomplish, if unrestrained, must be granted 
by all men, if the existence of the world is to be con- 
tinued. For plainly, this world, without restraints of 
this nature, would in a little while come to an end. 
The weak would become a prey to the strong, the sim- 
ple to the cunning, the quiet to the violent, and all men 
to the sloth and indulgence, to the passions and mis- 
chiefs, of themselves or each other. So far then as the 
natural evils of this Avorld are necessary to restrain the 
wickedness of man, they are proofs of benevolence on 
the part of God. But the proof that there are no more 
such evils, than are necessary for this purpose, is com- 
plete ; because the wickedness is not more than suffi- 
ciently restrained. On the contrary, how often is each 
man conscious of believing, that still greater restraints 
are necessary to keep evil men within due bounds ; and 
of wishing and praying that God would make bare his 
arm for the further hindrance of evil designs, and the 
more extensive protection of the distressed from the in- 
justice of their oppressors. 

The afflictions of this world are also plainly benevo- 
lent in their intentional and actual influence on those 
who suffer. No means have, probably, a more frequent 
or efficacious influence in reforming wicked men, than 
afflictions. Prosperity, which one would expect to see 
draw them to obedience, as a cord of love, not only 
fails of this effect, but appears usually to harden their 
hearts in sin and security, and to terminate in a total 
alienation of their minds from all virtuous regard to 
God, or to mankind. ' Fullness of bread ' was one of 
the great sources of corruption to Sodom and Gomor- 
rah. ' When Jeshurun waxed fat, he forgot the God 
that made him, and lightly esteemed the Rock of his 
salvation.' Thus both nations and individuals have 
commonly acted in circumstances of high prosperity. 
The pride and insolence of wealth, office, power, and 
conquest is, as you well know, proverbial phraseology ; 
an unanswerable proof, that pride and insolence are 
the standing effects of prosperity. The more we pos- 
sess of worldly enjoyments, although our happiness is 
often diminished, the stronger do our attachments to 
the world become, and the weaker our disposition to 
think of our duty. Afflictions only seem to break down 
this attachment, and to awaken the attention of the 
soul to virtue and to God. Even the security of life it- 
self, as has been proved in the case of the antediluvians 
(the length of whose lives is attested by both scriptural 
and profane history), can become of course a most 
powerful mean of emboldening men to sin, and involv- 
ing them in misery : and death, at the comparatively 



46 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. vin. 



untimely period of seventy years, has been a most im- 
portant blessing to mankind. Were men again to live 
a thousand years, the same violence, corruption, and 
wretchedness, which preceded the deluge, would again 
overwhelm the globe. 

Nor do good men stand in a less absolute need of 
afflictions. The same tendencies to negligence of God 
and their duty, although weakened, exist still in their 
minds also. ' Before I was afflicted,' says the psalmist, 
' I went astray ; but now have I kept thy word.' The 
mind of every good man will echo this declaration. 
Riches, honours, and pleasures, are all eminently se- 
ductive, and allure the heart insensibly after them. 
Afflictions teach us how vain they are, how deceitful, 
and how dangerous ; pluck us by the arm in our down- 
ward course, and conduct us back to safety and peace. 
In both of these views, also, afflictions are plainly emi- 
nent blessings ; and in this manner it is satisfactorily 
evinced, that ' God doth not willingly afflict, nor grieve 
the children of men.' 

All the observations which I have hitherto made 
under this head, have been intended to respect only 
those evils, of which in the proper sense God is the 
author. They are however to an extensive degree 
applicable to those produced by men. These, intended 
by men for evil, are very often by God converted into 
means of good ; who thus glorifies himself by bringing 
good out of the evil, designed by his creatures. 

It ought here to be added, that every human account 
agrees with the Scriptures in asserting, that the world, 
as it came from the hands of God, was only beautiful 
and delightful ; and that man was created upon it in a 
state of perfect holiness and felicity ; that man aposta- 
tized from this state of perfection, and became sinful 
and odious to his Maker ; that in process of time all his 
descendents, one family excepted, became wholly cor- 
rupt, abandoned their duty, perpetrated every iniquity, 
dishonoured God, and destroyed each other ; that a 
deluge was at length brought on the earth, to lay 
waste both the world and its polluted inhabitants ; and 
that in consequence of this event, the earth itself was 
rendered comparatively a barren and uncomfortable 
habitation, and its inhabitants afflicted with many evils 
from the hand of God, which were before unknown. 
The history of these events in the Scriptures, which I 
here consider merely as a history, and not as a revela- 
tion, is supported by such high internal evidence, by 
so uniformly concurrent a tradition, by so many facts 
in the general history of mankind, and by so many and 
so powerful proofs, found on the surface and in the 
bowels of the earth ; that it cannot fail to be admitted 
as true, by every candid mind. Hence therefore it is 
unavoidably concluded, that the evils inflicted by God 
had no existence before the apostasy of man ; and are 
only intended either to check or to punish iniquity and 
rebellion. In this view they cannot evince the least 
want of benevolence on the part of God, but exhibit 
him as wise, just, and good. 

From these considerations it is, I think, clearly evi- 
dent, that the objections specified, furnish no solid 
argument against the benevolence of the Creator ; and 
as these involve all the objections hitherto alleged by 
mankind, it is evident that the direct arguments on 
this subject remain in their full force. 

The chief difficulty attending this subject, lies in the 
uncertainty in which the future existence of the soul 



is seen by the light of nature. As the end of all things 
exists beyond the grave, and as the twilight of reason 
feebly illuminates all objects which lie beyond that 
limit, and exhibits them dimly and doubtfully ; the 
mind cannot fail, in taking a prospect of them, to feel 
unsatisfied with such uncertainty concerning things so 
important, and yet so imperfectly known. The whole 
force of the arguments on this subject is, in my view, 
in favour of the soul's immortality. These arguments 
are also of no inconsiderable strength. From this 
source then, the objector against the benevolence of 
God will find himself weakened, and his antagonist 
strengthened ; for if a future existence be admitted, all 
which seems irregular, improper, or mysterious, may 
plainly and easily be rendered proper, even to the view 
of creatures, by means of the relation which things in 
this world may then be seen to have to those which 
are future and eternal. 

Such is the view of the benevolence of God, present- 
ed to my mind by the works of creation and provi- 
dence. I will not say that the arguments amount to a 
demonstration, in the strict, logical sense ; but they 
furnish the most solid foundation for a rational and 
immovable confidence. Indeed, the moral character 
of intelligent beings, particularly of virtuous beings, 
and peculiarly that of God, is susceptible of evidence 
from experience only. We consider such beings as 
good, because they say and do that which is good ; and 
we are incapable of seeing that it is impossible for them 
to say and do that which is evil. Spirits are in their 
nature incapable of being immediately discerned, ex- 
cept by the infinite Spirit, whose prerogative it is alone 
to search the heart, and try the reins. But when such 
beings do good only and uniformly, they are concluded 
to be good on such firm and rational grounds as can 
never be shaken. Nor is this want of intuitive or de- 
mostrative certainty, any disadvantage to intelligent 
creatures. Intuitive or demonstrative certainty con- 
cerning the moral character of God might exist in every 
supposable case, without any useful influence on the 
heart or on the life. Nor would he, who, in the pos- 
session of high probable evidence, that God is a bene- 
volent Being, demanded a demonstration of this truth 
before he would yield his heart to his Maker, be at all 
more inclined to yield it when he arrived at the de- 
monstration. Confidence, on the contrary, is always a 
virtuous state of mind ; being invariably a cordial as- 
sent to that truth which is its object. Confidence in 
the moral character of God is a virtuous emotion, ca-. 
pable of reaching to any degree of excellence predica- 
ble of rational creatures ; and being founded on evidence 
which, like a converging series, will rise higher and 
higher for ever, it will increase eternally in strength 
and excellence ; and will, more and more intimately, in 
an unceasing progress, unite the hearts of all moial 
beings to their glorious and perfect Creator. 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 



47 



SERMON IX. 

BENEVOLENCE OF GOD AS EXHIBITED BY REVELATION. 



For God is love. — I John iv. 8. 



In my last Discourse, I proposed from these words to 
consider the benevolence of God, as exhibited to us in 
the first place, by reason ; and secondly, by revelation. 

Under the former of these heads, I proposed several 
direct arguments in support of the doctrine, that God 
is benevolent ; and also examined the objections usual- 
ly alleged against it. 

I shall now consider the exhibition of this doctrine, 
furnished by revelation. 

On this subject I observe generally, that in my own 
view, the arguments in support of this doctrine con- 
tained in the Scriptures, may be completely satisfactory, 
notwithstanding the apprehension usually entertained, 
that the character of God must be proved, antecedent- 
ly to the admission of all arguments professedly derived 
from a revelation supposed to be given by him. The 
revelation itself may, for aught that appears, be so 
formed as to become an indubitable proof of his exist- 
ence, and of any or all of his attributes. The revela- 
tion itself is an effect ; and from its nature, the nature 
of the cause which gave it existence may be as satis- 
factorily argued as from any other effect. In other 
words, it may be such an effect as to prove the cause 
divine. Still more obviously may this be the case, 
when the revelation in question is such a comment on 
the works of creation and providence as to explain 
such mysteries existing in them, and remove such diffi- 
culties, as before prevented us from a correct judgment 
concerning their nature and tendency. A text may be 
very difficult to be understood, and may yet by an in- 
genious and just comment be rendered perfectly plain, 
even to a moderate understanding. The Scriptures, 
therefore, which are an extensive and explicit com- 
mentary on the works of creation and providence, may 
so exhibit their nature to us, even if we should sup- 
pose them incapable of exhibiting the same doctrine in 
a convincing manner by themselves only, as to prove 
unanswerably, when considered in this light, the bene- 
volence of God. 

The manner in which revelation exhibits the divine 
benevolence, is the following. 

1. God directly asserts his character to be benevolent. 
The text is the strongest conceivable example of this 

assertion. ' Thou art good,' says David, ' and thou 
doest good ; and thy tender mercies are over all thy 
works.' ' There is none good but one,' saith Christ, 
' that is, God.' 

2. He recites a great variety of specimens of his 
goodness to individuals and nations, and exhibits them 
€is being unquestionably acts of benevolence only. 

It will be unnecessary for me here to mention par- 
ticularly, the providential dispensations of God to his 
! church or to individuals, in order to exhibit this argu- 
ment in its proper light. The history is sufficiently 
known to those who hear me, to convince them that a 
great multitude of dispensations to the patriarchs, Jews, 



and Christians, fairly and only sustain this character. 
These dispensations are not only related to us, but are 
explained, as to their cause, nature, and design, so as 
to show beyond a doubt their benevolent nature. At 
the same time, he has taught us all along, that his 
blessings in every instance were intended as testimo- 
nies on his part, to the excellency of the same charac- 
ter wherever it was found in men. The whole history 
therefore is made up of exhibitions of his own benevo- 
lence, his approbation of this character, and his hatred 
of the opposite one, in his creatures. 

3. He explains the whole system of his dispensations, 
in those instances not recorded in the Scriptures, in the 
same manner. 

This he does by unfolding to us his designs at large 
in formal declarations concerning this subject. These 
declarations contain what may be called the general 
science of his providence ; and teach, that men, as sin- 
ful beings, are righteously afflicted by him for their 
iniquities ; that afflictions exist for no other cause but 
to punish or restrain the rebellion of mankind, or to 
bring them to repentance and reformation ; that, on 
the other hand, he rewards always, and with the great- 
est delight, every virtuous being, and every benevolent 
action. 

In this manner he explains this part of his provi- 
dence, which is indeed the sum and substance of it, 
and diffuses a general illumination over a multitude of 
things, which to beings infantine and ignorant as we 
are, must otherwise be mysterious and perplexing. 

4. He exhibits to us sin as far more vile, and deserv- 
ing of far more punishment ; and virtue, or benevo- 
lence, as far more excellent and meritorious, than our 
reason would otherwise have enabled us to conceive. 

In the Scriptures we are taught in the clearest 
manner, that sin is a universal opposition to God, and 
a universal hostility to his benevolent designs ; and 
that it is universally mischievous to the well-being of 
the sinner himself, and of his fellow creatures. Thus 
we learn that it is a direct war upon the Creator and 
his creatures, a malignant contention against all that is 
good, and the voluntary source of all that is evil. Vir- 
tue or benevolence is, on the other hand, exhibited as 
a voluntary coincidence with God in all the designs 
which his own loving-kindness has proposed ; a de- 
light in his perfect character and supreme blessedness, 
and a cheerful promotion of the good of the universe ; 
unspeakably amiable and delightful in itself, and bound- 
lessly productive of happiness to others. With these 
views we cease to wonder that men are afflicted in this 
world, and are surprised only to see them no more af- 
flicted. 

5. He exhibits to us that he is kind, not only to such 
i beings as are virtuous, but to such also as are sinners ; 

and that this kindness in its extent and consequences is 
infinite. 



4.8 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



In the Scriptures we are informed, that, notwith-} 
standing the rebellions of mankind, God is still dis- 
posed to regard them with kindness ; and that to such 
a degree, as to proffer to them the forgiveness of their 
sins, and a restoration of their minds to the character 
and privileges from which they have fallen. To this 
end, as we are farther taught, he has sent his only-be- 
gotten Son into this world, to die in our stead ; and 
has promised, that ' whosoever believeth on him shall 
not perish, but have everlasting life.' In consequence 
of his mediation, God has also sent into the world his 
Holy Spirit, to sanctify our souls, to purify our lives, 
to aid all our virtuous endeavours, and to conduct tis 
in safety to the kingdom of the blessed. In this man- 
ner he has proved to us his mercy, the consummation 
and glory of infinite good-will. When all the circum- 
stances of this wonderful scheme of dispensations are 
duly considered, even in such a manner as that in 
which we are able to consider them, we are forced to 
acknowledge, that no manifestation of benevolence 
within our comprehension can be compared to this; 
and to accord with the views which angels formed of 
it, and which they expressed in their divine hymn at 
the birth of the Redeemer ; ' Glory to God in the high- 
est, on earth peace, and good-will towards men.' 

6. In the law which he has given to mankind for the 
regulation of all their moral conduct, he has required no 
other obedience, except their love to himself and to 
each other. 

This law, which was formed by him according to 
his own pleasure, is undoubtedly a perfect expression 
of that pleasure. But love is the only object of its re- 
quisitions. Towards him it is required to be supreme ; 
towards other intelligent beings, sincere and universal. 
Of course, as he has made love the only object of that 
law by which he governs his moral creatures, it is un- 
doubtedly the object in which he supremely delights ; 
and by necessary inference is his own moral character. 

This truth is the more strongly impressed, when we 
remember, that the law regards nothing else as excel- 
lent, praise-worthy, or rewardable. He himself informs 
us, that ' love is the fulfilling of the law.' This then 
is the only thing which it requires, and therefore the 
only thing which it esteems excellent or desirable. In 
all the various exercises of duty towards God, or to- 
wards our fellow creatures, in whatever form they ap- 
pear, or by whatever name they are called, there is no 
other real principle or performance of duty beside love. 
It is hence made the spring and directory of all our 
conduct towards friends and enemies, towards stran- 
gers, and neighbours, towards those who can requite us 
and those who cannot. No being capable of happiness, 
is above or beneath the reception of its benefits : and 
every moral being is under immovable obligations to 
exercise it. Thus it is made by the law of God the 
foundation and the sum of all good, natural and moral ; 
of moral good, as being the amount of all our duty ; 
and of natural good, as in this way the means of all 
our blessings. 

Still more strongly is this truth impressed by the 
sanctions of this law. By it nothing, except love, is 
rewarded, and nothing, except the opposite character, 
punished. The reward is no less than endless life, the 
punishment no less than endless death. In these sanc- 
tions, God expresses in the strongest manner his su- 
preme delight in benevolence, and his supreme detes- 



tation of its opposite. How forcible a proof is all this, 
that his own character is infinitely benevolent. 

7. God requires the whole regard which he claims, to 
be rendered to him only as a benevolent God. 

In the Scriptures we are required to love, worship, 
and serve, that is, to exhibit our love in different forms 
to a God of love, and to such a God only. Whatever 
being God is, he undoubtedly loves his own character, 
and must of course choose that this should be to crea- 
tures the object of their approbation and love. No 
other conduct is, I apprehend, consistent with the in- 
telligent nature. But in the Scriptures he has not re- 
quired us to approve, admire, or love himself, in any 
other character, except as a benevolent God. If this 
then be not his real character, he has not required us 
to love, admire, or approve his true character at all, 
but another which does not belong to him. Of course, 
he has not, according to this supposition, required us 
to render this regard to himself, but to an imaginary 
god, an object diverse from himself in every moral 
characteristic. All, therefore, which he has done to 
enjoin, and to procure the veneration, love, and obe- 
dience of his creatures ; the pomp of miracles, the se- 
ries of revelations; the humiliation, life, and death, the 
resurrection, ascension, and intercession of Christ ; the 
labours of the Spirit of grace, the establishment and 
support of his church in the world : have all been ac- 
complished, merely to gain our homage and service to 
a fictitious god, and not to himself, the true and only 
Jehovah. To the same end have been directed also 
his law, with its promises and threatenings, and his 
whole system of providence, with its long train of judg- 
ments and mercies. According to this scheme, God is 
exhibited as having laboured from the beginning for a 
being which has no existence, except in fancy ; a mere 
nihility ; and therefore as labouring without an end. 
According to this scheme, therefore, all the wonderful 
works, both of creation and providence, have been ac- 
complished for no end ; and notwithstanding their 
amazing magnificence, are no other than a solemn 
farce, which he has informed us shall endure for ever. 
According to this scheme, God has been employed 
from the beginning, in inducing mankind, by a series 
of most wonderful works, to assume the most excellent 
of all characters, and the only really excellent charac- 
ter, for no conceivable end ; and in this employment 
has, without any reason, exhibited a perpetual succes- 
sion of mere deceit and illusion. Necessity of deceit 
cannot exist with God, because, without it, he can 
with infinite ease accomplish whatever he chooses. It 
must then, if existing at all, exist without cause or 
motive. He who can believe this, can believe any 
thing. But no man who understands what he believes, 
can seriously adopt so gross an absurdity. 

8. God has informed us in the Scriptures, that there 
is beyond the grave an immortal state of retribution, in 
which, whatever seems irregular in the present state, will 
be adjusted according to the most exact dictates of bene- 
volence and equity. 

At the final judgment, we are taught in the Scrip- 
tures, mankind will be universally tried by those rules 
of duty which have already been recited, according to 
the means of knowing them which God has placed in 
their power. Those who are possessed of the revealed 
law, ' will be judged by the law ;' and those who are 
not, ' will be judged without the law.' In other words, 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 



49 



' every man will be judged according to his works.' 
At this time the whole state of mankind will be set- 
tled agreeably to the most consummate benevolence. 
Such as in this world have loved God and each other, 
will then, through the righteousness of Christ, be ac- 
quitted of all their former transgressions; delivered 
from the punishment which they had merited, and re- 
warded with everlasting life in the kingdom of glory. 
Those who have not performed this duty, will be con- 
signed to ' blackness of darkness for ever.' In this 
great transaction, and its consequences, ' the mystery ' 
of the present world 'will be finished:' the dispensa- 
tions of God, both to the righteous and the wicked, 
exhibited as perfectly accordant with infinite benevo- 
lence ; and the difficulties, which to the eye of reason 
attend them here, explained in such a manner as to 
stop every mouth and remove every objection. 

By these several arguments the benevolence of God 
is, I think, completely evinced in the Scriptures. 



From the considerations which have been suggested 
in this Discourse, connected with those which have 
preceded it, I observe, 

1. That the benevolence of God is strictly infinite. 
In the Divine Mind every attribute is necessarily 

co-extended with the greatness of that mind. The be- 
nevolence of God is as truly thus extensive, as his 
knowledge or his power. To his love of happiness 
existing, to his desire of happiness as a thing to be 
produced, no limit can be affixed. Intense and glow- 
ing beyond degree, although perfectly serene and com- 
placent, it furnishes the most solid foundation for the 
truth of that remarkable declaration in the text ; ' God 
is love ;' or, infinite love is the infinite God. 

It is equally evident, that the benevolence of God is 
immutable and eternal. This divine attribute is, like 
omniscience and omnipotence, plainly incapable of ad- 
dition or diminution. How can it be increased? By 
whom or what can it be lessened ? What can put an 
end to its existence ? All these questions convey their 
own answer. 

2. The benevolence of God cannot but be ever active. 

Epicurus, and after him no small multitude of -suc- 
ceeding philosophers, have adopted the opinion, ' that 
God is either absolutely, or in a great degree quiescent, 
or inactive ;' at least so far as a great part of what we 
have been accustomed to call his providence is con- 
cerned. Some of these philosophers have denied the 
providence of God absolutely. Others have denied a 
particular providence. But all to whom I refer have 
attributed some degree of inactivity to the Creator. 
Their opinion seems generally to have been, ' that af- 
ter he had ended the work of creating the universe, 
and set it in motion, he left it to take care of itself, 
and found his own enjoyment in something which de- 
manded no active exertion on his part. Epicurus him- 
self taught that the gods, whose existence he admitted, 
resided at a great distance from created beings, in some 
unknown happy region ; where they passed their im- 
mortal life in a state of absolute quiet, and pleasurable 
enjoyment, without feeling any interest in the affairs 
of mortals, or exercising any government or providence 
over them.' 

This opinion, in substance, but with several modifi- 
cations, has been adopted by no small number of philo- 



sophers down to the present time. They indeed admit 
the existence of one God only ; he acknowledged 
many ; they suppose God to be separated from human 
affairs only by a voluntary inattention to them ; hej 
by local distance also. The most specious foundation 
for this doctrine is the supposition ' that God, being 
infinitely perfect, and therefore infinitely happy in 
himself, can have no inducement to attend to the con- 
cerns of his creatures, since no such attention can at 
all add to his happiness.' This supposition is plainly 
and wholly erroneous, although the terms in which I 
have expressed it, the same in which it is usually ex- 
pressed, seem to convey an unquestionable truth. It 
is true that God is infinitely perfect, and therefore in- 
finitely happy ; and equally true, of course, that no ad- 
dition can be made to his happiness. It is also true, 
that this happiness exists in himself in a manner per- 
fectly independent ; but it is not true, that God would 
be, or would ever have been, thus perfectly happy, 
had he not made the universe ; or were he not to con- 
duct it to the purpose for which it was made. Bene- 
volence, like gold, finds its chief value in its use. It 
is, in the nature of the case, ' more blessed to give 
than to receive,' or to be in any other employment or 
situation. 

The happiness of God is perfectly independent, be- 
cause he is able to devise and execute whatever he 
pleases ; and thus to accomplish boundless glory to 
himself, and boundless good to his creatures, dictated 
by his benevolence, and comprehended by his omni- 
science. There is nothing in the nature of the case 
which furnishes a shadow of evidence, that the happi- 
ness of God is, or can be, independent of his own ac- 
tive exertions. As these exertions can be all made 
with infinite ease, with perfect rectitude, and with ab- 
solute certainty of success, it is impossible that they 
should not accord with the most complete indepen- 
dence. Benevolence is the love of happiness, and the 
desire of its existence, wherever it does not already 
exist. Should this happiness thus desired, fail to ex- 
ist, the frustration of the desire must be a prevention 
or annihilation of the enjoyment which was found in 
the contemplation of its existence, or which the fulfil- 
ment of it would have produced. If then God desired 
the existence of happiness in other beings, or, in other 
words, if God was benevolent (for these phrases mean 
exactly the same thing) ; we cannot but see that it 
was impossible, in the moral sense, for him to fail of 
producing it; and that if he had not produced it, his 
happiness must have been diminished. The very nature 
of the disposition therefore proves this doctrine to be 
false, and the conduct which it asserts of God to be im- 
possible. 

With equal evidence it is proved to be false by facts. 
If the doctrine were, true, it would furnish unanswerable 
proof that God would never have created the universe. 
He was just as happy in the contemplation of his own 
perfections, antecedently to the creation, as at the pre- 
sent time ; and according to this doctrine, could have 
had no inducement to create, any more than at the pre- 
sent time to superintend. The existence of things could 
be no more necessary to his happiness than the govern- 
ment of them. But he has created them, and has thus 
proved that he took pleasure in their existence. Of 
course, his happiness partly consisted in the fact, tliat 
they existed ; and would have been lessened, so far as 



50 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. ix. 



this part extended, if they had not been brought into 
existence. But the universe, and every thing which it 
contains, was created for some end ; that is, it was 
created for the purpose of bringing into existence, the 
happiness which the conscious beings contained in it 
were intended to enjoy, and for the pleasure which 
God experienced in producing this happiness. This 
truth will not be denied, unless for the sake of denying 
it ; since the contrary supposition would impute to the 
Creator the most absolute folly, and would therefore be 
a palpable blasphemy. Nor will it be any more denied, 
that the superintendency of God over all things is abso- 
lutely necessary, every moment, in every place, and to 
every being, in order to the accomplishment of this 
end ; all other agency beside his, being infinitely in- 
adequate to this purpose. This happiness, being eter- 
nal, is an object infinitely great and desirable ; and 
was of course, infinitely desired by God. An infinite 
inducement therefore, continually exists, to the con- 
tinual and universal agency of God in the government 
of all things. 

I know of but one seeming objection to this doc- 
trine. It is this: that, if the happiness of God in any 
degree consists either in beholding or producing the 
happiness of his creatures, then it will seem to follow, 
that he was less happy antecedently to the creation, 
than at the present or any future period. This con- 
clusion will however vanish, if we call to mind that 
all duration is present to God, and that his manner of 
existing excludes all possible application to him of past 
and future. Whatever was or will be, with respect to 
creatures, is only and alike present to him. His hap- 
piness therefore is ' the same yesterday, to-day, and 
for ever.' 

Epicurus, who denied a creation, was undoubtedly 
more consistent with himself than modern philosophers, 
who admit this event, and yet deny the providence of 
God. If God had not thought proper to create the 
universe, it might with some show of reason be con- 
cluded, that he would not find any interest in governing 
it ; but if he created it, as the philosophers in question 
in many instances acknowledge, it is unanswerably 
certain, that he will unceasingly conduct it by his pro- 
vidence to the purpose for which it was created. 

This consideration is infinitely glorious to God. 
The divine disposition here exhibited is infinitely un- 
like the boasted benevolence of modern philosophy, 
which is wholly confined to the mere contemplation of 
happiness as a beautiful picture, or to the impassioned 
exhibition of good-will in sighs and tears, and pathetic 
expressions ; useless to the subjects of it, and fruitless 
towards its objects ; or is spent in mere unavailing 
wishes, in themselves wholly devoid of efficacy or 
worth. This divine disposition is the boundless energy 
of the infinite mind, the intense and immeasurable 
love of doing good unceasingly, and endlessly produc- 
ing that happiness in which it delights. It creates 
with an activity never wearied and never discouraged, 
means to this glorious end, without number and be- 
yond degree, fitted with a diversity incomprehensible, 
to effectuate in the most perfect manner this eminently 
divine purpose. It is a tree, which, planted in this dis- 
tant world, reaches the highest heaven ; adorned with 
branches endless in their multitude, covered with leaves 
and blossoms of supernal beauty, and loaded with 
fruit* of life and happiness countless in their number, 



unceasing in their succession, and eternal in their pro- 
gress ; while all the innumerable millions of percipient 
beings approach, and eat, and live. 

3. The benevolence of God is his whole moral cha- 
racter. 

We commonly, and I think in most cases necessarily, 
speak of the moral character of God as composed of 
many separate attributes ; ofgoodness, bounty, mercy, 
truth, justice, faithfulness, and patience. In the same 
manner also the Scriptures unfold his moral character. 
In this they have accorded with that mode of thinking 
which is natural to us, and in which wc usually think 
more clearly and advantageously, than in any other. 
The exercises of benevolence are so numerous and so 
diversified as to need, if we would consider them clearly 
and usefully, to be arranged in different classes, denot- 
ed by different names, and separately contemplated by 
our minds. Still, it is also useful to remember what 
the Scriptures have taught us in the text, that the whole 
moral character of God is love, endlessly diversified in 
its operations and manifestations, but simple and indi- 
visible in its nature ; an intense and eternal flame of 
uncompounded good-will. 

How glorious a character is here presented to us of 
the great Ruler of all things ! Nothing less than in- 
finite and unmingled benevolence could qualify him 
for the great work of replenishing his vast kingdom 
with unceasing and eternal good. All good-will in- 
ferior to this must, it would seem, be wearied, discou- 
raged, influenced to change its views by rebellion and 
provocation, and thus inclined to vary its original and 
best designs, and to fall short of the perfect objects 
which it began to accomplish. But the love of God, 
evidently without limits, is equally ' without variable- 
ness, or shadow of turning.' Hence, ' every good gift, 
and every perfect gift,' flows from it unceasingly, and 
will flow for ever. 

In this view of his character, how infinitely distant 
is Jehovah from all the gods of the heathen ! These 
imaginary beings were not only imperfect, but were 
debased by every human weakness, and deformed by 
every human passion ; possessed of no fixed character 
or purpose, contentious among themselves, revengeful 
towards mankind, flattered into good humour again by 
their services, wearied by their own labours, and in- 
vigorated anew only by food, sleep, or pastime. 

I cannot but add, how different a Saviour musi, 
he be, whose mind is informed with this boundless 
love, united with its concomitant perfections, from 
the Saviour presented to us by Socinianism and its 
kindred systems ! Christ, as exhibited to us by these 
systems, is a created, and therefore an imperfect 
and mutable being. When Stephen was expiring he - 
committed his soul finally, with all its interests, into 
the hands of the Lord Jesus. All his faithful follow- 
ers, at the close of their lives, adopt the same conduct. 
How desirable must it be, at so solemn a period, when 
our all is depending, to realize, that he on whom vie 
depend is possessed of love great enough to compre- 
hend even us, and to be incapable of weariness, aliena- 
tion, or change ; love, in a word, the same yesterday, 
to-day , and for ever. How desirable must it be to 
find him, in whom we are required to repose confi- 
dence as the condition of inheriting eternal life, able,; 
willing, and faithful, to bestow on us all that is meant 
by this divine reward. 



JUSTICE OF GOD. 



51 



4. The perfect benevolence of God must, it is evident, 
delight in greater good, more than that which is less, 
and most in that which is supreme. 

That the omniscience of God cannot but discern all 
the differences of good, and distinguish with complete 
accuracy and in all cases the greater from the less, and 
that which is on the whole most desirable, from that 
which is not, will be admitted of course. That perfect 
benevolence must choose this, in preference to any 
other, is, unless I am deceived, equally evident. In- 
deed I can conceive of no possibility that benevolence 
can, in any being, prefer a smaller degree of what he 
thinks good to a greater. Much less can this be attri- 
butable to God. As he knows perfectly what is really 
good, so on this only must his desire or delight be 
fixed, and with the more intenseness in proportion to 
the greatness of the degree in which it does or may 
prist. 

Should it be said, that there may be two or more 
systems of good, equally perfect and desirable ; I am 
not disposed to contend with him by whom it is said. 
Those who say it, ought however to remember, that it 
is said gratuitously, there being no evidence by which 
the assertion can be supported. But should it be 
granted, it will not at all affect the doctrine under con- 
sideration. These two or more systems are by the 
supposition equally good ; and therefore, as an object 
of contemplation or adoption, neither is in any degree 
preferable to the other. That then which has been 
actually adopted, has by this fact become preferable. 
In all other respects it was equally desirable ; and as it 
has been actually commenced, it is more desirable that 
it should be continued, than that it should be given up 
for the sake of adopting that which was only equal to 
it ; because in that case, all that has been already done 
must have been done in vain ; conduct which, I need 
not say, would be unbecoming the divine character, 
and for this reason at least, wholly undesirable. The 
present system, or the system actually adopted by God 
is therefore, to say the least, now the best and most 
perfect system of good. 

The same reasoning will equally prove, that the 
means which he has employed for the accomplishment 
of this great end, are also the best and most proper 
means which could be chosen ; and of course, that the 
whole work of creation and providence, composed of 
the means and the end, is a perfect work, entirely 
suited to his character. 

5. It is evident that God, who is thus benevolent, must 
love the same disposition in his creatures, and hate the 
opposite one, unchangeably and for ever. 



That God delights with infinite complacency in his 
own moral character, cannot be questioned. Benevo- 
lence in his intelligent creatures is a direct resemblance 
of this character, his own image instamped on created 
minds ; and cannot fail therefore to be an object of the 
same complacency, wherever it exists. He loves also 
his own purposes. Of course, he must love this dis- 
position in his creatures ; because all those in whom it 
exists, love the same purposes, and voluntarily coincide 
with him in their endeavours to promote them. 

On the contrary, that disposition in his creatures 
which is opposite to his own, is in itself odious in 
proportion as his is amiable ; and voluntarily endea- 
vours to oppose and to frustrate his purposes ; that is, 
to diminish or destroy the boundless good which he 
has begun to accomplish. It is not here intended, that 
so vast a scheme of thought or action, usually enters 
into the minds of sinful creatures ; but that this is the 
real tendency of all their opposition to his law and 
government. In this view, the rebellion of sinners 
assumes a most odious and dreadful aspect ; and is here 
seen to be a direct hostility against the benevolent 
character and designs of God, and against the well-be- 
ing of his intelligent creation. 

When therefore he shall come to ' judge the world 
in righteousness,' and to render to them such rewards 
as are suited to their characters ; it is plain that lie 
will approve of those, and those only, who resemble 
him by being benevolent ; and disapprove of those who 
have cherished the contrary disposition. The former 
he will bless, or make happy ; the latter he will punish, 
or make miserable. His approbation at the final judg- 
ment, is no other than a testimony of the pleasure 
which he takes, in the moral character of those who 
are approved ; and his disapprobation, a similar testi- 
mony of the displeasure which he feels, towards those 
who are condemned. Of this pleasure and displeasure, 
his rewards and punishments are only proofs of a still 
higher lcind, all founded on the moral character of the 
respective beings who are judged and rewarded. How 
odious, how undesirable, then, is that disposition in us, 
which God, by the dictates of his infinite benevolence, 
is in a sense compelled thus to hate and punish, be- 
cause it is a voluntary opposition of his own perfect 
character, and a fixed enmity to the well-being of Ms 
creatures ! How lovely and desirable, on the contrary, 
is that disposition which he thus loves, and will thus 
reward, because it is a resemblance of his own beauty 
and excellence, a cheerful accordance with all his per- 
fect designs, and universal good-will to Ms intelligent 
kingdom ! 



SERMON X. 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD THE JUSTICE OF GOD. 



Just and right is he. — Deut. xxxii. 4. 

The end for which the Song, of which this verse is alter, verse 19, in these words: 'Now therefore write 
part, was written, is expressed in the preceding chap- | ye this song for you, and teach it to the children of 



52 



SYSTExM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. x. 



Israel : put it in their mouths, that this song may be a 
witness for me against the children of Israel.' 

To this end it is perfectly suited. It is a general 
testimony of the perfection of God, and of his peculiar 
kindness to that people. As it strongly and unanswer- 
ably exhibits the righteousness and goodness of God in 
all his dealings with them ; so, in the same evident and 
forcible manner, it manifests their ingratitude and un- 
reasonableness in rebelling against him. These it pre- 
sents in the most affecting light ; because it shows that 
God clearly foreknew all their transgressions, and with 
this foreknowledge, still performed for them all these 
blessings. 

At the same time it forewarned them of their sin 
and danger, and urged on them the strongest motives 
to obedience. This timely testimony was itself a most 
convincing and affecting proof of his goodness, and left 
them without excuse. 

The text is a general ascription of supreme excel- 
lence and glory to God, in his nature, agency, and 
ivorks. ' I will publish the name of the Lord, Jeho- 
vah,' saith Moses, in the preceding verse ; ' ascribe ye 
greatness unto our God.' 

This name, or cliaracter, is published in the verse 
which contains the text. ' He is the Rock ; his work 
is perfect, for all his ways are judgment ; a God of 
truth, and without iniquity ; just and right is he.' 
That is, God is ' the Rock,' or foundation, on which 
the universe stands. ' His work,' the great work of 
building and governing the universe, '. is perfect,' with- 
out imperfection, error, or fault; comprising all things 
which it ought, and nothing which it ought not to 
comprise. The reason of this perfection is, that ' all 
his ways are judgment ;' that is, are a perfect compound 
of wisdom, righteousness, and goodness. ' Just and 
right,' may signify the same thing ; or, as is often the 
meaning of ' right,' so here it may naturally denote, 
the perfection of God generally considered. 

DOCTRINE, 

God is a Being of perfect justice. 

Before I enter upon the proof of this doctrine, it 
A'ill be necessary to examine the different meanings of 
this term; as, like most other abstract terms, it is va- 
riously used. 

(1.) Justice, as applied to cases in which property is 
concerned, denotes the exchange of one thing for another 
of equal value. Considered in this manner, it affects 
all bargains, the payment of debts, and the adjustment 
and fulfilment of all contracts. Whenever these are so 
made and performed, as that an exact equivalent is 
rendered for what is received, then, and then only, 
justice is done. This is called commutative justice. 

(2.) As applied to the conduct of a magistrate to- 
wards subjects, it denotes exactly that treatment of the 
subject which his personal conduct merits. To reward 
the good subject, and to punish the bad, according 
to equitable laws, and real desert, is to treat both justly ; 
or to exhibit justice in the distributions of government. 
Accordingly a ruler, conductinghimselfinthis manner, is 
by the common voice declared to be a just ruler. Justice 
in this sense is properly called distributive justice. 

(3.) Justice in a much more extended sense than either 
of these, denotes doing that which is right upon the 
whole in all cases ; that which is fittest and most useful 



to be done ; in other words, that which will most pro- 
mote the universal good. In this sense justice is, to- 
gether with its corresponding term, righteousness, used 
as synonymous with benevolence or virtue, and involves 
the whole of moral excellence. This is sometimes 
called general justice. This use of the word is very 
frequent ; and many persons appear to make no dis- 
tinction between this sense of the word and the last 
mentioned. Yet the meanings are widely different. 
In the former sense, justice is the conduct of a ruler 
only ; in the latter, it is applicable to all intelligent 
beings. In the former it is a course of conduct respect- 
ting a single object, according to his merit or demerit ; 
in the latter it always respects the universe. 

(4.) Justice, when considered as an attribute, is the 
disposition which gives birth to these, or to either of 
these kinds of conduct. 

With respect to the first of these senses, we canno* 
easily suppose a case in which God, who is the give« 
of all good, can receive any thing for which an equivaN 
lent can be rendered. The nearest resemblance to 
such a case, which is applicable to God, is one in which 
he requires the service of mankind in a particular 
manner, and promises to reward them for such service 
with worldly possessions. Several such instances may 
be found in the Scriptures. Thus he promised the 
Israelites abundant worldly good, in consequence of 
their faithful obedience. Thus he promised David, as 
a reward for his obedience, many earthly blessings. 
Thus for the execution of his decree against Tyre, he 
gave Egypt into the hands of Nebuchadnezzar. 

These instances are, however, all plainly imperfect 
ones, for the purpose of exhibiting a complete display 
of this attribute in the sense in question. God, in all 
the cases specified, exhibited his bounty and mercy so 
much more strongly than mere commutative justice, 
that we are apt to forget that this was exhibited at all. 
Nor can >ve suppose a case in which this difficulty will 
not arise from the character and situation of God, as 
the author and giver of all good, and as the receiver of 
nothing from the hands of his creatures. 

Yet, if a case could be proposed, in which God could 
act as just, in the commutative sense, his disposition to 
be just, in this sense, would be as perfect as in either 
of the other senses. This is unanswerably evident 
from the consideration, that he requires, under the 
most awful penalties, the exercise of such justice from 
the hands of his subjects. In the two last senses, the 
justice of God is perpetually and perfectly exercised 
towards all his intelligent creatures. 

As the ruler of the universe, he rewards every ra- 
tional being exactly according to his works, except 
that he hath shown mercy to numberless sinners who 
had merited nothing but wrath and punishment ; an 
exception supremely glorious to his character, and 
formed in entire consistency with exact justice. 

As the great friend of happiness, he has devised also 
the most perfect happiness of his immense kingdom, 
and the most perfect means of accomplishing it. This 
he pursues with infinite intenseness of energy, without 
intermission, without change, and without end. 

In this sense, the justice of God respects, first, him- 
self; and secondly, his creatures. 

First, God is infinitely just, as his conduct respects 
himself. In a uniform series of dispensations, he ex- 
hibits to the universe his own character as supremely 



JUSTICE OF GOD. 



53 



glorious, excellent, beautiful, and lovely ; and as there- 
fore deserving all possible admiration, confidence, love, 
reverence, worship, and obedience, from all intelligent 
beings. In this divine employment he has published 
to intelligent beings a glorious rule of rectitude, as the 
rule of his own conduct : a rule to which all that con- 
duct is entirely conformed, ' without variableness, or 
shadow of turning.' To this rule he requires them to 
conform all their conduct also. In obeying it are in- 
volved their duty, interest, honour, and happiness, 
alike. This he has exhibited as an unchangeable and 
everlasting rule ; by which the intelligent universe is 
everywhere, at every period, and with respect to every 
thing, to be governed ; and which he will never for- 
sake, even though that universe were to be the sacrifice. 
Secondly, In the same sense, God is perfectly just to 
his creatures. The justice of God to himself is the 
highest and first act of justice to his creatures. But 
for this regard to himself, they could never venerate 
his character, nor render him their love, or their con- 
fidence. As the promoter of the universal good, God 
can in no way so contribute to this great and glorious 
end, as in unfolding his own supremely excellent cha- 
racter. This is the source and foundation of all vir- 
tuous, sincere, and enduring happiness. In this con- 
duct of God, therefore, the universe is infinitely inter- 
ested. 

In each particular dispensation to them also, he di- 
rectly pursues the same end, in all the parts of his 
endlessly diversified administration. Not a wrong, not 
a mistake, not a defect finds admission into Ids provi- 
dence, throughout eternity and immensity. 

But it is chiefly as the great ruler of all beings, that 
the justice of God demands a particular consideration 
at this time. In this character, his justice is employed 
in the distribution of rewards to holy and virtuous 
creatures, and of punishment, to false and rebellious 
subjects of his government. 

All these distributions are made on the ground of 
law. Such as obey the law of God, are by impartial 
justice rewarded : those who disobey are punished. 
The perfection of these distributions consists in this ; 
that each creature is rewarded, or punished, according 
to his character and conduct, exactly ; so that the re- 
ward or the punishment shall be precisely proportioned 
to the several degrees of virtue or guilt, just as they 
have existed. In this case all the palliations and ag- 
gravations of guilt, and all the means of increasing or 
diminishing virtue, will enter completely into the esti- 
mate of the character of each individual. Of all these, 
God, who searcheth the heart and trieth the reins, is 
a perfect judge. Nothing is unknown or forgotten by 
him, and nothing will be left out of the estimate of 
character, which will be the foundation of the reward 
or the punishment. 

I. The proofs of the justice of God exhibited by 
reason, or found in the system of providence, are not 
to us demonstrative : yet they are well deserving of 
our attention. 

1. The character and circumstances of God strongly 
lead us to believe in his perfect justice. God is perfect- 
ly independent, in the actual possession of 'all possible 
good, and completely secure against every possible loss 
and evil. Whatever he pleases to have exist or done, 
is certainly brought to pass, and in the precise manner 
which is pleasing to him. Hence no temptation or 



inducement to any injustice can exist with respect to 
him. Possessing all things, he can need nothing ; con- 
triving all things, he can fear nothing ; effecting all 
things which he chooses, with infinite ease, and no 
possible obstruction, he can never have occasion to 
adopt any other character or conduct but that of per- 
fect justice. Injustice in our experience is always de- 
rived, and of course, from the dread of some disadvan- 
tage, or the desire of some advantage, which other- 
wise would not exist. But these things have no pos- 
sible application to God. Reason sees not, therefore, 
how God can be under any inducement to injustice. 
But without such inducement, injustice cannot exist. 

2. In this state of trial, many exhibitions of the divine 
justice are made in divine providence. These are seen 
chiefly in the application of punishments and rewards 
to nations, considered in their national capacity. Na- 
tions as such, exist only on this side of the grave. 
Hence it would seem, that in this peculiar character as 
nations merely, they are with propriety rewarded or 
punished here. Thus nations, after they have become 
corrupted to a certain degree, have constantly been 
destroyed for their national corruption. God indeed 
has usually waited with wonderful patience, until their 
iniquities were full ; and so evidently, that the ancient 
heathens described and painted justice as lame ; that 
is, slow in arriving. This conduct of the Creator is 
highly becoming his glorious character, as a most 
bountiful and merciful God towards beings still in a 
state of trial. 

Yet the destruction or punishment has been sure, 
however late it may seem to us. ' The Lord is not 
slack concerning his promise, as men count slackness ; 
but is long-suffering to us- ward, not willing that any 
should perish, but that all should come to repentance.' 
So evident has been the justice of God in such in- 
stances, that the heathen have strongly marked and 
fully acknowledged it, generally throughout the whole 
heathen world : a clear proof that it has struck the 
eye, and convinced the mind of common sense. 

3. The justice of God is conspicuous in this great 
fact, that mankind are never afflicted beyond their de- 
serts. In the last Discourse but one, I have observed, 
that this truth is rendered evident in the only case in 
which it can, with the least appearance of reason, be 
disputed ; viz. the sufferings of virtuous men ; by their 
own uniform acknowledgment, that they never suffer 
even so much as they are conscious of having deserved. 
But the only tendency of any mind to injustice is to 
withhold good, or inflict evil, contrary to or beyond 
the desert of the recipient. As neither of these is ever 
the fact ; as, on the contrary, men always receive more 
good and less evil than they have merited ; it is plain 
that the justice of God on the one hand, and his abso- 
lute freedom from injustice on the other, are strongly 
evinced in his dispensations to man in the present 
world. ' ••' . 

4. All the arguments which I have deduced from the 
character and circumstances of God, to prove that he is 
benevolent, are capable of an equally forcible applica- 
tion to the present subject, and contribute in the same 
manner to prove that he is just. As these have been 
so lately rehearsed, it will be unnecessary to mention 
them again at the present time. 

5. As God is benevolent, itis impossible that he should 
not be just. In the last Discourse I observed, that love 



54 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. x. 



constituted the whole moral character of God ; and 
that although we were obliged for the sake of distinct- 
ness to consider, as the scriptures themselves often do, 
this character in different views and under different 
names ; yet it is in reality a disposition simple and in- 
divisible ; these names denoting only its different mo- 
difications and exercises. As I expect hereafter to 
consider this subject more fully, I shall only observe 
here, that the doctrine being admitted, the benevolence 
of God, if proved, as I flatter myself it has been, from 
the light of nature, is itself complete proof of the jus- 
tice of God. A Being, willing, as a benevolent one 
necessarily is, to do more good to others than justice 
demands, cannot be willing to do less, the only manner 
in which he could possibly be unjust. 

This proof of the justice of God is, I think, ample 
and satisfactory. At the same time, in such a world 
as this, where the system of dispensations extends to 
so many beings and so many events, in themselves va- 
ried almost endlessly, and in their relations still more 
numerous and diversified ; it cannot but be, that mys- 
tery should in a great measure overspread the whole. 
In each individual case there will be much that we 
cannot understand : in the comparison of that case 
with others, there will be more. A state of trial also 
involves the doctrine, that in it a complete exhibition 
of justice cannot be made. All that is just in such a 
state cannot be seen to be just, especially by creatures 
whose discernment and comprehension are like ours, 
so limited and so disproportioned to the objects of in- 
vestigation. Amid the multitude of these objects we 
are lost, by their variety we are perplexed, by their 
strangeness we are staggered ; and by the relations 
which they bear to each other, often apparently very 
dissimilar, often seemingly inconsistent, we are not 
unnaturally nor unfrequently overwhelmed with diffi- 
culties, doubts, and distresses. 

It is probable that, except in the case of nations al- 
ready mentioned, the dispensations of good and evil in 
this world are designed rather as restraints on the sin- 
ful conduct, and as encouragements to the virtue of 
mankind, than as full manifestations of the justice of 
God. In this view of them they contain abundant 
proofs of wisdom, equity, and goodness, wholly suited 
to the state of man. It ought at the same time to be 
observed, that there is no argument which renders it 
probable in any degree that God is not just. 

II. What the state of providence thus teaches, the 
Scriptures have completely disclosed. The justice of 
God is in the Scriptures exhibited to us in various 
methods. 

1. God has informed us in multitudes of direct de- 
clarations, that he is a God of consummate justice. All 
these declarations receive the whole weight of his 
whole character, as exhibited in the Scriptures ; a 
weight which no mind that admits any part of this cha- 
racter can resist. 

2. He has displayed in the history of the Scriptures 
many highly important and impressive instances of his 
justice, executed on mankind, both as nations and indi- 
viduals. These are very numerous and various, and 
in them all, complete examples of this awful attribute 
are presented to our view. 

3. In his law he has required all men to be just, as- 
suring them that in this character they will be loved by 
him, and in the contrary character hated; promising 



them in this character glorious rewards, and' threaten- 
ing them, in the contrary character, most fearful punish- 
ments. Exactly of this nature is every command, eve- 
ry promise, and every threatening. These promises 
and threatenings have, also, as was observed under the 
last head (for these considerations illustrate each other), 
been often most exemplarily executed even in the pre- 
sent world. In these instances we are not left to our 
own conjectures to interpret the dispensations of provi- 
dence ; but are directly informed of their nature by 
God himself. In these instances, therefore, the dispen- 
sations become plain and intelligible, and all doubt is 
excluded. 

4. He has informed us, that there is beyond the grave 
a future being ; that in the future world he has appoint- 
ed, at the end of this system, a day in which he will 
judge the world in righteousness, and will reward every 
man according to his works. 

5. He has required us to acknowledge, reverence, 
love, worship, and obey him, as being just, perfectly 
and infinitely. In no other character does he require 
any love, homage, or service. That God, in requiring 
our homage to him, should require it to a character not 
Ids own, is an absurdity which can neither be admitted 
nor explained. 

There is, indeed no possible reason which can be 
devised, why any and all of these things should be 
done in the Scriptures, except that God is the just Be- 
ing which he is there represented to be. These things 
united, comprise all the proof which we can reason- 
ably wish, of the justice of God, and cannot possibly 
be destroyed nor lessened. Accordingly no person 
who believed the Scriptures to be the word of God, 
ever thought of doubting this great truth. 



1. How gloriously is God qualified by this attribute 
for the government of all things ! In what an amiable, 
majestic, and dignified light is he here manifested to oui 
view. Without this attribute all others would be vain. 
A ruler he might be, because his power would easily 
compel all beings to obey him. But he would be 
merely an arbitrary and despotic ruler, neither vene- 
rable nor lovely. No creature would or could serve 
him willingly, with either love or confidence. The 
fear which gendereth bondage would be the only prin- 
ciple of subjection ; nor would any subjection or ser- 
vice secure his creatures from perpetual danger and 
distress. 

What a dreadful instrument would omnipotence be 
in the hands of an unjust being ! What evils must not 
all creatures fear ! What evils would they not suffer ! 
What spectacles of vengeance and woe, would not his 
arm call up into being! How instantaneously would 
all hope vanish, all safety cease, all good perish ! The 
universe would become a desert, a dungeon, an im- 
mense region of mourning, lamentation, and woe. 

Now, all creatures are secure from every possible 
act of injustice from the hand of God. Powerful as he 
is, knowing all things as he does, these amazing attri- 
butes are employed only to discern that which is just 
and right, and to bring it in every instance to pass. 
Hence, he is the universal safeguard of his unnumbered 
creatures, the rock on which their rights and interests 
immovably rest, the proper and unfailing object of 
supreme and endless confidence. Wrong he cannot 



JUSTICE OF GOD. 



55 



do, right he cannot fail to do. Submission to his will, 
his law, his government, is safe ; and when voluntary, 
is assured of the regard, the approbation, and the re- 
wards which are promised to cheerful obedience. 

Were God not possessed of this glorious attribute, 
his benevolence would be mere weakness. All fro- 
ward, rebellious, obstinate creatures would presume 
on his want of energy to vindicate his own honour, 
and the rights of the suffering universe. A mind form- 
ed for immortal being, naturally makes progress in all 
its habits, and in the strength of all its powers. An 
evil mind, unrestrained by the awe or the exertions of 
omnipotence, would naturally increase in its pride, sel- 
fishness, malice, and cruelty; in a general disregard to 
the well-being of others, and in a supreme devotion to its 
private, separate purposes. To all who oppose, to eve- 
ry thing which clashes with these things, such a mind 
is, of course, an enemy. Nor can any bounds be set 
to this enmity, or to its effects, except by Gcd him- 
self. Were he to remain quiescent, in mere kindness 
and good wishes to the universe, the schemes of per- 
sonal greatness, oppression, rage, revenge, and fury, 
which would be formed by evil beings, cannot be mea- 
sured. Every evil being would become a fiend ; and 
to tempt a race, to ruin a world, and to involve a sys- 
tem in misery, woidd be familiar events in the annals 
of the universe. 

2. What reason have wicked men to fear the justice 
of God! The wicked are secured by God's perfect 
justice from the sufferance of any evil which they 
have not deserved ; but, at the same time, are wholly 
exposed to the sufferance of all such evils as they have 
deserved. These are sufficiently dreadful to excite in 
their minds every degree of alarm which man is capa- 
ble of experiencing. 

The denunciations of woe in the Scriptures of truth 
are couched in as awful terms as language can furnish. 
The God who is immutably and eternally just, as he 
uttered them in conformity to strict justice, so, in exe- 
cuting them, will conform to the same justice in the 
most perfect manner. 

Whatever their rebellion against God, their rejec- 
tion of his Son, their deceit, injustice, and cruelty to 
each other, and their pollution of themselves, deserve, 
they will receive exactly at his hand, and will be re- 
warded exactly ' according to their works.' It becomes 
every impenitent sinner to ask himself, what reward 
he ought to expect for a life spent wholly in rebellion 
of thought, word, and action ; with no account of vo- 
luntary obedience, and millions of accounts of gross 
disobedience against his Maker. 

It is plainly ' a fearful thing to fall into the hands of 
the living God.' In his hand, and within his know- 
ledge and power, are all the avenues to woe, all the 
ingredients to misery. lie is equally able to pierce 
the soul, and to agonize the body. There is no escape 
from his power, no concealment from his eye. What, 
then, will become of hardened sinners ? How will the 
justice of God overwhelm them in consternation and 
horror at the great day ! 

3. We see here the great reason why the Scriptures 
are opposed and denied by wicked men. All the diffi- 
culty which men find in admitting the Scriptures to be 
the word of God, exists in this attribute. I do not re- 
member that I ever heard or read of a single objection 
to the scriptural God, except what was pointed against 



his justice. All men are usually willing to acknow- 
ledge his power, wisdom, goodness, faithfulness, truth, 
and mercy ; but few, besides good men, are ready to 
acknowledge his justice. 

Whence this objection ? Is not justice a glorious 
and eminently divine perfection ? Can an unjust ruler 
be the object of approbation ? Is not injustice the 
ground of perpetual complaint against earthly rulers ? 
The secret lies wholly in this fact. We are willing, 
nay, desirous that rulers should be just, when justice 
does not endanger ourselves and our happiness ; but 
no character is so dreaded, so hated, when justice is 
considered as inconsistent with our safety, peace, and 
hopes. But can this be right ? A just ruler must pu- 
nish wicked and unjust men. We choose that other 
wicked and unjust men should be punished, and hesi- 
tate not to say, that the common good indispensably 
requires it. But we make another law for ourselves, 
and would rather that the ruler should prove unjust, 
than either reform ourselves or be punished. 

The justice of God holds out to us and to all others, 
certain and dreadful punishment as the proper reward 
of our sins. If God be just, we cannot, without re- 
pentance, faith, and reformation of life, possibly escape. 
Between reformation and punishment there is no al- 
ternative. Reform we will not ; be punished we can- 
not. Hence we believe that God is not just, becausf 
we wish this not to be his character. Of course, wt 
deny the Scriptures to be his word, to free ourselves 
from the terror of his justice. What wretched reason- 
ing is this! How foolish, how fatal! How foolish, 
because it cannot possibly help or save us ; since God 
will plainly pursue his own counsels, and accomplish 
his own purposes, whether we believe his justice or 
not. How foolish, because the whole purpose for 
which such reasoning is adopted, is to enable us to 
continue peacefully in sin ; a miserable character and 
plainly exposed always to a miserable end. 

How fatal is such reasoning ! because it will actually 
induce us to continue peacefully in sin, and prevent us 
from repentance and salvation. On what is it ground- 
ed ? On mere wishes. Who form and indulge them ? 
Wicked men only. Can God be such as wicked men 
wish him to be ? Can they suppose it ? What kind 
of a ruler do wicked men wish to have rule ? A vilt 
one. What God do wicked men wish to have rule the 
universe ? A vile one. Why ? Because such a God 
only can be supposed to favour them. No good man, 
no angel, ever regretted that God was just. It is im- 
possible that a virtuous being should not rejoice in the 
justice of God. The instinctive voice of all the virtu- 
ous universe is the voice of angels, and of the spirits of 
just men made perfect in the heavens, crying, ' Alle- 
luia ! Salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, be 
unto the Lord our God : for true and righteous are his 
judgments. Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord 
God almighty ; just and true are thy ways, thou King 
of saints !' 



56 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Si 



SERMON XL 

ON THE TRUTH OF GOD. 



And the truth of the Lord endureth for ever Psalm cxvii. 2. 



In my last discourse, I considered briefly the justice 
of God. I shall now proceed to make some observa- 
tions concerning his truth, which in the text is assert- 
ed to be an eternal, and therefore an inseparable, attri- 
bute of Jehovah. 

As a prelude to these observations, it will be useful 
to take a concise notice of the several significations of 
this term. The word truth, denotes, 

(1.) A proposition, conformed to the real state of 
things. Thus, St Paul says, ' I speak the truth in 
Christ, I lie not,' Rom. ix. 1. 

(2.) All such propositions, generally considered. Thus, 
Pilate asked Christ, ' What is truth?' John xviii. 38. 

(3.) That collection of such propositions which is con- 
tained in the gospel, and is commonly called evangelical 
truth. Thus, says our Saviour, ' The Spirit of truth 
shall guide you into all truth,' John xvi. 13, Thus, al- 
so, St Paul observes, ' Love rejoiceth in the truth,' 1 
Cor. xiii. 8. In both these instances, the truth men- 
tioned is evangelical truth. 

( 4.) Reality, in opposition to that which is fancied or 
visionary. Thus ' the true God' denotes the real 
God, in opposition to the imaginary gods of the heathen. 

( 5.) The substance, in opposition to types. Thus 
Christ calls himself ' the Truth,' as being the great 
antitype of all the types in the Old Testament. 

( 6.) Veracity, that is, a disposition always to declare 
truth, or to speak according to the real state of things. 

( 7.) Faithfulness, that is, a disposition always to 
fulfill covenants, trusts, and promises. 

In these two last senses, I shall consider the truth of 
God as declared in the text. Veracity and faithfulness 
are attributes so nearly allied, as to be considered to- 
gether with great advantage. The former is speaking, 
and as the case may be, acting according to a state of 
things, seen or supposed to exist. The latter is de- 
claring a future state of our own conduct, and after- 
wards acting so, that that conduct shall be conformed 
to the declaration. No moral attributes are more per- 
fectly of a kindred nature, nor can we conceive of him 
who possesses one of them, as in any less degree pos- 
sessed of the other. There is no reason, therefore, for 
making them separate subjects of examination in this 
series of Discourses. 

It will be obvious to those who hear me, that as the 
works of creation and providence, consisting of beings 
and events merely, furnish us with no declarations 
made by God ; and as every such declaration must in 
its nature be a revelation ; so in these works there can 
be no proper specimen of his truth or faithfulness. To 
every direct display of these attributes, declarations 
are indispensably necessary. The only way in which 
the works of God exhibit, by themselves, any manifes- 
tation of these attributes, seems to be this. In the re- 
gular-succession of causes and effects, a state of things 
is formed and continued, on which we usually and 



safely rely ; and so far as this is concerned, enter upon 
our various kinds of business with security from disap- 
pointment. This state of things may be justly con r 
sidered as manifesting a disposition on the part of him, 
by whom it is established, not to deceive his creatures, 
but to exhibit to them that conduct on which they may 
place a safe reliance. Thus we confide in the regular 
succession of seasons, the return of day and night, the 
productiveness of the earth, the efficacy of rain and 
sunshine, and generally, in the nature, qualities, and 
effects of the various things by which we are surrounded. 

But, notwithstanding this want of declarations in 
creation and providence, the proofs by which the truth 
of God is capable of being evinced by reason, inde- 
pendently of revelation, are, I think, satisfactory, and 
sufficient. 

I. The truth of God (by which I intend throughout 
this Discourse both his veracity and faithfulness) is 
completely evident from his benevolence. 

In a preceding Discourse, I flatter myself, I have 
proved the benevolence of God from the light of na- 
ture. From this attribute, his truth is easily and 
unanswerably inferred. The happiness of intelligent 
beings is derived in a great measure from society ; nor 
is it possible that they should be equally happy in the 
solitary, as in the social state. But no society can ex- 
ist without confidence, and no confidence without truth. 
Truth therefore is the basis on which society rests. 
Even thieves and robbers are obliged to speak truth to 
each other, in order to maintain their own dreadful 
society. 

Confidence also is one of the most important in- 
gredients of happiness ; so important, that no rational 
being can be happy without it. But without truth, 
this happiness can never be enjoyed. On the contrary, 
distrust would create in the mind a dreadful state of 
suspense, another name for misery. All enjoyments 
would be seen to hang in doubt before the eyes, and 
safety and quiet could never be attained. 

Again, falsehood, as an attribute, renders a moral 
character supremely debased and despicable. So far 
as we are able to judge from our experience, fixed, ab- 
solute falsehood in any mind infers absolute depravity. 
No vice in man is probably so universally and perfectly 
despised as deceit. But such depravity is utterly in- 
consistent with any happiness whatever. 

All these evils would attend the want of truth in 
rational creatures. A general character of deceit in 
them would utterly destroy, or prevent, the whole 
of their happiness. But a deceitful character in the 
Creator would far more effectually destroy it. On 
his character, all their happiness is ultimately founded ; 
and, were he capable of deceiving them, would be de- 
stroyed. The very sense in them, of such depravity 
in him, would also completely prevent them from be- 
ing happy. If then he wishes their happiness, or in 



TRUTH OF GOD. 



57 



other words, is benevolent, it is impossible that he 
shouldnotbe sincere. His benevolence, like that of crea- 
tures, as described by St Paul, ' rejoiceth in the truth.' 

II. As God contrived and executes all things accord- 
ing to his will, throughout eternity, it is inconceivable 
that he should not speak of them exactly as they are : 
because the state in which they are, is exactly agreeable 
to his pleasure. 

Truth, as I have already remarked, is, in the original 
sense, made up of declarations, exactly conformed to 
the real state of things. But that state of things is in 
every respect such as God has chosen. Declarations, 
therefore, conformed to the real state of things, are 
also conformed to his pleasure ; while those which are 
not conformed to the real state of things, are in the 
same degree not agreeable to his pleasure. It seems 
of course a contradiction in the nature of the case, 
that he should not utter declarations of the former 
kind, or that he should utter declarations of the latter 
kind ; in other words, that he should not always speak 
that which is exactly true. 

III. The independence and immutability of God in- 
volve, by an absolute moral necessity, his veracity and 
faithfulness. 

The independence of God places him above all pos- 
sible temptation to vary at all from his own original 
purposes. These purposes were all at first perfectly 
pleasing to him. As his character is absolutely immu- 
table, they will for ever be thus pleasing. On the one 
hand, therefore, he can have no possible motive to make 
declarations, unaccordant with these purposes ; because 
no being and no event can make it in any sense neces- 
sary or advantageous to him to make such declarations, 
or disadvantageous to make those of a contrary nature, 
or to declare that which is true. On the other hand, 
sustaining alway exactly the same character, which 
he originally sustained, and choosing alway the same 
things, he cannot but be always pleased with the state 
of things itself, and with such declarations as express 
it. Truth, according to what has been here said, must 
be infinitely advantageous to the furtherance of his 
designs ; as being the only medium by which his ra- 
tional creatures can understand them. If they do not 
understand them, it is plainly impossible that they 
should voluntarily coincide with him in promoting 
them. But it is a prime part of his designs, that his 
intelligent creatures should thus ' coincide with him. 
Truth on his part being, then, absolutely necessary to 
this voluntary conformity of his rational creatures to 
his designs, and this conformity being a prime and es- 
sential part of these designs ; truth, the indispensable 
mean of accomplishing it, must evidently be of an im- 
portance proportioned to the designs themselves ; that 
is, of infinite importance. To thjs infinite motive to 
speak truth, there is no opposing motive ; because he 
is perfectly secured by his independence from all dan- 
ger of defect and disappointment. 

In the meantime, falsehood in him would effectually 
prevent the execution of his designs, in this essential 
part of them ; because it would prevent his intelligent 
creatures from knowing them, and therefore from vo- 
luntarily uniting with him in their accomplishment. 
An infinite motive to speak truth only is also furnished 
to the Creator by this consideration. 

Farther, truth is the only moral immutability. False- 
hood is in his own nature change of character. As 



every proposition, or its converse, is necessarily true ; 
he who should invariably utter that which is false in 
form, would invariably indicate that which is in sub- 
stance true. In other words, those who heard him 
speak, would invariably know, that the converse of 
what he declared was true. He also who immutably 
intended to deceive would speedily become unable to 
deceive at all ; because, when his character was once 
known, he could never be believed. In either of these 
cases his conduct would differ no otherwise in its 
effects, from that of him who invariably uttered truth 
in the direct manner, except that, as he chose a differ- 
ent mode of communicating truth, or did not choose to 
communicate it at all, he would either be believed to 
declare it indirectly, or would be entirely disbelieved 
and disregarded. In this manner therefore he would 
defeat his own design. Thus immutable falsehood is 
evidently a self-contradiction. So obvious is this to 
all men, that liars, even of the weakest minds, find it 
absolutely necessary to speak truth frequently, in order 
to deceive. An immutable God, therefore, unless we 
suppose immutability consistent with a continual change 
of conduct, cannot but be a God of truth. 

IV. The excellency of truth, and the turpitude of 
falsehood, furnish an infinite motive to the Creator to 
speak truth only. 

We, limited as our faculties are. perfectly discern 
that truth is entirely honourable and glorious to the 
character of an intelligent being. Falsehood, on the 
other hand, we perceive with equal clearness to be 
odious, disgraceful, and contemptible. This, God sees, 
unquestionably, far more clearly and perfectly than we. 
Falsehood in him, we see beyond a possibility of doubt, 
would be disgrace and deformity, proportioned to the 
greatness of his character ; and truth in an equal pro- 
portion, honour and glory. This also he discerns in a 
manner infinitely superior to ours. By the infinite 
glory therefore, with which he must be invested by 
truth, and the infinite disgrace in which he would be 
involved by falsehood, he is presented with infinite 
motives to truth, and infinite dissuasives from falsehood. 

At the same time it appears to me evident, that the 
adoption of truth or falsehood by the Creator, must be 
followed by exactly the same effects which they pro- 
duce in us. In the former case, he must regard him- 
self with entire complacency or self-approbation ; in 
the latter, with an irresistible consciousness of turpi- 
tude and unworthiness. These views, and the emo- 
tions with which -they must be. attended, must in an 
infinite mind be, in either case, boundless; an unlimited 
sense of excellence on the; one hand, accompanied of 
course with unlimited happiness; on the other, a 
boundless sense of turpitude, accompanied, for ought 
that I can see, with boundless sliame and wretchedness. 

V. He has so formed his intelligent creatures, that 
they irresistibly esteem and respect truth, and disesteem 
and despise falsehood. 

This respect for truth, and contempt for falsehood, 
is irresistible from two causes. It is, in the first place, 
the necessary dictate of the understanding, when em- 
ployed in examining the nature of these subjects ; and 
is perfectly independent of any feeling or influence of 
the heart. Knaves as truly, and as irresistibly, as 
honest men, despise knaves. No other dictate of the 
understanding was ever found in the present world, 
no other is capable of existing. 

H 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. 



Secondly : He has made truth absolutely necessary 
to the happiness of mankind, and invariably productive 
of it ; and falsehood utterly inconsistent with our 
happiness, and invariably productive of misery. In 
this great practical lesson, he has in his providence 
forced mankind to esteem and respect truth, without 
a possibility of it being otherwise ; and to disesteem 
and despise falsehood. 

This argument strongly proves the truth of God in 
two methods. 

In the first place, by teaching us to respect truth, 
and despise falsehood, he has irresistibly led us to 
respect him, if a God of truth ; and to despise him, if 
a God of falsehood. But, if he be not a God of truth, 
this fact is utterly irreconcilable with the only end, 
which he can be supposed to have had in view in 
creating intelligent beings. 

Secondly, he has in this manner strongly impressed 
on the minds of his creatures his own character, as a 
God of truth. As a being perfectly independent, he 
could have no inducement to impress any character on 
their minds, except that which pleased him. That 
which pleased him more than any other, was unques- 
tionably his own character. As an immutable Being, 
it cannot be supposed that he could disclose to them 
any character as his own, except his real character. 
If then the character actually disclosed by him as his 
own, is not his real character; it must have arisen 
from one of these sources ; either he was afraid to dis- 
close his own character, or by some other motive in- 
consistent with his independence, was inclined to dis- 
close a character with which he was not pleased ; or 
lie preferred some other character to his own ; or, in 
some strange moment and situation, incomprehensible 
by us, departed from his general disposition, and deny. 
ing his nature, acted in a manner directly opposite to 
all his essential atoibutes, which irresistibly prove him 
to be in mutable. Neither of these will be asserted. 
The character therefore which he has actually disclosed, 
is his true character. 

To these arguments, presented to us by reason, I 
shall now add the scriptural exhibition of the truth of 
God. Before I proceed to a consideration of this sub- 
ject, I shall, however, attempt to remove a prejudice 
against it, which may not improbably, nor unnaturally 
arise in the minds of some of my audience. It is this, 
that as the truth of God must be presupposed and 
admitted before we can admit the truth of his decla- 
rations ; so it is absurd to bring those declarations to 
evince his truth, as it will be arguing in a circle. I 
acknowledge this objection to be specious, but still in- 
sist that it is unsound. It must undoubtedly be granted, 
that the mere declaration on the part of any being that 
he is sincere, furnishes by itself no evidence of his sin- 
cerity ; since we well know, that insincere beings will 
as readily arrogate to themselves sincerity in this man- 
ner, as those who are sincere. But the uniform ac- 
cordance of a man's declarations with facts is justly re- 
garded by his fellow men, as the proper and satisfactory 
proof of his sincerity. In the same manner may God 
evince his sincerity by his own declarations ; and this 
I shall attempt to show he has done in the Scriptures, 
in a manner which leaves no room for a reasonable 
doubt. 

I will also farther observe, that the Scriptures con- 
tain all the known declarations made by God to man- 



kind. As, therefore, truth can be directly made known 
only by declarations ; it is reasonably presumed, that 
we shall find in those of the Scriptures, plain exhibi- 
tions of the truth of God, as, in the declarations of a 
sincere man, we usually find examples and evidences of 
his truth. 

In the last place I shall farther premise, that we have 
other means of examining the truth of God, as manifest- 
ed in his declarations, beside a mere appeal to his char- 
acter. This will amply appear in the course of the fol- 
lowing observations. 

1. God has declared himself to be a God of truth. In 
this observation, I consider him only as claiming, and 
not at all as proving, this character. 

2. He has made a vast multitude of declarations, all 
of which have accorded with the facts professedly de- 
clared. The Scriptural history is, even at this day, 
capable of being satisfactorily examined as to its accor- 
dance with facts. Some part of it is indeed beyond 
the reach of a direct examination. But as almost all of 
it can be thus examined, and has been, and can at any 
time be proved by sufficient evidence to be true ; flie 
truth of the rest cannot reasonably be questioned. In 
these declarations the same evidence is furnished us 
of the truth of God, which is furnished of the veracity 
of a man by the uniform accordance of his declarations 
with the real state of things. 

3. God has in the Scriptures uttered a vast number 
of predictions, which have been exactly fulfilled. In this 
manner he has not only proved his omniscience, but 
his truth ; especially in the exact accomplishment of 
such predictions as appeared, at the time when they 
were uttered, strange, perplexing, seemingly contradic- 
tory, and, independently of his truth, altogether unlike- 
ly to be fulfilled. Such, remarkably, were those which 
respected the advent, the character, and the mediation 
of the Messiah. Such also were those which respected 
his dispensations to the Jewish church and nation, and 
those which respected the establishment and progress 
of the Christian church. Of the fulfilment of these and 
other similar predictions no explanation can be given, 
which will not firmly establish the truth of God. 

4. He has declared many doctrines concerning him- 
self and mankind, concerning sin and holiness, and con- 
cerning many other subjects of less importance, all of 
which, so far as they are capable of being examined 
by us, are exactly true. These doctrines are God's own 
exhibition of the general state of the moral world, and 
of his pleasure concerning the beings of which it is 
composed. All of them are true, so far as they can be 
understood by us ; and are accordingly, and perfectly 
consistent with each other. No reason can be alleged 
why he should thus disclose his pleasure to us, except 
that he is a God of truth. 

5. He has in the Scriptures threatened punishments, 
and promised blessings to men in this world ; and has, 
as the same Scriptures satisfactorily inform us, exactly 
inflicted those punishments, and bestowed those bless- 
ings, in the course of his providence. 

6'. He has in the Scriptures also entered into particu- 
lar covenants with different persons, which in every in- 
stance he has completely fulfilled. 

7. He has in the moral law required truth, and for- 
bidden falsehood in man, by the most solemn possible 
sanctions ; viz. endless life, and endless death. 

8. He has strongly exemplified his love of truth, and 



TRUTH OF GOD. 



59 



his hatred of falsehood, by rewarding the former, and 
awfully punishing the latter, in various instances record- 
ed in the Scriptures. 

9. He has required the worship and obedience of 
mankind to himself only as a God of truth. 

In these considerations, supported as they are in the 
fullest manner by the character of the Redeemer, there 
is ample proof of the truth of God : such proof, that no 
one who has believed the Scriptures to be a revelation 
from God, has ever called this doctrine in question. 



I. How gloriously and perfectly is God qualified by 
this attribute to be the moral governor of intelligent 
creatures. 

Moral government is a government by laws, whose 
nature and sanctions are the great inducements to 
obedience, and the great means of order, peace, and 
happiness, to subjects ; and of honour and reverence 
to the ruler. In other words, it is a government by 
motives, addressed to the understanding and affections 
of rational subjects, and operating on their minds as in- 
ducements to voluntary obedience. No other govern- 
ment is worthy of God, there being indeed no other be- 
side that of mere force and coercion. Obedience to 
this can never be voluntary, virtuous, amiable, praise- 
worthy, or rewardable ; whereas voluntary obedience 
sustains all these characteristics ; and renders the sub- 
jects of it excellent and lovely in the sight of a virtuous 
or benevolent ruler. This government then, is, on the 
one hand suited to the dignity and glory of the infinite 
mind; and on the other, to the character, state, and 
wants, of rational beings. Without obedience to such a 
government they cannot be virtuous, and without vir- 
tue they cannot be happy. 

To the existence of such a government, it is absolute- 
ly necessary that the character of the ruler should be 
such, as that it can and ought to be approved by wise 
and good subjects ; and of course a character in which 
they can safely and rationally confide. But it is impos- 
sible that a ruler, unpossessed of truth, should be ap- 
proved at all. Falsehood is not only a vice, a defect, 
a deformity, but a most odious and contemptible vice, 
involving every other kind of turpitude. A liar is pre- 
eminently odious and contemptible in the view of man- 
kind ; and the finished depravity of the worst of all 
beings is exhibited to us by God himself in the memor- 
able declaration, ' He was a liar from the beginning, 
and the father of it.' A god of falsehood would be a 
monster, whose depravity no mind less than infinite 
could comprehend ; and who would of necessity be re- 
garded with absolute detestation and horror. 

But how could obedience be voluntary to a ruler, 
whose character, instead of being esteemed and rever- 
enced, was only disapproved, hated, and despised ? Who 
could love either him or his commands ? Who could 
voluntarily yield obedience to falsehood P Who could 
ever be pleased with subjection to a ruler, whose cha- 
racter he could not respect? The very supposition is 
an absurdity. 

In a still more striking manner would it be impossible 
for rational beings voluntarily to obey a ruler in whom 
they could not confide, or for such a ruler to exercise 
a moral government over them. Should he make laws, 
and in them promise rewards to obedience, and threaten 
punishments to disobedience ; how could it be known 



that he would fulfill his promises, or execute his threat- 
enings ? How could it be known that his declarations 
were true, or his character sincere ? Certainly, neither 
his words nor actions could be the foundation of such 
knowledge. Both might as easily and as naturally be 
supposed intentionally to disguise, conceal, or deceive, 
as to explain and satisfy. 

God, we are ever to remember, is the last appeal, re- 
sort, and hope of intelligent beings. By whomsoever 
else the soul is deceived or disappointed, it rests on him 
with perfect reliance ; because it considers his truth as 
the great mountains, and his faithfulness as enduring 
for ever. If no confidence could be placed in him, none 
could be placed elsewhere. Every thought, purpose, 
interest, consolation, and hope, would be afloat on the 
waves of a boundless and perpetually disturbed ocean, 
where rest and safety could never be found. All beings 
would distrust all ; and the universe, filled as it is with 
inhabitants, would become a solitude. Suspicion and 
jealousy would make all beings strangers and enemies 
to each other. Suspense would fill every mind, and 
hang over every enjoyment ; a state always wretched 
and deplorable, but here supremely and finally wretch- 
ed, because the suspense would be endless as well as 
unceasing. The mind, stretching its view through 
eternity and immensity, would discern no pole-star by 
which it might steer its course, no haven whither it 
might betake itself for safety and repose. The truth 
of God hushes this restless and stormy ocean to peace. 
All his creatures know, or may know, that his purposes, 
declarations, and promises, are eternal and immutable ; 
and that therefore he cannot deceive their confidence, 
nor disappoint their reasonable hopes ; that he is ' the 
Rock,' on which is founded the great building of the 
universe : the foundation and the building both eternal. 
However uncertain, therefore, however fluctuating may 
be the state of the soul with respect to creatures ; on 
him it rests with perfect reliance and final safety. Were 
these facts reversed, he could present no motives to 
voluntary obedience, nor act as the moral governor of 
rational ,beings. Now he is seen to be divinely excel- 
lent ; ' the fortress, the high tower,' the unchangeable 
safety of such beings ; and their obedience to his laws 
is a voluntary and cheerfid effort of the mind, begun 
here to continue for ever. 

2. We learn from these considerations how necessary 
faith is to acceptance with God. 

St Paul declares, that ' without faith it is impossible 
to please God ; for he that cometh to God must beliei e 
that he is, and that he is the rewarder of them that 
diligently seek him.' Faith, in its first and simple 
sense, is assent to probable evidence. Few of the pro- 
positions to which we assent, are known to us either by 
intuition or demonstration. This is especially true of 
moral propositions ; almost all of which, although they 
ai*e in many instances spoken of as known by us, ate 
in fact only believed ; the evidence by which they are 
supported being merely probable evidence. Yet on 
these propositions is dependent all our duty, and ulti- 
mately all our happiness. Wherever the probability is 
clear and unimpeachable, reason demands that we should 
readily assent to it, as being the best evidence which the 
case will admit. In the same manner reason requires that 
our conduct should be regulated by it, as being the best 
rule of which we are, or in our present circumstances 
can be, possessed. A reasonable disposition ^fiU there- 



60 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. xr. 



fore, in every such case, yield ils assent to every pro- 
position, and conform its conduct to every rule thus 
evidenced ; while a proud and obstinate spirit will re- 
fuse both, and choose rather to take refuge in scepticism 
and disobedience, than to conform to the only princi- 
ples of assent and rectitude which have been furnished 
to us by our Maker. 

The faith of the Gospel is the assent of the heart, as 
well as of the understanding, to the declarations con- 
tained in the Scriptures ; the belief of a man who re- 
gards them with good-will, and who is pleased with such 
truths as they present to the mind. The foundation of 
faith in these declarations is a similar faith in the cha- 
racter, especially the moral character of God, exhibited 
in them, and evidenced both by them, and by other 
extraneous proof. This character, discerned to be 
glorious, great, and lovely, by a mind possessed of a 
suitable disposition, is not in the strict sense demon- 
strated to us ; but is evinced with high and unexcep- 
tionable probability. To the ready and cheerful ad- 
mission of it, a good and honest heart is wholly pre- 
pared, and is the only thing necessary. 

The truth or veracity of God is especially that part 
of his moral character, on which the faith or confi- 
dence, which is termed evangelical, ultimately rests. 
On this attribute all his declarations, promises, and 
covenants, entirely depend for their truth and certain- 
ty ; and therefore all the confidence which creatures 
can place in his character, designs, or conduct. It is 
indispensable in order to our exercising any regard to- 
wards him at all, that we ' believe that he is.' This 
however we may do by the aid of arguments furnished 
by the light of nature. To ' believe that he is the re- 
warder of them that diligently seek him,' is indispensa- 
ble to the exercise of any virtuous regard to him ; but 
this we cannot do without confidence in the truth of 
his promises, and in the veracity of himself as the pro- 
miser. 

But for these promises, we could not know that he 
thought of bestowing such rewards : unless we believed 
him sincere in promising, we could not believe that he 
would bestow them. Between confidence in the truth 
of God, and distrust of his truth, there is no alternative. 
It is metaphysically, as well as scripturally, true, that 
' he who believeth not God, hath made him a liar.' Let 
me then ask every person in this assembly, whether 
this distrust of God, this attribution to him of so odious 
and contemptible a character, this last insult (as man- 
kind estimate insults), can, in his own view, possibly 
be pleasing to God ? Yet this is a fair description of 
all unbelief, or, as it ought rather to be termed, disbelief 
or distrust. As this conduct can never be pleasing in 
his sight, so it is certain that he who is the subject of 
it can never be accepted of God : for nothing is more 
evident than that God will never accept him, with 
whom he is not pleased. As then there is no medium 
between this character and confidence or faith ; it is, I 
think, past all doubt, that faith is indispensably neces- 
sary to acceptance with God. 

At the same time, distrust is an entire separation of 
an intelligent being from his Maker. We cannot pos- 
sibly coincide voluntarily with the designs of a being, 
unless we confide in his truth and benevolence, and of 
course in the rectitude of those designs. No virtuous 
obedience can be yielded to laws, of whose rectitude 
we are not satisfied ; no complacency exercised towards 



a character, in which we do not confide ; no gratitude 
rendered for benefits conferred by a suspected benefac- 
tor ; no reliance placed on promises made by a . being 
of doubted veracity ; and no praiseworthy efforts made 
to promote designs regarded as suspicious and un- 
worthy. Without confidence, the soul is separated, of 
course, from its Creator. Distrust is in its own nature 
enmity against him, not subject to his law, ' neither 
indeed can be.' How then can God be pleased with 
this character, or accept him in whom it exists ? 

3. How greatly ought this attribute of God to terrify 
deceitful men. 

By deceitful men I intend not only liars of every 
description, perjured persons and slanderers, but frau- 
dulent men of every class ; hypocrites, cheats, seducers, 
flatterers, sophists, and all other men guilty of inten- 
tional deception. From the character of God, as ex- 
hibited by the light of nature only, these men have 
every thing to fear, and nothing to hope. That God 
can be pleased with a moral character opposite to his 
own, or that he will bless men with whom he is not 
pleased, cannot be imagined for a moment. But there 
is no moral character more absolutely opposed to God, 
or more remote from his pleasure, than that of false- 
hood ; falsehood in every form, whether of looks, de- 
clarations, arguments, or actions ; and in every degree 
from the humble pretence, to the palpable lie. Nor is 
any immoral conduct adopted against clearer evidence 
and more absolute conviction. Truth is a thing per- 
fectly definite. We always know when we speak it, 
and equally well know when we utter falsehood. It 
is therefore a sin against noonday light, and is always 
committed in the sunshine. How then must the Be- 
ing, invested with the glorious and eminently divine 
attribute of truth, as with a garment, regard this base 
and vile character so opposed to his own, and so hos- 
tile to the virtue and happiness of his intelligent king- 
dom ? Miserable indeed must be the expectations and 
the lot if all wilful deceivers, even if there were no 
Scriptures ; or if they were not the word of God. 

But there are Scriptures ; and they are the word of 
God. In them, as we could not fail to expect, most 
terrible additions are made to the alarms rung in the 
ears of these transgressors by the voice of nature. 
There, his determinations to inflict signal vengeance 
on these men, are announced in every awful form by 
the ' God who cannot lie.' There he has declared, 
that into the holy city, the heaven of heavens, the 
mansion of everlasting joy, ' there shall in nowise enter 
any one who loveth or maketh a lie.' There he has 
declared that, ' every liar shall have his part in the 
lake that burnetii with fire and brimstone.' Let every 
deceitful man ' hear and fear, and do no more so wick- 
edly.' 

4. What a source of comfort, joy, and quickening, to 
good men is the truth of God. 

When we think on the character even of the best 
men, when we call to mind how often they backslide 
and sin ; how cold and stupid they are in their affec- 
tions, and how dull and slothful in their obedience ; 
with what eagerness they cleave to the world, and 
with what ease they guide to temptation, how ire- J 
quently they wound religion, and how greatly they j 
dishonour God ; we cannot but feel, that all the truth 
and faithfulness of God are indispensably necessary to 
prevent him from forsaking such beings as they are, 



MERCY OF GOD. 



61 



and incline him to conduct them safe y to his eternal 
kingdom. Here created faithfulness would not suffice, 
nor prove to them a solid ground of unshaken confi- 
dence, nor of lively and supporting hope. A higher 
'perfection of character seems plainly necessary in the 
blessed God, to enable his patience to bear with all 
their faults, and his mercy to triumph over all their 
trangressions. 

In his holy word he has given them promises of in- 
finite extent and value. In these promises are con- 
tained blessings temporal and spiritual, blessings present 
and eternal, blessings of the first magnitude and of the 
most delightful nature, extending alike to the soul and 
the body, to all times and all places, to every want and 
every situation. Whatever can be useful to them, 
honourable to himself, or beneficial to the universe, he 
freely proffers from his unlimited bounty. Finally, 
himself, the sum of all good, the overflowing fountain, 
the inexhaustible ocean, whence every stream of hap- 
piness flows, he engages to them as their everlasting 
possession. 

What can secure the boundless good contained in 
these promises, to beings of such a character ? The 
unchangeable truth of God. On this they repose with 
perfect safety, with a hope which can never make 
them ashamed, with a faith which cannot be broken 
down. Under ' the shadow of this great rock in a 
weary land,' they sit down witli unspeakable delight : 



and see all these promises advancing to a regular, con- 
stant, and certain fulfilment, throughout the progress 
of never-ending being. 

Here, too, they find the most persuasive inducement 
to faithfulness in his service. They know, that he 
' cometh in clouds,' and that ' his reward is with him.' 
' The bruised reed,' they are assured, ' he will never 
break ; the smoking flax he will not quench, until he 
shall have brought forth judgment unto final victory.' 
Hence ' they wait on the Lord unceasingly, and renew 
their strength.' Hence ' they mount up with wings 
as eagles ;' they run in the Christian course, and are 
not weary ; they walk, and faint not, in the ' strait and 
narrow way which leads to life.' 

In the mission, life, and death of the Redeemer, in 
his resurrection, intercession, and kingdom, the truth 
of God has set its seal on all his promises. The cove- 
nant of grace is here seen to be an unchangeable and 
• everlasting covenant.' In the solemn ordinance * 
immediately before us, a living, unchanging, and most 
affecting memorial, we may discern a hand, which, tes- 
tifying infinitely better things than those which were 
disclosed to Belshazzar, writes before our eyes, that 
notwithstanding all our infirmities, if we indeed believe 
in him, we are, when ' weighed in the balance, not 
found wanting.' 

* The Eucharist. 



SERMON XII 



ON THE MERCY OF GOD. 



The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy Psalm ciii. 8 



In this beautiful and interesting psalm, David, with a 
piety and zeal highly becoming, calls upon his soul and 
all that is within him to bless the Lord for the mani- 
festations of his mercy. A multitude of these, remark- 
able in their nature, and of vast importance to man- 
kind, he recites in the happiest language of poetry. 
In this language God is exhibited as ' forgiving all his 
iniquities, healing all his diseases, redeeming his life 
from destruction, crowning him with loving kindness 
and tender mercies, satisfying his mouth with good 
things, and renewing his youth like the eagle's. ' Nor 
does he confine his views to his own blessings merely ; 
but, like a good man, deeply affected with the concerns 
of his fellow-creatures, casts his eye abroad to the gen- 
eral dispensations of providence, and rejoices in the 
exemplifications of this glorious attribute to the human 
race. With supreme delight lie here beholds God 
' executing righteousness and judgment for the op- 
pressed ; unwilling always to chide, or to keep his an- 
ger for ever ; not dealing with mankind according to 
their sins, nor rewarding them according to their ini- 
quities.' The mercy of God he sees extended and ex- 
alted as the heavens ; ' removing our transgressions 
from us, as far as the east is removed from the west ; 
and pitying those who fear him, as a father pitieth his 
children.' This divine perfection he farther teaches 



us, is an inherent and essential part of the character of 
God, and is accordingly ' from everlasting to everlast- 
ing.' Nor is it confined to any place, nor limited by 
any opposing power or obstacle : for ' the Lord hath 
prepared his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom 
ruleth over all.' With this delightful subject in such 
full and strong view, he finally and most forcibly calls 
upon ' angels, who excel in strength, upon his host9 
the ministers who do his pleasure,' and upon all the 
works formed in his boundless dominion, to bless Je- 
hovah for this transcendent perfection, so illustriously 
manifested, in so many forms, towards an apostate and 
ruined world. 

The text is the theme of the whole psalm, and is a 
strong and ample assertion, reiterated in various forms 
according to the manner of the inspired writers, when 
labouring to impart to others their own vivid emotions 
of this 

doctrine : 

That God is a God of mercy. 

Mercy is the exercise of good-will towards those 
who have not merited it, and especially towards those 
who have merited anger and punishment. In its most 
important sense it denotes the communication of for- 
giveness, and consequent blessings, to such as have 



62 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



been guilty of crimes ; particularly as exercised by 
God to those who have transgressed his most holy law, 
provoked his anger, and forfeited every claim to his 
favour. 

In canvassing this doctrine, I shall pursue the same 
method which I have adopted in discussing- the other 
attributes of the divine character, and consider the 
manner in which it is exhibited ; first, by reason ; and 
secondly, by revelation. 

I. Reason naturally leads us to conclude that God is 
merciful, because, 

1. He is benevolent. 

Mercy is a modification of benevolence. It is there- 
fore reasonably concluded concerning any benevolent 
being, that his disposition will, in certain cases at least 
be mercifully exercised ; or that when certain objects 
are presented to his view, and solicit his interference, 
he will extend his benevolence to them, although their 
character is such as not to merit this interference at 
his hands, or even such as to deserve in some degree 
his anger, rejection, or punishment. But God is 
boundlessly benevolent. Mercy in the abstract, and 
extending to every degree which propriety and justice 
will admit, must therefore be acknowledged by reason 
to be an essential part of the divine benevolence. 
What and how great this extent is ; what objects it 
will reach, and what crimes it will forgive ; cannot, I 
confess, be at all determined by us ; nor upon what 
terms it will be extended to such objects as it will ac- 
tually reach. An angel, who had transgressed the 
divine law, or Adam, after he had fallen, might satis- 
factorily determine by rational arguments that God 
was merciful ; and yet neither would be able at all to 
decide whether that mercy would be extended to him ; 
or if it were thus extended, upon what terms, in what 
manner, and to what degree. 

2. Because he exercises patience and forbearance to- 
wards mankind. 

That men are opposed to the character and govern- 
ment of God ; that they continually dishonour his 
name, violate his laws, so far as they know them, and 
are guilty of manifold iniquities towards each other, 
cannot be rationally questioned. The conduct which 
strict justice on the part of God would dictate as the 
proper retribution of these crimes, can be no other than 
severe and immediate punishment. This punishment, 
however, we do not find executed. On the contrary, 
he continues them in life, notwithstanding all their 
provocations, and surrounds them with an endless 
multitude of blessings. In this part of divine provi- 
dence, therefore, we find a direct exercise of mercy ; 
that is, of kindness to guilty beings ; and this repeated 
in instances innumerable, instances so multiplied, and 
so constantly recurring, as to constitute a primary and 
essential characteristic of the government of God over 
mankind 

3. Because he has formed the human mind in such a 
manner, that it necessarily considers mercy as high ex- 
cellence of character. 

This argument, largely considered in my Discourse 
on the Benevolence of God, is applicable to the peculiar 
exercise of benevolence, in almost the same manner as 
to benevolence in the abstract. It is not indeed true, 
that a benevolent being, destitute of mercy, would be 
therefore destitute of amiableness ; because benevo- 
lence in every form and exercise, is unquestionably 



amiable. But it is the necessary dictate of the human 
understanding, that mercy is the noblest possible exer- 
cise of benevolence, and that this attribute is indispen- 
sable to a character of absolute perfection. Such is 
the decision of the mind, as God has formed it; and 
the invariable result of the understanding, when em- 
ployed on this subject without passion or prejudice. 
In the meantime, this attribute is indispensable to the 
happiness, and even to the comfort, nay, to the toler- 
able existence, of mankind in the present world. Both 
crimes and sufferings are here so numerous, and con- 
stitute so great a part of the character, and of the lot 
of all men, that all continually need, and vast numbers 
in the most absolute manner, the exercise of this dis- 
position. Our circumstances, therefore, continually 
elucidate and enforce upon us, the justice of this dic- 
tate of the understanding. 

In this manner God has, of his own choice, rendered 
this attribute, in our view, absolutely necessary to a 
perfect, and therefore to his own, character. If, then, 
mercy constitute not a part of his character, he has 
necessitated us, of his own choice, to consider his real 
character as destitute of perfection. 

After the application of this argument in former 
Discourses to the other moral attributes of God, it will 
be unnecessary any farther to insist on it here. 

From these considerations it may, I think, be fairly 
concluded by reason, that God is merciful. Accord- 
ingly, mankind appear to have generally regarded this 
as the true character of God. Such, at least, seems to 
be the apprehension which men have formed of the ob- 
ject of their worship, as is evident from the very act 
of rendering worship. I see not how men can be sup- 
posed to pray to any being, of whose favour they could 
not entertain either belief or hope. But all favour 
from God to guilty beings must be merciful. In wor- 
shipping him therefore they have, I think, plainly ex- 
pressed their hope at least, that he would regard them 
with mercy in some indefinite degree ; and this hope 
they have probably derived from one or other of these 
considerations. 

II. But whether the mercy of God will extend to 
the final forgiveness of sin, and the communication of 
future happiness to man ; or, if this were to be granted, 
upon what terms these blessings will be communicated ; 
cannot be determined by reason, from any considera- 
tions within its power. What conduct is proper for 
the Infinite Mind to pursue towards such rebellious 
and guilty creatures as we are, and whether that con- 
duct shall include any future favour to us, can never 
be decided by the human understanding. Socrates 
doubted whether it were possible for God to forgive 
sin, and, in my view, expressed the real ultimatum of 
reason on this subject. The sins of men are so cause- 
less, so numerous, and so great, as to leave to a sober 
man, solemnly considering this subject, little else be- 
side 'a fearful looking for of judgment.' To relieve 
the distress and despondency to which we are thus ex- 
posed, the Bible comes to our aid; and holds out to 
our view the most unequivocal proofs, not only of the 
existence, but also of the extent of this divine attri- 
bute. These are found, 

1. In the numerous declarations which assert this 
character of God. 

These declarations are found everywhere, and are so 
familiarly known, that they need not now be repeated. 



MERCY OP GOD. 



63 



They are also given to us in every form, in the most 
forcible language, and with the strongest images ; and 
defy all doubt, as well as all denial, concerning this 
subject. The text is as direct and ample a declaration 
of this character of God as can be desired or formed, 
and the context as beautiful and forcible an illustration. 

2. In the precepts of the Bible. 

These require men to exercise mercy to each other, 
and assure them of peculiar divine approbation, and an 
eminently glorious reward for the performance of this 
duty. At the same time they threaten the most awful 
penalties, final condemnation, and absolute rejection, 
to all the unmerciful. Nay, they forbid us to hope, 
and even to ask for the forgiveness of our sins, unless 
we heartily forgive the trespasses of our fellow men. 
The ' merciful ' only are entitled by the Scriptures to 
the ' attainment of mercy,' while those of a contrary 
character are uniformly threatened with a terrible re- 
tribution. 

This species of proof is exhibited with the strongest 
possible force in the account given us by Christ of the 
last judgment. In this account, recorded in the twenty- 
fifth chapter of Matthew, our Saviour mentions no 
other ground of the final acceptance of mankind, but 
the exercise of mercy towards their fellow men ; and 
no other ground of their final rejection, but their desti- 
tution of this attribute and its exercises. We know, 
indeed, from numerous declarations made by himself, 
that mercy is not the only thing required of men by 
the will of God, nor the only thing regarded by 
the Judge in the acceptance or rejection of men at the 
great day. But we are clearly taught in this account, 
that mercy holds the foremost place in human excel- 
lence, and in the divine estimation, and that the con- 
trary character is the most odious depravity, and pre- 
eminently the object of the divine abhorrence. 

3. In testimonies of the divine approbation given to 
such as have exercised this disposition ; and of the di- 
vine disapprobation of such as have exhibited the con- 
trary character. 

In the instances of Rahab, Ruth, Boaz, David to- 
wards Saul and his house, Obadiah towards the pro- 
phets of God, Ebed-melech the Ethiopian (or Cushite) 
towards Jeremiah, &c, God was pleased to give direct 
and important testimonies of his favour and approba- 
tion in blessing those who had showed mercy to their 
fellow men. On the other hand, he manifested in the 
most awful manner his displeasure against Saul and 
his house, for his cruelty towards the Gibeonites ; 
against Ahab, Jezebel, Athaliah, Pashur, Herod, and 
many others, for their cruelty. These are all direct 
proofs that mercy is highly acceptable to God, and that 
the implacable and unmerciful are an abomination in 
his sight. 

4. In requiring all our homage and obedience to him- 
self as a merciful God. 

On this argument, although unanswerable in its 
import, I shall not insist, because it will be easily un- 
derstood from the application already made of it to 
the moral attributes of God, considered in former 
Discourses. 

5. In the mediation of Christ. 

Christ is to us the channel through which the divine 
mercy flows, and his mediation the procuring cause for 
which it is exercised towards mankind. All the pre- 
ceding arguments, therefore, so far as they are furnished 



by the Scriptures, have a reference to him, and are 
supremely illustrated by his mediation. This great 
subject claims, of course, a distinct consideration, more 
extended and more particular than the present occa- 
sion will permit. Such a minute examination will, 
however, be the less necessary at the present time, be- 
cause the subject will recur in many forms during the 
progress of these Discourses, and because it is the com- 
manding theme in every desk, and the principal subject 
of information to every religious audience. I shall 
now briefly consider the mercy of God, as illustrated 
by the incarnation, life, and death of the Redeemer. 

At this time the divinity of Christ will not be at all 
insisted on, as it will be, of course, the subject of a fu- 
ture investigation. It is sufficient for my purpose that 
he was, what he cannot with decency be denied to be, 
' the beloved Son of God, in whom he is ever well 
pleased; the brightness of his glory, and the express 
image of his person ; as much better than the angels, 
as lie has by inheritance obtained a more excellent 
name than they ; the first born of every creature,' and 
the glory of God in the heavens, as well as in the 
earth. 

When this great and wonderful Person, great and 
wonderful beyond any possible estimation of such 
minds as ours, became incarnate ; ' he who was rich' 
in the best of all possessions, the unqualified love of 
his Father, ' for our sakes became poor, that we 
through him might become rich.' He allied himself 
in a manner intimate, eternal, and inseparable to flesh 
and blood, to sinners and worms of the dust ; and was 
not unwilling, nor ' ashamed to call them his brethren.' 
The strength and intenseness of the purpose for which 
he interfered, the greatness of his tenderness and com- 
passion for mankind, are exhibited with the utmost 
possible force, in the greatness of the condescension 
and humiliation which he thus voluntarily assumed. 
It ought here to be remembered, that he not only be- 
came man, but man in the humblest circumstances ; 
was the son of a poor virgin, married to a poor man ; 
and was born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling-clothes, 
and laid in a manger. 

In the life of the Son of God the same character 
was exhibited in a great variety of forms. Through- 
out almost all his residence in the world, that is, dur- 
ing his minority, and about twelve years afterward, 
this glorious Person was entirely subjected to the com- 
mands and government of his humble parents, and 
wrought patiently in the business of a carpenter, labo- 
riously earning his own bread, and theirs, by the sweat 
of Ins brow. After he began his public ministry, ' he 
went about doing good,' particularly to those who were 
sick, blind, deaf, dumb, halt, maimed, and possessed of 
devils. To the poor, to publicans, and to sinners, he 
also preached the gospel ; and with supreme patience, 
labour, and benignity, invited them to eternal life, 
Samaritans, hated by the Jews beyond example, he 
brought into the divine kingdom ; and after warning, 
instructing, and exhorting Jerusalem, to the last limits 
of hope, he wept with the deepest compassion over its 
unbelief and ruin. 

In his death the same glorious attribute was still 
more wonderfully manifested. His death, like his in- 
carnation and life, was wholly voluntarily ; for he who 
drove the money-changers and their companions out 
of the temple; at whose presence the guards fell back- 



64 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xn. 



ward to the ground ; whose voice, diseases, demons, 
and elements obeyed ; and who re-summoned life to 
the breathless corpses of others; could undoubtedly 
have prolonged his own life, prevented every assault 
up®n his person, and forbidden by his power the ap- 
proach of danger and harm. Accordingly, he informs us, 
that ' he laid down his life for his sheep, and that no man 
took it from him, but that he laid it down of himself.' 

At the same time, his death was the most humiliat- 
ing which can be conceived, or suffered. It was the 
death of a malefactor, and that of the most scandalous 
kind ; a death also pronounced by the voice of God to 
be accursed ; and preceded and attended by every cir- 
cumstance of contempt, abuse, and shame, which a 
furious rabble, and their more malignant masters, could 
devise or inflict. Nor was it less distressing than hu- 
miliating. The clear foresight of it in the garden of 
Gethsemane, threw even him, with all his lion-like for- 
titude, into ' an agony ;' and forced ' sweat ' from his 
body in the form of ' great drops of blood.' The 
sufferance of it on the cross extorted from him that 
bitter cry, ' My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me ?' It is however to be remembered, that ' he made 
his soul an offering for sin,' and that, in his soul, his 
peculiar distresses were chiefly suffered. This death, 
together with all the anguish which it involved, he 
perfectly foresaw and predicted ; and in the full sight 
of this anguish devoted himself to the suffering. In 
the midst of his agonies also he prayed for the forgive- 
ness of his murderers ; and with such efficacy, that 
within fifty days from his crucifixion several thousands 
of them believed on his name, through the preaching 
of St Peter ; and are now in the heaven of heavens, 
celebrating with songs of transport the divine compas- 
sion of their Redeemer. 

The incarnation, life, and death of Christ, were un- 
dertaken and accomplished by him, with a complete 
knowledge, not only of the distresses which he was to 
undergo, but also of the character of those for whom 
they were to be undergone. He knew perfectly that 
they were sinners, rebels, and apostates, condemned 
and ruined ; utterly indisposed to believe his testimony, 
to accept his person, or to become interested in his 
mediation. He perfectly knew, that to make them 
even reconciled to him, or grateful for the immense 
benefits which he proffered, it would be necessary,- 
after all he had done, to send the Spimt of grace into 
the world, to give them a new heart and a better mirid. 
Of course he engaged in this wonderful employment, 
from compassion, only, to the miserable beings, whom 
he came to -redeem. As his own character and conduct 
are therefore the strongest possible exhibition of mercy, 
so God, who gave him up to all these sufferings for 
this end, and to whom he was plainly the dearest ob- 
ject in the universe, has in this transaction equally ex- 
•hibited mercy as his own character. 

From these summary considerations on this subject, 
I remark, 

1. The glory of this divine attribute. 

No moral characteristic has ever been esteemed so 
lovely as this, or so honourable to an intelligent being. 
To love virtue, and the virtuous, is undoubtedly excel- 
lent and commendable ; and includes all which we in- 
tend by justice, candour, or complacency, as exercised 
towards the character of others. In those who exer- 
cise this disposition, it is both honourable and lovely; 



and to those who are thus loved, it is an eminent in- 
gredient of happiness. 

To love those whose character has not been exhibited 
to us as either virtuous or sinful ; to love, for example, 
absolute strangers, merely because they are rational 
beings ; seems plainly to be a still higher exercise of a 
virtuous and amiable character. But to love those 
who 1 are known to be enemies to us, as well as vile and 
hateful in themselves ; and to endeavour, with peculiar 
self denial, or. with great efforts, to render them virtu- 
ous and happy, is a still nobler exercise of goodness 
than either of the former. This, as mankind in the 
calm exercise of reason have ever determined, and as 
the Scriptures have abundantly declared, is the crown, 
the splendour, the glory of moral excellence. 

"In considering this subject, it is difficult to refrain 
from calling to mind the views of it which angels have 
formed and expressed. At the birth of the Redeemer 
these exalted and benevolent beings left their happy 
residence, and directed their flight immediately to this 
sinful world. Here, for four thousand years, they had 
in the course of their ministry witnessed little else in 
the conduct of men beside rebellion against God, injus- 
tice to each other, and the debasement of themselves. 
Still, with a divine sympathy, they rejoiced in the 
prospect of seeing the guilty mind renewed, the impi- 
ous and deformed life purified from its stains, and the 
salvation of the ruined children of Adam certainly ac- 
complished. Eagerly they hastened to proclaim ' the 
glad tidings of great joy,' that ' a Saviour was born 
unto men in the city of David.' One soul animated 
them all ; and with one voice, inspired by the same 
exalted benevolence, they sang, ' Glory to God in the 
highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men.' 

How different have been the feelings of mankind, 
for whom this mediation has been accomplished ! Man- 
kind, when Christ appeared in the world, rejected, per- 
secuted, and slew him. From that day to the present, 
they have discovered the same disposition, with evi- 
dence which cannot be questioned, in their unbelief 
and rejection of the Redeemer. We, as well as others, 
possess and prove this character. Were Christ now to 
be born, there is but too much reason to fear that we, 
like the Jews, should leave him in a stable, consign 
him to a manger, persecute him through life, and com- 
pel him to a violent death. The Jews began their 
warfare against him with disbelieving and rejecting him, 
and ended it with his crucifixion. Our disbelief and 
rejection of Christ are but too fearful indications that, 
were our circumstances the same with theirs, we should 
unite with them in nailing him to the cross. In the 
single act of refusing to commemorate his death, how 
many, here present, declare that even in their ottn 
view they are not his friends. Let every such person 
remember, the declaration of Christ himself, that ' he v 
who is not for him is against him.' 

Let us all remember, also, that Christ was infinitely 
rich in all good, before he became poor for our sakes. 
Of course, he needed not us, nor any thing which is 
ours. With infinite ease, and by the mere exercise of 
his will, he could have blotted us out of being, and 
then have raised up millions of virtuous, obedient, and 
glorious creatures ; all of whom would, throughout 
eternity, have employed themselves in his service with 
unchanging faithfulness and joy. Whence, then, and 
let reason answer the question, did he choose to be- 



MERCY OF GOD. 



65 



come man ; to suffer, and to die, for the lost race of 
Adam ; for you, and for me ? The only answer he 
himself has long- since given : ' God so loved the world, 
that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever 
believed on him should not perish, but have everlasting 
life.' God was so benevolent, so disposed to show 
kindness, so full of long-suffering and tender mercy, 
that even this exertion was not too great for him to 
make. 

2. From these considerations we also learn the abso- 
lute necessity of divine revelation to mankind. 

On the question, Whether God will forgive sin, and 
accept sinners? evidently depends every hope of hap- 
piness beyond the grave. The question is therefore 
infinitely important to us, and needs in the highest de- 
gree to be satisfactorily answered. The doctrine, that 
God is merciful, is, 1 think, in the view of reason, suf- 
ficiently probable to command our faith. But that it 
is, or can be, proper for God to forgive sin in any case, 
reason is utterly unable to evince. In what manner 
tills conduct on the part of God would affect the go- 
vernment and welfare of the universe, man without 
revelation is utterly unable to determine. It is one 
thing to discern that God is merciful, and wholly an- 
other to know the objects to which the divine mercy 
can with propriety be extended, or the cases in -which 
it can with propriety interfere. 

If reason can know that God will forgive the sins of 
men, it must derive this knowledge either from the 
nature of this attribute, or from the fact that he has, 
in some one instance, at least, forgiven sin, or from 
some declaration that he will forgive it, or from some 
argument founded on analogy. 

(I.) From the nature of the divine mercy we cannot 
conclude, that God can or will forgive the sins of man- 
kind. Whatever is best, and on the whole most pro- 
per to be done, we are warranted to conclude he will 
certainly do ; but what this is, can never be determined 
by our minds. Two things place this assertion beyond 
debate. The one is, the extent of the divine kingdom, 
and of all its immense and eternal concerns, which 
must, of course, demand far other measures than such 
as we are able to comprehend or devise ; the other is, 
that God, in fact, does innumerable things, utterly con- 
trary to all that we should expect, and wholly removed 
beyond the limits of our understanding. These furnish 
the most ample proofs, that he will do innumerable 
other things, equally contrary to our expectation and 
decision ; and, of course, that we cannot pre-determine 
•what he will do. 

(2.) Revelation apart, we know no instance in which 
he has forgiven, and possess no declaration that he will 
forgive, the sins of men. 

(3.) Equally destitute are we of any analogy, from 
■which this conclusion can be rationally derived. The 
only ground even of hope, furnished by his provi- 
dence, is the patience with which he endures, and the 
blessings with which he surrounds us, notwithstand- 
ing our provocations. But this conduct seems to be 
connected by necessity with a state of trial, and fur- 
nishes no solid argument of a future and favourable 
reward. The gloomy and distressing circumstances 
which attend our removal from this world by death, 
exhibit, on the contrary, awful premonitions of an un- 
happy allotment to us beyond the grave. 

Independently of revelation, man is left to the sen- 



tence of mere justice and rigid laws. By these he is 
of course condemned. He is, in fact, a sinner, and 
must therefore be pronounced guilty in the day of trial. 
In this situation, reason finds and leaves hi in ; and to 
this situation infidelity conducts him again. Without 
the mediation of Christ, there is no escape from the 
sentence of the divine law ; and revelation itself fur- 
nishes no other way in which mercy can be extended 
to sinning man. 

According to the most comfortable scheme of infi- 
delity, you must go to the judgment on the footing of 
your own righteousness, and be tried by your own 
obedience. If you have faithfully obeyed God, you 
will be acquitted; if not, you must be condemned. If 
then justification, acceptance, and future happiness ; if 
deliverance from wrath, and escape from ruin, are ne- 
cessary to you ; the mediation of Christ, and the reve- 
lation which alone brings this mediation to your know- 
ledge, or furnishes you with a hope of sharing in its 
blessings, are equally necessary. 

3. These considerations strongly enforce the guilt and 
danger of cruelty. 

A merciful God, who esteems this attribute as the 
glory and consummation of his own excellence, cannot 
fail to detest supremely the opposite character, wher- 
ever it is found. These are the two extremes of the 
moral nature : the former supremely lovely, the latter 
supremely hateful. Thus, God has declared in the 
Scriptures, and thus mankind have also testified in all 
ages and nations. The awful parable of the ' servant 
who owed ten thousand talents,' brings this subject 
home to the heart, with the greatest force of which lan- 
guage is capable. His debt to his Lord, great as it 
was, was freely forgiven. But for his cruelty to his 
fellow servant, he was ' thrust into prison, and deliver- 
ed over to the tormentors, until he should pay' the ten 
thousand talents which he owed. In what an affecting 
manner does this story exhibit the indignation of God 
against unkindness and oppression ? How plainly does 
he here teach us, that this sin is pre-eminently provok- 
ing in his sight, and beyond most, if not all others, the 
cause of absolute rejection and endless suffering. Let 
every cruel, every unfeeling man, tremble at this terri- 
ble exhibition of the views entertained by a merciful 
God concerning his odious and detestable character. 

4. These considerations furnish the strongest induce- 
ments to the exercise of mercy. 

In the great kingdom of providence, how many bless- 
ings are continually provided by the hand of God for 
the evil and unthankful race of Adam ? In spite of 
all their innumerable provocations ; in spite of their 
impiety, idolatry, lewdness, falsehood, oppressions, 
wars, and devastations ; notwithstanding this great 
world has been from the beginning a temple of idols, a 
house of pollution, and a field of blood ; the sun contin- 
ually rises, the rain descends, the fields blossom, the 
harvests ripen, the seasons are fruitful, and the hearts 
of men are filled with food and gladness. In the di- 
vine precepts the same glorious disposition reigns; and 
mankind are required, with infinite obligation, to imi- 
tate and assume this exalted character ; ' to be merciful, 
as their Father who is in heaven is merciful.' In 
the promises of the gospel we are allured to this most 
amiable of all conduct by the reward of immortal life 
and glory, and hear God himself declaring, ' Blessed 
are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.' In the 



66 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. XIII. 



threatenings, we are deterred from the contrary con- 
duct by the fearful denunciations of eternal woe. 

In the mediation of our Redeemer we are presented 
with a perfect example of the nature and effects of this 
most lovely attribute ; furnished by a life, of which 
this attribute was the soul and spirit ; a life pure and 
excellent beyond all precedent, and all praise ; and 
closed by a death full of shame and agony, voluntarily 
undergone from mere compassion to this perishing 
world, and beautified and adorned with this consum- 
mation of benevolence in its most divine form. In this 
we indeed behold ' the glory of the only-begotten of 
the Father, full of grace and truth.' Here we are 
drawn with cords of love, that we may run after him. 

With these motives, with this example before us, 
can we fail to ' forgive men their trespasses against 
us,' and ' be kind to the evil and unthankful ? ' Can 
we fail to ' deal our bread to the hungry,' and ' to 
bring the poor that are cast out, into our houses ?' 
When we see the naked, must we not be willing to 
' cover him,' must we not be unable to ' hide ourselves 
from our own flesh ?' 

When this importunate and seductive world intrudes 
itself into the mind, and is insidiously busy in establish- 



ing its ascendency over the heart ; when wealth is 
riveting its chains, to fasten us in bondage ; when am- 
bition invites us to the high places of power and dis- 
tinction, and promises that we shall be as gods in gran- 
deur and glory; when pleasure informs us,- that we 
have ' much goods laid up for many years,' and bids us 
' take our ease, eat, drink, and be merry ;' in a word, 
when temptation, sense, and sin, crowd around us, and 
prepare us to absorb all our affections in selfish grati- 
fication ; let us look to the table of Christ, and remem- 
ber and behold there, what he has done for us. If we 
are not hardened indeed, if we are not literally ' dead 
in trespasses and sins,' we shall find it difficult, and I 
hope impossible, not to go, and in some measure, do 
likewise. We shall, like him, ' love our enemies, and 
do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again :' we shall 
' bless them that curse us, and pray for them who de- 
spitefully use us and persecute us.' ' Then shall we 
indeed be the children of our Father who is in heaven, 
who maketh his sun to rise on the evil as well as on 
the good. Then shall our light break forth as the 
morning, and our health spring forth speedily : our 
righteousness shall go before us, and the glory of the 
Lord shall be our rear-ward 



SERMON XIII. 



ON THE WISDOM OF GOD. 



Noiv unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory, for ever and ever. 

Amen 1 Tim. i. 17. 



In this passage of Scripture, glory and honour are as- 
cribed to God, in the character of the ' eternal, im- 
mortal, and invisible ' Ruler of all things, and also in 
that of ' God the only wise ;' with a solemn amen sub- 
joined to the ascription. When God is called ' the on- 
ly wise,' it is not intended that there is no other wis- 
dom besides that which is inherent in him ; but that 
he is the source of all wisdom, and wise to such a de- 
gree, as to render all other wisdom nothing in compa- 
rison with his. The wisdom of God is, in other words ,in- 
finite ; and shall now be the subject of our consideration. 

The Avoid wisdom is applied indifferently to the cha- 
racter, and to the conduct of an intelligent being. As 
applied to the latter, it denotes the choice of good ends, 
and the selection and adoption of good means for the 
accomplishment of them. As applied to the former, it 
denotes that attribute which thus chooses, selects, and 
adepts. 

Wisdom is therefore a compound attribute, being 
made up of the knowledge to discern, and the disposi- 
tion to choose, the ends and means which I have men- 
tioned. The wisdom of God is formed therefore of his 
omniscience and benevolence, united in planning and 
accomplishing all real good, in the progress of his im- 
mense and eternal kingdom. 

It will not unnaturally be supposed, that, as the om- 
niscience and benevolence of God have already been 
separately discussed, an examination of them, when 



combined in the attribute of wisdom, must be superflu- 
ous. I have at times adopted this opinion : but, upon 
considering the propensity of our minds to dwell on 
these attributes, in this combination ; a propensity en- 
couraged abundantly by the Scriptures ; and the fre- 
quency with which the divine wisdom recurs, in forms 
very various and interesting, both in the conversation 
and writings of men, and the word of God ; I have con- 
cluded that a particular discussion of this subject would, 
if properly conducted, hold a useful place in this sys- 
tem of Discourses. 

After the arguments adduced to prove the existence 
of these attributes, separately considered, it must, I 
presume, be unnecessary to allege any proofs of their 
existence in this combination. This discourse will, 
therefore, be employed only in illustrating this dignifi- 
ed subject, as it is exhibited in the various conduct of 
the Most High. From this vast field, also, a few ex- 
amples only will be selected ; it being neither necessary 
nor possible on this occasion, to extend such an inves- 
tigation to any great length. The scheme of discourse 
which I propose to pursue, is to mention, 

I. Summarily, such exemplifications of the divine 
wisdom as are commonly insisted on ; and, 

II. More particularly , some others which have been 
less the objects of public attention ; or which, at least, 
I have seen either very little, or not at all, discussed 
by others. 



WISDOM OF GOD. 



67 



I, I shall mention summarily such exemplifications 
of the divine wisdom, as are commonly insisted on. 

Among the numerous subjects included under this 
head, the heavens by their magnificence undoubtedly 
strike the eye with the greatest force and splendour. 
In all ages, contemplative men have regarded the illus- 
trious objects presented to us in this great field of ob- 
servation, as eminently indicating the wisdom of God. 
' give thanks,' says the psalmist, ' unto Him who 
alone doeth great wonders ; who by wisdom made the 
heavens ; who made great lights, the sun to rule by 
day, and the moon and stars to rule by night ; for his 
mercy endureth for ever.' ' The Lord by wisdom,' 
saith Solomon, ' hath founded the earth ; by under- 
standing hath he established the heavens.' ' When he 
prepared the heavens,' says Wisdom itself, speaking by 
the voice of the same writer, ' I was there, when he set 
i compass on the face of the deep.' 

To us, whose views are enlarged and rectified by 
the modern astronomy, this subject is presented with 
an importance which it could not have assumed in the 
mind of the ancients. To them, the size, proportions, 
distances, and uses of the heavenly bodies were in a 
great measure unknown ; and where this was not the 
fact, were so partially known as to leave the mind in 
many respects perplexed and lost. With our superior 
advantages we discern the sun to be a vast luminous 
world, astonishingly greater than all the others united, 
which compose the solar system. All these we behold 
arranged around this glorious world as their common 
centre. To them the sun communicates motion, light, 
regularity, and harmony ; and to their inhabitants, life, 
and the means of sustaining it; food, raiment, warmth, 
and activity ; and their consequences, usefulness and 
enjoyment. This amazing scene of wonders, we have 
the mcst satisfactory reason to believe, is in a sense 
endlessly repeated in the stellary systems, diffused 
throughout the boundless expansion, and repeated with 
a similar display of divine wisdom in their regularity, 
harmony, and beauty. Even an atheist must be com- 
pelled to confess, that in this scene there is a perfect 
and glorious accomplishment of just such things, as, in 
the view of the human mind, appear to be suited to 
he most perfect operations of the most perfect wisdom. 
In the revolution of the seasons, intimately connect- 
ed with this subject, we behold an inferior, but still a 
splendid, display of the same glorious attribute. From 
the present position of the earth are derived, in the 
different parts of its annual circuit, summer and winter, 
seed-time and harvest. It cannot be necessary for me 
to attempt a detail of the various methods in which the 
divine hand provides, through the instrumentality of the 
seasons, for the supply of our wants, the relief of our 
distresses, and the uninterrupted succession of our en- 
joyments. A child needs not to be informed, that ' all 
creatures wait upon God, that he may give them their 
meat in due season ; and that he opens his hand, and 
satisfies the wants of every living thing.' 

Nearly allied to the revolutions of the seasons, is 
that by which the world enjoys the vicissitudes of day 
and night. The diurnal rotation of the earth, connect- 
ed with the position of its axis, furnishes to all its parts 
an equal enjoyment of these two great affections of 
our globe ; just as its annual revolution, connected 
with the same positions, distributes the seasons alter- 
nately, in a regular succession, over all the regions 



from the equator to the poles. By the day, man is 
enabled to pursue successively all the business of life : 
and by the night is, at the necessary and most proper 
intervals, furnished with seasons of refreshment and 
rest. It ought to be remarked, that by means of the 
refrangibility of light, and the refractive power of the 
atmosphere, a portion of day is added to us every morn- 
ing and every evening ; and the light of the sun con- 
veyed to us, and withdrawn from us, in that gradual 
manner, which, while it is eminently beautiful and de- 
lightful, is at the same time the only manner in which 
it could be comfortable, or perhaps tolerable to our eyes. 
A philosopher has made it an argument of the wis- 
dom of God, and in my view justly, that the earth is 
clothed in green, a colour eminently easy, refreshing, 
and delightful to the eye. 

In the provision made for the wants of men and ani- 
mals, there are innumerable, as well as wonderful 
proofs of the wisdom of God. The means by which 
an ample supply of all these wants is continually fur- 
nished, were they not the objects cf our daily inspec- 
tion, and thus rendered so familiar as to be in a great 
measui-e unregarded, would awaken in our minds, not 
approbation merely, but amazement. A single plant 
produces yearly a great number of seeds ; so many, as 
to furnish, in the ordinary course of providence, abun- 
dant assurance that that kind of plant shall be con- 
tinued throughout the successive ages of the world. 
As a farther security, these seeds are, to a great extent 
at least, and in all probability universally, incorruptible, 
when lodged below the depth, within which vegetation 
springs ; notwithstanding they are so easily dissoluble 
above that limit. By the latter circumstance, an easy, 
certain, and abundant vegetation is secured ; by the 
former, seeds are treasured in the earth for long periods 
of time ; whence by deep ploughing, digging, and other 
means, they are brought again within the region of 
vegetation, and spring in the same manner as fresh 
seeds. I have been satisfactorily informed of the vege- 
tation of seeds, which had in this manner been certain- 
ly kept in the earth no less than two hundred years. 
The diffusion of these seeds over the face of the earth 
is accomplished by means, which are perhaps still more 
wonderful. Such seeds as are heavy and immovable 
by more obvious means ; such for instance as the stones 
and seeds of fruits, are commonly swallowed both by 
birds and beasts, and conveyed in their stomachs whi- 
thersoever they rove, and are ultimately planted, not 
only in the neighbouring fields and countries, but also 
in more distant regions. Others of considerable weight 
are lodged permanently in a large and light husk, 
which, together with the seed contained in it, is easily 
separated, after the seed has become ripe, and blown 
by the wind over extensive tracts. Others still are 
winged and feathered in such a manner as to be easily 
wafted in the breeze, and spread through all the sur- 
rounding country. A young gentleman once in my 
presence examined a seed of a particular kind of grass, 
and .finding a beautiful feather thus adhering to it, was 
so struck with this contrivance for the dispersion of 
such seeds over the earth, that he exclaimed, ' The 
man r.iust be a brute, who does not believe in the exis- 
tence of God.' 

The most necessax-y and useful things are also, with 
the most perfect wisdom, generally diffused ; while 
those which are less interesting to human happiness. 



68 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xui. 



are more rare and solitary.' Food, raiment, drink, and 
fuel, are spread everywhere. Gold and gems, wines 
and spices, are found only in particular places. Wheat 
and grass, the most useful of all vegetables, grow in 
more soils and climates than any other. Water and 
air exist throughout the world, and are placed beyond 
the control of man. Could any one of our race com- 
mand either of these elements, he would possess an 
absolute dominion over every inhabitant of those regions 
to which this command extended. Animals useful for 
food, or other important purposes of man are multipli- 
ed easily to any extent. Fish, which furnish so con- 
siderable a part of human sustenance, multiply, in a 
sense, endlessly. Other animals of inferior use are, by 
various causes, limited to a very moderate increase. 
The clothing of animals changes with the change of 
climate. When removed to a cold latitude it becomes 
thick, soft, and warm ; when to a hot latitude, it becomes 
thin, coarse, and cool. Without these changes, the 
animals thus removed would be unable to live. 

Both the body and mind of man are astonishing ex- 
hibitions of wisdom, and that in ten thousand different 
ways. As I have dwelt upon this subject for a purpose 
somewhat different, in a former Discourse ; and as it is 
so often insisted on by others, I shall dismiss it with 
only two or three observations. The eye, says Nichol- 
son, were all other arguments for the existence of God 
unknown or lost, would remain an unanswerable proof 
of the wisdom of' God. The self-restoring power of 
our bodies, when diseased or wounded, is among the 
most extraordinary evidences of this attribute. 

II. I shall now mention some other exhibitions of 
the wisdom of God, less frequently insisted on titan 
those already specified. 

1. A wonderful exhibition of this nature is found 
in the accomplishment of many ends by few and simple 
means. 

The great principle of gravitation, for example, 
unites and holds together the corpuscles, which consti- 
tute worlds; combines in one vast union the worlds 
which compose a system, generates the motions of the 
planets and comets round the sun, and of their satellites 
round the planets; and governs, universally, their re- 
gularity and harmony; levels the surface of the ocean, 
and prevents it from overflowing the land ; produces, as 
one cause at least, the ascent of vapour, and the descent 
of rain ; gives birth to the continuance of all bodies on 
the surface of the earth ; regulates the motions of ani- 
mals and of mankind, together with all mechanical 
powers and operations; and thus extends a governing, 
necessary, and most useful influence over all worlds, 
and all their inhabitants. The mean here is one, the 
ends are innumerable, and the influence of the mean is 
every where necessary, and all that is necessary. 

Water, in the ocean, is the great storehouse of va- 
pour. Hence are formed mists and clouds ; which, 
beside presenting the eye with innumerable, ever-vary- 
ing, and delightful prospects; sheltering, in intense 
heats, the bodies of men and animals from the blaze of 
the sun ; pointing out various approaching changes of 
weather; and thus warning mankind, both on the land 
and on the sea, of approaching danger, or announcing 
the arrival of safety ; become the sources of rain, dews, 
hail, and snow, and the origin of fountains, brooks, 
lakes, and rivers. By these the earth is watered, en- 
riched, and beautified ; and man supplied with food 



and drink, with raiment and fuel. By these, also, all 
animals are supplied with sustenance and enjoyment. 
Water also is not only the general nourishment, but 
the chief component part of all vegetables, and a prin- 
cipal one of all animal bodies. At the same time it 
moves innumerable machines of different kinds, abridges 
in a wonderful degree the labour of man, and performs 
a vast variety of important purposes which without it 
would be impossible. In the ocean it is moreover a 
menstruum, in which salt, being dissolved, is raised to 
the surface, and thereby crystalizing becomes a part 
of the food of men and animals, without which their 
sustenance would be uncomfortable and precarious, if 
not impossible. Water is also an indispensable material 
in a vast multitude of chemical, medical, economical, 
and other artificial processes ; and has in this way 
wonderfully enlarged, and is still in this way daily en- 
larging, the comfort and the knowledge of mankind. 
Finally, it is the basis of all navigation; and thus the 
chief medium of the commerce, and of the geographical 
and natural, as well as much other knowledge, possessed 
by men. 

The same doctrine might be extensively illustrated 
by the almost innumerable purposes of which fire, air, 
and light, are the means ; as well as by a great multi- 
tude of other subjects. Generally it may be observed, 
that the few elements to which all material substances 
have been already reduced, constitute all the bodies, 
and are the causes of all the immensely numerous oper- 
ations which exist in the material world ; and in their 
combination and their efficacy, gloriously display the 
wisdom and the goodness of their Creator. 

2. The unceasing and universal variety introduced 
into the works of creation and providence, is a strong 
exemplification of the wisdom of the Creator. 

The creation of a single being, or the production of 
a single event, furnishes a complete exhibition of the 
ideas existing in the creating mind, of which either is 
a copy, and in conformity to which, each was brought 
into existence. A repetition of the same event, or the 
existence of a second being exactly resembling the first, 
would barely exhibit the same ideas a second time, and 
discover nothing new concerning the Creator. Hence 
were two or more beings or events exactly like each 
other to be brought into existence, none, except the 
first, would at all enlarge our conceptions of the mind 
by which they were effectuated. Every variety in be- 
ings or events is a new disclosure of the character, 
skill, and contrivance of the Creator ; and, where we 
understand the end for which it exists, of his goodness 
also. For this, as one great reason, God undoubtedly 
has formed and conducted all things on the plan of 
universal variety. No two beings or events appear 
precisely alike. The leaves of trees, the blades of 
grass, and the particles of sand, as well as other more 
important and more complicated objects, exhibit even 
to the naked eye, an endless diversity. This charac- 
teristic extends through the mineral, vegetable, animal, 
and rational kingdoms, and throughout the whole pro- 
gress of events. 

In every one of the individuals composing these, may 
be seen something which is peculiar ; and which, in a 
peculiar manner, unfolds the ideas, the contrivance, the 
wisdom of the infinite mind. As the diversity is li- 
terally boundless, so we are presented by it with a 
picture of the endlessly diversified views and concep- 



WISDOM OP GOD. 



69 



tions of him, in -whose mind all existed from the begin- 
ning. 

By this scheme of things, a field is opened to intel- 
ligent beings fox* learning and understanding this glori- 
ous part of the divine character. By the love of va- 
riety and novelty, which he has implanted in the minds 
of rational creatures, he has with the same wisdom 
prompted them voluntarily to an unceasing, unwearied, 
and delightful study of his works, which are only dis- 
plays of himself. Thus an effectual and most wise 
provision is made for our knowledge of the divine 
character, on which alone is ultimately founded our ad- 
miration, reverence, love, and obedience. A virtuous 
mind, surveying this wonderful subject, can scarcely 
fail to exclaim, ' Lord ! how manifold are thy works ! 
In wisdom hast thou made them all.' 

Farther : Variety is the foundation of all discern- 
ment and discrimination in rational beings, and this 
again is the directory of all our various conduct For 
example, if the features of the human face, and the 
figure of the human person, were not perpetually 
various, we could not know one man from another, nor 
distinguish our parents, children, friends, neighbours, or 
enemies. The judge would not be able to discriminate 
between the criminal and his innocent neighbour, nor 
between the witness and a stranger. The parties would 
become twins. The right of the judge himself to sit 
upon the bench would be safely doubted and denied, 
and the child of a beggar or a foreigner might success- 
fully dispute the title to a throne with the lawful heir. 
Were the varieties even of the human voice to cease, a 
great part of the important concerns of mankind would 
be immediately so perplexed and disturbed as to be ne- 
cessarily given up. Nor could any clue be found to 
guide us out of the labyrinth, in which we should be 
lost. Nay, if the hand-writing of men were to become 
uniform, there would be an end of all certainty in our 
correspondence, in our instruments of conveyance and 
obligation, in signatures of testimony, agency, and office; 
in public and private records, and, in a word, in every 
thing which was the work of the pen. From these few 
instances we learn, what indeed might be illustrated 
by thousands of others, the supreme wisdom with which 
this variety has been introduced into the creation of God. 

3. The divine wisdom is eminently conspicuous, in 
spreading over the creation certain kinds and degrees 
of resemblance and uniformity. 

Under the last head I have observed, that all things 
differ from each other. It is still true, and a truth of 
immense importance, that there is an extensive series 
of resemblances everywhere diffused, and not less won- 
derful than the variety which I have specified. These 
resemblances are the foundation of what logicians term 
the genera and species, or the kinds and sorts, under 
which all the objects of our perception are arranged. 
Were there no such resemblance, there could be no such 
arrangement, and were there no such arrangement, we 
should scarcely know any thing beyond the present ob- 
ject. Our knowledge is composed almost entirely of gen- 
eral truths ; and every such truth is a proposition, de- 
claring what is true concerning a vast number of indi- 
viduals. One general truth therefore contains all the 
knowledge which would be conveyed by a number of 
propositions, declaring the same thing equal to the whole 
number of the individuals included. But if we could not 
arrange individuals into such classes or sorts, every pro- 



position which we formed must be of the kind which lo- 
gicians call singular, or must respect one individual 
only ; and nothing would be communicated or learned by 
means of it, but what respected merely that individual. 
Of course every attribute of every other individual must 
still be learned anew. The multitude of such propositions 
which would be necessary to express what is now declar- 
ed byone general truth, would in a short time over-burden 
the memory, patience, and strength of the mind, and fa- 
tigue it to listlessness and despair. Men would in this case 
always be children, necessarily ignorant of the nature, 
qualities, and uses, of almost every thing with which 
they were concerned. But if there were no such re- 
semblance or uniformity, there could, as I have re- 
marked, be no such arrangement made by the mind. 
The ideas of kinds and sorts would never be formed. 
No general propositions could be made, and no general 
truths exist : for every such truth is merely a declara- 
tion concerning resemblance or uniformity. Of course 
men, as to their knowledge, would be infants for ever. 

As therefore by the variety found in all things, and 
the differences which they everywhere exhibit, God 
has opened his character boundlessly to our view, and 
prompted us to study it for ever ; so by their uniform- 
ity and resemblance he has enabled us to know it, and 
prepared us for an everlasting progress in intellectual 
improvement. In both united, he has displayed consum- 
mate wisdom. 

4. The wisdom of God is strongly conspicuous in the 
communication of language to mankind. 

Language is the medium by which Ave convey our 
thoughts to each other, and record them for personal 
and common use. If we could not convey our thoughts 
to each other, they must of course be confined to our 
own bosoms; and each man would know nothing ex- 
cept what he gained from his own observations. His 
character and situation in such a case, can be very im- 
perfectly imagined by us. But it is perfectly clear that 
he must be sunk far below the state of a savage, and 
dwindle into a character incapable of existing, except 
in that rude wilderness fancifully styled a state of na- 
ture. Even the acquisitions which he would make in 
this situation, he could not leave behind him ; but how- 
ever inclined, must carry them with him to the grave. 
Every generation, if successive generations could exist, 
would begin exactly where their fathers began ; and not 
an improvement would be made in the affairs of men. 
Bacon and Newton, Locke and Berkeley, Addison and 
Johnson, would then be distinguished, if distinguished 
at all, as we now mark a shrewder ape, or a more saga- 
cious dog. 

By the communication of language to mankind, God 
has enabled us to unfold to each other all our thoughts, 
emotions, and designs ; to treasure up what we know 
for the benefit of our posterity, to diffuse the knowledge 
of common danger and suffering, of common safety and 
happiness ; to spread the same sentiments and improve- 
ments over a country, a continent, or a world ; to cm- 
bark in a single, useful, and great design, all whose 
labours are necessary to the accomplishment ; to pub- 
lish systems of laws for the preservation of the common 
rights, and the effectuation of the common duties ; to 
unite nations in the great purposes of internal and ex- 
ternal defence, to control the vast concerns of empires, 
to preserve and enlarge the science of preceding ages, 
to spread the gospel of salvation through the habitable 



TO 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sk2«. XIII. 



A'orld, to advance knowledge and virtue on this earth 
towards the millennial standard, and to prepare endless 
multitudes of mankind for immortal happiness and 
glory. In the promotion of these mighty purposes, 
language is a principal and indispensable ingredient. 
How strong an impression does it bear of the wisdom 
of God! 

By the contrivance of the same wisdom which com- 
municated it, is language so formed as to be easily 
learned in very early childhood ; the period in which 
necessity most demands that it should be learned. Nay, 
it is obviously acquired at this period with far less dif- 
ficulty than at a more advanced age. At the same time 
the great body of words is so formed, that they possess 
an appellative or common nature, so as to denote the 
kinds and sorts of things above mentioned, and to 
include all individual beings and events comprised by a 
sort or kind under one common name. Thus the noun, 
man, denotes all men ; the adjective, good, denotes 
that which is good in every instance ; the participle, 
loving, signifies the exercise of that affection in every 
case ; the verb, hate, includes all exertions of hatred ; 
and the adverb, swiftly, indicates a rapid progress 
wherever it exists. Hence, as in the former case, we 
are enabled to conceive clearly of things, so by the 
correspondence of language with our conceptions, we 
are enabled to speak of them clearly. A few words in 
this manner are sufficient to express an immense mul- 
titude of beings and events, without any perplexity or 
confusion. Were this not the structure of language, 
words must be multiplied to such a degree, for the 
purposes of communication even to a moderate extent, 
as to render it impossible that they should be either 
learned or remembered. Nothing but the familiarity 
of this object can prevent us from admiring the won- 
derful wisdom which it displays. 

5. The wisdom of God is gloriously seen in constitut- 
ing one great class of his creatures moral agents. 

By the term, moral agent, I wish it to be under- 
stood, that I intend a real agent, a being whose 
thoughts, affections, and actions, are his own. Of such 
agents the divine kingdom is eminently composed. 

By forming such agents in innumerable multitudes, 
God has made beings capable, with intelligence and 
choice, of coinciding and co-operating with him, in his 
own infinitely desirable and excellent purposes. They, 
with a distant, but real resemblance to himself, can 
know, love, hate, choose, reject, design, and act; and 
all this to great and good ends. Particularly, they are 
capable of understanding in some good degree his 
character, designs, dispensations, law, and government ; 
and the glory and excellence discovered in them all. 
These also, and him as the Author of them, they are 
capable of regarding with wonder, veneration, and love. 
Him they are capable of worshipping and obeying. To 
each other, at the same time, they are able to extend 
every useful thought, every amiable affection, and every 
beneficent action : and can thus become the means of 
mutual improvement, worth, and happiness. In form- 
ing these beings, the wisdom of God is in many respects 
gloriously manifested. Particularly as they are capable 
of being the subjects of real, though finite benevolence, 
and of directing this disposition by their understanding 
to an unceasing variety of desirable and useful purposes ; 
as they are capable of promoting their own excellence 
and enjoyment, and that of each other ; as they are 



capable of knowing, loving, and glorifying him, and of 
possessing the exalted worth and expansive happiness 
which result from all these as causes ; and as immense 
multitudes of them actually do all the things which I 
have mentioned ; so they can become, and do in fact 
become, delightful objects both of the benevolence and 
complacency of God. All these things also they can 
and will do, in a never-ceasing progress throughout 
eternity. In forming such agents, therefore, God has 
made for himself a kingdom supremely glorious and 
divine ; composed of subjects whom his eye regards 
with infinite complacency, to whom his hand is stretch? 
ed out with eternal bounty ; who, as a vast mirror, re- 
flect as the ocean reflects the splendour of the sun, the 
boundless beauty and glory of their Creator ; and whom 
his voice with awful but delightful accents pronounces 
to be a work worthy of Jehovah. 

My audience will undoubtedly observe, that there are 
two great manifestations of divine wisdom, which have 
usually been alleged by preachers, but which have been 
omitted in this discussion ; the redemption of mankind^ 
and the word of God. These are beyond a question, 
the prime exhibitions of this attribute. The word of 
God is called by itself ' the word of wisdom ;' the gos* 
pel is justly declared to be ' the wisdom of God.' By 
the same illustrious title is Christ known in the Scrip- 
tures ; and to disclose the ' manifold wisdom ' of God in 
the most wonderful work of redemption, is expressly 
asserted to be the end for which all things are created. 
But there is no opportunity at this time to exhibit 
either of these subjects, in such a light as they both in- 
dispensably demand. On a future occasion, should 
Providence permit, I may consider them at large. 

The illustrations which have been produced in this 
Discourse, although a very few out of an endless multi- 
tude, actually and daily existing, are, it is presumed, 
amply sufficient to impress upon the mind a full con- 
viction, an affecting sense, of the wisdom of God. 

A single remark, intended as a general comment on 
the several Discourses concerning this most sublime 
and wonderful of all subjects, the existence and charac- 
ter of the Creator, shall conclude this Sermon. 

When we call to mind even those views of the subject 
which have been here succinctly and imperfectly given ; 
we cannot, I think, fail to exclaim, How great and glo- 
rious a being is God ! 

I have now finished the observations which I proposed 
to make on the existence and perfections of God, and 
considered this vast subject as it is presented to us both 
by reason and revelation. What an amazing character 
is here manifested to our view ! Jehovah, the self- 
existent, eternal, immutable, omnipresent, omniscient, 
almighty, and independent ; the only good, just, faith- 
ful, true, merciful, and wise ; the Maker, the Preser- 
ver, the Benefactor, and the Ruler of all things ; ' to 
whom be glory for ever and ever.' What a character, 
what a being, is this I How do all creatures in his 
presence, and. in comparison with his greatness and 
perfection, shrink into nothing, and become justly 
' counted to him as less than nothing and vanity !' 
How truly, how suitably to his character, does he say, 
' I am, and there is none else.' How wonderful a 
Cause must he be, from whom all things are derived ! 
How divine an architect must he be, who with ' his 
finger laid the foundation of the earth, and built his 
stories in the heavens !' How amazing a Ruler, ' who 



DECREES OF GOD. 



71 



doth according to Ins will in the armies of heaven, and 
among - the inhahitants of the earth ; whose hand none 
can stay, and to whom no being may say, What doest 
thou ?' How exalted a Benefactor, ' who giveth unto 
all life, and breath, and all things.' How perfect a 
God, who conducts his immense kingdom along the 
ages oi eternity, with ever-increasing glory, happiness, 
and perfection ! 

How infinitely different is the Jehovah of the Scrip- 
tures from the gods of the heathen, of philosophy, and 
of infidelity. How many weaknesses disgrace, how 
many passions pollute, how many vices deform, these 
objects of man's device, applause, and homage. ' All 
of them are vanity and a lie ; and they that make them 
are like unto them, and so is every one that putteth 
his trust in them. There is none of them that consid- 
ereth in his heart ; in none of them is there knowledge 
or understanding. They feed on ashes ; a deceived 
heart hath turned them aside, that they cannot deliver 
their souls, nor say, Is there not a lie in our right 
hands ? Lift up your eyes on high, and behold, Who 
hath created these things ? Who bringeth out their 
lost by number ? Who calleth them all by names ? 
Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his 
hand, and meted out heaven with a span ? Who 
hath comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure ; 
and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a 
balance ?' 

But thou, ' Zion, that bringest good tidings, lift up 
thy voice ; and rejoice with joy and singing. Thou 
shalt see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of 
thy God. He shall come with a strong hand, and his 
arm shall rule for him. Behold his reward is with him, 
and his work before him. He shall feed his flock like 
a shepherd ; he shall gather the lambs with his arm, 
and carry them in his bosom. For thus saith the High 



and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is 
Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place ; with him 
also that is of a contrite and humble spirit ; to revive 
the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the 
contrite. For I will not contend for ever, neither will 
I be always wroth ; for the spirit should fail before me, 
and the souls which I have made.' 

Seraphim and cherubim, thrones, dominions, princi- 
palities, and powers, feel no employment, no honour, 
no happiness so great, as to worship, serve, and glorify 
God for ever and ever. With wonder, awe, adoration, 
and transports they surround his throne, ' veil then- 
faces, cast their crowns at his feet, and cease not day 
nor night, crying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Al- 
mighty, who wast, and who art, and who art to come.' 

If men possessed the disposition of angels, their 
employments, their views, and their happiness would in 
substance be the same. No polytheists, no atheists, no 
infidels, would ever have disgraced the human name. 
To this end, no enlargement of our understanding is 
necessary. A mere change of disposition would convert 
this world into one great temple of Jehovah, in which 
one faith would command and control, and one wor- 
ship ascend as the odour of sweet incense, ' from the 
rising of the sun to the going down of the same.' 
'Holiness to the Lord' would be written on the hearts, 
the lips, the employments, and the pleasures of the great 
family of Adam. Every heart would glow with love and 
rapture, and every hill and valley become vocal with 
praise. In all his wonderful works, God would be 
sought and seen, acknowledged and glorified. Every 
being and event would be viewed only as a manifes 
tation of God ; and the universe contemplated as a 
vast picture, exhibiting, in forms and varieties innu- 
merable, the wisdom and power, the benevolence and 
amiableness, the beauty and glory of Jehovah. 



SERMON XIV. 

THE DECREES OF GOD. 



But he is in one mind, and who can turn him ? And, what his soul desireth, even that he doeth. — Job xxiii. 13. 



In this passage of Scripture Job asserts, that the mind 
and will of God is one and unchangeable, or incapable 
of being turned ; and that all its dictates, or desires, 
are carried by him into execution. As God does 
whatsoever he chooses, it is hardly necessary to observe 
that he does nothing but what he chooses. As his mind 
is unchangeable and but one ; so, this being admitted, 
it is intuitively certain that it has always been but one. 
As all things were originated, are preserved, directed, 
and controlled by God ; so it is plain that they all 
come to pass exactly according to his pleasure. This 
doctrine is therefore clearly contained in the text : — 

That all things, both beings and events, exist in exact 
accordance with the purpose, pleasure, or what is com- 
monly called, the decrees of God. 

Before I begin the direct discussion of this doctrine, 
1 shall make a few preliminary observations. 

It is well known to the Christian world at large, that 



no subject has been the foundation of more, or more 
strenuous, controversy than this. By various classes of 
Christians, and some of them very numerous, it has 
been roundly and steadily denied in form. The things 
which have been written concerning it with heat and 
obstinacy, would fill many volumes. It has been assert- 
ed f o be injurious to the divine character, and destructive 
of all finite moral agency. Those who have holden 
the doctrine, have been charged by their antagonists 
with denying the free agency of God himself; and with 
introducing into the Christian system the stoical doc- 
trine of fate, and making an iron handed necessity, or 
blind destiny, the ultimate and irresistible disposer of 
all things. At the same time it has been alleged, that 
they shroud all human hopes in midnight darkness, and 
prevent or destroy every effort of man to become finally 
virtuous and happy. 

Such things as these certainly prove, that there is 



72 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xiv. 



in the human mind a strong bias against the doctrine. 
This appears often in the conduct of those who believe 
it, many of whom seem desirous that it should either 
rarely or never be brought into the desk. Multitudes 
appear utterly unwilling even to converse concerning 
it, and perhaps equal multitudes decline to make it a 
subject of contemplation. 

It must be acknowledged that this doctrine has been 
indiscreetly handled, both in sermons and in other 
discourses. As many things pertaining to it are in 
their nature very abstruse, and many others lie without 
the reach of the human understanding ; so it will be 
easily believed, that in the ardour of investigation, dis- 
putants will of course be in danger of asserting many 
things which are neither satisfactorily evinced, mature- 
ly considered, nor well understood by themselves ; and 
extend their inquiries to many other things, about 
which inquisition is fruitless, because discovery is 
impracticable. The bounds of the human mind, as 
well as of the human race, are fixed ; and beyond them 
it cannot pass. They are, however, distant enough from 
each other to leave a field of investigation so ample as 
io allow of the utmost employment of the greatest 
Clients. Every attempt to push our inquiries beyond 
them is unwise, both because it is vain, and because it 
is a waste of that time which might be usefully employed 
on things within our reach. 

But if the doctrine which I have stated is true ; if it 
is a doctrine revealed in the Scriptures ; it cannot fail 
to be a proper subject of thought, of conversation, and 
of preaching ; ' for all Scripture is given by inspira- 
tion of God ; and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, 
for correction, and for instruction in righteousness.' 
Perhaps it is unnecessary, and would not be useful, to 
make it a subject of very frequent discussion in the 
pulpit. A considerable number of persons in every 
congregation must be regarded as being imperfectly 
competent to judge advantageously of such a subject 
from such discussions. Such persons, to say the least, 
would fail of being instructed ; and if not instructed, 
would probably be bewildered. At the same time, 
though frequently asserted, it is very little discussed in 
the Scriptures : and the Apostle Paul, alluding to it, 
breaks out into this exclamation ; ' the depth of the 
riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! 
how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past 
finding out ! 

No occasion can be more proper for the introduction 
of this doctrine into the desk than the present. I have 
just finished a series of Sermons on the Being and 
Perfections of God. His decrees, or counsels, are the 
next subject of inquiry in a system professedly com- 
prising all the important doctrines of theology. That 
the doctrine concerning this subject which is true and 
scriptural, whatever it may be, is one and a very im- 
portant one, of such a system, will not be questioned, 
either by those who believe or those who disbelieve the 
doctrine advanced, as the principal subject of the pre- 
sent Discourse. The controversies about it, and the 
sentiments expressed by the several disputants, prove 
this point beyond any necessity of debate. 

In considering this doctrine, I shall attempt, first, to 
explain it ; secondly, to prove it ; and thirdly, to an- 
swer the objections commonly made against it. 

1. I shall attempt to explain this doctrine. 

This is peculiarly necessary ; because if I mistake 



not, both its friends and enemies have perplexed it not 
a little, by the manner in which they have represented 
the doctrine, and each other's opinions. 

It has been frequently said, that the decrees of God 
are the consequence of his knowledge, and that his 
foreknowledge is in consequence of his decrees : and it 
is asked, How is it possible that God should fore- 
know the existence of any thing, until he has decreed 
that it should exist ? This phraseology, if applied to 
men or other finite beings, might be correct. Such 
beings usually consider, then determine, and then, so 
far as is applicable to their nature and circumstances, 
foresee or foreknow the event. But when applied to 
God, it is necessarily erroneous. In the Divine Mind, 
succession is impossible. There is not, there cannot 
be, one act, by which God knows any or all things ; 
another following it, by which he determines their ex- 
istence ; and then another, by which he foreknows that 
they will exist. Whatever exists in the Divine Mind 
exists co-etaneously and co-eternally, with all other 
things which exist in it. God in this respect is no 
more the subject of ' variableness, or any shadow of 
turning,' than in other respects. Whatever is intended 
by knowledge, foreknowledge, or decrees, all is simul- 
taneous, or absolutely co-existent. St Paul exhibits 
this subject in a happier manner. ' Whom he fore- 
knew,' says this apostle, ' he also did predestinate to be 
conformed to the image of his Son.' By this declara- 
tion we are not to understand that the predestination 
spoken of followed the foreknowledge, any more than 
that the foreknowledge followed the predestination. 
The apostle says, ' Whom he foreknew,' not after he 
had foreknown them. 

Should it be said that this phraseology is adopted 
merely in condescension to human infirmity, and that 
it is intended to express these things as they exist in 
the order of nature, and not in the order of time ; I 
answer, that the language is still dangerous, because it 
is incorrect in itself; and so liable to be misunder- 
stood, that it leads both those who use it and those to 
whom it is used, into very serious errors. The act or 
state of the Divine Mind, which gave birth to the ex- 
istence of all things, is one ; and there never was a 
period in duration, nor even an indivisible moment, in 
which it was not absolutely and inseparably one. 

The decrees of God are often said to be general and 
special ; the special decrees being those which respect 
the acceptance or rejection of mankind, and the gene- 
ral decrees those which respect other things. This 
language is also in my view erroneous, and leads those 
who adopt it into mischievous consequences. There 
is no metaphysical or real distinction in the nature of 
the several decrees of God. Nor are they distinguish- 
able from each other, except either numerically, or by 
means of the objects which they respect. Nor is there 
any more especiality pertaining to one of them than to 
another. God wills or chooses the existence, conver- 
sion, or salvation of a man, the fall of a sparrow, or 
the descent of rain, with a volition in every sense me- 
taphysically, or in its own nature, the same. The 
strict truth is, that one indivisible act, perhaps it might 
be as properly called state of the Divine Mind, gave 
birth to the existence of all things. 

The decrees of God are frequently styled eternal. 
They are truly eternal in the same sense in which God. 
is eternal : viz. they are eternally present, and incapa- 



DECREES OF GOD. 



ble of being compared, metaphysically, with a succes- 
sive state of being. In this sense they are always, like 
God himself, possessed of an existence eternally pre- 
sent ; being no other than an unchangeable state of 
the Divine Mind. 

Farther, the decrees of God are said to be sovereign. 
In explaining this term, some persons speak of God 
as willing, decreeing, &c, because he wills, chooses, or 
pleases, &c ; while others on the contrary suppose that 
the decrees of God, in whatever sense understood, must, 
if they exist, be arbitrary, and therefore unreasonable ; 
and hence they conclude, that there are no such 
decrees. Both, in my view, think and speak errone- 
ously. To say that God wills a thing, because he wills 
it, is to speak without meaning. It is impossible that 
any thing should be the cause of itself, nor can an 
act be any more the cause of its own existence than 
a being. This doctrine, it is to be observed, is equally 
true of the final, as of the efficient cause. Nothing 
can be the end for which itself exists. The assertion 
is also injurious to God ; because it exhibits hiin as 
choosing, or decreeing, without any reason, and to 
no end. This conduct in men, if we suppose it pos- 
sible, would be folly in the extreme : it can therefore 
never be imputable to ' the only wise God.' The de- 
crees and the conduct of God are sovereign, in the 
true and scriptural sense ; viz. that he does according 
to his will, independently and irresistibly ; and that he 
gives no account of any of his matters, any further than 
he pleases. Still it is equally true, that he wills no- 
thing without the best reason, whether the reason be 
disclosed to his creatures or not. Real glory to him- 
self, and real good to his creation, not otherwise at- 
tainable, furnish the reason of the divine choice, whe- 
ther it respects the existence or motions of an insect, 
or the conversion and salvation of a man. The kind, 
the degree, the manner, and many other things, are 
either wholly or partially unknown to us ; but the good 
is always in view, and always the reason of the divine 
determination. 

It is observable, that the Scriptures rarely speak of 
this subject under the name decree. This word, and 
others derived from it, are used in the Old Testament 
twelve times with a reference to God. In each of these 
instances, a particular determination or sentence, con- 
cerning a particular thing is spoken of; and in no in- 
stance, that general determination, or system of deter- 
minations, usually denoted by this term in theological 
discussions. In the New Testament the word, as refer- 
ring to God, is not used at all. Whenever the subject 
of this doctrine is mentioned in the Scriptures, the 
words counsel, purpose, choice, pleasure, will, or some 
other equivalent words, are employed to express it. 
These words are in my view more adapted, in the exact 
metaphysical sense, to the subject, than the word de- 
crees ; and naturally lead the mind to more just con- 
ceptions of its nature. In accordance with this fact, I 
shall express my own views of it in this manner. What 
is commonly intended by the decrees of God is, that 
choice, or pleasure, of the Divine Mind, eternally and 
unchangeably inherent in it, by which all things are 
brought into being. 

Having thus explained my views of the doctrine, I 
shall now attempt, 

II. To prove it. 

Under this head I shall first allege several direct 



arguments in support of the doctrine ; and secondly, 
suggest several difficulties which result from denying it. 

1. I shall allege several direct arguments in support 
of the doctrine. 

It will be admited by all persons, besides atheists, 
that there was a time when created or finite beings be- 
gan to exist ; and of course, that, antecedently to this 
time, there was nothing except God. It will also be 
admitted that God was the cause of their existence, or 
that all originally derived their being from him in some 
manner or other. With these things in view, I observe, 

(1.) That all things, both beings and events, were 
eternally perfectly known to God. By this I intend 
alike to all things possible as well as actual, and the na- 
ture, qualities, and operations of all ; together with all 
supposable connections, dependencies, and relations. I 
mean also that these were seen with one single view, 
and that completely comprehensive and perfectly clear, 
by the Divine Mind : so that nothing pertaining to 
them in any respect was, in any degree, unperceived in 
this perfect manner. This view I consider also as be- 
ing absolutely one, invariable, and eternal. It never 
began, it will never terminate. It never has been, it 
never will be, in the least degree changed. All this is 
involved in the omniscience of God ; and has, I flatter 
myself, been proved to be a part of the divine cha- 
racter. 

(2.) In the nature and operations of things there is, 
inherent, a foundation for preference or choice. By 
this I intend, that some of the things which were thus 
known by the Divine Mind, were better, or upon the 
whole more desirable ; and that others were less de- 
sirable. This, I presume, cannot be denied. It will 
not be denied, that a multitude of those things which 
we can imagine, and which God, if he pleased, could 
create, are much less desirable, and certainly so, even 
in the view of such minds as ours, than other things 
which he has actually created. Beyond this it will, I 
presume, be admitted without a question, that many 
things which we can imagine, are absolutely undesirable ; 
and that others still would, if brought into existence, be 
incalculably noxious to the universe. That an indi- 
vidual man, for example, should possess the strength of 
an elephant, the ferocity of a tiger, the sight and wings 
of an eagle, and the sagacity of a fiend ; or that another 
individual should possess the power of controlling the 
elements with the spirit and invulnerability of a fiend ; 
would be things absolutely fatal to the inhabitants of 
this world. That the apostles, when employed to pub- 
lish the gospel, and erect the Christian church, should 
have possessed the fraudulent and impious spirit of 
Voltaire, would, as every sober man must necessarily 
see, have been a fact incalculably injurious to mankind. 
These three instances may serve as representatives of 
millions more, imaginable even by the limited faculties 
of the human mind. 

Should it be said, that in the multitude of possible 
things, there were many equally desirable ; and that 
between these there is no foundation for a choice ; I 
answer, that this is said gratuitously, and cannot be 
known to be true. Should the person who says it, in- 
tend that the things specified are in all respects exactly 
alike, and only numerically different ; it will be neces- 
sary to inquire whether the object of choice proposed, 
is to create only one of these similar things, and for 
that end to select one only. If this be the thing in- 

1 K 



7-1 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xiv. 



tended, I answer, that he amuses himself with words; 
for, as the things differ only numerically, one of them 
when created, is equally the archetype of each of these 
images, and no more of one than of any other ; and 
whatever is included in the nature and operations of 
them all, is completely realized in the existence of one. 
But if the object intended be, whether only one, or 
more than one, of these similar beings shall be created ; 
then I answer, that the objector has himself furnished 
a complete foundation for a preference ; the cases now 
differing from ench other, as a unit differs from two, 
three, or more ; or a single man from many : a differ- 
ence not only perceptible, but capable of being impor- 
tant, to any supposable degree. Should it be said, that 
things may differ in some minute particulars, and yet 
furnish no solid foundation for a preference : I reply, 
that it cannot be wisely or warrantably said. We in- 
deed may not, and usually do not perceive why things 
differing very little admit of such a preference ; but to 
the intuitive and all-comprehensive view of God, a little 
difference between two things may, in the eternal pro- 
gress of his dispensations, be such as to produce an in- 
fluence on the universe so diverse, as to render one 
entirely beneficial, and the other wholly noxious. Few 
differences can be more minute or trifling to the human 
eye, than the existence of one hair more, or one less, 
on the human head ; yet God has informed us, that 
these are all numbered by him ; and that he sees a rea- 
son for preferring the number actually existing. 

But should it be granted, that things, materially dif- 
fering, existing in any numbers, and making up, in 
several instances, complete and diverse systems, or uni- 
verses, may yet be equally desirable in the view of God ; 
I answer further, that in this case the object of choice 
would be to create one of these systems, and carry it 
into complete execution ; and it being perfectly indif- 
ferent which of them should be brought into being, 
there would nothing remain to be resolved on, but the 
act of creating. That which was begun in pursuance of 
this determination, would thenceforth for this very rea- 
son be preferable to the others, and be the most perfect, 
possible system. 

(3.) This foundation for choice cannot but be per- 
fectly known to God. As this position will not be 
questioned by any person, who admits the doctrine 
under the preceding head, and plainly cannot, but in 
defiance of reason ; I proceed to observe, 

(4.) That God cannot but have chosen the existence 
of all those things, whose existence was on the whole de- 
sirable, and of no others. The benevolence of the divine 
character furnishes complete evidence of the truth of 
this position. The benevolence of God is boundless and 
perfect. It is the nature of benevolence to desire and 
delight in the existence of good ; of perfect benevolence, 
to desire the existence of perfect good ; and of bound- 
less benevolence, to desire the existence of infinite good, 
or, in other words, of all which upon the whole is good. 
If therefore the existence of any thing is desirable, God 
cannot but have chosen it, because its existence was 
necessary to this perfect good ; which is the supreme 
object, and delight of his benevolence. The existence 
of any being or event, is desirable upon the whole, only 
because it is necessary to the perfect good which I have 
mentioned, either by contributing to the existence, or 
by being itself a part, of that good. It is therefore 
completely evident, that God cannot but have chosen 



the existence of every thing, whose existence is upon 
the whole desirable. 

(5.) This choice of God, that things should exist, is 
the only divine energy, and the only cause of existence. 
The energy of a mind is its will ; and this is synony- 
mous with its choice, generally understood ; each act 
of the will being no other than an act of choice. What 
is thus true of every finite mind, is eminently true of 
the Infinite Mind. In the Infinite Mind there are no 
successive acts of choice ; but one universal and un- 
changeable pleasure, which gives birth to every thing. 
It is metaphysically proper to say, that God wills all 
things into existence, or that they are produced by his 
choice in the full sense in which any effect is said to be 
produced by its efficient cause. This I suppose will net 
be denied so far as the existence of beings is concerned. 
The only question will probably respect events ; and par- 
ticularly those which are called the actions of moral or 
voluntary creatures. With respect to these I observe, 
that it makes no difference as to the truth of this doc- 
trine, whatever difference it may make as to others, 
whether we suppose God to will the existence of these 
beings, furnished with those faculties which enable them 
to act in any given manner, and in the possession of 
which they will really act in that manner ; or whether 
we suppose him to will the existence of their actions 
immediately. The pleasure or choice of God in the 
former case, is the productive cause of the existence of 
these beings, and of their faculties. With these faculties, 
these beings of course will certainly, although without 
any necessity except what is attributable to inclination, 
act in a given manner in every case. All the actions of 
which they will thus be the subjects were antecedently to 
the existence of the beings in question, perfectly dis- 
cerned by the omniscience of God ; and so far as they 
will ever have existence, were objects of his choice or 
preference. He therefore willed into existence such 
beings, possessed of such faculties as he knew would cer- 
tainly give birth to the existence of their actions. 
Although therefore he may have chosen that their 
actions should be the result of their energy, without a 
direct exertion of his own ; it is clear, that he chose 
the existence of such beings, possessed of such faculties, 
with a perfect knowledge that they would be the authors 
of such actions, and that the actions would exist. As 
therefore he chose, that beings who he certainly knew 
would perform these actions, should exist ; " it is evident 
that he also chose, upon the whole, the existence of the 
actions themselves. 

It may perhaps be objected, that this doctrine makes 
God the author of sin ; I answer for the present, that 
it makes God the author of a universe in which he 
knew that sin would exist. A farther answer will be 
given, when this subject comes to be particularly con- 
sidered under the third head. 

(6.) The Scriptures directly assert the doctrine of 
this Discourse. The text is a strong example of this 
nature. As it has been sufficiently illustrated already, 
I shall leave it to your consideration. In Isa. xlv. 10, 
God says, ' My counsel shall stand ; and I will do all 
my pleasure.' This will be admitted to be a complete 
assertion of the doctrine, unless it should be supposed 
that there are things done and existing in the universe, 
which are without and beyond the counsel of God. 
According to this supposition it must be admitted, that 
a part of the system of things in the universe was not 



DECREES OF GOD. 



75 



contrived by him, was not agreeable to his pleasure, nor 
accomplished with his permission. In Isa. xliii. 13, God 
says, ' I will work, and who shall let it ?' And in Dan. 
iv. 35, it is declared, 'He doth according to his will in 
the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the 
earth, and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, 
What doest thou ?' 

In both these passages it is asserted, that there is no 
possible opposition or hindrance to the universal agency 
of God, which operates alike in heaven and in earth ; 
and in both according to his will or pleasure. In Rev. 
iv. 11, ' The four and twenty elders, falling down before 
him that sitteth on the throne in the heavens, say, Thou 
art worthy, Lord, to receive glory, and honour, and 
power : for thou hast created all things, and for thy 
pleasure they are and were created.' In this passage it 
is asserted that all things were created, and exist, 
for the pleasure of God. It is irresistibly inferred, 
therefore, that they exist according to his pleasure. In 
Acts xv, 18, it is said, 'Known unto God are all his 
works from the beginning of the world:' and in Psal. 
civ. 31, ' The Lord shall rejoice in his works.' It can- 
not be true that God will rejoice in his works, unless 
they are agreeable to his pleasure, nor any farther than 
they are agreeable to his pleasure ; for this would be 
to suppose, that he takes pleasure in that which is not 
agreeable to his pleasure, or is pleased with that which 
does not please him. As ' all his works were known to 
him from the beginning ;' so they were certainly agree- 
able to his pleasure from the beginning- : else it could 
not be foreknown and foretold, that he will rejoice in 
them. 

That the actions of moral beings are foreknown by 
God, is unanswerably evident from the fact, that almost 
all the prophecies in the Scriptures are either predic- 
tions of the voluntary acts of such beings ; or of events 
accomplished by their voluntary actions : or of events 
which, without these actions, could never exist. The 
deluge was absolutely predicted by Noah, one hundred 
and twenty years before it took place ; but had mankind 
repented in that period, the deluge would not have 
existed. If then God had not certainly foreknown that 
men would not repent, he could not have certainly 
foretold the deluge. God predicted the apostasy of the 
Edoinites, the sojourning of the Israelites in Egypt, 
the refusal of Pharaoh to let them go, their return to 
the land of Canaan, the revolt of ten tribes from Solo- 
mon, the ruin of their empire by Nebuchadnezzar, their 
captivity, their return, and their final destruction by the 
Romans ; the life and death of Christ, the erection and 
progress of the Christian church, and a vast multitude 
of other events which cannot now be mentioned. These 
events were not only the voluntary actions of men, or 
the result of them, but involved thousands of millions of 
such actions which preceded them, and were necessary 
to their existence. All these must have been perfectly 
foreknown by God, or the events could not, with either 
truth or certainty, have been foretold. These actions 
thus foreknown, were either agreeable or contrary to 
the pleasure of God ; that is, upon the whole. If they 
were contrary to his pleasure, it was contrary to his 
pleasure that they should exist. Either then the cause 
Of their existence was sufficiently powerful to bring them 
into being, when he chose that they should not exist ; or 
he chose that they should exist, contrary to his own 
pleasure, or, in other words, his own choice. 



Christ is said by St Peter to have been ' delivered ' to 
the Jews ' by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge 
of God.' If this declaration can need proof, it is found 
abundantly in the numerous predictions of this event, 
contained in the Old Testament. Christ is said to have 
been ' slain,' that is, in the purpose of God, ' from the 
foundation of the world.' The calling, sanctification, 
conversion, and salvation of the Christian church are 
said to be ' according to the eternal purpose of God.' 
A vast multitude of declarations, importing the same 
things generally, might be added to these, were it 
necessary. But I shall only observe farther under this 
head, that the works of creation and providence are 
exhibited in the Scriptures as parts of one great plan, 
universally devised and conducted according to the 
good pleasure of God ; extending to the clothing of 
grass and the falling of sparrows, the government of 
this world and the regulation of the heavens. 

2. 1 shall now consider some of the difficulties which 
result from a denial of this doctrine. 

That God made all beings will not here be question- 
ed. When he made them, he either made them with or 
without a design. If he acted without design, he acted 
without wisdom ; and was therefore originally unwise, 
or unpossessed of wisdom : for nothing is more absolute 
folly, or indicates more an entire destitution of wisdom, 
than to act without design or without an end ; and 
especially to do such great and wonderful things, for so 
long a period, without an end in view. 

If God acted with design in the creation of all things, 
he either provided for the certain accomplishment of the 
end which he had in view, or he did not. If he did 
not, it was because he was either unable, or unwilling 
to do it. If he was unable, it was either because he 
knew not the means of doing it, or because he had not 
power to bring them to pass. In the former case we 
deny his omniscience ; in the latter, his omnipotence. 
When vie behold the wonderful contrivance of the end- 
less multitude of things in creation and providence, we 
cannot, in the exercise of reason, doubt his omniscience. 
When we call to mind, that they were brought into 
existence by his power, we cannot doubt his omnipo- 
tence. He who contrived the universe, plainly knows 
all things. He who made it, can plainly do all things 
which in their nature are possible. 

If God was unwilling to provide for the accom- 
plishment of the end which he proposed in the creation 
of all things, it was either because that the end was not 
sufficiently dear to him, or because the accomplishment 
of it required more labour and self-denial than its im- 
portance would justify. The end could not but be suffi- 
ciently dear to him. God certainly could propose to 
himself an end of infinite value ; viz. the promotion of 
infinite good. If he did not propose this end, it was 
not because he was unable to propose it, but because he 
was unwilling. If he was unwilling to propose this 
end, when it was in full view before him, he was not 
only destitute of infinite benevolence ; but, I apprehend, 
wholly destitute of all benevolence ; since in this case 
he pi-eferred a good which was comparatively nothing 
(as being finite) to that which was infinite. If he is 
infinitely benevolent, and did actually propose, as the 
end of creating and governing the universe, an infinite 
good, then to him this end was infinitely dear. 

He w : as not prevented from providing for the accom- 
plishment of this end because of the labour or self- 



76 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xiv. 



denial which it would require. To infinite benevolence, 
no effort of choice can be laborious or self-denying ; to 
omniscience, no effort of contrivance, and to omnipo- 
tence, no effort of execution. The infinite Mind acts, 
of course, with perfect ease. ' The Creator of the ends 
of the earth fainteth not, neither is weary.' 

If God did provide for the accomplishment of the 
end which he had in view, then it will either be accom- 
plished, or it will not. If it will be accomplished, the 
means provided for this purpose are all of the proper 
nature, and -will operate in the proper manner, for its 
accomplishment. In other words, they will sustain 
precisely that nature, and operate in that manner, 
which was intended by the Infinite Mind, when the end 
was proposed, and the means were selected for bringing 
it to pass. Of course, both the end and the means 
were from the beginning known, proposed, chosen, and 
determined by God. 

He therefore who denies this doctrine, will, I think, 
find, the denial followed by the immovable difficulty of 
being obliged, at the same ■ time, to deny the absolute 
perfection and infinity of the divine power, knowledge, 
or goodness. 

Farther'; if the actions of voluntary beings are not, 
upon the whole, such as God originally chose they 
should be ; it must, be either because he did not know 
what the,y would be, or, knowing this, did not choose to 
prevent their existence. If he did not originally know 
what they would be, .then his creatures communicate to 
him continually new ideas, and those in endless multi- 
tudes. . Of course his views change daily; and instead 
pf- being Omniscient originally and eternally, he is not 
no.w^ 'nor will he ever be omniscient ; but will, through- 
out eternity, receive continual and vast accessions of 
knowledge, communicated to him -by his voluntary 
creatures; who in this ease devise what before he did 
not know, and act what before he never .conceived. In 
this case also his knowledge must, like ours, be Succes- 
sive and mutable. ' Nay, as his mind is the greatest of 
ail' minds, and must, according to this supposition, con- 
tinually imbibe knowledge ;' so, from its extent, and 
comprehension, it must imbibe knowledge incalculably 
faster, and be more rapidly mutable, than that of any 
otiver being whatever. 

Farther ; as the views of God continually enlarge and 
change, so it is plain, that, together with his views, his 
disposition must change with respect to particular 
things, and ultimately with respect to his whole system ; 
and that his administrations, and his measures,- must in 
the . game manner also change. New objects sustain 
new characters and new relations, and infer new pro- 
prieties of conduct, and of consequence new measures. 
The conduct which it would be proper for God to adopt 
towards a being whose character and actions are un- 
known to him, must be also unknown. Every creature 
whose character and actions are new, and different 
from any thing before known or conceived, must, if he 
be properly treated, receive a treatment different from 
one before exhibited or contrived. As voluntary beings 
are, in a sense, endlessly numerous, and exist through- 
out eternity ; so their actions being, according to the 
supposition, unknown to God before they exist, must in 
a multitude of instances, literally endless, demand a 
new treatment or new measures, repeated in a manner 
also literally endless. Of course, not only in his views, 
but also in his disposition and conduct, God must, ac- 



cording to this supposition, be the most unceasingly and 
absolutely changeable of all beings. 

A being whose, conduct is and must be regulated by 
the actions of others, is plainly dependent on others 
with respect to this prime part of his character. .He 
cannot act as he would originally and- absolutely choose 
to act, but must act as their conduct requires him to 
act. God, therefore, being intimately and inseparably 
connected with all voluntary beings, is in this respect 
more dependent, according to this supposition, than any 
other being whatever. 

But if God did know originally all the actions of vo- 
luntary beings, and did not choose to prevent their ex- 
istence in any case : then they were, upon the whole, 
agreeable to his pleasure ; or he chose that they should 
exist, when, upon the whole, they were contrary to his 
pleasure. That he could have prevented the existence 
of any actions whatever, if he pleased,, we certainly 
know .; because he could have prevented the existence 
of the beings whose actions they were; If they were 
upon the whole contrary to his pleasure, and he yet 
chose that they should exist ; then he chose that actions 
should exist, whose existence was upon the whole con- 
trary to his choice ; which is no other than a self-con- 
tradiction. 

Again : If God proposed infinite good as the end of 
all his conduct, and this end was infinitely dear to him, 
and is yet not certainly and completely accomplished ; 
it must be because he is not able to accomplish it. This 
will not be pretended. But if God does not foreknow 
the actions of voluntary beings, he cannot be certain 
of the accomplishment of. this end. To the accom- 
plishment of perfect and infinite good, it is plainly ne- 
cessary that every thing pertaining to the system should 
be in time,place, nature, and operations'," exactly that, 
and only that, which contributes directly, as well as ul- 
timately, its own proper efficacy, to the promotion of 
this end. A perfect system plainly demands that every 
part of it be necessary, and entirely fitted for the place 
and operations assigned to it ; arrd that there'he nothing 
contrary to, or aside from," the general purpose ; no- 
thing /out -of place or ■time, nothing .superfluous, and 
nothing defective ;• in .» word, that there be just such 
means, and so many of. them, as will perfectly accom- 
plish the end, and that there be nothing more. But in 
the case supposed, the actions of voluntary beings, un- 
less accordant with the pleasure of God,' can in nowise 
sustain the character of proper parts of a perfect system. 
Just -so far as they vary from this' pleasure, they vary ' 
from the character specified. It will not be denied, 
that God is "both able and disposed to plan a perfect 
system of good. It follows, therefore, that he certainly 
has planned such a system. ' Whatever accords not 
with his pleasure, upon the whole, accords not with this 
system ; this being the thing which is agreeable to his 
pleasure ; but must be defective or superfluous ; out of 
place, or out of time ; aside from or contrary to, the 
perfection of the system. Consequently, if the actions 
of voluntary beings be not upon the whole accordant 
with the pleasure of God, he was not only unassured of 
the accomplishment of the end which he proposed in 
creating and governing the universe, but he entered 
upon this great work without knowing that it would be 
accomplished ; and was originally certain, that the per 
feet good which he proposed would never exist. 

These who deny this doctrine are, therefore, unless I 



DECREES OF GOD. 



77 



am deceived, forced by their denial to acknowledge that 
God is a limited, mutable, and dependent being ; and 
that he originally was, and ever must be,' uncertain of 
the accomplishment of the great end proposed in his 



works ; or rather, that he ever was and will be certain 
that it can never be accomplished. The magnitude of 
these difficulties I need not explain. 



SERMON XV. 

THE DECREES OF GOD. 



But he is in one mind ; and who can turn him ? And what his soul desireth , even that lie doeth. — Job xxiii. 13. 






In my last Discourse I asserted, from these words, the 
following doctrine : — That all things, both beings and 
events, exist in exact accordance with the purpose, 
pleasure, or what is commonly called, the decrees of 
God. 

In discussing this doctrine I mentioned that I should 
attempt, first, to explain it ; secondly, to prove it ; and 
thirdly, to answer the objections commonly made against 
it. 

Under the first head, after having mentioned several 
erroneous opinions and forms of phraseology, frequent- 
ly adopted concerning this subject, I expressed my own 
views of it in this manner : What is commonly intended 
by the decrees of God is, that choice or pleasure of the 
Divine Mind, eternally and unchangeably inherent in 
it, by which all things are brought into being. 

Under the second head, I alleged several direct ar- 
guments in support of the doctrine, and then suggested 
several difficulties which result from denying it. These, 
by proving the converse of the doctrine to be false, in- 
directly proved the doctrine to be true : according to 
the general axiom, that every proposition, or its con- 
verse, is true. ' 

I shall now,; as I proposed, attempt, ' • . 

Thirdly, to answer the objections commonly made 
against this doctrine. 

These, I think, may be reduced to the following: — 

1. That it is equivalent to the stoical doctrine of fate, 
or destiny. 

2. That it exhibits God as the author of sin. 

3. That it destroys the free agency of rational crea- 
tures/ 

• ■ 4. That it discourages all the efforts of mankind to- 
wards reformation. 

I will not say that no other objections are brought 
against this doctrine ; but I think of no others which 
appear to be regarded as material by those who allege 
them, or which, if these be fairly obviated, would be 
supposed sensibly to affect the question in debate. 
These, therefore, I shall now proceed to consider in the 
order proposed. 

1. It is objected, that the general doctrine of this 
Discourse is equivalent to the stoical doctrine of fate, 
or destiny. 

The fate of the Stoics, as explained by Cicero, was 
of this nature. These philosophers supposed a series, 
and it would seem an eternal one, in which each link 
of the vast chain was the effect of the preceding, and 
Hie cause of the succeeding one : every link being al- 
ternately a cause and effect. These causes, so far as I 



understand the subject (for it is not very clear that we 
understand precisely what was the stoical doctrine, nor 
-that the Stoics understood- or united in it themselves), 
were not considered by them as either intelligent or 
voluntary ; but as merely coerced by those which pre- 
ceded, and as coercing those which followed. In other 
words, the doctrine was substantially the same with 
that of atheists concerning an eternal series, which was • 
exploded in a former Discourse.* To the irresistible 
efficacy of this series of causes, the gods acknowledged 
by the Stoics, were absolutely subjected ; and Jupiter 
himself, their supreme ruler, was utterly unable to re- 
sist, divert, or at all change the order of things, brought 
to pass hy the compulsion of this fate or destiny. 

He who can find any resemblance between this doc- 
trine, and that on which the present Discourse is found- 
ed, must find it by the aid of an ingenuity to which 1 
can make no claim. I. freely own, that 1 cannot per- 
ceive any similarity between an unintelligent and in- 
voluntary series of causes, compelling by natural neces- 
sity or coercion, the existence of their consequent effects, 
and controlling by inevitable necessity the actions of 
both gods and men ; .and the free, wise, and voluntary 
agency of the infinitely intelligent and benevolent 
Mind, originally planning, and steadily executing a sys- 
tem of infinite good,- according to the dictates of his 
boundless wisdom and perfect pleasure. I cannot per- 
ceive a similarity, sufficient to enable me to discern in 
what the professed difficulty lies, or what the real ob- 
jection is which I am required to answer. I shall take 
the liberty therefore of waiting until I shall find the. 
objection so stated as either to- induce me to- acknow- 
ledge its force, or enable me to attempt a refutation. 

2. It is -objected, that this doctrine exhibits God as 
the author of sin. • , . ■' • . . 

To the phrase, author of sin, very different meanings 
are annexed by different persons. In order to meet 
this objection therefore with any hope of success, it will 
be necessary in the first place to determine the true 
meaning of the phraseology. Some persons understand 
by it the immediate and efficient cause of sinful voli- 
tions : others not only mean the efficient, but the guilty 
cause of such volitions : others still, such a cause as in 
any manner, however remote, lays a foundation for the 
existence of sin : and others, a cause supposed to be in- 
telligent, which when possessed of sufficient power to 
prevent the existence of sin, did not interfere to prevent 
it. ' When it is said that this doctrine exhibits God as 

•See Sermon II. 



78 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser xv. 



the author of sin, I shall for the present consider the 
phrase as used in one or both of the two first of these 
senses ; and regard the objector as intending, that, ac- 
cording to this doctrine, God is either the guilty or 
guiltless, immediate and efficient cause of sinful volitions 
in his creatures : in other words, that he constrains or 
compels them to sin. That the doctrine which I have 
defended involves this consequence, I cannot perceive 
nor admit. 

To support the objection, it must be shown that God 
cannot will and accomplish the existence of voluntary 
agents, who, acting freely, shall nevertheless act in ex- 
act accordance with what is upon the whole his plea- 
sure ; and who, in the circumstances in which they are 
severally placed, and with the attributes which they 
severally possess, will with perfect freedom contribute 
each his proper part and efficiency towards the promo- 
tion of the infinite good, originally proposed as the end 
of the divine system. Eut this, I apprehend, has never 
been and never will be shown. It must be proved, that 
in the infinite multitude of possible free agents, present 
to the view of the Divine Mind, there were none possess- 
ed of such attributes, and capable of being placed in 
such circumstances, as -while they acted with perfect 
freedom, would also perfectly accomplish the purposes 
of the divine pleasure. No man will, I presume, at- 
tempt to prove this position. If it be granted that such 
agents were possible, and that the Infinite Mind dis- 
cerned their nature and character ; it must, in order to 
support the objection, be proved, that God having these 
agents in full view, chose not to select them, and bring 
them into existence. But this, I presume, will not be 
admitted by the objector himself. Till this can be done, 
however, the objection cannot be maintained. 

That sin is in the world, and that the world, with all 
which it contains, is under the government of God, in 
some sense or other, must be acknowledged by the ob- 
jector himself ; unless, on the one hand, he denies the 
divine government absolutely, or on the other, the dis- 
tinction between moral good and evil. Sin has there- 
fore entered the world in some manner or other, while 
it was under the divine government. There are three 
ways in which men have attempted to explain the diffi- 
culty involved in this fact. Some persons assert, that 
by his direct efficiency God caused, others that he per- 
mitted, and others still that he could not prevent its ex- 
istence. 

That God could not prevent the existence of sin can- 
not be maintained. He has prevented it in the angels 
' who kept their first estate.' He prevented it in the 
person of Christ, who in his human nature ' knew no 
sin.' He has promised that he will prevent it, and he 
will therefore certainly prevent it in ' the spirits of 
just men made perfect ' in the heavens. Should it be 
said, that these beings, by their own voluntary agency, 
and without any interference or influence on the part 
of God, continue in a state of holiness ; I answer, that 
this supposition affects not the point at all ; for God 
plainly could have created every moral agent with ex- 
actly the same attributes, and placed them in exactly 
the same circumstances, with those several virtuous be- 
ings who persist in holiness. Whatever we suppose to 
be the means by which they are preserved from sin, 
those very means he certainly could have used to pre- 
serve in the same effectual manner all others. 

Beyond this, he has not only continued holiness in 



the minds of many of his creatures, but has restored it 
to vast multitudes who had fallen into a state of hope- 
less guilt and pollution. This fact is a proof, that he 
could have continued it in the minds of these creatures, 
if he had judged this conduct to be, upon the whole, 
wise and good for him to pursue. 

That God, by an immediate agency of his own, cre- 
ates the sinful volitions of mankind, is a doctrine not 
warranted, in my view, either by reason or revelation. 
There are, I know, many respectable men in modern 
times, and particularly in our own country, as there 
have been at other times and in other countries, who 
have thought this the easiest way of arriving at satis- 
faction concerning this abstruse subject. I cannot, as 
some persons have thought it proper to do, attribute to 
these men evil designs. In many instances at least, they 
appear to give as unquestionable proofs of piety and 
virtue as are given by any others, and to devote their 
labours as cheerfully and faithfully to the promotion of 
truth and righteousness in the world. Still, I cannot 
accord with this doctrine : nor hesitate to believe, that 
they have in several instances ' darkened counsel by 
words without knowledge.' There is a bound, as I 
have remarked before, beyond which the mind cannot 
pass ; and it is as easily found in investigating this sub- 
ject as in any course of human inquiry. The meta- 
physical nature of moral agency, both in God and his 
creatures, is a subject perhaps as tenuous, as difficult to 
be fastened upon, and as easily evanescent from the 
mind as any which we attempt to examine. This I 
think is unanswerably evident from the fact, that no 
attempt thoroughly to explain it has given extensive 
satisfaction, even to philosophical men, for any length 
of time. 

The theology of a part of this country appears to me 
to be verging, insensibly perhaps to those who are 
chiefly concerned, but with no very gradual step, to- 
wards a Pantheism, differing materially in one particu- 
lar only from that of Spinosa. He held ' that the uni- 
verse, which he supposed to be matter, and which he 
divided into cogitative, or intelligent, and incogitative, 
was God ; and that the several parts of it were no other 
than separate parts of the same great and universal 
Being.' Thus he excluded the existence of all crea- 
tures, and of any work of creation, as well as all that 
which is usually meant by the providence and govern- 
ment of the Creator. The theology to which I have 
referred, teaches, ' that God is immaterial, intelligent, 
and infinite ; but denies with Spinosa, the existence of 
finite, intelligent beings, as well as of those which Ave 
call bodies ; declaring that what men usually call minds 
or spirits, are no other than continued chains, or suc- 
cessions of ideas and exercises, created immediately and 
successively by the Infinite Mind.' The same reason is 
alleged by this system for the exclusion of finite agents 
from existence, which was alleged by Spinosa for ex- 
cluding the existence of such agents, as well as an infi- 
nite, immaterial one, from his system ; viz. that man- 
kind cannot conceive of such things, nor comprehend 
their nature : a reason, which, if admitted, will indeed 
exclude from our belief and reception almost every 
doctrine. Particularly, on this ground we ought cer- 
tainly to deny the existence of the Infinite Agent. 

As I propose to consider the principal subject of 
these remarks in a Discourse devoted to it, it will be 
improper to anticipate here, the tilings which I design 



DECREES OF GOD. 



79 



to include in that Discourse. It will be sufficient for 
the present purpose to observe, that the Scriptures 
directly inform us, that God is the author of holiness, and 
this in many forms, and with great emphasis ; that they 
nowhere assert that he is the author of sin ; in the sense 
now under consideration ; and that they everywhere 
attribute blame to man, as the guilty, and in my view 
the efficient cause, of his own sins. A plain man read- 
ing the Scriptures, never, I presume, derived from 
them the doctrine, that God creates the sins of men. 
Nor can he, without great pains-taking, and previous 
perplexity, be induced to admit it as a part of his creed. 
And let it be remembered, as a very just and very im- 
portant remark of Doddridge, that the plain sense of 
the Scriptures, or that which naturally strikes the 
minds of plain men as the real meaning, is almost of 
course the true sense. 

The existence of finite agents is at least as conceiv- 
able and admissible as that of an infinite agent, and 
certainly involves no greater difficulties. Accordingly, 
this has been the universal doctrine of the human mind, 
as well as the only obvious exhibition of the Scriptures 
concerning this subject. The common objection con- 
cerning this doctrine is certainly trifling and ground- 
less ; viz. that it makes creatures independent of their 
Creator. Can he be independent, whose existence, at- 
tributes, and consequently actions, depend absolutely 
on the will of another, and who can be and do nothing 
but what the other is pleased to permit ? 

Satisfied with this view of the subject, on which how- 
ever I mean to dwell more particularly hereafter, I 
adopt without hesitation the second of these methods of 
explaining the introduction of sin into the world; and 
unite with those who assert, that God permitted the 
existence of sin ; or in the scriptural language, ' that 
lie has in times past suffered all nations to walk in their 
own ways,' It has not ever been proved that these 
ways are not their own, in the most absolute sense ; nor 
in the strictest metaphysical language, that God has not 
suffered all nations to walk in them ; nor that this, con- 
nected with such a superintendence and control, as in- 
variably directs their conduct to ultimate good, and 
prevents it from terminating in ultimate evil, is not the 
whole of the immediate agency of God, so far as sin is 
concerned. That this scheme does not in any degree 
exhibit God as the author of sin, in either of the two 
first senses, must I think be acknoAvledged by every 
man who believes in the perfections and government of 
God. That he has permitted sin, and has not prevent- 
ed its existence, are facts so evident, that they cannot 
become the subject of serious debate. At the same time 
I cannot but observe, that those who, when they speak 
of God as the author of sin, mean to indicate these facts 
as the import of this phrase, use language in an unwar- 
rantable, and in my view, dangerous and mischievous 
manner. 

3. It is objected, that this doctrine destroys the free 
agency of rational creatures. 

It will be easily perceived, that many of the observa- 
tions made under the last head, materially affect this 
also. Indeed these two objections are so connected in 
their nature, that it is impossible to consider one of 
them to any extent, without anticipating in some degree 
the consideration of the other. To the observations 
which I have already made, I shall however add several 
< -tliers, peculiarly referring to this objection. 



There are but two ways in which the agency of God 
can be supposed by the objectors to lessen or destroy 
the free agency of his creatures. One is by compelling 
or constraining their actions : the other by rendering 
the existence of their actions certain, before they take ' 
place. That God compels or constrains the actions of 
his creatures (of men for example), certainly cannot be 
shown, nor even pretended, unless the compulsion ex- 
ists in his decrees. Nor can it be shown to exist in his 
decrees, unless it is involved in the nature of his decrees 
as such ; or in other words, unless the doctrine of this 
Discourse is inconsistent with the nature of free agency 
in creatures. This, I presume, is the real opinion of 
those who bring the objection now under consideration. 
They regard the supposition, that God has planned a 
certain system of things according to his own pleasure, 
and that he has made and placed men in such a manner 
as that they will certainly do those things, and those 
only which will accord with that pleasure, as inconsist- 
ent with the doctrine, that they are free agents. 

To this objection, to which I have intended to give 
its true import and full force, it is commonly answered, 
that the doctrine which I have attempted to support, is 
capable of being clearly proved both from reason and 
revelation ; and that men are intuitively conscious of 
their own free agency, being irresistibly sensible that 
they act spontaneously, and without any coercion or 
constraint. Both doctrines being therefore true and 
certain, it is justly alleged that they are of course con- 
sistent with each other. 

It would seem that this answer might as well satisfy 
the mind in the present case as in numerous others, in 
which we perceive propositions to be true, but are un- 
able to discern the nature of their mutual connexion. 
But as the objection is still insisted on, and seems to 
have no small weight in the minds of many persons, it 
will not be improper for me to offer some farther con- 
siderations on the subject. 

All those who make the objection agree, as well as 
others, that it is possible for a finite agent, possessed of 
certain supposable attributes, and placed in certain sup- 
posable circumstances, to be free in the absolute sense. 
I shall take this for granted ; because, otherwise, the 
objection itself, and the debate founded on it, can have 
neither place nor meaning. We will suppose, then, 
such an agent to exist, and to act, while he lived in a 
manner perfectly free : while at the same time no being 
knew at all in what manner he would act in any case 
whatever, until his actions had existed. In this case he 
would undoubtedly be allowed to possess all possible 
advantages for acting with perfect freedom. Lest I 
should not be thought to be sufficiently particular, I 
will suppose his actions to be all absolutely contingent ; 
because some philosophers suppose contingency to be 
an indispensable and inseparable attribute of a free ac- 
tion. We will now, in the second place, suppose this 
agent, without any change in his powers or his circum- 
stances in any other respect, to have all his actions, 
which, according to the former supposition are the 
freest possible, foreknown by God or some other being. 
I ask whether they would be at all the less free, in con- 
sequence of being thus foreknown ? The powers, the 
circumstances, and the actions of this agent remain 
exactly the same as before ; the agent himself (for that 
is included in the supposition) being perfectly ignorant 
that his actions are thus foreknown. Can it be per- 



so 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. xv. 



ceived, that this foreknowledge affects the nature of" the 
actions in any manner, or the freedom of the agent ? 
To me it is clear, that it cannot ; because, in the case 
supposed, the foreknowledge has not the remotest influ= 
ence on the agent, nor on his actions : both he and they 
continuing to be exactly the same, in every respect what- 
ever. On the contrary, all the possible influence of 
this foreknowledge is confined to the bosom of him by 
whom it is possessed. 

But if this agent would thus continue free, and his 
actions would still be perfectly free, notwithstanding 
they were foreknown ; then it is clear that a preceding 
certainty that tbe actions of a voluntary agent will exist, 
does not at all of itself lessen or affect their freedom. 
Foreknowledge renders the future existence of that 
which is foreknown, certain ; therefore the. actions of 
the agent supposed are all rendered certain, and will of 
course exist : yet it is, I think, unquestionably clear from 
this statement, that their freedom will not be affected. 
Lest I should be thought guilty of an absurdity in sup- 
posing events absolutely contingent to be capable of 
being foreknown, I shall justify myself by observing 
that Dr Gregory has asserted, ' that the voluntary 
actions of mankind are foreknown as mere contingen- 
cies,' and is declared by a writer of respectability to 
have merited the thanks of the learned world for this 
discovery. For myself, I confess, that I not only dis- 
cern no indispensable connexion between contingency 
and freedom of action, but no connexion at all ; nor any 
possibility that human actions, or any thing else, should 
be contingent. So far as I can see, the admission of 
casual or contingent existence must, if we would make 
our principles consistent, be by consequence the admis- 
sion of it in all cases whatever. 

Again, we will suppose that the actions of the agent 
already specified, which are thus foreknown by God, 
are perceived by him also to be exactly agreeable to 
his pleasure. Will this circumstance affect the freedom 
of agency ? Surely it will not be asserted nor believed, 
that actions, in order to be free, must contravene the 
pleasure of God. As I presume this proposition never 
was advanced by any man, and as it is an obvious ab- 
surdity in itself, I shall take the liberty to consider it 
as being an absurdity. It is therefore clear, that the 
actions of a voluntary agent may be certainly foreknown 
by God, to be exactly agreeable to his pleasure, and yet 
be attended with the highest possible freedom. 

That God knows all things, the knowledge of which 
involves not a contradiction, and that the foreknowledge 
of human actions does not involve a contradiction, I 
here consider as undisputed. 

I have, I flatter myself, made it sufficiently evident, 
that God's foreknowledge of voluntary actions does in 
no respect lessen or affect their freedom, although it 
renders their future existence absolutely certain. But 
it will be said, by some persons at least, that the diffi- 
culty does not lie here, but in the fact, that God has 
willed the existence of human agents, and their actions; 
and that it is his formation of them in such a manner 
as to accomplish certain purposes of his own, which pre- 
vents or destroys the freedom in question. 

To remove the difficulty presented by this observa- 
tion, I will suppose, once more, a voluntary agent either 
self-existent or existing casually, possessing powers of 
understanding, similar in their extent to those of angels 
or of men, and at the same time free in the highest 



sense annexed to that term. Let him be also supposed 
to be known and comprehended by God in the same 
perfect manner, in which any angel or man is known 
by him ; so that God can foresee with an omniscient 
survey, and absolute certainty, all his future actions. 
At the same time let it be supposed, that God exercises 
over him no government or influence whatever. This 
being will undoubtedly be acknowledged to be free, 
even by those who make this objection ; because he was 
neither brought into existence by the will of God, nor 
is controlled, nor influenced, in any manner whatever, 
by any will beside his own. Let me farther suppose, 
what, as it must be granted, cannot lessen nor affect his 
freedom, that all his actions thus foreseen are agree- 
able to the divine pleasure. Now let me ask whether 
the divine omniscience could not contrive, and the 
divine power create, a being exactly resembling this 
which I have here supposed, in every respect, except 
that he was not self-existent, nor casually existent ; and 
so perfect a copy, that he would differ from this suppos- 
ed being numerically only ; would possess the same at- 
tributes, be in the same circumstances, and perform, 
both in substance and mode, exactly the same actions. 
Were this supposed being, for example, to be placed by 
God in his kingdom, in certain circumstances, and acting 
a certain part in the system which was exactly agreeable 
to the divine pleasure ; wculd not the created being, 
who was his perfect counterpart, if substituted in his 
place, perform precisely the same actions, with the same 
faculties, and the same freedom ? The only difference 
between them would be, that he who was casually ex- 
istent, would perform these actions in consequence of 
possessing such and such attributes, without having been 
created for this purpose ; while the other would perform 
them, in consequence of having been thus created with 
the very same attributes. In their origin, I grant, 
these beings differ : in their nature, character, and at- 
tributes, they are precisely the same. But their origin, 
it is plain, cannot, even in the most distant manner, af- 
fect their attributes or their actions. These, by the 
supposition are exactly alike. If therefore the former 
of these beings is free, the latter is equally free. If the 
actions of the latter are foreknown by God, equally so 
are those of the former, and they both alike fulfil his 
pleasure. 

With these things in view, it must I think be evident, 
that God can create a free agent, whose actions shall be 
all foreknown by him, and shall exactly accomplish 
what is, upon the whole, his pleasure. 

If these things are just and true, the doctrine of this 
Discourse does not destroy, lessen, nor affect, in any 
manner, the free agency of rational creatures ; unless it 
can be shown, as I am well assured it never can be, that 
God has not created agents, whose attributes are agree- 
able to this representation. There was not, indeed 
present to his eye a self-existent nor a casually existent 
agent, such as I have supposed ; but there were present 
to the view of his omniscience all the attributes and 
circumstances, which can enter into the existence and 
character of such an agent. If then he did not create 
beings of such a character, it was solely because he did 
not choose to create them. 

4. It is objected, that this doctrine discourages all the 
efforts of mankind towards reformation. 

That this doctrine has often been used to discourage 
such efforts I readily acknowledge. This is not unfre- 



DECREES OF GOD. 



81 



quently the tenor of books and of conversation ; nor is 
it an uncommon thing for persons to make it the source 
of discouragement to themselves, and to entertain 
gloomy and distressing apprehensions concerning their 
own final condition, when referred in their minds to the 
decrees of God. Still I cannot see that this conduct is 
wise, rational, or defensible ; nor that the doctrine in- 
cludes in itself any discouragement, which will not with 
as good reason flow from that which is opposed to it. It 
cannot result from the consideration, that the pleasure 
of God controls this subject, rather than our own plea- 
sure. On the one hand, the pleasure of God is more 
wisely and benevolently formed than our own ; more 
disposed to promote our salvation, and more able to 
contrive the best means by which it may he accomplish- 
ed. This we never could have done ourselves ; nor, if 
we were able, should we be willing ; as is clearly proved 
by the fact, that after the wonderful and difficult things 
which have been done to provide salvation for us, and 
while it is proffered to us freely on the easiest of all 
terms, we are not willing to accept it. How much less 
willing should we have been to go through the labour 
and sufferings, could we have gone through them, which 
were necessary to procure it for ourselves. 

On the other hand, if we please to be saved, we shall 
now be saved. This is one great part of the divine 
pleasure. There is nothing which prevents us from 
being saved, but our own inclination ; and this would as 
effectually prevent us in any supposable circumstances. 
Nor could we in any circumstances possess a greater 
freedom of choice or action, with respect to this or any 
other subject, than we now possess. Nor is there, so 
fai as I know, any influence from God which at all 
hinders us from choosing salvation with all that freedom 
of action which moral beings can possess. It will be 
observed, I speak not here of persons, for their incor- 
rigible obstinacy, punished with judicial blindness and 
hardness of heart ; though it is to be questioned whether, 
even in this case, God does any thing more than leave 
them to themselves."" The language of God to every 
sinner is, ' As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure 
in the death of the sinner ; but would rather that he 
would return, and live.' His invitations to sinners are, 
' Ho ! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, 
and he that hath no money ; yea, come, buy wine and 
milk, without money, and without price ;' and, ' Who- 
soever will, let him come, and take the water of life 
freely.' This language is perfectly sincere, and exadly 
descriptive of the disposition of God. 

This discouragement cannot arise from the certainty 
of the event, as established by this doctrine. The event 
is equally certain, if the doctrine is given up. It is 
equally certain in fact, with what Mr Locke calls cer- 
tainty of truth, in distinction from certainty of know- 
ledge, concerning any man, that he either will or will 
not be saved, whether it be foreknown or not. One, of 
these assertions, either that he will, or that he will not 
be saved, is now certainly true. Which of them is true, 
I grant, does not appear ; and will not, until time shall 
disclose it. Still, one of the events Mill take place, 
whether decreed or foreknown, or not. God will then 
judge and punish the wicked, and will punish them for 
exactly the same reasons, on either supposition ; viz. for 
their impenitence, unbelief, and disobedience. A per- 
son may therefore, with exactly the same propriety, 
whether he admits the decrees of God or not, or whether 



God has or has not formed any decrees, say, ' If I shall 
be saved, I shall be saved, whether I try to obtain sal- 
vation or not ; and however earnestly I may try, if I am 
to perish, I shall perish.' The certainty in either case 
is the same, and equally absolute. Even the foreknow- 
ledge of God will not alter this fact at all ; for though 
it affects him, it affects not the certainty of the event. 
All that can be truly said is that an event, which would 
otherwise take place, is now foreseen by him. To us 
in both cases also it is equally unknown. The causes 
which will bring it to pass, will in both cases be exactly 
the same. The language in both cases therefore may 
be adopted with exactly the same propriety. But the 
truth is, the language cannot be proper in either case. 
In my apprehension it is never true, that the attempts 
of the man concerned, towards the attainment of salva- 
tion, make no difference as to the event. On the con- 
trary it is clear, that of those who are saved, few, very 
few indeed, can be found, who have not made such 
attempts ; nor is there any satisfactory reason to believe, 
that those who make them with persevering earnestness 
and zeal, ultimately fail. I know no reason why the 
same language should not be used, with the same pro- 
priety and force, concerning our secular as concerning 
our spiritual business. But the farmer who should loi- 
ter at home and say, ' If I am to have a crop the pre- 
sent year, I shall have one ; and if I am not to have a 
crop, I shall not have one, whether I plough, and sow, 
and reap, or lie down in my bed :' the student, -who 
should spend his time in dress, sports, and gaming, and 
say, ' If I am to be a scholar, or to get my lesson, I shall 
accomplish it ; and if I am not, it will never be accom- 
plished, whether I study diligently, or lose my time in 
idleness ;' would be pronounced, and justly, a fool or a 
madman. But the decree of God extends to each of 
these subjects as absolutely as to our salvation. Men 
are as really chosen to be farmers and scholars as 
Christians, and learning and harvest are as truly ap- 
pointed as holiness, although from the comparative un- 
importance of the former, and the amazing moment of 
the latter, we are apt to apply the doctrine to one of 
the cases, and not to the other. 

The kingdom of God, as established by his pleasure, 
is a kingdom of means, regularly connected with their 
ends. 1 do not perceive that this is less true when ap- 
plied to spiritual, than to natural things. The real dis- 
couragement which men generally labour under with 
respect to their spiritual concerns, is their indisposition 
to make any efforts for the attainment of salvation. In 
truth, this indisposition itself suggests the discourage- 
ment which I have obviated, and then admits it. To a 
dispassionate, unbiased mind, it would never gain ad- 
mission. By sober reason it was never devised, and can 
never be supported. 

Were God really unwilling that men should strive ; 
had he discountenanced efforts, had he established no 
means of grace ; or had those means, when anxiously 
and perseveringly used, failed of success ; there would 
indeed be ample room for well founded discouragement. 
But when we find, as in my view we do in fact find, all 
these things reversed in the good pleasure and provi- 
dence of God, we have every inducement to hope and 
to labour ; much more, it would seem, than from any 
supposable situation, in which all things were left to 
fluctuation and casualty. Stupid sinners have indeed 
according to this and every other scheme, the most 



8? 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. xvr. 



fearful reason for discouragement and terror. But 
such as are awakened, anxious, and engaged to seek 
eternal life, have solid and abundant reason for hope. 

Mankind seem in many instances to suppose, that the 
decrees of God produce the event without means, ac- 
cording to the Mohammedan doctrine of predestina- 
tion. Whereas, if they believed, that the pleasure of 
God formed the system, and selected the means and 
agents by which all events are accomplished ; if they 
believed those agents to be endued with all the powers 
of the freest possible agency, and to be selected and 
formed, so that they might act with perfect freedom ; 
if they believed that God always furnishes them with 
the necessary means of obedience, and with motives to 
obedience more and greater than any which they can 
find to disobey ; if they believed that God, by a direct 
agency of his own, does not constrain them to any act 
whatever, but leaves them in all instances to act with 
perfect freedom, just as they please ; I think they would 
also believe, that there is no more difficulty attending 
the fact that he has chosen and formed such agents 
as he knew would unitedly do all his pleasure, than 
would attend his choice and formation of such agents as 
would act in any other manner whatever. But all this, 
for ought that appears, is true. The contrary doctrine 
has never been evinced to be true, at least in my appre- 
hension, and I fully believe never will be. 

On the other hand, it will be proper for a moment to 
turn our thoughts to the influence of the supposition 
that God has not fixed the system of things according 
to his pleasure. It cannot but be acknowledged, that 
he knew what system was upon the whole most desira- 
ble, wisest, and best. If lie did not resolve on it, it was 
plainly because he did not desire or choose to bring it 
to pass. In plain English, then, he did not desire the 
chief good of his creation, or the supreme glory of him- 
self, with sufficient good-will to resolve on it. Can this 
be infinite good-will ? Can it be moral perfection ? It was 
certainly as easy for him to accomplish it, as to accomplish 
an inferior system of good. If then he did not resolve 
on the superior system, it was plainly because he loved 
the inferior system better, and chose to do less good ra- 
ther than greater. His disposition therefore is, on this 
scheme, impei-fectly good in itself; how imperfectly, it is 
impossible, according to this supposition, to determine. 

According to this supposition it is farther to be ob- 
served, all things are left by God in a state of absolute 
uncertainty. The whole happiness of his intelligent 
creatures is committed to the casual influence and effi- 
cacy of their own views, feelings, and conduct. God 



cannot, in the nature of the case, interfere, either by 
determination or influence, without destroying the free 
agency or discouraging the efforts of his intelligent 
creatures, for the attainment of happiness. The whole 
system of the universe, so far as these creatures are 
concerned, must of course be regulated wholly by them. 
Does not this scheme evidently set all their interests 
afloat, and leave them eternally to the uncertain and 
hazardous direction of finite wisdom and goodness ? 
From the experience which we have had of the charac- 
ter and conduct of such creatures, is there a person in 
this assembly who would willingly commit his eternal 
interests to this perilous direction, and trust his all to 
the disposal of beings so weak and often so wicked ? 
Can this be safe for creatures ? Can it consist with 
the perfect character of God ? To the wisdom and 
forecast of his own mind, a man might, through over- 
weening self-confidence, be willing perhaps to commit 
the guidance of any interest, and feel that his soul it- 
self would be safe in his own hands. But would the 
same person trust himself to the final direction of 
others ? Would he venture his eternal welfare upon 
the wisdom and benevolence of any or all of those by 
whom he is encircled ? Their fitness for this mighty 
trust is however not inferior to his own, and they would 
as justly refuse to confide their souls to his care, as he 
would refuse to intrust his soul to them. Were he not 
blinded therefore by an unwarrantable partiality for him- 
self he would no sooner, no more willingly, trust himself 
in this mighty concern, than he would trust those around 
him. To do either, he would clearly discern, would be 
foolish and dangerous in the extreme. Wisdom, on the 
contrary, would teach both him and them to commit 
themselves, and their whole well-being implicitly to God. 

On the connexion of prayer with this subject, I de- 
sign to dwell particularly, when I shall come to the con- 
sideration of that duty. I have purposely omitted the 
examination of it at the present time, because several 
things relating to it belong to prayer only, and demand 
a separate discussion. 

Whether the observations which I have made on the 
general doctrine of this discourse, will be viewed by 
others as possessing the importance which I have at- 
tached to them, I cannot determine. To me they have 
appeared to possess real weight. If they should contri- 
bute in any measure to remove difficulties, to settle 
doubtful opinions, to establish truth, and to communi- 
cate satisfactory views concerning a subject so often at- 
tended with perplexity and alarm, I shall esteem my 
labours amply rewarded. 



SERMON XVI. 



THE SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD. 



O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself; it is net in man that ivalketh, to direct his steps.— 

ER. X. 23. 

In this passage of Scripture, the prophet, after uttering I of men, exhibits the progress of life as a way. In this 
a variety of sublime declarations, concerning the per- way, all men are considered as travelling. We com- 
fections and providence of God, and the follies and sins \ mence the journey at our birth, pass on through the 



I 



SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD. 



83 



several stages of childhood, youth, manhood, and old 
age, and finish it when we enter eternity. The accom- 
modations and the fare are greatly varied among the 
various travellers. Some find their entertainment plen- 
tiful and agreeable ; and some, even luxurious and 
splendid. Others are slenderly provided with food, 
raiment, and lodging ; are almost mere sufferers, and 
literally have not where to lay their heads. 

In the meantime, sorrow and disease, dangers and 
accidents, like a band of marauders, lie in wait for the 
travellers ; and harass and destroy a great proportion 
of their number. Of the vast multitude who continual- 
ly walk in the path of life, almost all disappear long be- 
fore they reach the goal at which it terminates. A very 
few arrive at the end. Of these, every one, dragging 
heavily his weary feet over the last division of the road, 
teaches us, that this part of his progress is only ' la- 
bour and sorrow.' 

A remarkable fact, universally attendant on our 
journey, is recited in the text. ' Lord,' says the 
deeply humbled prophet, ' I know that the way of man 
is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh, to di- 
rect his steps.' The enterprise is not contrived by our- 
selves. We are placed in it, and necessitated to ac- 
complish it by a superior and irresistible hand. It can- 
not but seem strange, that in such a journey we should 
originally be prevented from the ability to direct our- 
selves ; and that while we are compelled to the under- 
taking, we should be furnished for it in a manner so 
imperfect. Yet such is unquestionably the fact. Nor 
is the explanation so difficult, or so unsatisfactory, as 
we are prone to believe. God originally intended that 
all his creatures should be dependent on him for aid, 
guidance, and protection. Nor can it be rationally 
supposed, that such a dependence on his perfections 
and providence, is either unreasonable or undesirable. 

The sovereignty of God, which is so clearly and 
strongly visible in this interesting subject, has ever been 
questioned, and very often denied by mankind. To 
establish this doctrine in the minds of my audience is 
the peculiar design of the present discourse. In a 
sermon lately delivered in this place on the Decrees of 
God, I explained what I intend by the Divine Sove- 
reignty. It was then observed, that the conduct of 
God is sovereign in this sense ; that he does .according 
to his will, independently and irresistibly, without giv- 
ing an account of any of his matters any farther than 
he pleases ; but that he wills nothing without the best 
reason, whether that reason be disclosed to his crea- 
tures or not ; that real glory to himself, and real good 
to his creation, not otherwise attainable, are universally 
the object to which his pleasure is directed, whether it 
respects the existence and motions of an insect, or the 
salvation of man. It was remarked also at that time, 
tliat in the ordinary sense of the word, God never acts 
arbitrarily ; and that to say he wills a thing because he 
wills it, is to speak without meaning. All his pleasure, 
all his determinations are perfectly wise and good ; 
founded on the best of all reasons, and directed to the 
best of all purposes. Were he to act in any other 
manner, his providence would be less wise and less de- 
sirable. 

It will not be questioned that this doctrine is deeply 
interesting to man. On this life is suspended that 
which is to come. Consequences, eternal and incom- 
prehensible, will flow from those doctrines which we 



adopt in the present world. All our conduct will then 
be examined, and will either be approved or condemn- 
ed. If we have chosen the strait and narrow way pre- 
scribed to us, the termination will be happy. If we 
have preferred the broad and crooked road, it will be 
deplorable. 

Few of this audience will probably deny the truth of 
a direct scriptural declaration. With as little reason 
can it be denied, that most of them apparently live in 
the very manner in which they would live, if the doc- 
trine were false : or that they rely, chiefly at least, on 
their own sagacity, contrivance, and efforts, for success 
in this life, and that which is to come. As little can it 
be questioned that such self-confidence is a guide, emi- 
nently dangerous and deceitful. Safe as we may feel 
under its direction, our safety is imaginary. The folly 
of others in trusting to themselves we discern irresisti- 
bly. The same folly they perceive with equal evidence 
in us. Our true wisdom lies in willingly feeling, and 
cheerfully acknowledging our dependence on God, and 
in committing ourselves with humble reliance to his 
care and direction. 

With these observations I will now proceed to illus- 
trate the truth of the doctrine. The mode which I 
shall pursue, will probably be thought singular, I hope 
it will be useful. Metaphysical arguments, which are 
customarily employed for the purpose of establishing 
this and several other doctrines of theology, are, if I 
mistake not, less satisfactory to the minds of men at 
large, than the authors of them appear to believe. 
Facts, wherever they can be fairly adduced for this 
end, are attended with a superior power of conviction, 
and commonly leave little doubt behind them. On 
these therefore I shall at the present time rely for the 
accomplishment of my design. 

I. The doctrine of the text is evident from the great 
fact, that the birth and education of all men depend 
not on themselves. 

The succeeding events of life are derived, in a great 
measure at least, from our birth. By this event, it is 
in a prime degree determined whether men shall be 
princes or peasants, opulent or poor, learned or igno- 
rant, honourable or despised ; whether they shall be 
civilized or savage, freemen or slaves, Christians or 
Heathen, Mohammedans or Jews. 

A child is born of Indian parents in the western wil- 
derness. By his birth he is of course a savage. His 
friends, his mode of life, his habits, his knowledge, his 
opinions, and his conduct, all grow out of this single 
event. His first thoughts, his first instructions, and all 
the first objects with which he is conversant, the per- 
sons whom he loves, the life to which he addicts him- 
self, and the character which he assumes, are all savage. 
He is an Indian from the cradle : he is an Indian to the 
grave. To say that he could not be otherwise, we are 
not warranted ; but that he is not, is certain. 

Another child is born of a Bedouin Arab. From this 
moment he begins to be an Arabian. ' His hand is 
against every man, and every man's hand is against 
him.' Before he can walk or speak, he is carried 
through pathless wastes in search of food ; and roams in 
the arms of his mother, and on the back of a camel, 
from spring to spring, and from pasture to pasture. 
Even then he begins his conflict with hunger and thirst, 
is scorched by a vertical sun, shrivelled by the burning 
sand beneath, and poisoned by the breath of the si- 



84 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xvi. 



moom. Hardened thus through his infancy and child- 
hood, both in body and mind, he becomes, under the 
exhortations and example of his father, a robber from 
his youth ; attacks every stranger whom he is able to 
overcome, and plunders every valuable thing on which 
he can lay his hand. 

A third receives his birth in the palace of a British 
nobleman, and is welcomed to the world as the heir- 
apparent of an ancient, honourable, and splendid family. 
As soon as lie opens his eyes on the light, he is sur- 
rounded by all the enjoyments which opulence can fur- 
nish, ingenuity contrive, or fondness bestow. He is 
dandled on the knee of indulgence ; encircled by atten- 
dants who watch and prevent alike his necessities and 
wishes ; cradled on down, and charmed to sleep by the 
voice of tenderness and care. From the dangers and 
evils of life he is guarded with anxious solicitude. To 
its pleasures he is conducted by the ever-ready haisd of 
maternal affection. His person is shaped and improved 
by a succession of masters ; his mind is opened, invigo- 
rated, and refined by the assiduous superintendence of 
learning and wisdom. While a child he is served by a 
host of menials, and flattered by successive trains of 
visitors. When a youth he is regarded ty a band of 
tenants with reverence and awe. His equals in age 
bow to his rank, and multitudes of superior years 
acknowledge his distinction by continual testimonies of 
marked respect. When a man he engages the regard 
of his sovereign, commands the esteem of the senate, 
and earns the love and applause of his country. 

A fourth child, in the same kingdom, is begotten by 
a beggar and born under a hedge. From his birth he 
is trained to suffering and hardihood. He is nursed, if 
he can be said to be nursed at all, on a coarse, scanty, 
and precarious pittance ; holds life only as a tenant at 
will, combats from the first dawnings of intellect with 
insolence, cold, and nakedness ; is originally taught to 
beg and to steal, is driven from the doors of men by the 
porter or the house-dog, and is regarded as an alien 
from the family of Adam. Like his kindred worms he 
creeps through life in the dust, dies under the hedge 
where he was born, and is then perhaps cast into the 
ditch and covered with earth by some stranger, who 
remembers that, although a beggar, he was still a man. 

A child enters the world in China ; and unites, as a 
thing of course, with his sottish countrymen in the stu- 
pid worship of the idol Fo. Another prostrates himself 
before the Lama, in consequence of having received his 
being in Thibet, and of seeing the Lama worshipped by 
all around him. 

A third, who begins his existence in Turkey, is car- 
ried early to the mosque ; taught to lisp with profound 
reverence the name Mohammed ; habituated to repeat 
the prayer and sentences of the Koran, as the means 
of eternal life ; and induced, in a manner irresistibly, 
to complete his title to paradise by a pilgrimage to 
Mecca. 

The Hindoo infant grows into a religious veneration 
for the cow ; and perhaps never doubts that if he adds 
to this a solemn devotion to Juggernaut, the Gooroos 
and the Dewtahs, and performs carefully his ablutions 
in the Ganges, he shall wash away all his sins, and ob- 
tain by the favour of Brahma a seat among the blessed. 

In our own favoured country, one child is born of 
parents devoted solely to this world. From his earliest 
moments of understanding he hears and sees nothing 



commended but hunting, horse-racing, visiting, dan- 
cing, dressing, riding, parties, gaming, acquiring money 
with eagerness and skill, and spending it in gayety, 
pleasure, and luxury. These things, he is taught by 
conversation and example, constitute all the good of 
man. His taste is formed, his habits are riveted, and 
the whole character of his soul is turned to them, 
before he is fairly sensible that there is any other good. 
The question whether virtue and piety are either duties 
or blessings, he probably never asks. In the dawn of 
life he sees them neglected and despised by those whom 
he most reverences, and learns only to neglect and de- 
spise them also. Of Jehovah he thinks as little, and for 
the same reason, as a Chinese or a Hindoo. They pay 
their devotions to Fo, and to Juggernaut ; he, his to 
money and pleasure. Thus he lives and dies a mere 
animal, a stranger to intelligence and morality, to his 
duty and his God. 

Another child comes into existence in the mansion of 
knowledge and virtue. From his infancy, his mind is 
fashioned to wisdom and piety. In his infancy he is 
taught and allured, to remember his Creator ; and to 
unite, first in form, and then in affection, in the house- 
hold devotions of the morning and evening. God he 
knows, almost as soon as he can know any thing. The 
presence of that glorious Being he is taught to realize 
almost from the cradle ; and from the dawn of intelli- 
gence to understand the perfections, and government of 
his Creator. His own accountableness, as soon as he 
can comprehend it, he begins to feel habitually and al- 
way. The way of life through the Redeemer is early 
and regularly explained to him by the voice of parental 
love, and enforced and endeared in the house of God. 
As soon as possible he is enabled to read, and persuaded 
to ' search the Scriptures.' Of the approach, the dan- 
ger, and the mischiefs of temptation, he is tenderly 
warned. At the commencement of sin, he is kindly 
checked in his dangerous career. To God he was so- 
lemnly given in baptism. To God he was daily com- 
mended in fervent prayer. Under this happy cultiva- 
tion he grows up, like an olive-tree in the courts of the 
Lord; and, green, beautiful, and flourishing, he blos- 
soms, bears fruit, and is prepared to be transplanted by 
the divine hand to a kinder soil in the regions above. 

How many and how great are the differences in 
these several children. How plainly do they all, in 
ordinary circumstances, arise out of their birth. From 
their birth is derived, of course, the education which I 
have ascribed to them ; and from this education spring 
in a great measure both their character and their destiny. 
The place, the persons, the circumstances, are here evi- 
dently the great things, which in the ordinary course of 
providence appear chiefly to determine what the re- 
spective men shall be, and what shall be those allotments 
which regularly follow their respective characters. As 
then they are not at all concerned in contriving or ac- 
complishing, either their birth or their education ; it is 
certain that in these most important particulars, the 
way of man is not in himself. God only can determine 
what child shall spring from parents wise or foolish, 
virtuous or sinful, rich or poor, honourable or infamous, 
civilized or savage, christian or heathen. 

I wish it to be distinctly understood, and carefully 
remembered, that in the moral conduct of all these in- 
dividuals, no physical necessity operates. Every one 
of them is absolutely a free agent, as free as any created 



SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD. 



85 



agent can be. Whatever lie does is the result of choice, 
absolutely unconstrained. 

Let ine add, that not one of them is placed in a situa- 
tion in which, if he learns and perforins his duty to the 
utmost of his power, he will fail of being finally accepted. 

II. The doctrine is strikingly evident from this great 
fact also, that the course of life which men usually pur- 
sue, is very different from that which they have intended. 

Human life is ordinarily little else than a collection 
of disappointments. Rarely is the life of man such as 
he designs it shall be. Often do we fail of pursuing at 
all the business originally in our view. The intention- 
al farmer becomes a mechanic, a seaman, a merchant, a 
lawyer, a physician, or a divine. The very place of 
settlement and of residence through life, is often differ- 
ent and distant from that which was originally contem- 
plated. Still more different is the success which follows 
our efforts. 

All men intend to be rich and honourable, to enjoy 
ease, and to pursue pleasui*e. But how small is the 
number of those who compass these objects ? In this 
country the great body of mankind are indeed possess- 
ed of competence, a safer and happier lot than that to 
which they aspire ; yet few, very few are rich. Here 
also the great body of mankind possess a character ge- 
nerally reputable ; but very limited is the number of 
those who arrive at the honour which they so ardently 
desire, and of which they feel assured. Almost all stop 
at the moderate level, where human efforts appear to 
have their boundary established in the determinations 
of God. Nay, far below this level, creep multitudes of 
such as began life with full confidence in the attainment 
of distinction and splendour. 

The lawyer, emulating the eloquence, business, and 
fame, of Murray or Dunning, and secretly resolved not 
to slacken his efforts until all his rivals in the race of 
glory are outstripped, is often astonished, as well as 
broken-hearted, to find business and fame pass by his 
door, and stop at the more favoured mansion of some 
competitor, in his view less able and less discerning 
than himself. 

The physician, devoted to medical science, and pos- 
sessed of distinguished powers of discerning and remov- 
ing diseases, is obliged to walk, while a more fortunate 
empiric, ignorant and worthless, rolls through the streets 
in his coach. 

The legislator beholds with anguish and amazement, 
the suffrages of his countrymen given eagerly to a rival 
candidate, devoid of knowledge and integrity ; but 
skilled in flattering the base passions of men, and de- 
terred by no hesitations of conscience, and no fears of 
infamy, from saying and doing any thing which may 
secure his election. 

The merchant often beholds with a despairing eye his 
own ships sunk in the ocean, his debtors fail, his goods 
unsold, his business cramped ; and himself, and his fa- 
mily, and his hopes ruined ; while a less skilful but 
more successful neighbour sees wealth blown to him by 
every wind, and floated on every wave. 

The crops of the farmer are stinted, his cattle die, his 
markets are bad, and the purchaser of his commodities 
proves to be a cheat, who deceives his confidence, and 
runs away with his property. 

Thus the darling schemes and fondest hopes of man 
are daily frustrated by time. While sagacity contrives, 
paiience matures, and labour industriously executes ; 



disappointment laughs at the curious fabric, formed by 
so many efforts, and gay with so many brilliant co- 
lours ; and while the artists imagine the work arrived 
at the moment of completion, brushes away the beauti- 
ful web, and leaves nothing behind. 

The designs of men however are, in many respects, 
not unfrequently successful. The lawyer and the physi- 
cian acquire business and fame, the statesman votes, and 
the farmer wealth. But their real success, even in this 
case, is often substantially the same with that already 
recited. In all plans, and all labours, the supreme 
object is to become happy. Yet when men have actu- 
ally acquired riches and honour, or secured to them- 
selves popular favour, they still find the happiness which 
they expected eluding their grasp. Neither wealth, 
fame, office, nor sensual pleasure, can yield such good 
as we need. As these coveted objects are accumulated, 
the wishes of man always grow faster than his gratifica- 
tions. Hence, whatever he acquires, he is usually as 
little satisfied, and often less than before. 

A principal design of the mind in labouring for these 
things, is to become superior to others. But almost all 
rich men are obliged to see, and usually with no small 
anguish, others richer than themselves ; honourable 
men, others more honourable ; voluptuous men, others 
who enjoy more pleasure. The great end of the strife 
is therefore unobtained, and the happiness expected 
never found. Even the successful competitor in the race 
utterly misses his aim. The real enjoyment existed, al- 
though it Avas unperceived by him, in the mere strife for 
superiority. When he has outstripped all his rivals, the 
contest is at an end ; and his spirits, which were invi- 
gorated only by contending, languish for want of a 
competitor. 

Besides, the happiness in view was only the indul- 
gence of pride, or mere animal pleasure. Neither of 
these can satisfy or endure. A rational mind may be, 
and often is, so narrow and grovelling, as not to aim at 
any higher good, to understand its nature, or to believe 
its existence. Still, in its original constitution, it was 
formed with a capacity for intellectual and moral good, 
and was destined to find in this good its only satisfac- 
tion. Hence no inferior good will fill its capacity, or 
its desires. Nor can this bent of its nature ever be 
altered. Whatever other enjoyment therefore it may 
attain ; it will, without this, still crave and still be un- 
happy. 

No view of the ever-varying character and success of 
mankind in their expectations of happiness, and their 
efforts to obtain it, can illustrate this doctrine more sa- 
tisfactorily than that of the progress and end of a class 
of students in this seminary. At their first appearance 
here, they are all exactly on the same level. Their 
character, their hopes, and their destination, are the 
same. They are enrolled on one list, and enter upon a 
collegiate life with the same promise of success. At this 
moment they are plants, appearing just above the ground, 
all equally fair and flourishing. Within a short time, 
however, some begin to rise above others ; indicating, 
by a more rapid growth, a structure of superior vigour, 
and promising both more early and more abundant 
fruit. 

Some are studious, steadfast, patient of toil, resolved 
on distinction, in love with science, and determined, 
with unbroken ambition, never to be left behind by their 
companions. Of these a part are amiable, uniform in 



86 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xvi. 



their morals, excellent in tlieir dispositions, and ho- 
nourable by tlieir piety. Another part, although less 
amiable, are still decent ; pleasant in their temper, 
uncensurable in their conduct, and reputable in their 
character. 

Others are thoughtless, volatile, fluttering from ob- 
ject to object, particularly from one scene of pleasure to 
another ; alighting only for a moment, never settling, 
regardless of every thing, except the present gratifica- 
tion ; and most regardless of their time, their talents, 
their duty, and their souls. 

Others still, are openly vicious, idle, disorderly, 
gamblers, profane, apparently infidels, enemies to them- 
selves, undutiful to their parents, corrupters of their 
companions, and disturbers of the collegiate peace. 

When the class which these individuals originally 
constituted, leaves this seat of science, a number of them 
will always be missing. Some of these have been sent 
away by the mandate of law, some have voluntarily de- 
serted their education, and some, not very unfrequently, 
have gone to the grave. Of those who remain, the 
character and the prospects have usually become wide- 
ly different. The original level is broken, and broken 
for ever. 

How different from all this were tlieir parents' ex- 
pectations, and their own ! 

Still, when they enter the world, they all intend to 
be rich, honourable, and happy. Could they look into 
futurity, and discern the events which it will shortly 
unfold, how changed would be their apprehensions. 

One, almost at his entrance into life, knowing but in- 
experienced, discerning but not wise, urged, by strong 
passions, and secure in self-confidence, pushes boldly 
forward to affluence and distinction ; but marked as the 
prey of cunning, and the victim of temptation, is seduced 
from prudence and worth, to folly, vice, and ruin. His 
property is lost by bold speculation, his character by 
licentiousness, and the man himself by the disappoint- 
ment of his hopes, and the breaking of his heart. 

Another, timid, humble, reluctant to begin, and easily 
discouraged from pursuing, insensible to the charms of 
distinction, and a stranger to the inspiration of hope, 
without friends to sustain, and without prospects to ani- 
mate, begins to flag, when he commences his connexion 
with the world; creeps through life, because he dares 
not attempt to climb ; and lives and dies, scarcely known 
beyond the limits of his native village. 

A third yields himself up a prey to sloth, and shrinks 
into insignificance for want of exertion. 

A fourth, possessed of moderate wishes, and prefer- 
ring safety to grandeur, steers by design between poverty 
and riches, obscurity and distinction ; walks through life 
without envying those who ride ; and finds perhaps in 
quiet and safety, in an even course of enjoyment, and in 
the pleasure of being beloved rather than admired, the 
happiness which his more restless companions seek from 
opulence, power, and splendour, in vain. 

A fifth, cheerful, fraught with hope, and assured by 
the gayety and bustle which he sees around him, that the 
world is filled with good, moves onward to acquire it, 
without a suspicion of disappointment or danger. At 
once he is astonished to find, that men who look plea- 
santly on him, are not his friends ; that a smile of ap- 
probation is no evidence of good-will, and that profes- 
sions and promises convey to him no assurance of aid 
or comfort. To be dependent, he soon learns, is to be 



friendless ; and to need assistance, a sufficient reason for 
having it refused. The business which he expected to 
court his acceptance, flies from him ; the countenance 
on which he reposed, is withdrawn ; and the hopes which 
he gaily cherished, -begin early to withei". Alone, for- 
gotten, unprepared for struggles, and never mistrusting 
that struggles would be necessary, he is overset by the 
suddenness and violence of the shock ; and either falls 
into listlessness and stupor, or dies of a broken heart. 

A sixth, from imbecility of constitution, or the malig- 
nant power of accident, sickens and expires, when he 
has scarcely begun to live. 

A seventh, with vigorous industry, effort, and perse- 
verance, goes steadily forward to vt'ealth and distinction. 
Yet even he finds the void of his mind unsupplied by 
real good. He is rich and great, but not happy. That 
enchanting object, happiness, wrought into -such elegance 
of form, and adorned with such brilliant colours, has 
ever fascinated his mind. Lost in wonder and delight, 
and gazing with an eager and bewildered eye, he never 
considered that in this world the rainbow, with all its 
splendour, was only painted on a cloud ; and while he 
roves from field to field, and climbs from one height to 
another in pursuit of the fairy vision, is astonished to 
behold it still retreat from him, and finally vanish for 
ever. 

Were I to ask the youths who are before me, what 
are their designs and expectations concerning their fu- 
ture life, and write down their several answers, what a 
vast difference would ultimately be found between those 
answers, and the events which would actually befall 
them ! To how great a part of that difference would 
facts, over which they could have no control, give birth ! 
How many of them will in all probability be less pros- 
perous, rich, and honourable, than they now intend : 
how many, devoted to employments, of which at present 
they do not even dream ; in circumstances, of which 
they never entertained even a thought ; behind those, 
whom they expected to outrun ; poor, sick, in sorrow, 
or in the grave ! 

III. The doctrine is farther evident from the fact, 
that life does not depend upon man. 

All intend to live, and feel secure of many years : but 
how often does death frustrate this intention, and dis- 
solve the charm of this security. How many leave the 
world at an immature age. How many, in the midst of 
bold projects, sanguine desires, and strenuous exertions. 
How many asterisks appear with a melancholy aspect 
even in the younger classes of the triennial catalogue, 
marking solemnly, to a considerate mind, the termina- 
tion of parental hopes, and the vanity of youthful de- 
signs. Where now are multitudes of those, who a little 
while since lived, and studied, and worshipped here, with 
fond views of future eminence and prosperity, and with 
as fair a promise as can be found, of future success, use- 
fulness, and honour ? 

As we are unable to assure ourselves even of a single 
day, much more of a long life, it is plain that our eter- 
nal state lies beyond our control. As death finds us, so 
the judgment will certainly find us. He therefore who 
' kills,' as well as ' makes alive ' at his pleasure, must of 
course hold in his hands only, all our allotments, which 
lie beyond the grave. 

I have not called up this doctrine at the present time 
for the purpose of entering into any of those metaphysi- 
cal disquisitions which restless curiosity, rather than 



SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD. 



ST 



sound wisdom, lias commonly founded on it; but on the 
one hand to give it its proper place in this system of 
discourses, and on the other to derive from it several 
practical observations, which there is reason to hope 
may, by the blessing of God, be useful to those who 
hear me, especially to those who are students in this 
seminary. 



1. You see here, my young friends, the most solid 
reasons for gratitude to your Creator. 

God only directed that you should be born in this 
land, and in the midst of peace, plenty, civilizatio», 
freedom, learning, and religion ; and that your exist- 
ence should not commence in a Tartarian forest, or an 
African waste. God alone ordered that you should be 
born of parents who knew and worshipped him, the 
glorious and eternal Jehovah ; and not of parents who 
bowed before the Lama, or the ox, an image of brass, 
or the stock of a tree. In the book of his counsels, your 
names, so far as we are able to judge, were written in 
the fair lines of mercy. It is of his overflowing good- 
ness that you are now here surrounded with privileges, 
and beset with blessings ; educated to knowledge, use- 
fulness, and piety, and prepared to begin an endless 
course of happiness and glory. All these delightful 
things have been poured into your lap, and have come 
unbidden to solicit your acceptance. If these bless- 
ings awaken not gratitude, it cannot be awakened by 
blessings in the present world. If they are not thank- 
fully felt by you, it is because you know not how to be 
thankful. Think what you are and where you are, and 
what and where you just as easily might have been. 
Remember that, instead of cherishing tender affections, 
imbibing refined sentiments, exploring the field of 
science, and assuming the name and character of the 
sons of God, you might as easily have been dozing in the 
smoke of a weekwam, brandishing a tomahawk, or danc- 
ing round an emboweled captive ; or that you might 
yourselves have been emboweled by the hand of supersti- 
tion, and burnt on the altars of Moloch. If you remem- 
ber these things, you cannot but call to mind also, ' who 
made you to differ ' from the miserable beings who have 
thus lived and died. 

2. This doctrine forcibly demands of you moderate 
desires and expectations. 

There are modes in which men seek happiness, in 
the enjoyments of the present world. Most persons 
freely indulge their wishes, and intend to find objects 
sufficient in number and value to satisfy them. A few 
aim at satisfaction by proportioning their desires to the 
number and measure of their probable gratifications. 
By the doctrine of the text the latter method is stamped 
with the name of wisdom, and on the former is inscribed 
the name of folly. Desires indulged, grow faster, and 
farther, than gratifications extend. Ungratified desire 
is misery. Expectations eagerly indulged, and termi- 
nated by disappointment, are often exquisite misery. 
But how frequently are expectations raised, only to be 
disappointed ; and desires let loose, only to terminate in 
distress. The child pines for a toy. The moment he 
possesses it, he throws it by and cries for another. 
When they are piled up in heaps around him, he looks 
at them without pleasure, and leaves them without re- 
gret. He knew not that all the good which they could 
yield, lay in expectation ; nor that his wishes for more 



would increase faster than toys could be multiplied ; and 
is unhappy at last, for the same reason as at first : his 
wishes are ungratified. Still indulging them, and still 
believing that the gratification of them will furnish the 
enjoyment for which he pines, he goes on, only to be 
unhappy. 

Men are merely taller children. Honour, wealth, 
and splendour, are the toys for which grown children 
pine ; but which, however accumulated, leave them still 
disappointed and unhappy. God never designed that 
intelligent beings should be satisfied with these enjoy- 
ments. By his wisdom and goodness, they were formed 
to derive their happiness from virtue. 

Moderated desires constitute a character, fitted to ac- 
quire all the good which this world can yield. He who 
is prepared, s in whatever situation he is, therewith to 
be content,' has learned effectually the science of being 
happy ; and possesses the alchymic stone which will 
change every metal into gold. Such a man will smile 
upon a stool, while Alexander at his side sits weeping 
on the throne of the world. 

The doctrine of the text teaches you irresistibly, that 
since you cannot command gratifications, you should 
command your desires : and that, as the events of life 
do not accord with your wishes, your wishes should ac- 
cord with them. Multiplied enjoyments fall but to few 
men, and are no more rationally expected than the 
highest prize in a lottery. But a well regulated mind, 
a dignified independence of the world, and a wise pre- 
paration to possess one's soul in patience, whatever cir~ 
cumstances may exist, is in the power of every man ; 
and is greater wealth than that of both the Indies, and 
greater honour than Caesar ever acquired. 

3. As your course and your success through life, are 
not under your control, you are strongly urged to com- 
mit yourselves to God, who can control both. 

That you cannot direct your course through the world, 
that your best concerted plans will often fail, that your 
sanguine expectations will be disappointed, and that 
your fondest worldly wishes will terminate in mortifica- 
tion, cannot admit of a momentary doubt. That God 
can direct you, that he actually controls all your con- 
cerns ; and that, if you commit yourselves to his care, 
he will direct you kindly and safely, can be doubted 
only of choice. Why then do you hesitate to yield 
yourselves and your interests to the guidance of your 
Maker? There are two reasons which appear especially 
to govern mankind in this important concern ; they do 
not and Avill not realize the agency of God in their af- 
fairs, and they do not choose to have them directed as 
they imagine he will direct them. The former is the 
result of stupidity, the latter of impiety. Both are fool- 
ish in the extreme, and not less sinful than foolish. 

The infinitely wise, great, and glorious Benefactor of 
the universe, has offered to take men by the hand, lead 
them through the journey of life, and conduct them to 
his own house in the heavens. The proof of his sin- 
cerity in making this offer has been already produced. 
He has given his own Son, to live, and die, and rise, 
and reign, and intercede for our race. ' Herein is 
love,' if there ever was love ; ' not that we have loved 
him, but that he has loved us.' That he who has done 
this should not be sincere, is impossible. St Paul there- 
fore triumphantly asks what none can answer, ' He that 
spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us 
all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all 



S8 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



LSer. xvt. 



things?' Trust then his word with undouhting confi- 
dence, take liis hand with humble gratitude, and with 
all the heart obey his voice, which you will everywhere 
hear, saying, ' This is the way, walk ye in it.' In 
sickness and in health, by night and by day, at home 
and in crowds, he will watch over you with tenderness 
inexpressible. He will ' make you lie down in green 
pastures, lead you beside the still waters, and guide you 
in paths of righteousness, for his name's sake. He will 
prepare a table before you in the presence of your ene- 
mies, and cause your cup to run over with blessings.' 
' When you pass through the waters ' of affliction, ' he 
will be with you ; and through the rivers, they shall not 
overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you 
shall not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon 
you.' From their native heavens, he will commission 
those charming twin sisters, Goodness and Mercy, to 
descend, and ' follow you all your days.' 

But if you wish God to be your guide and your friend, 
you must conform to his pleasure. Certainly you can- 
not wonder, that the infinitely Wise, should prefer his 
own wisdom to yours ; and that he should choose for his 
children their allotments, rather than leave them to 
choose for themselves. That part of his pleasure which 
you are to obey, is all summed up in the single word 
duty ; and is perfectly disclosed in the Scriptures. The 
whole scheme is so formed as to be plain, easy, profit- 
able, and delightful ; profitable in hand, delightful in 
the possession. Every part and precept of the whole is 
calculated for this end, and will make you only wise, 
good, and happy. 

Life has been often styled an ocean, and our progress 
through it, a voyage. The ocean is tempestuous and 
billowy, overspread by a cloudy sky, and fraught be- 
neath with shelves and quicksands. The voyage is 
eventful beyond comprehension, and at the same time 
full of uncertainty, and replete with danger. Every 
adventurer needs to be well prepared for whatever may 
befall him, and well secured against the manifold hazards 
of losing his course, sinking in the abyss, or of being- 
wrecked against the shore. 

These evils have existed at all times. The present, 
and that part of the past which is known to you by ex- 
perience, has seen them multiplied beyond example. 
It has seen the ancient and acknowledged standards of 
thinking violently thrown down. Religion, morals, 
government, and the estimate formed by man of crimes 
and virtues, and of all the means of usefulness and en- 
joyment, have been questioned, attacked, and, in vari- 
ous places, and with respect to millions of the human 
race, finally overthrown. A licentiousness of opinion 
and conduct, daring, outrageous, and rending asunder 
every bond formed by God or man, has taken place of 
former good sense and sound morals, and has long- 
threatened the destruction of human good. Industry, 
cunning, and fraud, have toiled with unrivalled exer- 
tions, to convert man into a savage, and the world into 
a desert. A wretched and hypocritical philanthropy, 
also, not less mischievous, has stalked forth as the com- 
panion of these ravages ; a philanthropy born in a 
dream, bred in a novel, and living only in professions. 
This guardian genius of human interests, this friend of 
human rights, this redresser of human wrongs, is yet 
without a heart to feel, and without a hand to bless. 
But she is well furnished with lungs, with eyes, and a 
tongue. She can talk, and sigh, and weep at pleasure, 



but can neither pity nor give. The objects of her at- 
tachment are either knaves and villains at home, or un- 
known sufferers beyond her reach abroad. To the for- 
mer, she ministers the sword and the dagger, that they 
may fight their way into place, and power, and profit. 
At the latter, she only looks through a telescope of 
fancy, as an astronomer searches for stars invisible to 
the eye. To every real object of charity within her 
reach, she complacently says, ' Be thou warmed, and 
be thou filled ; depart in peace.' 

By the daring spirit, the vigorous efforts, and the 
ingenious cunning so industriously exerted on the one 
hand, and the smooth and gentle benevolence so softly 
professed on the other, multitudes have been, and you 
easily may be, destroyed. The mischief has indeed 
been met, resisted, and overcome ; but it has the heads, 
and the lives of the Hydra ; and its ' wounds,' which 
at times have seemed ' deadly,' are much more readily 
' healed ' than any good man could wish, than any 
sober man could expect. Hope not to escape the as- 
saults of this enemy : to feel that you are in danger will 
ever be a preparation for your safety. But it will be 
only such a preparation : your deliverance must ulti- 
mately and only flow from your Maker. Besolve then 
to commit yourselves to him, with a cordial reliance on 
his wisdom, power, and protection. Consider how 
much you have at stake ; that you are bound to eternity, 
that your existence will be immortal, and that you will 
either rise to endless glory or be lost in absolute perdi- 
tion. Heaven is your proper home. The path which I 
have recommended to you, will conduct you safely and 
certainly to that happy -world, Fill up life therefore 
with obedience to God, with faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and repentance unto life, the obedience to the 
two great commands of the gospel ; with supreme love 
to God, and universal good-will to men, the obedience 
to the two great commands of the law. On all your 
sincere endeavours to honour him and befriend your 
fellow men, he will smile ; every virtuous attempt he 
will bless : every act of obedience he will reward. Life 
in this manner will be pleasant amid all its sorrows , 
and beams of hope will continually shine through the 
gloom, by which it is so often overcast. Virtue, the 
seed that cannot die, planted from heaven, and culti- 
vated by the divine hand, will grow up in your hearts 
with increasing vigour, and blossom in your lives with 
supernal beauty. Your ' path will be that of the just,' 
and will gloriously resemble the dawning light ; ' which 
shines brighter and brighter to the perfect day.' Peace 
will take you by the hand, and offer herself as the con- 
stant and delightful companion of your progress. Hope 
will walk before you, and with an unerring finger point 
out your course ; and Joy, at the end of the journey, 
will open her arms to receive you. You will ' wait on 
the Lord, and renew your strength ; will mount up 
with wings as eagles ; will run, and not be weary ; will 
walk, and not faint.' 



THE HEAVENS. 



89 



SERMON XVII. 



CREATION AIR ; STARRY, AND SUPREME, HEAVENS. 



In the bey inning God created the heaven and the earth. —Gen. i. I. 



In the preceding Discourses I have considered the ex- 
istence and perfections of God ; his decrees, or that 
pleasure or choice, with which he willed the existence 
of all things ; and the sovereignty with which he dis- 
poses of them. The next subject in such a system of 
discourses, is the works of God ; which are no other 
than the execution of that pleasure. These are gene- 
rally and justly distributed under two great heads, 
Creation and Providence. Under these heads I pro- 
pose to consider them. 

In the text it is asserted, that, ' In the beginning- 
God created the heaven and the earth.' The phrase, 
' In the beginning,' is universally expressive, in the 
Scriptures, of the commencement of created or finite 
existence. Whether it is intended to be applied in the 
present case to both the heavens and the earth, with 
exactly the same meaning, is uncertain, as will be evi- 
dent from the proper import of this phraseology. The 
word ' created,' denotes, brought into existence. ' The 
heaven and the earth,' is a Jewish phrase denoting the 
universe, and all things which it contains. As some of 
these things, particularly the souls of men, were not 
created at the same time with the earth, it is evident 
that the phrase, ' in the beginning,' cannot be particu- 
larly and strictly applied to every created being. 

In the text, thus explained, the following doctrine is 
evidently asserted : — 

That all things were brought into existence by God. 

The truth of this doctrine has been already suffi- 
ciently evinced in the two first of these Discourses, 
so far as arguments from reason are concerned. That 
it is the real doctrine of the text, and that the word 
' created ' does not mean merely moulded, or fashioned, 
is completely evident from the explanation of Moses 
himself; who undoubtedly will be allowed to be his own 
commentator. In Gen. ii. 3, he says, ' And God blessed 
the seventh day, and sanctified it : because that in it he 
. had rested from all his work, which God created 
and made.' In the original language it is, ' which God 
created to make,' that is, which he created or brought 
into being first, and made or fashioned afterwards, into 
all the innumerable forms and beings with which the 
universe is, in a sense, endlessly replenished. 

This truth has by various persons, of no small note 
in the world as men of science, been called in question. 
It seems so evident that all things which do not involve 
a contradiction, are possible with the omnipotent God, 
that a sober man can scarcely fail to wonder how these 
persons can hesitate to believe, that the act of creating 
or giving being, is within the limits of his power. The 
acts of preserving and governing the universe also seem 
to be equally evidential of omnipotence, and equally to 
demand its exertions. I cannot easily conceive how 
any man can admit that God governs the universe, and 
doubt whether he brought or was able to bring it into 
being. At the same time, the several modes adopted 



by these very men to account either for the existence, 
preservation, or government of all things, are attended 
with incomparably more difficulty, being indeed palpa- 
ble absurdities, and involving evident contradictions. 
This, it is believed, has been proved in a former Dis- 
course.* 

But the formation of the human soul is itself a con- 
tinual exhibition of creating power. It is, unquestion- 
ably, as difficult to create minds, as to create matter. 
But that God creates minds is certain, because matter, 
being unintelligent, cannot communicate intelligence ; 
and therefore, even if admitted to possess active power, 
cannot bring into existence a mind. Nor ought it to 
be forgotten, that this opinion rests upon no evidence. 
On the contrary, it is a doubt or denial gratuitously 
assumed. The abettor of it merely doubts or denies 
the fact, that God created all things ; and to justify 
himself alleges that he cannot conceive such an act to 
be possible. But he ought to show that he does see it 
to be impossible. That he cannot discern what omni- 
potence can do any farther than God discloses it, either 
by his acts or his declarations, is. very obvious ; but that 
this ignorance should be a foundation of doubt to him- 
self, or of conviction, or even of attention to others, is 
I think explicable only by. the supposition of extreme 
folly in either case. 

As this amazing work is in the text divided into two 
great parts, ' the heaven and the earth ;' I shall adopt 
this natural and pertinent division in my Discourses. I 
shall begin my consideration of it with the subject men- 
tioned first in the text, viz, the heaven. 

The word ' heaven,' in the text, is used to denote 
what is elsewhere called ' the heavens,' as is evident 
from the first verse of the following chapter, in which 
it is said, with a reference to exactly the same subject, 
' Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all 
the host of them.' As the term is variously applied in 
the Scriptures, it will be proper in this place to men- 
tion the objects to which this application is made. 

In the first place, ' heaven or heavens ' (for the word 
is used indifferently in either the singular or plural 
number) is applied to God : ' until thou know that the 
heavens do rule.' Dan. iv. 26. Secondly, to angels : 
'The heavens are not clean in his sight,' Job.xv. 15. 
Thirdly, to the church : ' There was war in heaven.' 
Rev. xii. 7. Fourthly, to a great height : ' Cities walled 
up to heaven,' Deut. i. 28. Fifthly, to distinguished 
glory : ' How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, 
son of the morning!' Isa. xiv. 12. 

All these are plainly figurative senses of this word. 
In a literal sense, it seems to have been used by the 
Jews to denote, first, the air. As when the scriptural 
writers speak of the dew, winds, and fowls of heaven. 
Secondly, the firmament, or expansion over our heads. 

* See Sermon II. 

M 



90 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Si 



Thus it is said in the context, verse 17, ' God set them,' 
that is, the sun, moon, and stars, ' in the firmament of 
heaven to give light upon the earth.' Thirdly, the su- 
preme heaven, styled also, ' the heayen of heavens,' 
' Behold the heaven, and the heaven of heavens, is 
the Lord's,' Deut, x. 14. God also is styled ' the God 
of heaven ;' and St John ' behold a door opened in 
heaven,' and was directed by a voice to go up thither ; 
and was ' immediately carried in the Spirit before the 
throne of God.' 

From these and many other passages it is evident, 
that the Jews acknowledged three heavens ; and con- 
sidered all things, beside the earth and that which it 
contains, and the world of punishment, as being in- 
cluded under the -word, heaven. As this is the common 
language of Scripture, I shall consider the subject in 
the same manner, and in the order already specified. 

I. The air, or atmosphere, by which the earth is sur- 
rounded, is replete with wonderful displays of the 
power and wisdom of God. 

Particularly, it has ever engaged the attention cf 
wise and observant men, and merits our own attention. 

1. As it is the immediate mean of life to mankind, 
and to the animal and vegetable kingdoms. 

The nature of life, and the manner in which it is 
maintained, are both very imperfectly understood ; nor 
will it be expected from me, that I should here attempt 
to give an account of such discoveries as have been 
made by inquisitive men concerning these mysterious 
subjects. The remarks of a minister of the gospel, and 
not those of an anatomist, the views of common sense, 
and not those of chemical or medical science, will be 
expected in the present discussion. All men know that 
living beings depend in this world, for the continuance 
of life, on respiration ; and that the medium, of respira- 
tion is air; Among the wonders which pertain to this 
subject, this is one ; that although the air is a compound 
substance, made up of very diverse materials ; one of 
them noxious, and a second by itself perfectly unpro- 
ductive of life ; yet these are so blended^ with the third, 
in which alone the power of maintaining life resides, 
that in their combination they are better fitted to con- 
tinue life, than even the life-giving principle would be, 
if it. existed pure and unmixed. Another is, that this 
combination is maintained in such a manner, that the 
proportional quantities of these materials are at all times 
substantially, if not exactly, the same. ■ When we con- 
sider the innummerable.revolutions of which the air is 
the subject, and the perpetual fluctuations, it seems 
scarcely less than a miracle, that this equability, so ne- 
cessary for. the continuance of life, should be always 
and everywhere preserved. Nothing less than the wis- 
dom of God could have contrived the means, by which 
this fact is accomplished. 

2. As it is the great instrument of dissolution. 

The world is formed to be a theatre of successive ex- 
istence. The beings which exist in it are intended to 
fulfill the end for which they exist, and then to leave 
the stage vacant to those who succeed them. Of course, 
they dissolve, and return to their original dust. Of this 
dissolution, air is acknowledged by philosophers to be 
the primary means. If .we had never been witnesses of 
the fact, few tilings could seem more strange and im- 
probable, to us, than that the same element should bej 
at once, the chief means of preserving life, and the chief 
means of dissolution ; and that both these processes 



should, without any confusion, go on from age to age 
in perfect harmony, and as indispensable parts of a 
complete system. 

3. As it is a principal mean of heat and cold. 
These great effects are both produced by different 

operations of the same element, hitherto inexplicably 
mysterious, but without any discord or confusion. The 
manner in which air withdraws heat from other objects, 
and again gives it out to those objects, must be con- 
fessed, familiar as the fact is, to be eminently wonder- 
ful, while at the same time the operation is absolutely 
necessary. On it depends a great part of the activity, 
comfort, and usefulness of mankind. From it spring, 
in a great degree, those changes of the seasons, those 
varieties of temperature which are so pleasing, neces- 
sary, and useful to the world. In a word, from this 
source in a great measure arise the growth and perfec- 
tion of the vegetable world, the existence of a great 
part of the comforts and necessaries of life, and appa- 
rently the continuance of our being". 

4. As it is the medium by which are conveyed to us 
rain, dew, hail, and snow, and as it is also the source 
of drought in its various degrees. 

The attraction between air and vapour, existing in 
such a manner as to diffuse the vapour, in a sense 
equably, throughout the lower regions of the atmosphere, 
seems to be indispensable to that great and mysterious 
process in the natural world which is called evaporation. 
Every person knows that without this process, rain and 
dew, snow and hail, could not exist ; and that without 
these there could be neither vegetation, food, raiment, 
nor even existence to mankind. At the same time, by 
a mysterious process of nature, respecting especially a 
peculiar state of the atmosphere, the seasons become 
dry; the 'rain,' in the' emphatical language of the 
Scriptures, is changed into ' powder and dust ; the hea- 
vens are as brass over our heads, and the earth as iron 
under our feet.' . Drought and famine then spread their 
baleful influence. over the world, and mankind are com- 
pelled by thousands to the grave. ■ 

5. As it is eminently the source of health and sick- 
ness. 

Among the various exhalations, accomplished on the 
surface of the earth by means of the atmosphere, there 
are many which are impure, noxious, and fraught with 
poison and death. Of this nature, in an eminent de- 
gree, is that, suffocating vapour, conveyed, over the de- 
serts of Nubia in the fatal blast which is called the 
Simoom. Of a similar nature are numerous other ex- 
halations, not sb imuiediately, but often wore exten- 
sively' destructive to human life, which arise from 
marshes,' ponds, and other stagnations of water ; as well 
as-many more, ascending from decayed vegetables, and 
other masses of putrefaction. All these, but. for the at- 
mosphere, would be confined to the surface, and fail of 
their malignant influence on human life. At the same 
time, air is the great source of health; and wherever it 
passes freely, contributes perhaps to the preservation or 
restoration of this essential blessing. In its purest state 
it seems, in the ordinary circumstances of man, to pro- 
mote health only ; and often restores such as are lan- 
guishing and decayed, more than all other causes united. 

6. As it is the seat, and in an important sense, the 
cause, of many highly magnificent displays of divine 
workmanship. 

Storms, clouds, thunder, lightning, combustion, vol- 



THE HEAVENS. 



91 



canoes, earthquakes, the magnificent rainbow, and the 
delightful breeze, are all dependent on air for their ex- 
istence. All of them, also, are deeply interesting to 
man in many ways. Besides their obvious influence in 
promoting our daily health and comfort, our frequent 
delight and sorrow, the continuance of our life, and the 
arrival of death, they are in no small degree interesting 
to us as displays of the divine presence and character, 
eminently beautiful, various, awful, and majestic, and 
productive of important and extensive moral influence 
on mankind. 

7. As it is in many respects an important aid to 
vision. 

No small part of the beautiful, majestic, and interest- 
ing scenes of nature depend, for their peculiar appear- 
ance, upon the atmosphere. Such, in an eminent man- 
ner, is the twilight, which so usefully and beautifully 
returns every morning and every evening. Such also 
is the sky or firmament, that magnificent azure con- 
cave, which apparently bends in so glorious a manner 
over this great world. Such also are all those scenes 
in which the refraction of light is concerned. Without 
the aid of the atmosphere, none of these things would 
appear to us at all. 

These summary hints will be sufficient to exhibit the 
importance of this wonderful subject, so far as is neces- 
sary for the present design. I proceed therefore to ob- 
serve, 

II. That the starry heaven is a still more wonderful 
and magnificent part of the creation of God. 

To the most uninstructed mind, and the most vulgar 
eye, the firmament, with the innumerable and glorious 
bodies which it contains, has ever been far the most 
wonderful part of the visible creation ; while minds of 
superior intelligence, especially when the subjects of 
piety, have ever regarded this amazing scene with stu- 
dy, admiration, and awe, as pre-eminently displaying 
the wisdom and greatness of God. ' When,' says Da- 
vid, • I consider the heavens, the work of thy finger, 
the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained ; Lord ! 
what is man, that thou art mindful of him ; or the son 
of man, that thou visitest him ?' 

Of all material objects, the sun is beyond measure 
the most glorious and magnificent, and the noblest em- 
blem of its Creator. This great jvorld of light is, be- 
yond every thing else, the most perfect symbol of the 
exaltation, unchangeableness, perpetuity, life-giving 
power, benevolent influence, omnipresence, omniscience, 
dominion, and greatness of God. 

The moon, a softer but not less beautiful object, re- 
turns and communicates to mankind, the light of the 
Bun in a gentle and delightful manner, exactly suited 
to the strength of the human eye ; an illustrious and 
most beautiful emblem, in this and several other re- 
spects, of the divine Redeemer of mankind; who, soft- 
ening the splendour of the Godhead, brings it to the 
eye of the understanding, in a manner fitted to the 
strength of the mind ; so that, without being over- 
whelmed or distressed, it can thus behold < the light of 
the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus 
Christ' 

The stars, also, by their endless multitude, and the 
unceasing variety and beauty with which they every- 
where replenish the vast expansion, astonish and de- 
light the mind, while they manifest the greatness and 
wisdom of Jehovah. No stronger proof can be given 



of the nature or degree of the impressions, with which 
these marvellous objects have affected the mind of man, 
than the fact, that in very early ages of the world they 
began, and through every succeeding period have con- 
tinued, to be objects of religious adoration ; and, by a 
great proportion of our race, have been directly ac- 
knowledged as gods. 

Such have been the views formed by the human mind, 
with the mere light of uninstructed reason, concerning 
this glorious part of the creation. But when the eye is 
permitted to look out of the window of science into this 
vast field, it assumes an entirely new and immensely 
nobler character. Instead of a great and splendid lu- 
minary, hung up in the heavens to communicate light 
and warmth to this Avorld, and to measure the returns 
of day and night to its inhabitants, the sun is seen by 
the eye of the astronomer to be a vast world of itself ; 
possessed of the wonderful power of emitting this equal- 
ly wonderful element in immeasurable quantities to im- 
measurable distances ; and the centre of many other 
worlds, which receive from this their light and warmth, 
their motion, regularity, and harmony. To the same 
eye, the planets no longer appear as gems of inherent 
and immortal lustre, adorning the concave with unri- 
valled elegance and beauty ; but as vast worlds, resem- 
bling this globe in their various affections, and moving- 
round the sun, with a rapid, regular, and mysterious cir- 
cuit ; surrounded by other inferior worlds, by which 
they are wonderfully beautified and adorned ; and inha- 
bited, in all probability, by endless multitudes of be- 
ings, rational and immortal. Of these inferior worlds, 
the moon is one ; and to us, far the most interesting. 
How many important purposes which are known, does 
this beautiful attendant of our earth continually accom- 
plish ! How many more, in all probability, which are 
hitherto unknown, and which hereafter may be exten- 
sively disclosed to more enlightened, virtuous, and hap- 
py generations of men. At the same time, it is most 
rationally concluded, that intelligent beings in great 
multitudes inhabit her lucid regions, being probably far 
bettei and happier than ourselves. 

The comets, of which the number already discovered 
is very great, are still more extraordinary parls of this 
amazing work. Man no longer beholds them as occa- 
sional and flaming meteors, wandering through the sky 
as mere omens to the human race of convulsions, fa- 
mines, and pestilences ; but sees them with unquestion- 
able certainty, to be worlds, which, like the planets, 
regularly move round the sun in orbits of extreme ec- 
centricity and inconceivable extent. 

Concerning the stars, our views have undergone a 
still greater change. The mind no more regards them 
as feeble but beautiful tapers, twinkling merely for the 
gratification of mankind, with an innate and perpetual 
lustre. On the contrary, they are known with absolute 
certainty to be universally suns, resembling our own ; 
and apparently so much less, only because they are re- 
moved to a distance incomprehensibly greater. The 
same science which has detected their nature, size, and 
distance, has also to a great extent disclosed their num- 
bers. Instead of the comparatively small collection, vi- 
sible to the naked eye in any given night, they are 
proved to be in a sense innumerable, and to fill with an 
immense army the immeasurable fields of ether. 

It cannot be rationally believed, that worlds so great 
and glorious as the sun were made in vain. Yet of the 



92 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[St 



endless millions of stars, less than three thousand have 
been seen by the naked eye of man ; and till within a 
few years, all the vast multitudes which have been since 
discovered had been secreted from every inhabitant of 
this globe. Herschel first detected almost all which are 
now known, or have ever been visible to the human 
eye. So far as mankind are concerned, then, the stars, 
ever since the creation, have, in far the greatest num- 
ber of instances, existed in vain. Of course they were 
formed for other purposes than any in which we can be 
directly concerned. But for what purposes can we sup- 
pose such worlds of light were created ! The only ra- 
tional answer is, they were formed for the same pur- 
poses which are ccomplished by our own sun ; to give 
light, and motion, and life, and comfort, to systems of 
•worlds, of which each star severally is the common cen- 
tre. Such worlds, herefbre, are with the highest rea- 
son supposed to exist and to be, like the earth, the re- 
sidence of intelligent beings, of incalculable numbers, 
and endless diversities of character ; all supported, go- 
verned, and blessed, as the worlds which they inhabit 
are sustained, regulated, and moved, by the hand of 
that Almighty Being who created them, and ' whose 
kingdom ruleth over all.' Thus the universe is the im- 
mense and glorious empire of Jehovah ; an empire 
formed of suns and systems ; the families, cities, and 
provinces, of the vast kingdom ruled by him, ' who tell- 
eth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by 
their names.' 

III. The heaven of heavens is a still more edifying 
object of our attention. 

On this sublime subject I shall discourse only in a 
very summary manner at the present time, as I expect, 
God willing, to consider it more extensively at a future 
period. 

The high superiority of this happy and glorious 
world is strongly marked, in the Scriptures whence 
alone we derive any knowledge of it, by that peculiar 
epithet, ' The heaven of heavens.' As ' the God of 
gods ' is distinguished by this phrase above all other 
gods ; so the heaven of heavens is, in a manner indefi- 
nitely similar, intentionally exhibited as wholly supe- 
rior to all other heavens. 

In the same Scriptui-es we are taught, that this glori- 
ous world is the house of God, or the peculiar and fa- 
vourite place of his residence ; the place where those 
manifestations of himself are seen, which he is pleased 
to make, as the most special displays of his presence 
and character. Present in all other places, he is pecu- 
liarly present here. 

It is also, as we are farther informed by the same 
Scriptures, the throne of God, the seat of universal and 
endless dominion ; where the divine authority is pecu- 
liarly exercised and made known, and the splendour of 
the divine government exhibited with singular efful- 
gence and glory. 

It is the residence of his most favoured creatures ; of 
the saints, who are redeemed by the blood of his Son ; 
and of the angels, who, innumerable in multitudes, 
' stand round about his throne.' 
^ It is the everlasting seat of consummate holiness, or 
virtue ; where that divine principle shines without alloy, 
flourishes in immortal youth, and reigns and triumphs 
with eternal glory. 

It is the place in which are seen all the finishings of 
divine workmanship ; and in which the beauty and 



greatness of the Infinite Mind, and the endless diversi- 
ties of omniscient skill, appear in all their most exquisite 
forms, and in the last degrees of refinement and perfec- 
tion. 

It is the centre of all divine communications ; the ci- 
ty, in which all the paths of providence terminate ; the 
ocean, from which all the streams of infinite wisdom 
and goodness proceed, and into which they return, to 
flow again and for ever. 

It is the theatre in which an eternal providence of 
progressive knowledge, power, and love, rendered daily 
more and more beautiful and amiable, wonderful and 
majestic, is begun and carried on through ages, which 
will never approach towards an end. 

It is the place where all the works of God are studied 
and understood, through an eternal progress of know- 
ledge ; where all the diversities of virtuous intelligence, 
all the forms and hues of moral beauty, brighten in an 
unceasing gradation ; and where gratitude, love, enjoy- 
ment, and praise resound day and night, in a more and 
more perfect harmony throughout the immense of du- 
ration. 

Thus have I finished the observations which I design- 
ed to make on this subject, and shall now conclude the 
Discourse with some practical 



1. With what entire propriety is God exhibited in 
the very first verse of the Scriptures, as the Creator of 
all things. 

This verse may be regarded as an introduction, or 
preface to the whole Bible, and to the system of doc- 
trines which it contains. Accordingly it announces to 
us in few and simple, but those most sublime and 
affecting terms, the two great subjects about which 
the Bible and its doctrines are employed : God, and 
his immense kingdom. Him it exhibits to us in the 
character of Creator, and all things else as created by 
him. 

On the act of creating is founded a great part of that 
character, in which especially he calls for the obedience 
of intelligent beings. As the Creator of the universe 
he appears irresistibly to every eye, as a Being possess- 
ed of infinite power, Avisdom, and greatness ; and there- 
fore able to preserve and govern the vast work which 
he was thus able to make ; of power, which nothing can 
resist or escape ; of wisdom, which nothing can circum- 
vent or elude; and of greatness, with which nothing can 
be compared. As the Creator of the universe, he is ex- 
hibited as the absolute proprietor of the work which he 
has made. Creation is the highest ground of property 
which can exist. All is his ; and his in a sense superior 
to that in which any thing can be ours. All therefore 
is rightfully required to be employed supremely and 
solely in his service, for his purposes, and according to 
his pleasure. 

Intelligent creatures, particularly, have no property 
in any thing, except as he has given it ; and on no 
terms, and for no uses, beside those which he has esta- 
blished. They themselves are as absolutely his property 
as any thing which he has made. Their faculties and 
their time are truly his ; for they were made by him, 
and therefore are not their own. Of course, they are 
justly required by him, and ought to be devoted by 
themselves, to whatever services he is pleased to enjoin. 
Of course, also, to refuse or neglect to render to him 



THE HEAVENS. 



93 



themselves, and whatever they do or possess, is plain 
and gross injustice, and refusing or neglecting to ' ren- 
der to God the things which are God's.' 

By his character of Creator also they are called upon, 
in the most solemn and affecting manner, to regard him 
with unceasing admiration, reverence, and awe. There 
is something singularly awful, something singularly fit- 
ted to inspire profound reverence in the character of 
God as our Creator, in the consideration of him as the 
Being hy whom we were made. On this Being we 
cannot but feel, if we feel at all, that as we derived our 
existence from him, so we absolutely depend for our 
continuance in being, and for all which can render that 
being comfortable or desirable. In this view we can 
scarcely fail to realize that we are nothing, and that he 
is all. 

At the same time, the amazing nature of the works 
themselves, their number, their variety, their beauty, 
their grandeur, their magnificence, the glory of the end 
for which they are made, and the astonishing fitness of 
the means by which it is accomplished, necessarily ex- 
cite in every sober and contemplative mind the highest 
possible admiration, an admiration which will continue 
and increase for ever. 

2. With what reason does God, as the Creator of all 
things, claim the entire confidence of his creatures. 

He who is the Author of the creation, can do all 
things ; he is every where, knows every thing, and con- 
trols the universe with an absolute and irresistible do- 
minion. He who has made such various, rich, and 
abundant provision for the wants of his creatures, can 
provide for all their wants. He who was willing to 
provide in the bountiful manner which we actually see 
existing, is reasonably argued, and expected, to provide 
all other things which are either necessary or useful. If 
they please him, he cannot but be expected to give to 
them freely ; if they obey him, they will certainly please 
him; and if they are willing to do that which their own 
minds, candidly employed and enlightened by his word, 
must of course declare to be right, they will certainly 
obey him. The path therefore which leads to the most 
ample supplies of all their real wants, and the attain- 
ment of all real good, is open, direct, and certain. Nor 
can any reason be given why they should refuse, or ne- 
glect to pursue this highway to the divine and eternal 
possession. How rich, how vast, how glorious a work 
is the visible creation. With what endless multitudes of 
creatures is it replenished. With what innumerable 
blessings is it stored ! All these sprang from the mere 
goodness and bounty of the Creator. Who can limit 
such bounty, even in thought ? Who can imagine a 
real want, which it is not able and willing to supply ? 
How plainly then ought all those creatures, not only to 
wait on him, but to trust in him also, that he may give 
them all blessings in due season. 

Particularly, when his children remember that he has 
created the heaven of heavens for their reception, and 
adorned and enriched it with every thing which can 
contribute to their happiness and glory ; they cannot 
but discern and feel, that he claims from them, on the 
most solid grounds, all possible confidence, as well as 
reverence and love. In the Scriptures he has disclosed 
to them, that here there is made all the provision which 
they can need, and far more than they can ask or con- 
ceive ,' and that, however enlarged may be their facul- 
ties and views, they will through eternity receive all 



which they can ever desire. Of the power of God to 
fulfill these promises they are completely assured by the 
effects which it has produced in the visible creation. Of 
his willingness to perform them, and to satisfy every 
reasonable wish, they are furnished with no unhappy 
evidence in the provision which he so bountifully makes 
for rebels and apostates in the present world. When 
they add to this the gift of his own Son, whom ' he did 
not spare, but delivered him up for us all,' they are 
completely assured that ' he will also with him freely 
give them all things,' 

3. How amazing and glorious a being does God ap- 
pear in the character of Creator. 

Of what power, knowledge, and goodness, must He 
be possessed, who has done all these things ; who is, who 
lives, and who acts, through all the worlds in immensity ; 
who contrived them, and brought them into being ; who 
stored them with such abundant furniture, and filled 
them with such multitudes of inhabitants ; who controls 
them with an omnipotent hand, and with an omniscient 
eye ; and who will advance them for ever in their pro- 
gress towards perfection. All these things are only dis- 
plays of the Godhead. In them all, Jehovah is seen in 
forms of beauty, wisdom, goodness, life, joy, loveliness, 
and greatness, which transcend both in number and 
comprehension. 

4. How ought this great and awful Being to be feared 
by his intelligent creatures. 

How ought we, particularly, to realize his presence, 
agency, character, and will ; the obligations which we 
are under to obey, and the supreme interest 'which we 
have in doing his pleasure. His right to dispose of us 
cannot be denied. The rectitude of his pleasure can- 
not be questioned. At the same time, on him our all 
depends. How indispensable is it, therefore, that we 
act in all things in such a manner as to secure his favour, 
and in this, the only possible manner, to obtain his 
blessing. 

On the contrary, what madness must it be to forget, 
disobey, and provoke him. Think what it is to be 
' found fighting against God.' ' Hast thou,' says Jeho- 
vah to Job, ' an arm like God ; or canst thou thunder 
with a voice like him ? Then I will confess unto thee, 
that thine own right hand can save thee.' What evil is 
not to be expected from his anger. What terrible 
proofs have been given of its dreadful efficacy, in his 
ancient dispensations, to the antediluvians, to Sodom 
and Gomorrah, to the Egyptians, and to the Israelites, 
both in the wilderness, and the land of Canaan. What 
awful specimens are even now continually seen of his 
displeasure against this polluted world, in the ravages of 
the storm, the earthquake, and the volcano, and the 
more extensive evils of pestilence and famine ! 

5. How miserable must be the condition of those who 
have no interest in the favour of God. 

God is the source of all the good which is found, or 
will ever be found, in the universe. ' Every good gift, 
and every perfect gift, is from above ; and cometh down 
from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, 
neither shadow of turning.' Wherever then he refuses 
to give, it is certain that no enjoyment can be found. 
How dreadful of course, how solitary, how friendless, 
how forlorn must the situation of a creature be, if he 
were banished for ever from the presence, favour, and 
love of God. Were the sun, as the heathen supposed, 
an intelligent being, capable of being pleased and dis- 



94 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See. xviii. 



pleased, and of communicating and withholding his light 
and warmth at pleasure ; how lonely, dark, arid wretch- 
ed, would he the condition of men, if he should with- 
draw his beams from this world, and permit them never 
more to shine ; of men consigned to everlasting night, 
and everlasting winter ; who should yet live, in this 
cold and dreary solitude, and know and feel their 
wretched condition : while at they same time they also 
knew that other favoured and happy beings, in all other 
respects resembling themselves, were in full possession 
of the life-giving influence, and cheering splendour of 
this glorious luminary. God is the Sun of the intelli- 
gent and immortal world. Wherever he shines, there 
is light, and peace, and hope, and joy ; wherever he 
withdraws his beams, all is darkness and desolation for 
ever. 

Oh this subject I am apprehensive that Christians do 
not meditate nor converse, nor ministers preach, so fre- 
quently and so fervently as their interest and their duty 
plainly require. The apostles have dwelt often and ex- 
tensively on the prospects, the joys, and the glories of 
heaven. In this respect they are obviously patterns to 
all succeeding preachers. Christians are in the Scrip- 
tures often invited to meditate on heavenly things ; and 
presented with the most sublime, alluring, and delight- 
J'ul objects of a heavenly nature, to engage them in such 
meditations. They are directed also to ' set their affec- 
tions on things above ;' commanded to have ' their con- 
versation in heaven, and not on the earth ;' and remind- 
ed, that in an humble and figurative sense, they are al- 
ready ' come to the New Jerusalem,' and to the glorious 
beings by whom it is inhabited, by entering the church 
of God in the present world. All these precepts they 
are bound implicitly to obey. 

When we approach the table of Christ, we are by the 
strongest motives compelled to remember, that the ex- 
alted end of his mediation was to open this happy world 
for the reception of his followers : an end, purchased 
with tears and blood. This end is the most illustrious 
and delightful, of which we can form a conception ; and 
the means by which it has been accomplished are the 
most sublime display of infinite good-will which the uni- 
verse has ever beheld. 

When Christians approach the table of their commu- 
nion, they approach it to commemorate their Saviour. 
What do they commemorate ? His life, and death, and 
resurrection, and exaltation; a life of humiliation, suf- 
fering, and sorrow : a death of shame and agony, a re- 



surrection to endless life, an exaltation to infinite glory. 
Whither has he gone ? To heaven. Whither are they 
going ? To the same happy world. ' In my Father's 
house,' said this Divine Person, as he was advancing 
near to the grave, ' are many mansions. If it were not 
so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for 
you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will 
come again and receive you unto myself ; that where I 
am, there ye may be also.' Can Christians, then, fail to 
look often to that delightful world where their Saviour 
dwells, and where they are all finally to be assembled in 
his presence P Will not the remembrance of the fulness 
of joy, the pleasures which flow for ever in this region 
of immortality, awaken in the most ardent manner their 
admiration, their love, their gratitude, and their praise 
to him, who formed it in the beginning ; who stored it 
with glory, life, and joy ; who ascended the cross, that 
he might open its everlasting doors for their admission 
to its infinite blessings. 

To enhance all these views and affections, let them 
remember also, that in the same wonderful manner he 
redeemed them from the deplorable character of sin, 
and the miseries of perdition. That Divine Spirit who. 
renews them ' in righteousness, and true holiness, unto 
every good work,' entered upon this benevolent office, 
only in consequence of the mediation of Christ. But for 
this mediation, no child of Adam would ever have been 
renewed. Sin unmingled, unrestrained, and endless, 
would have prevailed throughout all the nations of men, 
and all the ages of time. The way to heaven would have 
been unknown. The only path from this world would 
have gone down to the chambers of death. 

In how interesting a manner, then, is heaven now 
brought before our eyes, as the end of the great sacrifice 
of the cross. Here Christ dies again, in a figure pre- 
eminently affecting ; and shows us his broken body and 
bleeding wounds, as the price which he paid to procure 
for us an inheritance in the kingdom prepared for his 
followers before the foundation of the world. No other 
hand could have opened the gates of life. No other 
atonement could have expiated our sins. No other 
means could have procured the sanctification of our souls 
by the Spirit of grace, and thus fitted us to enjoy the 
blessings of heaven, and made them blessings to us. 
But for him, the best of men would have gone down to 
the world of woe. By him, every good man will be 
raised to ' the glory which he had with the Father beforo 
the world was.' 



SERMON XVIII. 

CREATION THE ANGELS. 



For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether 
they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers : all things were created by him, and for him. 
— Col. i. 16. 



In my last Discourse, I began the examination of the 
works of God, with some considerations on the heavens. 
I shall now pursue the same subject, in several observa- 



tions concerning those beings who were originally in« 
habitants of the highest heavens. 

As all our knowledge concerning this subject is de- 



THE ANGELS. 



95 



rived from the Scriptures, I shall confine myself in this 
discussion to the information which they communicate ; 
reserving such views as reason has been able to form of 
it, to the Discourse which I propose to devote to a consi- 
deration of the existence and character of fallen angels. 
In the text it is asserted, ' that thrones, dominions, 
principalities, and powers,' names which are fairly sup- 
posed to denote different orders of the angelic host, and 
to indicate, in the words of St Paul, ' things in heaven ;' 
were created by Jesus Christ, for his own use and pur- 
poses. Among other things conveyed to us by this as- 
sertion, the following doctrine is evidently one : — 
That the angels are a part of the creation of God. 
It is a fact worthy of observation, that the Scriptures 
teach us scarcely any thing- concerning any of the worlds 
included under the general name of heavens, except the 
supreme heaven. The reason is, I think, not difficult 
to be divined. With other heavenly worlds we have no 
direct concern. Whatever knowledge therefore we 
might be supposed to attain about them, or their in- 
habitants, would be a mere gratification of curiosity, 
and incapable of being directed to any valuable end. 
Under the influence of this powerful principle, we 
should, in all probability, have been led away by such 
communications, if they had been made, from those 
things which we need and ought to know. Few affec- 
tions of the human mind have more influence over its 
conduct than curiosity. Well directed, and carefully 
kept within proper bounds, it is eminently profitable to 
man, by prompting him unceasingly to useful inquiries 
and improvement in knowledge ; but when suffered to 
wander without restraint, it conducts to mere gratifica- 
tion,, and defrauds the soul of real good. 

But with the heaven of heavens, we have a continual 
and most important concern. This glorious and de- 
lightful world is the place to which all our ultimate 
views are directed by our Maker ; the home to which 
he invites us to look, as our final rest from every trou- 
ble ; and the final seat of all the enjoyment, which we 
are capable of attaining. With its inhabitants .we shall, 
if we are wise, become familiarly acquainted, and inti- 
mately united ; and shall live in the midst of them, 
through ages which cannot end. Of this world, there- 
fore, and those who dwell in it, we need information, 
various and extensive. Accordingly, God has in the 
Scriptures, to a considerable extent, opened heaven to 
our view ; and furnished us, in many particulars, with 
an account of the happy beings who inhabit it ; of the 
rank or station which they hold in his great kingdom, 
the attributes of which they are possessed, and the em- 
ployments to which they are devoted. 

Under these three heads, I propose to consider them 
at the present time. To an audience possessed of so 
many advantages for estimating the comparative impor- 
tance of subjects of contemplation, and particularly the 
comparative worth of intelligent beings, it is reasonably 
hoped, that a subject of such inherent dignity cannot be 
indifferent. Especially, as this subject is scarcely at all 
introduced into the desk, and is but too unfrequently a 
topic of private contemplation ; and as it will of course 
have in some degree the advantage of novelty, as well 
as of nobleness, it ought to be expected to gain at least 
the transient attention which such a discussion demands. 
That angels are the beings intended by the phrase- 
ology of the text, will not be questioned. The four 
titles by which they are here denoted, probably indicate 



four different orders of these heavenly beings ; or per- 
haps, may be used as a general representation of all the 
orders into which they are divided. Beside the general 
name of angels, or messengers, derived from their pe- 
culiar employment, they are called in the Scriptures by 
the following : Q^ouai, thrones; Kvqiotyitss, dominions ; 
K^xa.i, principalities, or governments; Avvciftst;, powers; 
'S.^ovaia.i, authorities ; Zax, living ones ; cherubim, 
knowing ones, or those in whom is fulness of know- 
ledge ; seraphim, or burning ones ; elohim, ■gods ; beside 
the name of princes, used by the angel in Dan. x. 13, 
and probably equivalent to one of the five first appella- 
tions. Ail these names, as will be evident to the slight- 
est attention, are plainly and strongly significant of 
their great importance. With the greatest probability, 
however, they are names very imperfectly descriptive of 
their natures ; although, without a doubt, they are the 
most suitable which human language contains. As 
words are, of necessity, expressive of such ideas as those 
who use them possess ; and as men, from a want of cor- 
respondence with angels, have no direct or original 
ideas concerning them ; it is plain that all words, chosen 
from human language, to describe the nature of these 
celestial beings, must exhibit them very inadequately 
and imperfectly. Still, these names are very forcible 
declarations of their supreme distinction among created 
intelligences, and the impoitant character which they 
hold in the universe. 

It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the names 
given to angels in the text are used metonymically ; the 
adjunct being all along chosen to denote the subject ; or 
the thing possessed, the possessor. Thus thrones are 
substituted for those who sit on them, dominions and 
principalities, for those who hold them ; and powers and 
authorities, for those by whom they are exercised. 

It ought to be observed, that angels are also called , 
morning stars, to denote their peculiar beauty and 
splendour of character ; and not improbably as harbin- 
gers of Christ, the Sun of righteousness ; and sons of 
God, to teach us that they are nearly connected with 
the Creator, dwell in his house as children, and enjoy 
his parental presence, care, and love. 

From all these observations united, it is. evident that 
angels are possessed of pre-eminent dignity, importance, 
and distinction, in -the divine kingdom; since all these 
names are given to them by God himself, and are used 
therefore to indicate their true and proper, character. 
This character I shall now attempt summarily to ex- 
hibit, as it is presented to us by the Scriptures-, and ac- 
cording to the scheme of Discourse which has been 
already mentioned. 

I. Angels are tlie highest order of intelligent creatures. 

The truth of this assertion is manifest, from a con- 
sideration of the several names given to them in the 
text, and in other parts of the Scriptures. As these 
names respect the kingdom of God at large, without a 
limitation to any particular part of that kingdom ; so 
they are to be understood, as being thrones, dominions, 
principalities, and powers, in the immense and eternal 
empire of Jehovah. Angels, therefore, who are called 
by these names, are the beings who, under God the su- 
preme Ruler, hold, throughout his dominion, authority 
and power : all other finite beings are therefore beneath 
them in diginity, and subordinate to them in station. 

The same truth is also completely evident from the 
place assigned them for their residence. ' I am Ga- 



96 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seji. xvih. 



briel,' said the angel who appeared to Zechariah in the 
temple ; ' I am Gabriel, who stand in the presence of 
God.' — ' And before the throne,' says St John, ' there 
was a sea of glass, like unto crystal ; and in the midst of 
the throne, and round about the throne, were four liv- 
ing ones, full of eyes before and behind. And they 
rest not day and night, saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord 
God almighty, who was, and who is, and who is to 
come,' Rev. iv. 6, 8. And again, Rev. vii. 11 ; ' All 
the angels stood round about the throne, and worshipped 
God, saying, Amen.' — ' In the year that king Uzziah 
died,' says the prophet Isaiah, ' I saw also Jehovah sit- 
ting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train 
filled the temple. Above it stood the seraphim ; each 
one had six wings ; and one cried to another, and said, 
Holy, Holy, Holy, is Jehovah of Hosts ; the whole earth 
is full of his glory.' In the same manner is the same 
subject exhibited to us, and with a sublimity not inferior, 
by the prophet Ezekiel, concerning the cherubim ; and 
by the prophet Daniel, concerning the myriads of the 
heavenly hosts. Angels then surround the throne of 
God, stand in the immediate and awful presence, and 
worship continually at his feet. What beings, let me 
ask, can we rationally suppose would be admitted to a 
communion so intimate with their Creator, an access to 
him so near, a distinction so wonderful ? To this there 
can be but one answer. Every man will Avithout hesita- 
tion say, None but those who sustain the first character 
and the highest station among created beings. 

Nor is the same truth much less evident from the 
glory and splendour with which these celestial beings 
have customarily appeared in the present world. When 
the angel came to roll away the stone from the sepul- 
chre of Christ, his ' countenance was like lightning, and 
his raiment white as snow ; and for fear of him, the 
keepers became as dead men.' — ' And I saw,' says St 
John, ' another mighty angel come down from heaven, 
clothed with a cloud ; and a rainbow was upon his head, 
and his face was as it were the sun, and his feet as pil- 
lars of fire.' All these circumstances of splendour, 
greatness, and awfulness, surrounded these illustrious 
beings, while employed as the ministers of God in exe- 
cuting his commands. They were therefore the proper 
emblems of their character, and the proper accompani- 
ments of their station But we cannot be at a loss con- 
cerning the suitableness of these circumstances, to beings 
of a character and station superior to every created 
thing which we are able to conceive. Beings, of whom 
this is the ordinary dress and characteristical splendour, 
must undoubtedly be exalted above all others, hitherto 
supposed by the mind of man. 

II. Angels are endowed with the noblest created at- 
tributes. 

1. They are endowed with wonderful power. 

This perfection of angels is forcibly indicated by the 
fact, that the name power, or might, is in several places 
•i given to them in the gospel. No stronger testimony of ! 
their high possession of this attribute can be conveyed 
by a single word; for it is a direct declaration that 
their nature is power itself. In Psal. ciii. 20, David 
exclaims, ' Bless the Lord, ye his angels, who excel in 
strength.' A strong angel, and a mighty angel are 
also phrases, in the Apocalypse, expressive of the same 
character. 

Proofs of the power with which these exalted beings 
are endowed, and of the amplest kind, are in several 



instances recorded in the Scriptures. An angel de- 
stroyed, in three days, threescore and ten thousand per- 
sons out of Judah and Israel, in consequence of the sin 
of David in numbering the people. An angel destroy- 
ed, in one night, of the army of Sennacherib, a hundred 
fourscore and five thousand men. Angels also are ex- 
hibited in the Revelation of St John, as holding the 
four winds of heaven ; and as executing, in a long suc- 
cession, the Judgments of God upon this evil world, 
with a series of efforts, demanding power utterly in- 
comprehensible by us. In the twentieth chapter of this 
book particularly, one of them is exhibited as binding 
that fierce and strong spirit, ' the prince of the power 
of the air,' who has so extensively and dreadfully dis- 
tressed this unhappy world ; as ' casting him into the 
bottomless pit ; and as setting a seal upon him, that he 
should deceive the nations no more, until the thousand 
years should be fulfilled.' In all these instances, angels 
are exhibited as endowed with might, to which other 
intelligent creatures can make no pretensions, and of 
which men cannot even form any adequate conception. 

2. Angels are also possessed of activity equally won- 
derful. 

In Psal. civ. 4, quoted Heb. i. 7, their nature, in this 
particular, is summarily described in this remarkable 
declaration : ' Who maketh his angels spirits, and his 
ministers a flaming fire.' The word here rendered 
' spirits' most usually signifies winds. In either sense, 
the phraseology forcibly declares the eminent activity 
of the beings described by it, who are thus represented 
as moving with the swiftness of winds or .spirits, and 
operating with the astonishing energy of flaming fire. 

The same doctrine is also emphatically taught in the 
frequent attribution of many wings to the cherubim, 
seraphim, and other orders of angels. This we know 
is a representation merely symbolical, and the language 
of the symbol cannot be misconstrued. 

But the following story in the prophet Daniel, exhi- 
bits this doctrine with unrivalled force, and will pre- 
clude the necessity of any farther illustration. Chap, 
ix. ver. 3, and 20 — 23 : ' And I set my face unto the 
Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplication, with 
fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes. And while I was 
speaking and praying, and confessing my sin, and the 
sin of my people Israel, and presenting my supplication 
before the Lord my God, for the holy mountain of my 
God : yea, while I was speaking in prayer, even the 
man Gabriel, whom I had seen in the vision at the be- 
ginning, being caused to fly swiftly, touched me about 
the time of the evening oblation, and he informed 
me, and talked with me, and said, O Daniel, I am now 
come forth to give thee skill and understanding. At the 
beginning of thy supplications, the commandment came 
foi'th, and I am come to show thee : for thou art greatly 
beloved; therefore understand the matter, and consider 
the vision.' 

From this remarkable story we learn, that some time 
in the day, ' Daniel set himself to seek the Lord in fast- 
ing and prayer ;' that after his prayer was begun, ' the 
commandment ' was given to Gabriel to explain to him 
the vision and the prophecy. In verses 20 and 21, we 
are told, that Gabriel came to him while he was speak- 
ing ; that this was his evening prayer ; and that during 
the time in which he was employed in uttering his 
prayer, Gabriel came from the supreme heaven to this 
world. This is a rapidity exceeding all the compre- 



THE ANGELS. 



97 



hension of the most active imagination ; surpassing, be- 
yond any comparison, the amazing swiftness of light. 
Light we know, is several years in coming from such 
fixed stars as are visible to the eye of man. But there 
is the best reason to believe, that the heaven of heavens 
is at a much greater distance than those stars ; so as, 
not improbably, to be a heaven to them, as the starry 
firmament is to us. The poet therefore is justified by 
this wonderful fact, in that forcible expression, 

' The speed of Gods (Angels), time counts not.' 

No stronger exhibition, can be asked or given, of the 
activity of these celestial beings. 

3. Angels are endowed with unfading and immortal 
youth. 

Of this doctrine we have many most decisive testi- 
monies in the Scriptures. Particularly, it is beautifully 
exhibited in the name, Zaa., living ones, given them by 
St John in the Apocalypse, and by Ezekiel in the first 
chapter, and several other parts of his prophecy. By 
this name we are taught, that life is the proper nature, a 
pre-eminent and glorious characteristic, of angels ; life 
in a peculiar and distinguished degree ; the most per- 
fect manifestation of that quickening energy which Christ 
attributes to the Father, and challenges to himself, as an 
exclusive, appropriate, and wonderful attribute of the 
Godhead. 

The same doctrine is also beautifully exemplified in 
the angels who appeared to Mary in the tomb of our Sa- 
viour. These illustrious persons were then, at the least, 
four thousand years old. Still they appeared as young 
men, and in all that long succession of ages had under- 
gone no decay. Their youth, a bright and beautiful 
blossom, still shone with all its lustre and fragrance ; 
and directly indicated that it was superior both to acci- 
dent and time ; and would, after many such flights of 
years survive in all its vigour ; being destined, as well 
as fitted for immortality. Even this is probably an im- 
perfect representation of this glorious subject. The youth 
of angels is, like their other attributes, formed to refine, 
improve, and brighten for ever. 

4. Angels are endowed with the greatest intellectual 
faculties, and are of course possessed of knowledge supe- 
rior to that of any other created beings. 

This character of these heavenly inhabitants is pre- 
sented to us in the Scriptures in many forms. The 
Living Ones, mentioned by the apostle John in the 
book of Revelation, are declared to have been ' full of 
eyes within ;' that is, to have been all sense, all intellect, 
all consciousness ; turning their attention every way, be- 
holding at once ail things within the reach of their un- 
derstanding, and discerning them with a clearness of per- 
ception, which is the most perfect created semblance of 
the intuitive and boundless views of the omniscient Mind. 

' The face ' also of a ' man,' attributed to one of these 
illustrious beings by St John, and to all those who ap- 
peared to Ezekiel by that prophet, is another ascription 
of this character to angels. The face of a man was, 
among the Jews and other eastern nations, the standing 
symbol of intelligence : and denotes here, the superior 
possession of this attribute by those to whom it is 
nscribed. 

Angels were originally formed with an entire freedom 
from sin, the only source of prejudice, and the chief 
iource of error. Their faculties were, at first, such as 
became the morning stars of the highest heavens ; the 



sons of God, intended to surround the throne of Jeho- 
vah, and to hold the chief places of power, distinction, 
and glory, in his eternal kingdom. They were such as 
to become those, to whom in the beginning* was given 
by God himself the name Cherub, or fulness of know- 
ledge. They were such, in a word, as to become their 
other transcendent attributes of power, youth, and acti- 
vity ; and the exalted stations which they were destined 
to fill for ever. 

With the nature and extent of their faculties, has the 
place of their residence in this respect exactly accorded. 
They have ever dwelt in that world where truth reigns 
without opposition, where knowledge is the universal 
state and character, where all mysteries are continually 
disclosed, and where the nature and propriety of both 
the means and the ends of providence are more than in 
any part of the universe, unfolded. There, ' day and 
night,' for six thousand years, they have been unceas- 
ingly employed in studying the works of God. Weari- 
ness and decay they know not. Strength of understand- 
ing in them is incapable of being impaired. Every object 
of investigation is to them delightful ; and every faculty, 
by its nature, susceptible of improvement. What then 
must be the extent of their attainments at the present 
time ! 

Beyond this, the favour of God is extended to them 
in a degree incomprehensible by such minds as curs. 
To communicate just and extensive views of his works 
to these glorious beings, is declared to be his especial 
' intent in the creation of all things by Jesus Christ ;f 
and peculiarly ' his manifold wisdom ' in his dispensa- 
tions to ' the church.' No communication on his part, 
and no attainment on theirs, can be imagined too great 
for this divine purpose, or the goodness by which it was 
formed. 

In Mat. xxiv. 36, our Saviour declares that, ' of that 
day,' viz. the day of his coming to the destruction of 
Jerusalem, ' knoweth no one, not even the angels of hea- 
ven.' This appeal, if we understand the passage in the 
common acceptation, can have force and pertinence only 
on the supposition, that nothing which is known of the 
works and ways of God, is hidden from angels, and is 
therefore a complete proof of the entire superiority of 
their intellectual nature and attainments, to those of any 
other created being. 

5. Angels are possessed of consummate holiness. 

The evidence of this truth is so multiform and so 
abundant in the Scriptures, that no particular proof or 
illustration seems to be necessary. Their joy and praise 
at the creation, their divine transport at the birth of the 
Redeemer, and the union of ' glory to God in the high- 
est, and good will towards men,' disclosed by that won- 
derful event, and their noble and disinterested exulta- 
tions in the repentance of ruined sinners, are all sublime 
manifestations of the unalloyed holiness, of the pre-emi- 
nent beauty of mind, possessed by this dignified order 
of beings. The name Seraphim, or burning ones, is 
also a most forcible representation of this exalted char- 
acter. In this name, the mind of an angel is exhibited 
as enkindled with one intense and eternal flame of di- 
vine love, burning with a clear, unceasing, perpetual ar- 
dency and splendour. Such a love, we cannot but see is 
entirely suited to the character of those who 'stand before 
God,' dwell in his house, enjoy his favour, and exercise 



See Gen. iii. 24. 



t Sie Eph. iii. 9, 10. 



98 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xviii. 



the glorious offices of his kingdom. In accordance with 
this character, the four living ones, who are exhibited as 
representatives of the angelic host in the heavens, mani- 
fest their exalted love to the great Author of their bles- 
sings, by celebrating, with an unceasing voice, his infi- 
nite holiness and excellency throughout the never-end- 
ing progress of their being. In this glorious employ- 
ment also, all the innumerable company of angels are 
declared to unite with them, to be animated with the 
same perfect character, and to harmonize with them in 
their hearts, as well as in their songs. 



1 . How delightful an object of contemplation is this 
glorious order of beings. 

All things pertaining to this illustrious subject are 
cheering, luminous, animating, and sublime. The very 
names assigned to angels by their Creator, convey to us 
ideas pre-eminently pleasing, fitted to captivate the heart 
and exalt the imagination ; ideas only cheerful, refined, 
and noble ; ideas which dispel gloom, banish despon- 
dency, enliven hope, and awaken sincere and unmingled 
joy. They are living ones : beings in whom life is in- 
herent and instinctive ; who sprang up under the quick- 
ening influence of the Sun of righteousness, beneath the 
morning of everlasting day ; who rose, expanded, and 
blossomed, in the uncreated beam, on the banks of the 
river of life, and were nourished by the waters of im- 
mortality. They are spirits, winged with activity, and 
formed with power, which no labour wearies, and no 
duration impairs : their faculties always fresh and young, 
their exertions unceasing and wonderful, and their des- 
tination noble and delightful, without example, and 
without end. They are burning ones, glowing with a 
pure and serene, with an intense and immortal flame of 
divine love ; returning, without ceasing, the light and 
warmth which they have received from the great central 
Sun of the universe ; reflecting with supreme beauty the 
image of that divine luminary ; and universally glorious, 
although differing from each other in glory. 

The place in which they dwell is perfectly suited to 
their illustrious character. It is no other than the hea- 
ven of heavens, the first and best world that will ever be 
created, the place where God himself delights peculiarly 
to dwell ; the house where virtue, peace, and joy, dwelt 
in the beginning, and will dwell for ever ; the throne of 
boundless dominion, the parent city of the great empire 
of Jehovah, the happy region where all things are ver- 
dant with life, and blossom with immortality. 

The station which they hold, is of the same cheerful and 
elevated nature. It is the first station allotted to cre- 
ated existence. These sublime intelligences are the im- 
mediate attendants of Jehovah, the nobles and princes of 
the universe. All their employments, all their allot- 
ments, are honourable and happy ; all their destiny, 
dignified and divine. 

Angels, then, present us with an object of contempla- 
tion, replenished with inherent light, beauty, and great- 
ness, with nothing to tarnish, nothing to impair its 
lustre ; nothing to alloy the pleasure of the beholder ; a 
vivid landscape, formed of all the fine varieties of novel- 
ty and greatness, without one misshapen, decayed, or 
lifeless object, to lessen its perfection : a morning of the 
spring, without a cloud to overcast it : a sun, without a 
spot, shining only with the various colours of unmingled 
light. 



When we cast our eyes on this charming and trans- 
porting scene, we instinctively ask, What is the source 
of this unrivalled assemblage, this unmixed group of ob- 
jects so delightful ? The answer is at hand. Holiness 
is the well-spring, whence all these streams of beauty 
and pleasure are derived. If a single doubt arises in 
our minds concerning this truth, it may be removed in 
a moment. Fallen angels were once possessed of all 
these illustrious attributes, and held the exalted station 
which is now exclusively enjoyed by their fellows. 
Fallen angels are still possessed in an eminent degree 
of power, life, activity, and knowledge ; but they yield- 
ed up their holiness, when they revolted from their 
Maker ; and changed for ever their character, and their 
destiny, by sinning against God. Sin converted them 
into fiends, and made hell their habitation. From sin, 
that dark and dreadful world derives all its gloom, sor- 
row, and despair. Sin ushered it into being, raised its 
prison walls, barred its iron gates, shrouded its desolate 
regions in the blackness of darkness ; kindled the fires, 
by which it is gloomily enlightened, and awakened all 
the cries, and groans, and curses, and blasphemies, which 
echo through its regions of sorrow. Sin changed angels, 
once surrounding the throne, and harmonizing in the 
praise of God, into liars, accusers, calumniators, adver- 
saries, and destroyers. How amazing and dreadful the 
change. How loathsome, how detestable the spirit, by 
which it was accomplished ! 

2. How different from these glorious and unspotted 
beings are men. 

Numerous are the ways in which we may, if we please, 
derive instruction, improvement, and delight from the 
contemplation of this illustrious race of beings. A com- 
parison of ourselves with them, and of our circumstances 
with theirs, will particularly teach us our own littleness 
and depravity ; and happily, as well as naturally, pre- 
pare us for humility, and reformation. 

Man is of the lowest order of intelligent beings, kind- 
red to animals, often raised very little above their level, 
possessed in the humblest degree of rational attributes, 
the subject of extreme weakness, sluggishness, and igno- 
rance ; hastening with a rapid tendency to decay, old 
age, and death ; without love to God, or his fellow men ; 
depraved throughout with sin, and voluntarily yielded 
by himself to final perdition. 

What an affecting contrast is here presented to our 
view ! Angels so great, virtuous, and happy : Man so 
little, sinful, and miserable. How deeply humbled ought 
we to be by the sight of this picture, presenting so just 
as well as forcible a delineation of our real character. 
Hoav ashamed ought we to be of our impiety, deceit, in- 
justice, unkindness, pride, and vanity. For in this 
humble state we are vain : possessed of this guilty cha- 
racter we are proud. Of what are we proud ? Of what 
are we vain ? Of our sin, our disgrace, our folly, our 
frailty, our diseases, or our death ? What beside these 
things can we find to excite our pride ? 

Yet we' are proud and vain : wonderfully proud, de- 
plorably vain : we are proud of a body fattening for 
wgrms, and pampered for corruption and the grave ; of 
clothes which we borrow from the sheep and the silk- 
worm, of endowments given us by God, of wealth amas- 
sed by fraud and avarice, and of stations conferred by 
base favouritism, and popular frenzy. Nay, Ave are 
proud of profaneness, cursing, and blasphemy. We 
boast of bargains made only by the cunning of fraud, or 



THE ANGELS. 



99 



the violence of oppression. We glory in the infernal 
arts and infamous success of seduction. We murder our 
fellow-creatures in duels, and wreathe our temples with 
garlands dyed in blood. We slaughter thousands and 
millions in war ; plant laurels amid the bones, and 
nourish them with the blood of those whom we have de- 
stroyed. We raise our thrones on the cemetery of bu- 
ried nations ; and mistake the groans and shrieks of 
surviving parents, widows, and orphans, for the trumpet 
of fame. In a word, all that ought to humble us in 
the dust, all that ought to clothe us in sackcloth, and 
cover us with ashes, all that blackens us with disgrace 
and guilt, all that makes us deformed and loathsome in 
the sight of God is converted by us into the means of 
pride and exaltation. 

Angels, although so greatly exalted above men, are 
neither proud nor vain. The plain reason is, they are 
not sinful. Pride and vanity are derived from sin 
only ; or rather sin is the root and stem of bitterness, 
of which they are the branches. To be proud or vain, 
then, is not to resemble the holy angels, but the fallen 
ones. Can this resemblance flatter any man ; a resem- 
blance to the worst and most odious of all the creatures 
of God? Who would not eagerly drop this wretched 
likeness, this tattered garb of guilt and shame, assume 
a resemblance to the glorious beings whom we have 
been contemplating, and adorn himself with the un- 
spotted, spiritual, and never-fading robe of humility and 
righteousness ? The faith, repentance, and love of the 
gospel, are ' the fine linen of the saints,' wrought and 
made white in the heavens ; and with this best robe in 
his father's house, every repenting and returning pro- 
digal will.be clothed. 

3. What a happy change would be accomplished in 
this world, if men would assume the spirit and conduct 
of angels. 

Angels never indulge sloth, deceit, wrath, malice, 
envy, or impiety. Angels never cheat, corrupt, betray, 
nor oppress. Angels never profane the name of God, 
perjure themselves, ridicule sacred things, insult the 
Redeemer, resist the Holy Ghost, nor deny the being, 
the perfections, the word, or the government of God. 
Angels never consume their time in idle amusements, 
or guilty pleasures ; never slander each other, never 
quarrel ; never make Avars, and never desire nor plun- 
der each other's blessings. How miserable have men, 
by all this conduct, rendered this unhappy world ! With 
what a prodigal hand do we waste the blessings given to 



us by God ; pervert our talents, and frustrate the end 
of our being. With what rapacity and violence do we 
plunder the blessings, and destroy the lives, of our fel- 
low-creatures ! In an existence, naturally accompanied 
by many evils, we were impatient to create and multiply 
sufferings ; to lessen the good which God has given, to 
shorten the period of life already so little, and to sur- 
round it with miseries of our own creation. In this 
manner, and by ourselves, the evils which we suffer have 
been immensely multiplied ; and the world, destined 
for our habitation, which, if we were pious, just, sin- 
cere, and kind, would be a comfortable residence, has 
been converted into a region of sorrow and mourning. 
Private dwellings, the proper mansions of peace and 
love, have been disturbed by domestic broils ; the father 
contending against his son, and the son against his fa- 
ther ; the mother with parental unkindness provoking 
her daughter to wrath, and the daughter, with filial im- 
piety, revolting from her mother. Brethren have be- 
come strangers to each other, and for such a length of 
time, and with such violence of passion, that they have 
been ' harder to be won than the bars of a castle.' 
Neighbourhoods have been distracted with divisions and 
contentions, and nations rent asunder by faciion and 
discord. Empires have become fields of war and 
slaughter, and the earth has been changed into a vast 
receptacle of misery and ruin. All this wretchedness 
is the consequence of sin ; its immediate product, its 
genuine offspring. Should we then drop this character, 
would not our consciences be more serene, our lives 
more pleasant, our families more harmonious, and the 
world more quiet and happy. 

The mighty difference between heaven and earth, an- 
gels and men, lies in holiness and sin. Angels are 
holy, we are sinful ; their residence is happy, ours in 
many respects wretched. This world was originally 
formed to be a delightful habitation ; and at the close 
of the creation, was by God himself pronounced to be 
very good. Man was once immortal and happy, be- 
cause he was just, kind, sincere, humble, and pious. 
What has the world, what has man, gained by the 
change ? The afflicting answer may be summed up in 
a word. God made the earth a beautiful image of 
heaven; man, by his apostasy, has changed it into no 
obscure resemblance of hell. God made man ' a little 
lower than the angels, and crowned him with glory and 
honour ; man being in honour, abode not, but became 
like the beasts which perish.' 



SERMON XIX. 

CREATION THE ANGELS. 



For by him were all thirty s created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether 
they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers : all things were created by him, and for him. 
— Col. i. 16. 



In the preceding Discourse, I began a consideration of I names given to these illustrious beings in the Scriptures, 
the nature and circumstances of angels. After exam- I proposed to mention whatever was necessary to my 
ining these things generally, as imported by the several | design under the following heads : — 



100 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xik. 



I. Their rank or station. II. Their attributes. And, 
III. Their employments. 

The two first of these subjects I then considered at 
some length. Under the second head I observed, that 
they are possessed, 1. Of wonderful power ; 2. Of won- 
derful activity: 3. Of immortal youth; 4. Of the no- 
blest intellectual faculties, and of knowledge superior to 
that of any other created beings : and, 5. Of consum- 
mate holiness. 

I shall now proceed to a further consideration of this 
branch of the general subject ; and observe, 

6. That angels are possessed of distinguished loveli- 
ness of character. 

In the view of passion and taste, beings are lovely 
when possessed of external beauty of form, and grace- 
fulness of deportment. A complexion finely coloured 
and blended, a figure finely fashioned, features happily 
turned and adjusted, and a demeanour elegantly exhi- 
bited, are to our fancy and our passions, so engaging 
and lovely, as not unfrequently to engross the affections 
of the mind. Yet even we are sensible that these are 
very imperfect objects of our attachment. Accordingly 
we speak of them, in customary language, as things of 
mere fancy; unsolid, unenduring, of little value; and 
therefore incapable of claiming or receiving the sincere 
approbation of the judgment, the full testimony of un- 
biassed reason, on account of any inherent or essential 
excellence. 

But there are objects of a nobler kind, claiming, in 
a far higher degree, both our affections and our esteem. 
All the diversities of virtue and holiness, are in their na- 
ture pre-eminently lovely. Virtue is the beauty of the 
mind, and as superior to that of the form, as the soul is 
superior to the tenement in which it dwells. On this 
delightful object, the understanding, in spite of every 
human prejudice, fixes its eye with unqualified appro- 
bation ; and the heart, if not W/holly destitute of can- 
dour, with sincere delight. Virtue is the beauty of the 
heavenly world ; and while it engrosses the attachment, 
and the homage of angels themselves, is regarded with 
entire complacency by its divine Author. 

In exact accordance with the supreme value of this 
inestimable object, mankind customarily speak of it 
under its various names, as more excellent, more noble, 
more solid, more desirable, and as demanding, in a 
higher degree than any other attribute, the regard and 
complacency of every intelligent being. In this man- 
ner we show, that partial as we are, we still prefer 
worth to external beauty and grace. 

There is, then, even in our view, a higher and nobler 
loveliness, than that which engages our fancy or our 
taste ; a foundation in the nature of things for more 
rational, more pure, and more enduring attachment. 
In what does this loveliness consist ? In something, 
plainly, which is not found in external form, com- 
plexion, or gracefulness ; something which belongs to 
mind, and not to person. It does not consist in intelli- 
gence. Men of the greatest understanding and infor- 
mation are often odious, injurious, and deformed with 
all the turpitude ever found in the human character. 
The fallen angels are also unquestionably possessed of in- 
telligence, in degrees far superior to our comprehension; 
and are, notwithstanding, the most hateful of all beings. 

In the disposition, then, the only remaining character- 
istical faculty of the mind, must its amiableness reside. 
But die disposition is lovely, either as it is sinful or vir- 



tuous ; either as it hates or loves God and other intel- 
ligent beings. To determine in which of these cases 
the mind is lovely, demands not even a question. 

In virtue then, according to the decision of mankind, 
sinful as they are, is found the true loveliness of intelli- 
gent beings ; that which unbiassed reason approves, 
which is always excellent, which is uniformly the object 
of delight, -which will never change, and which will 
never cease to be desired. 

Of this loveliness, angels are above all created beings 
supremely possessed. Angels are sincere, gentle, meek, 
kind, compassionate, and perfectly conformed to that 
great moral principle, communicated in the ' words of 
the Lord Jesus,' when he said, ' It is more blessed to 
give than to receive.' This sublime excellence, incom- 
parably ' more precious than gold which perisheth,' has 
in them been, from the beginning, debased with no 
alloy, tarnished with no spot, impaired by no length of 
years, and changed by no weakness or imperfection. 
Free from every defect and every mixture, it has varied 
with length of years merely towards higher and higher 
perfection, and shone, not only with undiminished, but 
with increased beauty and lustre. There is no good 
which it is proper for angels to do, which they are not 
habitually prepared to do. There is no kindness capa- 
ble of being suitably exercised by them, which they do 
not in fact exercise. The more their faculties are en- 
larged, the more their knowledge is increased ; the more 
their means of usefulness are multiplied, the more 
exalted is their excellence, the more disinterested and 
noble their disposition, the more intense their benevo- 
lence, and the more lovely and beautiful their character. 
The good which they have already done, has only pre- 
pared them to do more and greater good ; and the dis- 
position with which it was done, has only become 
stronger by every preceding exertion. 

Let me pause here, with a momentary digression ; 
and persuade you to call to mind how delightful an in- 
timate connexion must be with even a single rational 
being ; who always spoke that which was true, and al- 
ways did that which was just and kind ; in whom con- 
fidence could be reposed without a fear, and from whom 
every kind office might be expected without even a sus- 
picion, of disappointment. If the friendship of one 
such being would be a rich possession, how inestimable 
must be the privilege of living for ever in a world of 
such friends. 

7. Angels are invested with high personal dignity and 
glory. 

Dignity originally denoted the same with worth ; but 
is now generally used to signify that kind of worth 
which is elevated and great ; which inspires reverence 
and admiration, rather than that which is more gentle 
and familiar ; as well as the manifestations of it in the 
conduct, and the honours with which it is considered as 
suitably rewarded. The spirit and character, formed 
by the magnanimous and sublimer virtues, are here in- 
tended by personal dignity ; and all the honour with 
which God has invested this character in angels, is in- 
tended by personal glory. In these respects, angels are 
totally distinguished from all other created beings. 

This truth cannot but be evident from the account 
already summarily given of the attributes, both natural 
and moral, of these exalted intelligences. Their minds, 
as it has been shown, were originally formed with vast 
capacities, and with an unmingled and intense love of 



THE ANGELS 



101 



truth. Truth is an account of the character and works 
of God, subjects elevated above all height, and extended 
above all limits ; possessed of inherent grandeur, and 
sublimity literally infinite ; fitted to awaken in every 
mind, formed with an understanding to perceive, and a 
taste to relish them, great ideas and exalted conceptions ; 
and calculated to inspire habits of thinking and feeling, 
of the most dignified nature. To these subjects, angels 
have already devoted themselves throughout a vast pe- 
riod of time, with supreme intenseness and fervour. 
Their views have been all formed without error, decay, 
or weariness ; and their relish for the objects of their 
knowledge has only been strengthened by indulgence. 
Of course, their progress in understanding has been 
rapid, and their attainments have been very great. Of 
course, also, their minds have been continually expanded 
and ennobled, by all the conceptions which they have 
entertained concerning these wonderful subjects. 

In the meantime, the conscious exercise of such vast 
power and activity, and the possession of ever vigorous, 
ever blooming- youth, destined to survive and triumph 
over time and labour, must carry with them a sense of 
personal importance, which, tempered and refined by 
perfect humility, cannot but be elevated in a manner to 
which there is no parallel. To this character their sta- 
tions, their residence, and their employments, all power- 
fully contribute. Highly favoured, exalted, and happy, 
in these great particulars, angels have the nearest access 
to their Creator, for understanding- the mysteries, and 
contemplating the greatness of his dispensations, and 
for learning from them his infinitely majestic and glo- 
rious character. Heaven is the centre and the seat of 
all that is great and wonderful, all that is refined and 
exquisite, all that is splendid and glorious. To angels, 
those magnificent things are habitually familiar, and by 
them their taste is formed, and their character esta- 
blished. Their exertions also are of a kind wonder- 
fully sublime. The being who can bind the four winds 
of heaven, imprison the prince of the power of the air, 
or wing his flight in a moment to a distant world, pos- 
sesses an inherent importance, to which our imagina- 
tions cannot extend ; a sublimity of character, elevated 
beyond the utmost stretch of human sight. 

PJxactly accordant with these views of the subject, 
are the splendour and majesty of appearance, frequent- 
ly assumed by angels in their visils to this lower world. 
I shall not detail the facts of which this splendour has 
been composed, nor repeat the unrivalled descriptions 
of it given to us in the word of God. It will be suffi- 
cient for my present purpose to observe, that in their 
presence mankind have trembled, shrunk, and fallen ; 
and, scarcely able to survive their impressions, have felt 
themselves to be nothing, and less than nothing. 

How abashed, how amazed, how dumb should we be 
in the presence of Gabriel, known by us to be an inha- 
bitant of the heavenly world, to ' stand in the presence 
of God;' to be exalted above all human weakness, er- 
ror, and sin ; and to be wise, and great, and good, in 
the sight of God himself! How great must he seem to 
us, how dignified, how glorious! How little, on the 
contrary, should we appear to him ; how low, how un- 
worthy ! Would not our pride wither in a moment, 
and our vanity flee away ? Should we not, like Peter 
and his companions in the presence of Moses and Elias, 
be instantly lost and bewildered ; and utter, if Ave spoke 
at all, that which we did not understand. 



Of all these attributes it is to be remembered farther, 
that they are eternal. Angels live for ever ; and are 
hence termed, by way of distinction, living ones, or 
living creatures. With their being, their excellencies 
are all co-extended, and are in the same manner im- 
mortal. Nor are they merely immortal, but are per- 
petually improving. Every day they study and under- 
stand more and more the wonders of creation and pro- 
vidence, and the character of their great Author. With 
their knowledge, their love to God is continually en- 
larged and enraptured ; their benevolence to their fel- 
low creatures, their amiable conduct, their sweetness, 
loveliness, and dignity of character, are all enhanced 
and refined. Great, wise, noble, and excellent at first, 
they have regularly advanced in this divine progress of 
improvement to the present time. 

How excellent did Paul become in the short period 
of his life, which elapsed after his conversion ! How 
much more excellent and glorious have angels become ; 
who, never stained with sin, weakened by prejudice, 
nor wearied by labour, have, with enlarged understand- 
ing, intense love of truth, and unmingled holiness of 
disposition, regularly and rapidly advanced in the at- 
tainment of all that is great and good, through a period 
of six thousand years! How superlatively and univer- 
sally excellent will they then become hereafter! To 
what a height of glory will they rise in the exercise of 
these faculties, in the pursuit of these objects, and in 
the indulgence of this disposition throughout endless 
ages ! 

III. Angels hold the first employments and offices in 
the universe. 

In every government there must be, of course, pub- 
lic offices. These offices must also increase in number 
and importance, as the government becomes more ex- 
tensive. In a town they will naturally be few, in a 
province more numerous, and in a kingdom far more 
numerous still. In such an empire as Rome or China, 
a vast multitude of concerns continually exist, all of 
which must be the immediate business of persons de- 
voted to them only. Were this world under a single 
administration of government, the public offices would 
become numerous, important, and dignified, propor- 
tionally to the number, greatness, and complication of 
its mighty interests. The kingdom of God, if I mis- 
take not, is plainly exhibited, both in his word and 
works, as a kingdom of means. Under his universal 
government, secondary causes and subordinate agents 
are employed with a real instrumentality and efficacy, 
in accomplishing his pleasure. In such an empire the 
concerns are necessarily immense, both in their num- 
ber and their importance. Of these, some, however, 
are greater, and others less : while all are, in their re- 
spective places, proper and useful. These concerns, 
according to this scheme, are, to an extent undefin- 
able, committed to such of his intelligent creatures as he 
has formed to conduct them under his own superinten- 
dency ; and the offices which they of course sustain, 
must, to our view, be, in a vast multitude of instances, 
invested with a greatness, dignity, and importance, in- 
comprehensible. 

The intelligent beings to whom the greatest and no- 
blest of these concerns are intrusted, and by whom the 
most illustrious of all these offices are sustained, are 
undoubtedly the angels of God. Whatever demands 
the employment of created power, activity, knowledge. 



102 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



and virtue, of high distinction ; whatever is in an emi- 
nent degree complicated, vast, or sublime, can with pro- 
priety be committed only to beings eminently invest- 
ed with these illustrious attributes. In the amazing 
extent of creation, in the eternal progress of provi- 
dence, fields, sufficiently ample, are furnished for the 
employment of immense numbers of these glorious be- 
ings, in business of high import and inestimable digni- 
ty. To this scheme of things accord, not only their at- 
tributes, but their numbers, as they are exhibited in the 
Scriptures ; for we are there told, that ' thousand thou- 
sands minister unto God, and ten thousand times ten 
thousand stand before him.' 

That angels are actually thus employed, can scarcely 
be doubted by any man who remembers the illustrious 
attributes of which they are possessed, and who believes 
that these attributes were not given in vain. Should 
he, however, doubt, he may be furnished with proofs 
from the Scriptures, which cannot rationally be ques- 
tioned. 

1. Their names clearly indicate their high employ- 
ments. 

They are styled angels ; that is, the immediate mes- 
sengers of God. They are styled thrones, dominions, 
authorities, principalities or governments, and powers, 
to denote that they sit upon thrones, exercise domi- 
nion, hold authority, preside in government, and are 
invested with the power necessary for these great pur- 
poses. 

They are called chief princes, to indicate that they 
are the first order of rulers in the universe, under Him 
who has ' prepared his throne in the heavens, and 
whose kingdom ruleth over all.' They are called sons 
of God, to teach us that they are beings nearly related 
to God in character, favour, place, and authority. They 
are called morning stars, to teach us the splendour and 
glory with which they outshine all other intelligent 
creatures. They are named cherubim and seraphim, 
to inform us that they are beings furnished with supe- 
rior knowledge to discern, and with superior holiness 
to pursue, whatever is good and right, honourable to 
the Creator, and useful to his creatures. 

All these names are descriptive either of the nature 
and attributes of these exalted beings, or of the stations 
and employments for which, by this nature, they are 
qualified. 

2. The Scriptures, in many instances, exhibit them as 
thus employed. 

(I.) Angels are in the Scriptures declared to be ex- 
tensively engaged in the immediate business of glorify- 
ing God, and celebrating his praise. 

At the creation, ' the morning stars,' in the dawn of 
their being, surrounded their Maker during the pro- 
gress of that great work ; and when it was finished, in 
the celebration of that peculiarly divine sabbath, ob- 
served, consecrated, and blessed by God himself, as an 
infinitely solemn and authoritative example to mankind, 
' sang together, and shouted for joy.' 

When the Lord Jesus Christ descended on Mount 
Sinai, to publish, amid thunders and lightnings, and a 
flame of devouring fire, his most holy law to the chil- 
dren of men, ' the chariots of God, even thousands of 
angels,' * attended him at this awful solemnity, and glo- 
rified him by their ministry in this sublime dispensation. 

* Psal. Ixviii. 17, 18. 



When the same divine person became incarnate, Ga- 
briel announced his birth to Zechariah and to Mary. 
An angel also proclaimed these - glad tidings of great 
joy ' to the shepherds of Bethlehem ; and ' a multitude 
of the heavenly host praised God ' on the same occasion, 
in the noblest hymn ever heard in this lower world ; 
and sang, ' Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good-will towards men.' 

' When he ascended on high, and led captivity cap- 
tive,' having finished the work of redemption, and tri- 
umphed over all his enemies ; the same exalted beings, 
with renewed transport and adoration, surrounded him 
with the same magnificent attendance as at Sinai, sing- 
ing, as he approached the heaven of heavens, ' Lift up 
your heads, ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlast- 
ing doors ; and the King of glory shall come in.' f 

At the end of this earthly system, when ' he shall 
come to judge the quick and the dead,' and blot out 
from under heaven this world of iniquity and rebel- 
lion ; an archangel preceding him, will call the dead 
out of their graves ; while the multitude of the heaven- 
ly host will shout to the universe the awful wonders of 
the final day, and subjoin, to all its amazing transac- 
tions, their solemn Amen. 

In the heaven of heavens, the four living ones ' rest 
not, day and night, saying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God 
Almighty ; -who was, and who is, and who is to come.' 
' And I beheld,' says St John, ' and I heard the voice of 
many angels round about the throne, and the living 
ones, and the elders ; and the number of them was ten 
thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thou- 
sands, saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb 
that was slain, to receive power, and wisdom, and riches, 
and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.' 

(2.) Angels are employed in studying the works of 
God, and in learning from them his perfections. 

' Who created all things,' says St Paul, ' by Jesus 
Christ ; to the intent that now unto the principalities 
and powers in heavenly places, might be known by the 
church the manifold wisdom of God.' ' Which things,' 
says St Peter, ' the angels desire to look into :' or more 
literally, ' Into which things angels earnestly desire to 
look with the deepest attention.' The original word, 
7rcc(>a.xvipa.t, denotes the action of stooping down to in- 
spect minutely, and pry critically into an object of in- 
vestigation. 

In the former of these passages we are presented 
with one great end of the creation of all things ; viz. 
the disclosure of ' the manifold wisdom of God,' in his 
dispensations to his ' church, unto principalities and 
powers in heavenly places.' As this disclosure was one 
great end of the creation of all things, so it is evident 
that angels were created with the special design, that 
they should attain the knowledge which it conveys. In 
the second of these passages we are taught, that the dis- 
position of angels is perfectly accordant with this de- 
sign, and that ' they earnestly desire ' to investigate, 
and are therefore unceasingly employed in investigat- 
ing those things, for the knowledge of which they were 
especially created. 

For this great purpose, these glorious beings are in I 
the most eminent manner fitted by all their other em- 1 
ployments, their wonderful attributes, and their exalted I 
station. Particularly, in their employments as messen- 1 

+ Psal. Ixviii. 17, 18. compared with Eph. iv. 8. See also Psal. xxiv. j 



THE ANGELS. 



103 



gers of God, in which they visit, not only this world, 
but the Ovgctvui of the Scriptures, the innumerable re- 
gions of the heavens ; they are furnished with the most 
ample and perfect opportunities of understanding the 
endless multitude, and the astonishing nature, of the 
works of creation and providence. Throughout these 
incomprehensible tracts, there is every reason to be- 
lieve, that the same unceasing diversity is continually 
pursued in all the divine works, which prevails so per- 
fectly in this world. The nature, attributes, and real 
importance of all things, are learned, not by inspection 
only, but also, in an extensive degree, by comparison. 
The relations which they bear to each other, can be 
known in no other manner : and the knowledge of 
these is a most extensive and important part of all that 
is known. From the advantage furnished him of he- 
holding many objects, and making numerous and accu- 
rate comparisons between them, a rational traveller who 
has visited many countries, is universally acknowledged, 
not only to possess a more enlarged knowledge of the 
world than other men, but also to be a more sound and 
thorough judge of the things with which he is acquaint- 
ed. Angels visit distant worlds, probably with more 
ease and expedition than men the towns in their neigh- 
bourhood ; and compare systems with more perfect com- 
prehension and accuracy, than we, states and kingdoms. 
At the same time, their strong and unmingled relish for 
all the objects of their contemplation, the unwearied 
and undiminished vigour of their minds, and the length 
of years through which they have been employed in 
this illustrious pursuit, have, on the one hand, given it 
the peculiar power of habit, and, on the other, increased 
beyond calculation the pleasure which it originally and 
naturally yields. Man, by the limited nature of his 
powers, is almost of course obliged, whenever he studies, 
to confine himself to study ; and whenever he acts, to 
action. Angels, by their superior energy, seem fitted 
to pursue both courses at once ; and to be able to study 
and act without hindrance, confusion, or any other dis- 
advantage. 

(3.) Angels are employed in executing the judgments 
of God upon this world. 

The first judgment upon man, which was excluding 
him from paradise, appears to have heen committed to 
the execution of these ministering spirits. In the same 
manner, they were the immediate instruments of inflict- 
ing the vengeance of God on the Israelites, on the army 
of Sennacherib, on Nebuchadnezzar, and on Herod. 
In the same manner also they are exhibited, in the 
Revelation of St John, as pouring out the vials of di- 
vine wrath upon the nations of this guilty world, and 
especially upon the antichristian hierarchy, as the pecu- 
liar ministers of the justice of God. To us, with our 
limited views and strong partialities, this office may 
seem undesirable, and a diminution of that perfect feli- 
city which I have attributed to this distinguished order 
of beings. The decision, however, will easily appear to 
be unfounded, if we remember that they possess an en- 
tire and unchangeable confidence in God, and in the 
perfect rectitude of all his dispensations ; and in innu- 
merable instances, a clear comprehension of the nature 
and import of the dispensations themselves ; the wisdom 
and goodness with which they are brought to pass, and 
the valuable and glorious ends which they are intended 
to accomplish. In exact accordance with this view of 
the subject is sung in heaven, ' the song of Moses and 



the Lamb. Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord 
God Almighty. Just and true are thy ways, thou King 
of saints. Who shall not fear thee, Lord, and glorify 
thy name ? For thou only art holy ; for all nations 
shall come and worship before thee ; for thy judgments 
are made manifest. 

(4.) Angels are also employed in ministering bless- 
ings to the children of God in this world. 

' Are they not all ministering spirits,' says St Paul, 
' sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of 
salvation!' In this passage we are plainly taught, that 
ministering to the saints is a standing employment of 
angels, throughout the ages of time. Accordingly, 
they are exhibited in Jacob's vision of the ladder as 
'ascending and descending' from heaven to earth, 
and from earth to heaven continually, in the discharge 
of this great duty. According to this declaration also, 
we are furnished by the Scriptures with numerous ex- 
amples of their actual ministry to the children cf God. 
Thus angels delivered Lot from Sodom, Jacob from 
Esau, Daniel from the lions, his three companions from 
the fiery furnace, Peter from Herod and the Jewish 
Sanhedrim, and the nation of the Israelites, successively, 
from the Egyptians, Canaanites, and Assyrians. Thus 
they conducted Lot, Abraham, and the Israelites, in 
seasons of great difficulty and danger, to places and cir- 
cumstances of safety and peace. Thus they conducted 
Gideon to the destruction of the Midianites, Joseph and 
Mary to Egypt, Philip to the Eunuch, and Cornelius 
to Peter, to the knowledge of the gospel through him, 
and to the salvation of himself, his family, and his 
friends. Thus angels instructed Abraham, Joshua, Gi- 
deon, David, Elijah, Daniel, Zechariah the prophet, Za- 
charias the father of John the Baptist, the Virgin Mary, 
the apostles, and their fellow disciples. Thus they com- 
forted Jacob at the approach of Esau, Daniel in his pe- 
culiar sorrows and dangers, Zechariah in the sufferings 
of his nation, Joseph and Mary in their perplexities, 
Christ in his agony, the apostles and their companions 
after his resurrection. Paul immediately before his ship- 
wreck, and the church universally, by the testimony and 
instruction given in the Revelation of St John. 

Generally, the Scriptures inform us, especially in the 
visions of Ezekiel, Daniel, and John, that they are em- 
ployed in executing various, great, and wonderful pur- 
poses of divine providence. Here we behold them con- 
trolling evil spirits, wielding the elements of this world, 
producing, directing, and terminating the great convul- 
sions of time ; conveying the souls of the just to the 
paradise of God, severing the wicked from the good 
at the day of judgment, and performing the duties of 
other dignified and glorious missions. All these are 
instances, either of wonderful power and skill, or of 
singular benevolence and excellency of character ; both 
eminently honourable to them, and eminently important 
to the universe. By these facts we cannot fail to be 
convinced, that their employments are wholly noble and 
magnificent, and wholly suited to their dignified sta- 
tions and exalted titles, as well as to the attributes of 
power, knowledge, and goodness, of which they are so 
transcendently possessed. Nor can we rationally doubt, 
that they visit every other habitable world with mes- 
sages and designs of the same sublime import ; execute 
the great purposes of God in all the parts of his vast 
kingdom, ami thus become in an extensive sense, illus- 
trious benefactors of the intelligent creation. 



104 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xix. 



I. These considerations furnish us with a strong pre- 
sumptive argument, that the Scriptures are a divine 
revelation. 

In the Scriptures we find an order, or rather a kind 
of beings described, which were never known nor 
imagined by any person who did not derive his acquain- 
tance with them from that book. They are beings who 
have a character as appropriate as that of man, and dif- 
fering from that of man as far as finite intelligences 
can be supposed to differ from each other. Yet the 
character is complete, entire, and of a piece with itself. 
Every attribute is suited to every other; all are angelic, 
all are heavenly. A station is also assigned to them, of 
dignity and importance perfectly fitted to their charac- 
ter, and worthy of being filled by such beings. Em- 
ployments are also marked out for them, altogether 
becoming both the station and the character ; angelic 
employments, suited to the sons of God, the morning 
stars of heaven. Can it be reasonably supposed that 
these things were devised by human imagination ? Have 
similar things been ever thus devised ? The fancy of 
man has, in all nations and ages, delighted itself with 
the employment of fashioning imaginary beings of a 
nature superior to ours. What have been its produc- 
tions? The gods, demons, and genii of ancient, and 
the elves, sylphs, and fairies of more modern times. 
But how do all these shrink from a comparison with 
angels ? They are little, base, trifling, sordid, and sin- 
ful enough to have been copied, with a few easy addi- 
tions, from the depraved characteristics of men. But 
where does this world furnish materials for the compo- 
sition of an angelic character ? What originals has it 
presented, from which the portrait could be drawn ? 

A multitude of writers in the Scriptures, fifteen at 
least, have described these glorious beings with the most 
perfect harmony, and without a single discordant idea. 
In the meantime, their descriptions are extensively va- 
rious, comprising many particulars, and wholly inde- 
pendent of each other. All the writers are in this 
respect, as well as others, originals. Not one is a copier, 
not one a plagiary ; yet their representations are uni- 
versally noble, sublime, dignified, beautiful, and lovely, 
beyond any thing found in the most perfect writings of 
uninspired men. 

How came these things to pass ? Whence did these 
writers in so distant ages, and differing so widely in 
education, genius, characters, interests, and views, unite 
with such perfect harmony in so difficult an object of 
conception ; while writing for so diverse purposes, and 
on so diverse occasions ? Whence is it, that not an in- 
dividual of them has made a single slip ; that not a 
thought is uttered, not a fact asserted, nor a doctrine 
declared, but such as is perfectly free from fault, im- 
purity, littleness, and defect ; such as is entirely noble, 
refined, and becoming so exalted and spotless a charac- 
ter ? All heathen writers have stained even their gods 
with great defects, and deformed them with gross 
crimes ; and wherever they have exhibited their gods 
as acting, have filled up their history with weakness and 
depravity. The angels of the Scriptures, on the con- 
trary, are everywhere, by every writer, and in every attri- 
bute and act, alike pure and perfect. The only answer 
which can be given is, God directed the one class of 
writers, and human reason and imagination the other. 



2. How wonderful, and how amiable, do these consi- 
derations exhibit the humility of angels. 

In the observations which have been made, we have 
seen their character to be great and glorious without a 
parallel ; their station exalted above that of all other 
created beings, and their employments the first in the 
kingdom of God. Yet they do not disdain, nor grudge 
to minister to the wants and the relief, to the instruc- 
tion and the comfort of men ; who, compared with 
them, are only worms of the dust. 

A single fact will set this subject in a stronger light, 
than any train of general observations. Call up to 
your view, then, a choir of these illustrious beings, 
cheerfully leaving the glory of heaven, and directing 
their flight to this forlorn and sinful earth, to accompany 
the departing spirit of poor, despised, forgotten Lazarus 
to the world of happiness ; to point the way to that dis- 
tant and delightful region, and to aid his trembling 
wing to the house and presence of his Father and his 
God. What monarch, what noble, what gentleman, 
what plain man, would willingly have even attended his 
funeral? Who would have received him when alive 
into his house, powerfully as his sufferings pleaded for 
charitable relief? Who, much more, would have con- 
sented to become his companion ? Who, still more, 
would have acknowledged himself his friend ? Yet all 
this, angels did not disdain. 

Let us take to ourselves shame and confusion of face, 
at the remembrance of our pride and haughtiness of 
heart. How often do we despise, neglect, insult, and 
trample under foot these, who in the sight of God are 
far better than ourselves. For what do we despise 
them ? Because, perhaps, their houses, their persons, 
their dress, their wealth, or their talents, are inferior to 
our own. We might indeed sometimes pity them for 
these reasons and be justified. But where shall we 
find an excuse for despising them ? 

Nor is the meekness of angels less contrasted to our 
wrath and revenge. They do not even ' bring railing 
accusations.' Much less do they, like ourselves, indulge 
furious resentments, and seek insatiable revenge. There 
is not a single reason to believe that they ever exer- 
cised, even in one instance, personal resentment against 
the basest and most guilty child of Adam, or a 
revengeful thought against the most depraved inha- 
bitant of hell. No provocation is able to disturb the 
serenity of their minds. No cloud ever overcasts their 
smiles, or intercepts the clear sunshine of their bene- 
volence. 

3. How are the meek and humble virtues dignified by 
this great example. 

These virtues are the constant character, the essential 
attributes, the peculiar glory, of thrones, dominions, 
principalities, and powers. But these virtues, and 
those in whom they are found on earth, ' man, who is 
a worm, and the son of man, who is but a worm,' re- 
gards with contempt. Men glory in being proud, in 
being wrathful, in being revengeful, in being tyrants 
and oppressors, in being heroes and butchers. To men 
of these characters, statues are erected ; nay, temples 
have been built, and altars smoked with victims. To 
them, the page of the historian and the harp of the 
poet are consecrated. To their praise, the sculptor bids 
the marble breathe, and the painter teaches his canvass 
to glow. They live in palaces, and are entombed in 
mausoleums. Shouts and hosannas follow them through 



THE FALLEN ANGELS. 



105 



life ; and at their death, nations re-echo the cries of la- 
mentation, and kingdoms are covered with sackcloth 
and ashes. How strange is all this to the eye of rea- 
son. ' Dives arrayed in purple and fine linen, and 
faring sumptuously every day ;' while Lazarus lies ' at 
his gate,' under the naked heaven, coveting ' only to 
be fed with the crumbs which fall from his table.' Nay, 
Pilate and Herod on the seat of judgment, and Christ 
on the cross. 

In the invisible world these things are wonderfully 
inverted. ' Dives expires,' but no angels convey him 
' to Abraham's bosom.' There the meek and lowly vir- 
tues claim the esteem and love, and engross the kind 
offices of beings, possessed of the highest wisdom and ex- 
cellence ; and obtain the everlasting favour of the infinite 
God. On these virtues, angels smile with complacency, 
while fools and sinners regard them with hatred and 
scorn. But if we would be like angels, if we would '■ 
secure their good-will, if we would be admitted to their j 
glorious company, if we would share in their immortal I 
blessings, if we would dwell in the house of their Fa- 
ther and our Father, of their God and our God ; we 
must esteem the things which they esteem, love the 
things which they love, and do the things which they 
do. We must renounce the haughty, angry, revengeful 
character, which we are so pleased to assume ; become 
' meek and lowly of heart,' like the divine Redeemer ; 
and in the midst of provocations, however great, must 
be ready cheerfully to say, ' Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do.' 

4. What exalted views does this subject present to 
us of the future state of the righteous. 

' In the resurrection,' says our Saviour to the Sad- 
ducees, ' the children of God shall be wxyy^oi, equal 
to the angels ;' or perhaps more properly, they shall be 
like the angels in attributes, station, and employments. 
Like the angels, they will possess endless youth, acti- 
vity, power, knowledge, and holiness; enjoy the same 
immortal happiness, dignity, and divine favour ; be 



lovely, beautiful, and glorious, in the sight of God ; 
and ' shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their 
Father.' Like the angels, shall they be sons, and 
kings, and priests to God, and live and reign with him 
for ever and ever. 

What a change must this be from the present weak- 
ness and guilt of man ; from sluggishness and ignorance, 
decay and death, sin and misery. What a wonderful 
display of the boundless compassion of God, to raise us 
from such a depth to such a height ! Can we hesitate 
to exclaim, ' This is love, passing all understanding.' 
Who would not, for these divine blessings, renounce the 
pleasures of sin ; and cheerfully bid adieu to all that 
avarice, ambition, and sensuality can boast! Who 
would not, with all the wise and good, cease at once 
from the sordid pursuits of sinners, and direct every 
view, desire, and effort, towards the state and character 
of angels, and the attainment of the same residence, 
employments, happiness, and glory. 

5. Wliat sublime views does this subject furnish us of 
the greatness of Christ. 

By him, says the text, were all these illustrious be- 
ings created, together with all their attributes, impor- 
tance, and dignity. The character of every workman 
is seen, of course, in the nature of the work which he 
has made. If this be insignificant and worthless, it ex- 
hibits nothing but the insignificance and worthlessness 
of the maker. If curious and excellent, if sublime and 
wonderful, it unfolds strongly and certainly, his great- 
ness, wisdom, and glory. Of what faculties are angels 
the subjects ! Of what intelligence, purity, power, love- 
liness, and elevation of mind I What, then, must be 
the perfections of him who contrived and formed an- 
gels ; who, with a word, called them into being •. who 
preserves, informs, directs, controls, and blesses them 
for ever. Great and excellent as they are, they are ex- 
hibited as ' unclean in his sight, and as charged with 
folly' before him. How amazing, then, must be the per- 
fection of his character ; how great, how wise, how good ! 



SERMON XX. 

CREATION THE FALLEN ANGELS. 



And the angels, who kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting 
chains, under darkness, unto the judgment of the great day Jude 6. 



In this passage we have a concise, but very interesting 
account of certain angels, who once dwelt in heaven. 
Created at first with all the excellencies of the angelic 
nature, placed in circumstances of the highest honour, 
arid enjoying the greatest happiness, they are here re- 
presented as having lost their character, and forfeited 
their honour and happiness. The nature and allot- 
ments of these angels, furnish the subject which next 
demands our attention in this System of Discourses. 

Before I enter on the consideration of this subject, it 
will be proper to take some notice of an opinion which 
has, chiefly within the two past centuries, been adopted 
concerning it, and advanced with confidence by persons 
of various descriptions : an opinion which, if true, would 



preclude the present Discourse as groundless and nu- 
gatory. It is this : that there are no such beings as 
fallen angels. Infidels have made the scriptural ac- 
count of these beings a formal objection against the 
truth and credibility of the Scriptures. Not a small 
number of men, professing themselves to be Christians, 
have partly yielded to the objection, and partly con- 
sidered the contrary doctrine as necessary to their par- 
ticular systems of theology. Thus, here, as in other 
cases, men apparently opposed to each other in the be- 
lief and denial of the Scriptures, have yet united in 
overthrowing their authority, and unsettling their cha- 
racter as a revelation. 

From the manner in which the doctrine has been op- 
o 



106 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xx'. 



posed, we should naturally argue unfavourably con- 
cerning the opposition. It has been most usually op- 
posed, not with sober argument, but with ridicule and 
sneers. A cause which needs this support is bad, of 
course, and is by its abettors seen to be bad ; for no 
man of common sense will ever resort to this feeble and 
ineffectual mode of attack or defence, when the surer, 
more rational, and more efficacious resort of sober ar- 
gument is in his power. 

If the existence of fallen angels is incredible, it must 
be so for one of the following reasons : — 

1. That it is not revealed sufficiently to command be- 
lief; and that, as we have no direct knowledge of invi- 
sible beings, aside from revelation, so, in this case, re- 
velation does not warrant us to admit their existence : 
or, 

2. There is some evidence in the nature of things 
which disproves their existence, or at least renders it 
highly improbable. 

Concerning the first of these methods of opposing the 
existence of fallen angels, I observe, that it has been 
very little resorted to by the opposers of this doctrine. 
Here, as in many other cases, revelation has been tried 
before the tribunal of philosophy. Men have supposed 
that their own judgment was a more unerring standard 
of faith and truth, than the Scriptures. That infidels 
should thus act is certainly to be expected, for this opin- 
ion is the basis of their system. However irrational, 
therefore, and indefensible their conduct may seem to 
us, we are certainly to feel no surprise when they re- 
sort to it, or rely upon it with confidence. But for this 
opinion, they could not retain their system for a mo- 
ment. 

But that men, professing to believe in the Scriptures 
as a divine revelation, should adopt this method of esta- 
blishing or refuting their declarations, is, to say the 
least, wonderful. Still it has in every age been more 
or less the conduct of persons who have professed this 
belief. It began to exist in the time of the apostles, and 
was boldly adopted in defiance of their authority and 
inspiration. The declarations of St Paul, relative to 
this subject, are ample proofs of the fact. The two first 
chapters of the First Epistle to the Corinthians are in 
a great measure employed on this subject. In them he 
informs us, that to the philosophical Greeks, who arro- 
gated to themselves the titles of 2o<po; and <I>/Aoo-o<p3/, 
Wise Men and Philosophers, the doctrine of the cross 
was ' foolishness.' This, therefore, was then a general 
decision of philosophy. Against the adoption of that 
philosophy, and the imitation of the men who professed 
it, he strongly cautions the Corinthian Christians, who 
were in no small danger from its imposing and deceit- 
ful influence. At the same time he informs them, that 
this ' foolishness,' as they termed it, ' of God, was wiser 
than men ;' that ' God had not chosen ' men of this cha- 
racter ' to call them ' to salvation, but men of an oppo- 
site character, who disclaimed the very ' words,' as well 
as the spirit of this philosophy ; men who, although de- 
spised and accounted as nothing by these vain, arro- 
gant philosophers, and their followers, were yet beloved 
of God, and the instruments of their salvation. He far- 
ther informs them, that ' the wisdom of this world is 
foolishness with God ;' and again declares, ' that the 
Lord knoweth the reasonings of the wise, that they are 
vain.' To the Colossians he writes, ' Beware lest any 
man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit ;' that 



is, vain and deceitful philosophy ; which, he declares, 
accorded with ' the traditions of men, and the rudi- 
ments of this world, but not with Christ.' Of course, 
it merited contempt on the one hand, and was fraught 
with danger on the other. 

From the age of the apostles to the present time, al- 
most every existing heresy has been derived from this 
source. The Scriptures were found by many men, and 
men too who were often distinguished by their inge- 
nuity, not to agree with their philosophy ; and, ot 
course, could not, in their opinion, be true, unless they 
could be bent to such an agreement. Those, therefore, 
who chose still to acknowledge the revelation of the 
Scriptures, employed themselves in helping out their 
character as a system of truth, and removing their sup- 
posed inconsistencies by new constructions, allegorical 
explanations, and generally by substituting what they 
ought to mean, for that which, according to the natural 
and proper force of language, they must mean. Those, 
on the contrary, who cared little about them, finding 
the doctrines which they contain to disagree with their 
own philosophy, denied their authority at once. Men 
of this class are, in my view, more rational, more self- 
consistent, and less injurious to the character of the 
Scriptures, than those of the other. For nothing can 
be more irrational, inconsistent, or injurious to the 
Scriptures, than to profess to receive them as a divine 
revelation, and at the same time to make human opi- 
nion the standard by which their declarations are to be 
tried. This is no other than to sit in judgment upon 
God himself, (who in this case is acknowledged to be 
the Author of the declarations) and to determine whe- 
ther he has spoken truth or falsehood. Must not angels 
wonder to see men thus employed ! 

The truth is, the doctrine in question is so often and 
so clearly asserted in the Scriptures, that the denial of 
it cannot be founded on them alone. All men act in 
this case as Dr Priestley has acted, in questioning the 
existence of the holy angels. In pursuing the doctrines 
of his peculiar system, he was led to doubt, and ulti- 
mately to deny, the immateriality of the human soul ; 
and roundly decided, that it was nothing but organized 
matter. Angels, he saw plainly, stood in the way of his 
arguments concerning this subject : for no mind pos- 
sesses sufficient ingenuity to render it even remotely 
probable that angels ai*e material. And as the human 
soul may as easily be supposed to be immaterial as an 
angel can be, there was no resort left to Dr Priestley, but 
to question the existence of angels altogether. This, 
therefore, he chose to do, notwithstanding the nume- 
rous express declarations of God to the contrary ; de- 
clarations as express as language will admit ; rather 
than give up a doctrine which he thought necessary to 
the support of his system. In this manner the Scrip- 
tures may be made to declare any thing. 

With respect to the second of these reasons, on which 
the existence of fallen angels is denied, viz. that there 
is some evidence in the nature of things, which dis- 
proves the existence of such beings, or at least renders 
it highly improbable, I observe, 

1. That the existence of angels, generally considered, 
is originally less improbable than that of men. 

To a rational being, unacquainted with the existence 
of either angels or men, pure spirits would seem more 
likely to be a part of the creation of God, than spirits 
united to bodies ; beings wholly rational, than beings 



THE FALLEN ANGELS. 



107 



partly rational and partly animal. God is a pure spi- 
rit. It is not rationally supposed, that in creating in- 
telligent beings, he would unite them to matter in such 
a manner as to form one being of both matter and 
mind ; but it is rationally supposed, that delighting as 
he does in his own manner of existence, he would cre- 
ate beings as much like himself as might be. In creat- 
ing man, a new difficulty concerning existence, a new 
mystery of philosophy, is presented to our contempla- 
tion ; viz. the union of soul and body, so accomplished 
as to constitute one percipient being. Should it be 
here observed, that philosophers, in denying the exist- 
ence of angels, whether virtuous or fallen, avoid this 
difficulty by denying also the existence of an immate- 
rial soul in man : I acknowledge that the objection is 
fairly alleged, as being founded in truth ; but I beg 
leave to subjoin, that in this very manner they intro- 
duce to us a new, more mysterious, and more perplex- 
ing doctrine ; a doctrine so mysterious as to be no other 
than a gross absurdity ; viz. the doctrine of cogitative 
or thinking matter. As I propose hereafter to discuss 
this subject at length, I shall dismiss it for the present 
without any farther remarks. 

2. That angels, after their creation, fell, involves no 
more difficulty than that which is involved in the fall of 
man. 

All that in the nature of the case appears necessary 
to accomplish the fall of any finite being is a sufficient 
temptation. Temptation, for aught that appears, may 
rise to any degree beneath infinite : and there is no 
more reason to suppose that the strength of an angel, 
or his habits of virtue, are sufficient to resist all possi- 
ble temptation, than to suppose that the strength of a 
man is sufficient. I speak here of such a man as Adam, 
who antecedently to the first temptation, was absolutely 
free from sin. The same temptation which would over- 
come the man, might not, and probably would not, 
overcome the angel ; but a temptation sufficiently in- 
creased to bear an equal proportion to his disposition 
to resist, might overcome him, and undoubtedly would : 
nor is there any apparent proof that God is any more 
obliged to secure an angel from falling, than to secure 
a man. 

3. That fallen angels, if permitted, should act in the 
affairs of mankind, is attended with no more improba- 
bility, than that virtuous angels should thus act 

Virtuous angels are declared to be ' all ministering 
spirits, sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation ;' 
and are, throughout the Scriptures, exhibited as being 
really, continually, and extensively concerned in the 
affairs of the present world. With the same clearness 
are fallen angels also declared to be thus employed. 

Nor is there any presumption against this interfe- 
rence of either. We, it is true, could not know this 
fact, unless it were declared to us, or unless we were to 
become acquainted with it by experimental evidence. 
But that the rational inhabitants of one world should 
be interested in the concerns of another, and if allowed 
by God thus to act, interfere in them in a manner suit- 
ed to their respective dispositions, is in a high degree 
probable. We, certainly, if we were able, and were 
permitted to visit the planetary worlds, should take 
such a part in the important concerns of their inhabi- 
tants as suited our dispositions. If we were governed 
by benevolent motives, we should save or relieve them, 
so far as was in our power, from dangers and suffer- 



ings ; if by malevolent ones, we should promote their 
disti-ess and ruin. We do in reality thus act in this 
world, not in our own affairs only, but in those of others ; 
in the affairs of strangers as well as of our friends, and 
of those in distant nations and countries, as well as our 
own. But there is nothing more unnatural or impro- 
bable in our interference, if it were permitted, in the 
concerns of distant worlds, than in those of distant 
nations. 

4. There is no more difficulty in supposing, that the 
fallen angels accomplish evil in the divine kingdom, 
than that fallen men do the same. 

It is indeed originally improbable, that either men 
or angels should accomplish evil in the divine kingdom ; 
or universally, that evil should exist at all. But since 
we know that it does exist, there is no more perceivable 
difficulty in attributing it to one class of intelligent 
creatures than to another. Nor is there any explana- 
tion of the agency of men in producing evil, which may 
not be applied in a manner equally satisfactory to that 
of angels. 

5. That angels should communicate thoughts, either 
good or evil, to mankind, is originally no more impro- 
bable than that we should communicate them to each 
other. 

We do this daily and hourly in many ways which are 
familiar to us by experience, but which were originally 
unimaginable by ourselves, and probably by any other 
finite beings. We show our thoughts to each other by 
words, tones, gestures, silence, hieroglyphics, pictures, 
letters, and many other things. All these, antecedent 
to our experience of them, were hidden in absolute 
darkness from our conception. If all mankind had 
been born dumb, no man would have entertained a sin- 
gle thought concerning the communication of ideas by 
speech. The conveyance of thoughts by looks also, if 
never experienced by us, would have been necessarily 
deemed mysterious and impossible. Yet very many 
thoughts are thus conveyed by every person living, and 
with very great force, and frequently with entire preci- 
sion. Nay, the countenance often discloses the whole 
character at once. 

That angels communicate their thoughts to each other, 
we know, because the Scriptures have declared the fact ; 
that they may communicate them to us, we have no 
solid reason to doubt. Of the mode of communication 
in either case we know nothing, and are unable to con- 
jecture any thing but what is idle and useless. But that 
they may convey thoughts into our minds, as well as 
understand those which arise in them, contravenes no 
analogy and no evidence. 

Should it be said, that when we communicate thoughts 
to each other, we are conscious of the act by which the 
thoughts are communicated to us, and of the presence 
and agency of the communicator ; but that we are con- 
scious in no instance of communication from angels, 
and never perceive their presence or agency ; whence it 
is reasonably concluded, that angels do not convey 
thoughts to our minds : I admit the declaration as just, 
but deny the inference derived from it by the objector. 
There is no proof from any thing with which we are 
acquainted, that thoughts cannot be conveyed to us by a 
being, of whose presence and agency in conveying them 
we are not conscious. t 

In the Scriptures we are informed abundantly that 
God, by his Holy Spirit, communicates thoughts to 



108 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser xx. 



mankind. But it is certain that we have no conscious- 
ness of his presence and agency, in communicating 
them. Of the thoughts themselves we are indeed con- 
scious, but not of the source whence they are derived. 
The same doctrine, for aught that appears, is equally 
applicable to our reception of thoughts from angels. 

6. If good angels may with propriety be supposed 
to promote our obedience ; evil angels may with the 
same propriety be supposed to prompt us to disobe- 
dience. 

If the agency of these two classes of beings should be 
exactly balanced, it is plain that we could suffer no in- 
jury. There is no reason to conclude, however, that 
the influence of good angels does not upon the whole 
overbalance that of evil ones. But all that is necessary 
to vindicate God. in the case supposed (if even this is 
necessary) is, that we be not upon the whole subjected 
by their joint agency to any disadvantage. That we 
are thus subjected the Scriptures furnish us not a single 
reason to believe ; nor can it be reasonably believed, 
unless perhaps where judicial blindness is inflicted as a 
punishment on an obstinate sinner. On the contrary, 
there is sufficient reason to conclude, from the mercy of 
God, as unfolded in the Scriptures, that he always 
causes the scale in this case to preponderate in our fa- 
vour. 

Thus have I considered all the material objections 
which I think of, against the existence and agency of 
angels, particularly evil ones, suggested by human phi- 
losophy ; and, if I mistake not, have proved them to be 
unfounded. I proceed therefore to a particular con- 
sideration of the doctrines contained in the text. 

In this passage of Scripture we are informed, 

I. That after the angels were created, a part of them 
kept not their first estate : 

II. That they left their own habitation : 

III. That they are confined in chains under dark- 
ness : and, 

IV. That they are reserved in this state unto the 
judgment of the great day. 

These propositions I shall briefly examine in the 
order specified. 

I. After the angels were created, a part of them kept 
not their first estate. 

The angels who fell were in the first estate of the 
same rank and character, engaged in the same employ- 
ments, and possessed of the same happiness, Avhich was 
enjoyed by their virtuous companions. Accordingly, 
they are described by the same names in 1 Cor. xv. 24, 
and Ephes. vil 10, This doctrine is also clearly indi- 
cated in the text ; wherein the original it is said, ' that 
they kept not their principality,' instead of ' their first 
estate,' as it is improperly rendered in our Bible. All 
these blessings however they lost by rebelling against 
God, Of this. great and wonderful event, a revolt in 
the heavenly world, and among the highest order of cre- 
ated beings, we have no regular history in the Scrip- 
tures. Still we are abundantly assured by them, that it 
actually took place. By various declarations, allusions, 
and hints, contained in them, we are taught that Satan, 
an angel of pre-eminent distinction in heaven, rebelled, 
under the influence of pride and ambition, against his 
Maker. In this deplorable enterprise, we farther learn, 
that multitudes-of the heavenly host united with him; 
and with the same disposition violated the law, and re- 
volted from the government, of God, That pride and 



ambition were especially the sins by which Satan and 
his companions fell, is I think sufficiently evident from 
1 Tim. iii. 6, where St Paul, speaking of a bishop, says, 
' he must not be a novice,' vsoQvtov, a new convert, ' lest, 
being puffed up with pride, he fall into the condemna- 
tion of the devil.' In this passage it is plainly asserted, 
that the devil was condemned for his pride ; and it is 
fairly presumable, that the same sin was the source of 
condemnation to his companions. The revolt appears 
to have been but one, to have existed at one time, and 
to have united those who shared in it, in the same guilt, 
as well as in the same undertaking. 

II. They left their own habitation. 

By this phraseology heaven is perhaps intended, or 
that happy world in which all the angels were originally 
united together around the throne, and in the peculiar 
presence of God. If this sense be admitted, as by most 
persons it probably will be, then it would seem that they 
voluntarily deserted this happy place, and chose to with- 
draw themselves from its glorious blessings, rather than 
continue under the government from which they were 
derived. If oixyiryi^iov, the Greek word which is ren- 
dered ' habitation,' denotes, as some divines have sup- 
posed, some other residence or station assigned them in 
some other world ; then it would seem that they left this 
residence, and the principality or government, that is, 
the office or station which they held, refusing to perform 
the duty assigned them by their Creator. In either 
case they were shut out of heaven ; and as St Peter in- 
forms us, were cast out by a final banishment from God, 
and were never more permitted to return to their for- 
mer habitation. They had despised and disturbed the 
happiness of heaven, and therefore were permitted to 
enjoy it no more. They were discontented with their 
blessings, therefore they were taken from them. They 
had revolted from their God, therefore he cast them off'. 

III. They are confined in chains under darkness. 

' Darkness' is a state obviously suitable for beings to 
whom the light of heaven was unsatisfactory and odious ; 
and ' chains ' are most proper for beings, whose proud 
and wanton wishes were discontented with the ' glorious 
liberty of the sons of God.' Both also united, form a 
degradation eminently fitted for beings who, at the head 
of the created universe, were impatiently ambitious of a 
higher station. Both at the same time constitute a pro- 
per temporary punishment for beings who rebelled 
against the government of God himself, who kindled 
discord even in heaven, and to whom all their exalted 
blessings stood for nothing, while any higher and richer 
blessings remained. 

IV. They are reserved unto the judgment of the great 
day. 

The punishment and degradation of these evil beings 
are not completed. They will hereafter be tried and 
condemned, for all the evils which they will have 
wrought or attempted, during the continuance of this 
earthly system. These evils, however gratifying to them 
in the perpetration, will after the judgment return upon 
their own heads ; and instead of the triumph for which 
they hoped and laboured, will cover them with eternal 
shame, and overwhelm them in endless ruin. The chains 
which they now wear are literally everlasting, and will 
confine them unto the judgment, so that they cannot es- 
cape ; and will confine^them for ever in the sufferance of 
that misery to which they have destined themselves by 
a voluntary devotion. 



THE FALLEN ANGELS. 



109 



Such, generally, is the scriptural account of the cha- 
racter and allotment of evil angels. It will be proper 
to add a few more particulars derived from the same 
source. The leader or prince of these evil beings, was 
the tempter of our first parents ; the author of all the 
miseries, and an instrumental cause of all the sins, which 
have followed that dreadful event. The same disposi- 
tion which manifested itself in his rebellion in the hea- 
venly world, was here directed in the same manner 
against the government of his Maker: a disposition 
compounded of malice, baseness, and treachery. Hence 
he is styled in the Scriptures, ' the adversary,' the ca- 
lumniator, ' the father of lies, the destroyer, a murderer, 
and a liar from the beginning.' All his followers sus- 
tain the same dreadful and detestable character. So far 
as has been in their power, they have' deceived, betray- 
ed, and destroyed the race of men ; have been uniformly 
the enemies of God and mankind ; have tempted them 
unceasingly to sin, and have especially persecuted and 
distressed the children of God. They powerfully excit- 
ed the persecution and crucifixion of the Redeemer, and 
the sufferings of his apostles and their followers. PVom 
that time to the present they have unceasingly pursued 
the same malignant course ; and will hereafter, so far as 
they are permitted, delude, distress, and destroy unto 
the end of the world. 

REJIARKS. 

1. In this passage we find a short but affecting ac- 
count of one of the most stupendous events which have 
taken place in the universe. 

A vast multitude of intelligent beings of the first 
order in the divine kingdom, excelling all other orders 
in knowledge, power, and splendour, and unrivalled in 
the favour of God, rose up in rebellion against their 
Creator, Benefactor, and Sovereign ; lost their pristine 
honour and happiness, their primeval virtue and dig- 
nity ; sank down to the depths of sin, shame, and mis- 
ery, and incurred the endless hatred and contempt of all 
good beings. 

From this singular and amazing event, many interest- 
ing truths may be learned by us. 

(1.) No created faculties, no finite holiness or happi- 
ness, furnish sufficient inducements to prevent creatures 
from apostasy. Angels fell. All others therefore may 
fall ; and, if left to themselves, will fall. The true rea- 
son why ' the spirits of just men made perfect, and the 
innumerable company of holy angels,' persevere in their 
obedience is evidently, I think, not their own inherent 
perfection, but the promise of God, and his almighty 
power especially exerted to secure them from sin. 
Without this safeguard they would, at least to my view, 
be utterly unsafe, and plainly exposed to destruction. 
We cannot but see, therefore, with what forcible pro- 
priety our Saviour has taught us to pray ' after this 
manner. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us 
from evil.' If angels needed a continual exertion of 
divine power to preserve them from falling, how much 
more do we, frail and feeble as we are, prone by nature 
to sin, and easily overcome by temptation, need the same 
exertions for our daily and hourly safety. How con- 
stantly and earnestly ought we to offer up these peti- 
tions. How unceasingly ought we to beseech God to 
' keep our feet from falling, our eyes from tears, and our 
souls from death ;' and to implore the influence of his 
holy and good Spirit to make ' the meditations of our 



hearts and the words of our mouths, acceptable in his 
sight.' He only can preserve the bruised reed from 
falling asunder, and the dimly burning flax from being 
extinguished in everlasting darkness. 

(2.) We are here taught that pride could disturb the 
peace and happiness of heaven, and prove the cause of 
endless ruin to a multitude of its inhabitants. How 
great an evil then is pride ! It overcast in a moment all 
the beautiful and eternal prospects, it eclipsed in a mo- 
ment all the splendour, virtue, and dignity of angels. 
What a vast, what an immeasurable ruin did it here ac- 
complish ! What a change did it make in the universe ! 
What an amazing change did it produce in those by 
whom it was exercised ! How ought we then to tremble 
at the indulgence of pride, the sin to which we are pro- 
bably more prone than to any other ! More or less, it 
occupies every heart ; manifests itself in all the conduct 
of the children of men, and intrudes itself into their 
piety, their benevolence, their prayers, their songs, their 
alms, their humility, and their repentance. If angels 
were so odious in the sight of God on account of their 
pride, how odious must we be ! If they were ruined by 
it for ever, what will become of us ! 

(3.) AVe are further taught that no creatures are so 
necessary or important to God, as to be secure from his 
anger, when they sin against him. Angels sinned, and 
were destroyed. Who then, if found of the same cha- 
racter, will escape ? Men often satisfy themselves that 
they are safe in the falsely-intended reflection, ' that 
God never made men to damn them.' I have used the 
words which I have frequently heard used to express this 
miserable refuge of lies. It is undoubtedly true, in the 
strictest sense, that God never created either man or any 
other beings for this end ; but it is equally true, that he 
has created men and angels also, who, after they were 
created, sinned ; and who, for their sin, were condemn- 
ed to final perdition. The phraseology, apparently true, 
is substantially false, and is used only for the purpose 
of deceiving ourselves and others. The angels might 
certainly have used this language with more seeming 
force and justice than we can ; but it could not save 
them, and therefore certainly cannot save us. 

The number of wicked men, relied on in no small 
degree as a foundation of hope and safety, is merely a 
foundation of sand. The number of the wicked angels 
did not avail them at all. Every one of the rebels was 
destroyed as absolutely, as if no other had been concern- 
ed in the rebellion. Their number also was immensely 
great ; and one of them was of more worth and impor- 
tance than many men united. 

(4.) The punishment of the evil angels is not disci- 
plinary. They have been already punished at least six 
thousand years ; yet instead of being reformed, they 
have grown worse continually ; and will grow worse, 
not only till the day of judgment, but probably for ever. 
The Scriptures inform us that the punishment of evil 
angels is the same with that of evil men. The punish- 
ment of evil men therefore is not disciplinary, but 
punishment properly so called ; punishment designed to 
reward the sins, not to amend the characters of either 
angels or men. Both are hopeless of amendment ; yet 
both may be useful, although dreadful, examples to the 
rest of the universe. There is not a reason to believe 
that a sin was ever renounced, or p, sinner reform- 
ed, except by the almighty power of the Spirit of 
grace. 



. 



110 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



LSer. 



2. We learn from these observations, that opposition 
to God is supremely odious and deformed. 

This is the fundame ntal characteristic of apostasy in 
both angels and men. Of this the diabolical character 
is made up. How odious and deformed is it most justly 
accounted ! How false, how malicious, how cruel, how 
base, how detestable ! Let it be remembered that all 
opposition to God is, in nature and substance, the same ; 
and that it differs not in kind, but merely in degree. 

3. In how many respects do wicked men resemble 
wicked angels. 

Like them, do wicked men exalt themselves against 
God, hate his government, oppose his designs, and re- 
vile his character ; inflate themselves with pride, mur- 
mur at their own allotments, covet the enjoyments of 
others, corrupt their fellow creatures, tempt them to ini- 
quity, and defraud them of endless life. Like them do 
they hate, envy, injure, calumniate, and destroy. How 
much of the history of this great world has resembled a 
history of fiends. How much of it has been a history 
of falsehood, fraud, treachery, pollution, slanders, con- 
tentions, murders, oppression, slaughter, irreligion, im- 
piety, profaneness, and blasphemy. How readily have 
evil men, like evil angels, undertaken to rival God : and 
demanded the homage, worship, and obedience due to 
him alone. 

How laboriously do infidel writers, even now, oppose 
their Maker and their Redeemer; and strive 1o shut 
both their fellow men and themselves out of heaven. 
Particularly, with what frequency and constancy do they 
repeat the very falsehood, which was first told to the 
parents of mankind : ' Although ye disobey God, ye 
shall not surely die.' How continually do wicked men 



by argument, ridicule, eloquence, and example, tempt 
each other to sin against God ! How great a part of 
their life and labours do multitudes spend in this em- 
ployment ! Where can we find a moral distinction be- 
tween this conduct, and that of fallen angels ? 

4. The same punishment which is reserved for evil 
angels, is accordingly reserved for evil men. 

This punishment was ' prepared ' at first, ' for the 
devil and his angels.' But Christ the final judge of the 
quick and the dead has informed us, that impenitent men 
shall, at the great day, stand with them on the left hand, 
be included in the same sentence, and depart to the 
same place of torment. Both will have been embarked 
in one cause, will have sustained one character, and will 
therefore share in one allotment of woe. Perhaps there 
is not a more affecting, more overwhelming considera- 
tion to a serious mind than this : that evil men will 
hereafter be confined in the same habitation with these 
hateful beings, who are possessed of a disposition to do 
every thing which is injurious to God and their fellow 
creatures, and to perpetrate all the crimes dictated by 
malice, cruelty, deceit, and revenge. To be imprisoned 
in this world with a collection of abandoned villains ; to 
be hated and despised, deceived and betrayed, op- 
pressed and insulted, wounded to the soul with unceasing 
cruelty and treachery, and broken down by scorn and 
insolence, even for our present, momentary life, would 
I think be a lot sufficiently dreadful to lacerate the soul 
with agony. What then must be the nature and misery 
of a confinement with these powerful, active, sagacious 
beings ; whose minds are all malice, fraud, and cruelty ; 
and whose endless being is only a succession of rage, 
revenge, and despair. 



SERMON XXL 

CREATION THE EARTH. 



In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. — Gen. i. 1. 



In the four preceding Sermons, I have briefly consi- 
dered the several things intended in the Jewish use of the 
word Heaven ; and made some observations concerning 
the character and circumstances of those beings, who 
either are or have been inhabitants of the supreme hea- 
ven. The next subject of examination in our progress, 
is the world which we inhabit. 

In the history given by Moses of this great work, we 
are informed, 

1. That together with the rest of the material system, 
it was made of nothing ; or in other words, the mate- 
rials were brought into existence, of which the world 
was afterwards composed. That we might be at no loss 
concerning this truth, Moses has taught it distinctly in 
Gen. ii. 3 ; where he informs us, that ' God rested from 
all his works, which he created and made ;' or, as in the 
original, created to make. Of the energy by which this 
mighty effort was accomplished, the Psalmist gives us a 
most sublime conception, when he says, concerning the 
Creator, that ' he spake, and it was done ; he command- 
ed, and it stood fast.' These materials, as they were 



first brought into being, were originally a mere mass of 
confusion ; in the language of the divine writer, ' with- 
out form and void ;' and are styled successively, ' the 
earth, the waters, and the deep.' 

2. The first element separated from the chaos was 
light, the most wonderful and the most useful of all ma- 
terial objects. At this time it seems not to have been 
gathered into any common receptacle, as, according to 
the received philosophy, it is at the present time ; but to 
have been diffused extensively through the universe. It 
is possible that this may now be its real state ; and that 
the sun and stars, instead of being in themselves lumi- 
nous, may merely possess the power of originating its 
motion and direction. That period of darkness which 
intervened between the creation of the chaos and the 
production of light, and that period of light which pre- 
ceded the next return of darkness, constituted the first 
day. In reference to this event, the Israelites were 
commanded to celebrate their sabbath < from evening to 
evening,' this being the true course of a natural day. 

3. The next event in this great work was the consti- 



THE EARTH. 



Ill 



tution of the firmament, and a division of the chaotic 
mass into two great parts, one beneath and one above 
the firmament. This was the work of the second day. 

4. This was followed by tbe separation of the land 
from the waters ; the land being named earth, and the 
great collection of waters, seas. 

To this immediately succeeded the creation of grass 
and herbs, of shrubs and trees. These were all formed 
with the power of re-production, and of continuing their 
respective kinds in this manner to the end of the world. 
By a wonderful process of vegetation, they were enabled 
to yield, each its own proper seed : a minute particle, 
which, being committed to the earth, a plant of the same 
nature and properties regularly springs up, and gradu- 
ally advances to its perfection. Thus vegetables have 
existed in every age, of the same kinds, which were 
formed on the third day of the creation ; and have ever 
constituted much of the food of both men and animals, 
and not a little part of the pleasures enjoyed by both. 
With the creation of these terminated the third day. 

5. On the fourth day were created the lights of heaven, 
particularly the sun and moon. As I have heretofore 
considered these, in the discourse on the heavens, it will 
be unnecessary to repeat here what I have so lately said. 

j I shall therefore confine myself to a few additional ob- 
servations. 

These luminaries were set in the firmament of heaven, 
to divide the day from the night ; and to be for signs 
and for seasons, for days and for years. Accordingly, 
they have been the great means of distributing time from 
the beginning, into all its important divisions ; enabling 
1 us to form the chronology of the world, to ascertain the 
order and connexion of all historical events, and to re- 
gulate by correct dates our various useful business. 

The sun at the same time is the great fountain of light 
to this world, and to all those which are united in our 
system ; and thus enables the inhabitants to pursue suc- 
cessfully their necessary employments. It is the parent 
also of that universal vegetation with which the earth is 
so beautifully adorned, and on which we are so obvious- 
ly dependent for the existence of health, comfort, and 
life. Not less absolutely, and still more immediately, 
is our life, together with our activity, dependent on the 
presence, warmth, and energy of this fountain of light. 
In a word, whatever lives and moves, lives and moves 
by the influence of the sun ; and without his presence, 
eternal night, and eternal winter, would reign with 
boundless desolation over this habitable globe. 

The moon also is inestimably useful to mankind in 
the beautiful light which she gives by night, in the im- 
portant changes which she accomplishes in the ocean 
and the atmosphere ; and in becoming, in connexion 
with the other luminaries of heaven, the source of a 
great part of our skill in navigation, and our knowledge 
of geography and astronomy. 

C. When the earth was thus prepared to be a habita- 
tion of living beings, God said, on the morning of the 
fifth day, ' Let the waters bring forth abundantly the 
moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly 
above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.' Im- 
mediately the ocean and the air were filled with their 
respective inhabitants. The innumerable useful and 
delightful purposes which they were destined to accom- 
plish, and which accordingly they have accomplished 
to the present time, it will be unnecessary to particu- 
larize on the present occasion. 



7. On the sixth and last day of the creation, the earth 
was replenished with the four-footed beasts, and creep- 
ing things, by which it has been ever since inhabited. 
These also, so useful to man, and so indispensable to his 
comfortable existence, are so well known as not to de- 
mand any account of their nature, or destination from 
me. 

8. All these works of the divine hand were severally 
pronounced by their great Author to be very good. Such 
indeed was the original nature of them all. This world 
was formed to be a delightful residence. Its surface was 
beautiful, its soil fertile without decay, its seasons vernal, 
its atmosphere, waters, and productions, pregnant with 
life ; and all its inhabitants pacific, useful, and happy. 
In the country of Eden, ' the Lord God planted also a 
garden,' to become the appropriate residence of the first 
man ; and here ' he made to grow every tree that is 
pleasant to the sight, and good for food.' This para- 
dise was the beautiful metropolis of a beautiful world. 



From these observations we learn, 

1. How mighty and majestic a work was the creation 
of this world. 

The earth is a vast and solid globe, composed of par- 
ticles so small as to be imperceptible to us, united by 
the energy which called them into being, and holden 
together by the same energy in a manner wholly incom- 
prehensible. This globe is ' hung upon nothing ;' and 
moved through the fields of ether with amazing velocity, 
and yet with* infinite ease, by the hand of its Creator. 
Too great to be moved at all, perhaps, by all created 
intelligences, it has yet for many thousand years been 
rolled on with perfect ease by him ' who fainteth not, 
neither is weary.' It has also moved always in its own 
place, and in perfect harmony with other worlds. Its 
motion at the same time is so regular and undisturbed, 
as to be imperceptible to its inhabitants ; and yet so 
rapid, as to outrun every human conception. 

In a manner not less wonderful, it turns its face con- 
tinually to the sun ; and derives light, and warmth, and 
energy, for the comfort of its inhabitants, the produc- 
tion of its fruits, and the accomplishment of the business 
allotted to the race of man. 

How expressive of infinite power were the acts of 
calling it into being, uniting its parts, preserving its 
structure, moving it through the boundless void, and 
regulating with perfect harmony all its various affec- 
tions. 

How expressive of infinite wisdom is the endless di- 
versity of beings which it contains ; their structure, 
qualities, and uses ; their relations and dependences, 
their wants and supplies, their endlessly various beauty, 
novelty, and grandeur. 

Nor is infinite goodness less wonderfully manifested 
by the bounty everywhere displayed in providing for 
the least as well as the greatest ; in making the least, 
that it might be provided for, and in giving to each its 
own peculiar happiness. How evidently are all these 
things the work of a God I 

2. How wonderful is the order of things which was 
established at the creation. 

This subject may be advantageously divided into two 
parts : the order of things which is permanent, and that 
which is subject to perpetual revolutions. 

Of the former class are the stable position of the globe 



112 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Si 



at given distances from the heavenly bodies, the position 
of its poles, its regular motions round its axis and round 
the sun, by which the revolutions of the seasons, and the 
returns of day and night are accomplished ; the steady 
attractions of gravitation and cohesion, which produce 
the stability of the earth itself, and all its great affections. 
All these are indispensable to the existing state of the 
world and its inhabitants. The order of these things 
I call permanent, although subject to many changes, and 
in several instances a mere series of changes ; because 
they are stable, regular, and unvarying in their na- 
ture. 

The other and more mutable course of things respects 
the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms ; the state 
of the atmosphere, the ocean, and the surface of the 
earth. These all are subjects of unceasing changes ; and 
several of them of continual decay, and continual reno- 
vation. Plants and animals are formed to renew and 
perpetuate their kinds through an indefinite period; and 
were the date of the earth to be sufficiently protracted, 
to continue them for ever. Nor are mineral substances, 
so far as they are liable to decay, unprovided with the 
means of reproduction. Stones decay, and return to 
earth ; and earth is petrified or hardened into stone. 
Ores are supposed to be exhausted and renewed. Gems 
and other beautiful substances are multiplied, and worn 
out. Soils are furnished anew for the most luxuriant 
vegetation. The ocean is also, in a sense, emptied and 
filled again. From that great storehouse of waters, va- 
pour perpetually ascends, and is discharged on the earth 
in rain, snow, and hail, in mists and dews ; while the 
earth, through its various channels, returns again its 
tribute of waters to the ocean. Thus in the language 
of the wisest of men : 

* Generation goeth, and generation cometh ! 
But the earth doth ever abide. 
The sun also risetli, the sun also setteth, 
And hasteth to the place where it rose ; 
It passeth to the south ; again it circleth to the north. 
Round and round goeth the wind, 
And ever repeateth its circuits. 
All the rivers run down into the sea, 
Yet the 6eadoth not overflow: 
To the place, whence the rivers go forth, 
To the 6ame, to flow again, do they return. 
All the things thus at their task, no man can recount ; 
The eye would not be able to behold them, 
Nor would the ear be competent to hear them.' 

3. How wonderful are the uses of the various things 
which constitute this earthly system. 

How important to mankind is the mineral kingdom ! 
How indispensable is the soil for vegetation, the stones 
and clay for building, the peat and coal for fuel, the 
metals for all the necessary and elegant arts of life, and 
for the existence of almost every thing which we name 
a convenience, or a comfort. Iron alone is indispensa- 
ble to the employments, and even to the existence of 
civilized life. Without it agriculture, commerce, arts, 
and science, would dwindle speedily into nothing ; and, 
but for its aid, would never have been. To minerals 
also we are indebted for medicines of the most valuable 
nature, indispensable to the restoration of health, and 
the continuance of life. 

What then shall be said of the vegetable kingdom ; of 
grass, as food for cattle ; and herbs and grain, as the food 
of men ; of the flax, cotton, and hemp, with which we 
are clothed ; of trees, as the materials of fuel, building, 
and fencing ; and as the means of accomplishing a mul- 



titude of other purposes, equally demanded by necessity 
and comfort. 

Finally, what shall be said of the animal kingdom ; 
of the horse, the ox, the cow, the camel, and the sheep ; 
of the furry tribes, and the silk-worm : all of which so 
largely contribute either to the husbandry of man, his 
food, his clothing, or his pleasure. 

Nor ought we, in considering the nature of earthly 
things, to forget them as the delightful means of beauty 
and grandeur. Were all the interesting diversities of 
colour and form to disappear, how unsightly, dull, and 
wearisome would be the aspect of the world. The 
pleasures conveyed to us by the endless varieties with 
which these sources of beauty are presented to the eye, 
are so much things of course, and exist so much without 
intermission, that we scarcely think either of their na- 
ture, their number, or the great proportion which they 
constitute in the whole mass of our enjoyment But 
were an inhabitant of this country removed from its 
delightful scenery, to the midst of an Arabian desert ; a 
boundless expanse of sand, a waste spread with uniform 
desolation, enlivened by the murmur of no stream, and 
cheered by the beauty of no verdure ; although he 
might live in a palace, and riot in splendour and luxury, 
he would, 1 think, find life a dull, wearisome, melancholy 
round of existence ; and amid all his gratifications, 
would sigh for the hills and valleys of his native land, 
the brooks and rivers, the living lustre of the spring, 
and the rich glories of the autumn. The ever-varying 
brilliancy and grandeur of the landscape, and the mag- 
nificence of the sky, sun, moon, and stars, enter more 
extensively into the enjoyment of mankind than we per- 
haps ever think, or can possibly apprehend, without fre- 
quent and extensive investigation. This beauty and 
splendour of the objects around us, it is ever to be re- 
membered, is not necessary to their existence, nor to 
what we commonly intend by their usefulness. It is 
therefore to be regarded as a source of pleasure, gratui- 
tously superinduced upon the general nature of the ob- 
jects themselves ; and in this light, as a testimony of the 
divine goodness, peculiarly affecting. 

Still more deeply ought we to regard this part of the 
creation as exhibiting, in the most convincing manner, 
the being and agency of God How plainly, how de- 
lightfully, how solemnly is this glorious Being seen 
every where in these works of his hands. All these 
changes are the result of a cause adequate to their pro- 
duction. The living, acting thing, called man, is never 
directly perceived by other men. We see motions, and 
know that there is one who moves. We hear a voice, 
and know that there is one who speaks. We perceive 
actions, and know that there is an agent who gives them 
birth. This agent we denominate man. So in every 
place, in every thing, and during every moment, we be- 
hold, throughout the creation, a perpetual progress of 
most wonderful events ; and know that an agent to us 
invisible, but adequate to their production, effectuates 
them all. This agent we call God ; and discern his 
being, character, and presence, as directly and clearly 
as we discern the being, character, and presence of man. 
Thus all things hold out to every attentive eye, the liv- 
ing, acting, governing Jehovah. 

At the same time, this earthly system strongly displays 
the anger of God against the sins of men. Amidst all 
these pleasing manifestations of the Creator, the world 
around us furnishes also many proofs of his displeasure 



THE EARTH. 



11^ 



The storm plunges multitudes in the deep. The light- 
ning destroys its victims in a moment. The famine 
sweeps its millions to the grave. The volcano over- 
whelms towns and cities with deluges of fire. The pes- 
tilence, ' walking in darkness,' drives before it whole 
nations into eternity : while death, both with and with- 
out the aid of these ministers, empties, once in thirty 
years, the world of its inhabitants. What awful, as well 
as decisive proofs are here furnished, that the Maker of 
all things regards our race with severe and terrible dis- 
pleasure. How solemnly do they impress this humilia- 
ting truth upon every serious mind. How forcibly do 
they summon us to repent and reform, that we may find 
mercy ! 

There is still another point of view, in which these 
works ought to be remembered on the present occasion. 
Every thing in creation and providence appears not only 
to be useful, but to have many uses, and to answer very 
many purposes. God, so far as we can understand his 
agency, accomplishes his ends by the most direct, the 
simplest, and the fewest means. 

' In human works, though labouring on with pain, 
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain; 
In God's, one single can its end produce, 
Yet serves to second, too, some other use.' * 

Thus water and iron become means of ends innumer- 
able. The latter enters, to a vast extent, into almost all 
human arts and concerns : while the former is almost 
everywhere diffused through the great system of bene- 
fits which God has provided for mankind. 

A great part of the usefulness found in the objects of 
this world, arises from the order established among 
them, andmentioned under a former head of discourses. 
From this order springs all the forecast of the human 
mind. By observing the regular succession of causes 
and effects around us, we le.irn to judge with a good de- 
gree of correctness, from past events, concerning those 
which are future. The nature of the seasons, exhibited 
in their past revolutions, teaches us how to prepare our- 
selves against both heat and cold ; to sow our seed in the 
spring, and gather our harvests in the summer and 
autumn ; to shelter ourselves from the inclemencies of 
the sky, to make the necessary provision for ourselves 
and our families, and to adjust universally, the arts and 
business of life. By the regularity of the system, all our 
profitable employments are wholly directed. Without 
this guide we could plan nothing, we could accomplish 
nothing ; and should literally be unable to conjecture 
what a day, an hour, or a moment, would bring forth. 
Our existence would be a mere succession of accidents. 
Nor can we conceive how, in such a state, any means 
could be furnished, by which we might either enjoy com- 
fort, or prolong our lives. 

From the same source arises, in a chief measure, that 
full, unanswerable proof of the existence and character 
of God, which is presented by these works of his hands. 
The wisdom of God is principally seen in the design and 
contrivance exhibited throughout the globe. But con- 
trivance and design appear only in the adaptation of 
means to ends : and wisdom is visible only in the choice 
of good ends, and of fit means to accomplish them. I 
have already remarked, that without this regularity, our 
existence would be a mere succession of accidents. This 
would be equally true of the whole course of events. 

* E say on 'Man, port i. line 53. 



There would be, visibly, neither means nor ends. If 
second causes existed, they would be unperceived ; and 
their efficacy, being continually variable, could never be 
discerned. All things, therefore, would naturally be at- 
tributed to chance. Who then would be able to refute 
the doctrines of Epicurus, or to prove satisfactorily the 
perfections or even the existence of God ? 

4. How interesting an object is the destination of this 
world, 

The earth was designed to be the habitation of immor- 
tal beings, whose numbers the human mind is unable to 
limit. Every one of these is an heir, either of endless 
happiness or endless woe. All of them also liave aposta- 
tized from God, and exposed themselves to final con- 
demnation. In this state of things, this world became 
the theatre of the most wonderful works, which, so far as 
our knowledge extends, have ever existed. The Son of 
God descended from heaven, and, passing by the angels, 
'took upon him the seed of Abraham ;' suffered the dis- 
tresses of an humble persecuted life ; died on the cross, 
and was buried in the grave, to expiate the sins of men. 
In consequence of this expiation, the Spirit of truth has 
here shed his renewing influence on the human soul ; 
and has sanctified, and will hereafter sanctify, a multi- 
tude which no man can number, ' of all nations, kind- 
reds, and tongues.' All these, ' by a patient continu- 
ance in well-doing, will seek for glory, honour, and im- 
mortality ;' and will find a new, ' eternal, life.' By their 
union to Christ, and their interest in his mediation, they 
will hereafter become, together with the angels who kept 
their first estate, inhabitants of the supreme heaven, and 
attendants upon the throne of God. This is a destiny to 
which, so far as we are informed, no other virtuous 
beings will ever be raised. Thus this world is a scene 
of transactions, such as probably never existed in any 
other : and its inhabitants are heirs of glory and happi- 
ness, in which they will be rivalled only by the angels of 
God. 

5. These considerations exhibit the unreasonableness 
of several objections made against the divine origin of 
the Scriptures. 

(1.) The representation of the Scriptures, that the 
creation was accomplished progressively, and not instan- 
taneously, is declared to be unworthy of God. It will 
be admitted that Moses has taught, not only in the most 
explicit, but in the most sublime manner, that it was per- 
fectly easy for God to create the world in an instant. 
' Let there be light,' said this glorious Being, ' and there 
was light. Let there be a firmament, and there was a 
firmament. Let the waters be separated from the waters, 
and they were separated.' He who can do these things 
in this manner, can do any thing in any manner that 
shall please him. No other representation of power 
was ever to be compared with this. Nor has any one of 
those who have followed Moses, whether inspired or un- 
inspired, rivalled him in sublimity of narration. 

But while he exhibits the omnipotence of God in so 
impressive a manner, he gives us an account of the cre- 
ation which is both intelligible and useful. Had the 
work of creation been instantaneously performed, it 
would have been totally incomprehensible even by the 
angels, who were witnesses of it ; and the history of it 
would have been totally useless to ourselves, except 
merely as settling the point, that the world was created. 
The first verse in the Bible would have contained the 
whole. Nor could any tiling have been added to it 



114 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. xxi. 



with propriety, unless that God called the universe into 
existence by his word. How much more interesting, 
comprehensible, and delightful, is the whole chapter, in 
which that verse is contained. In a far higher propor- 
tion was the actual progress and order of this great 
work intelligible, interesting, and delightful, to the 
' sons of God,' who were witnesses of its accomplish- 
ment. They saw and understood much of what was 
done : Ave read and understand not a little. 

The history of the creation as written by Moses, is 
the noblest history which was ever written by man, 
With perfect simplicity, it unites supreme grandeur ; 
and has accordingly received the highest testimony of 
criticism, from the time of Longinus to the present day. 

It is farther to be remembered, that by means of this 
order of creation, the sabbath, the great source of piety 
and eternal life to man, was ushered into the world with 
a solemnity unrivalled and infinite. ' God rested,' say 
the divine writers, ' from all his works which he cre- 
ated and made ; the morning stars sang together, and 
all the sons of God shouted for joy.' What a sabbath 
was this ! Who, with such an example before him, can 
refuse to ' keep this day holy unto the Lord ?' Who 
does not see that the very existence of this example, and 
all its consequent influence, arose out of the order of the 
creation, recited by Moses? 

(2.) Another objection urged by infidels against the 
divine origin of the Scriptures, is derived from the date 
assigned by them to the creation. ' Can it be supposed,' 
say these men, ' that God existed so many millions of 
ages alone ; and began the work of creating only six 
thousand years ago?' This question has been often 
asked with confidence, and even with triumph. But it 
has been always asked without good sense or considera- 
tion. Yet, as there are persons who will ask it, and 
others who will suppose it to possess real weight, it will 
not be improper to give it a momentary attention. I 
answer then, 

In the first place, that the Scriptures do not assert the 
existence of created things to have been begun at the 
time when this world was made ; and there is no pre- 
sumption against the formation of this world at the time 
specified. There is no more reason to conclude, a priori 
that worlds may not be created at different times, but 
must all be brought into existence coetaneously, than 
there is to form the same decision concerning trees, ani- 
mals, or men. 

Again : If all things were created at the time speci- 
fied by Moses, then it is certain that the creation exist- 
ed as soon as was possible. Between the eternity of 
God, and any supposable date of creation or commence- 
ment of time, there is, there can be, no possible relation, 
and therefore no possible comparison. To the eternity 
of him, ' with whom one day is exactly as a thousand 
years, and a thousand years as one day ; who inhabiteth 
efSrnity at once ; whose duration is an omnipresent 
now ; our successive existence, and the periods by which 
it is reckoned have no reference whatever. To him, 
time and date have no relation, and are obviously no- 
thing. 

Farther: Had the world been created at the com- 
mencement of any imaginable past period, suppose a 
billion of years ; at the end of six thousand years from 
its first creation, the same objection would have been 
made against the date of its existence with exactly the 
same force. It might then have been asked, with exact- 



ly the same propriety, can it be supposed that God exist- 
ed so many millions of ages alone, and began the work 
of creating only six thousand years ago ? The objectors 
appear not to perceive, that by receding into past dura- 
tion, they approach no nearer to a goal ; but that, while 
they amuse themselves with the dream of advancing to- 
wards a satisfactory limit, the same vast still expands 
immeasurably before them. 

(3.) From the regular order of things, infidels have 
also determined, that the universe is eternal, and have 
hence denied the revelation of the Scriptures. St Peter 
has taught us, that ' in the last days there should be 
scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying, where 
is the promise of his coming ? For since the fathers 
fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the be- 
ginning of the world.' This prediction we ourselves 
see verified. There have long been, there are now. just 
such scoffers, just such objectors. The regular order of 
things established in this world, has long been the source 
of pertinacious opposition to the word, the government, 
and even the existence of God ; and the design of the op- 
position has uniformly been to overthrow ' the promise,' 
and the probability, ' of his coming ' to judgment. 

The general doctrine of these men has been this : 
' The materials of the universe were self-existent and 
eternal. By means of these materials, fate, necessity, 
destiny, or a blind succession of causes, have produced 
such beings and events as have hitherto existed.' At 
the same time, another class of infidels pronounce all 
such beings and events to be the result of mere chance. 
Regular as the present system is, they professedly find 
in it sufficient irregularity to warrant them in making 
this conclusion. Singular, indeed, must be that state of 
things which is sufficiently regular to support the for- 
mer of these doctrines, and sufficiently irregular to war- 
rant the latter. According to these schemes, taken to- 
gether, there neither is, nor can be, any proof of the 
existence and government of God, either in the pre- 
sent, or in any supposable state of things. The only 
remaining mode by which the Creator can make him- 
self known to mankind is revelation ; and the possibi- 
lity of this, several of these men roundly deny. Men, 
indeed, make known themselves to each other every 
day, by speaking, moving, and acting. Even common 
modesty, as well as common sense, could not, one would 
think, believe this to be beyond the power and skill of 
the omnipotent and omniscient Creator of men. 

The two schemes of existence here specified, have 
been sufficiently examined in the second of these Dis- 
courses. All that I have intended here, was barely to 
remind you of the manner in which men of this cha- 
racter have thought proper to reason ; and to show you 
that their views of the universe and its Author, flow 
from the heart, and not from the head. 

(4.) Infidels object the miracles recorded in the 
Scriptures, against their divine origin, on the ground 
that there is a universal presumption against the exist- 
ence of a miracle. Those which are styled the laws of 
nature were, it will be remembered, subsequent in their 
existence to the creation. This work could not there- 
fore be in any sense conformed to them, but was an 
immediate act of divine power ; absolutely new, con- 
formed to no analogy, and existing in a manner wholly 
miraculous. What is thus true of the work of creation 
at large, is equally true of the act by which each indi- 
vidual thing, originally created, >\as brought into be- 



M A N. 



115 



ing. There have, therefore, been many millions of 
miraculous productions ; and in this vast number of in- 
stances, miracles have been certainly wrought. Of 
course, there is the strongest presumption of 'their ex- 
istence in other cases. We know that they have been 
actually wrought, when there was a sufficient occasion ; 
and cannot rationally doubt, that on every other such 
occasion they would be wrought again. Nothing more, 
therefore, can be necessary to prove their existence, 
than fair unexceptionable testimony. 

6. If this great work is thus wonderful, how wonder- 
ful, how glorious must be its Author. 

All these things he contrived and executed. All of 
them are merely pictures, or archetypes, of the thoughts 
originally existing in the uncreated mind. Whatever 
is beautiful, useful, majestic, or exalted, is only a dis- 
play of the beauty, excellence, greatness, and sublimity 
of divine perfection. How naturally do our first 'pa- 
rents exclaim, in the language of the great English 
poet, 

* These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty ! thine this universal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then, 
Unspeakable ! 

What an astonishing act must it have been to create 
a world, its furniture and its inhabitants, together with 
all their natures and qualities, and to prepare them for 
all their successive operations : many of these inhabi- 
tants destined to live, and many of these operations 
destined to affect them throughout eternity. 

What a mind must that be, which could contain an 
exact as well as comprehensive scheme of all the parts, 
characteristical qualities, and operations of such a work ; 
which, without confusion or mistake, could see through 
the whole, and discern every consequence, even in the 



remotest ages of being ; which could so exactly pre- 
scribe the nature, determine the operations, and limit 
the number of parts, however great, however minute ; 
and in the progress of duration find no cause for the 
least change in the work, or the least deviation from 
the system. 

Such are the views which justly arise from the con- 
templation of our world, as it now is. How much more 
forcibly would they have been impressed on our minds, 
had we. lived in the same world, as it came fresh and 
fair from the hands of the Creator, when he surveyed 
every thing that he had done, and pronounced it ' very 
good !' How delightfully should we have been affected 
by the objects contained in the present world, had we 
been superior to death, and destined to live for ever ; 
had we been planted in Eden, where the air, the earth, 
and the waters, teemed with life ; and immortality 
breathed in the winds, flowed in the streams, ripened 
in the fruits, and exhaled from the flowers. At the 
side of our first parents, and encircled by paradise, 
how instinctively should we have exclaimed, ' Worthy 
art thou, Lord, to receive blessing, and glory, and 
honour, and power, for thou hast made all things, and 
for thy pleasure they are, and were created.' 

The source of all these wonders is the Lord Jesus 
Christ. ' For by him were all things created, that are 
in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible ; 
whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principali- 
ties, or powers ; all things were created by him, and for 
him ; and he is before all things, and by him all things 
consist.' To Him, therefore, is this admiration and 
glory due ; and to him, the obedience, confidence, and 
worship, which the Creator of the universe justly chal- 
lenges from his intelligent creation. 



SERMON XXII. 



CREATION— MAN. 



And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness ; and let them have dominion over the 
fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every 
creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created man in his own image ; in the image of God 
created he him ; male and female created lie them Gen. i. 25, 27. 



In several preceding Discourses, I have considered the 
formation of the heavens, the character and circum- 
stances of angels, both virtuous and fallen, and the cre- 
ation of the world in which we dwell. The next sub- 
ject of our investigation is man. This subject though 
far less splendid than several of the preceding themes 
of contemplation, is yet peculiarly interesting to us. 
Every thing that relates to it must directly and inti- 
mately concern ouiselves ; and nothing of this nature 
can be to us uninvested with serious importance, or un- 
deserving of our particular attention. 

Nor is this the only point of view in which man 
claims a high regard. God himself has bestowed an 
attention upon him, which has not been given even to 



angels themselves. Angels, when they fell, were ba- 
nished for ever from the presence and favour of their 
Creator. But when man had fallen, the Son of God de- 
scended from heaven ; assumed our nature, lived m this 
world a suffering life, and died a shameful death, that 
we might be saved. From the grave, also, he arose on 
the third day, ascended to heaven, sat down at the right 
hand of God the Father, and became ' head over all 
things' for the benefit of his church. Angels them- 
selves are employed by him in promoting this mighty 
work ; and are ' all ministering spirits, sent forth to 
minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation.' For 
man, heaven, shut to the apostate angels, is again open- 
ed. For man, also, when ' the earth and all the works 



116 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY 



[Skh. xxii. 



that are therein, shall be burnt up, and the heavens be- 
ing on fire shall be dissolved ; new heavens, and a new 
earth,' like the fabled phoenix out of its ashes, shall 
arise, ' in which righteousness shall dwell ' for ever. 

Man, therefore, notwithstanding his humble origin 
and guilty character, is an object, rendered highly im- 
portant on account of the peculiar regard exhibited to 
him by his Maker. At the same time we ought, in eve- 
ry general estimate of man, to remember, that at his 
creation he was endued with powers, placed in circum- 
stances, and destined to enjoyments, of no inconsider- 
able distinction and glory. This reference we are, in 
every such case, taught to make by St James ; who, 
speaking of the abuses of the tongue, and of cursing our 
fellow men as one of those abuses, mentions the origi- 
nal character of human nature, as a consideration plain- 
ly enhancing both the absurdity and the guilt of this 
evil conduct. ' Therewith,' says this apostle, ' bless we 
God, even the Father ; and therewith curse we men, 
who are,' or as in the Greek, ' who were made in the 
similitude of God.' 

In the text, the Author of all things is exhibited as 
holding a consultation, concerning the creation of man. 
' And God said, Let us make man in our image, after 
our likeness.' The work of creation is in the Scrip- 
tures indifferently attributed to the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Spirit. That it is attributed to the Fa- 
ther, will not be questioned. That it is attributed to 
the Son, and to the Spirit, can no more be questioned, 
if we allow the Scriptures to speak the customary lan- 
guage of men ; or indeed, if we allow them to speak 
language that has any defensible construction, or any 
meaning. 

The text declares to us, in a clear and decisive man- 
ner, that more persons than one were concerned in the 
design of creating man ; and that some person or per- 
sons were addressed by the speaker. Various attempts 
have indeed been made to avoid the proof, furnished 
by this passage, to the doctrine of the Trinity ; and in 
this manner to force out of view the obvious and only 
meaning of the terms. But none of these attempts, 
which I have seen, will bear examination. 

In the first place : The style royal is not adopted 
here. This is the use of the plural personal pronoun, 
instead of the singular, to denote an individual ; a prac- 
tice adopted by modern princes, with an intention to 
distinguish themselves from inferior mortals. He who 
can believe that Jehovah would in this manner violate 
the propriety of language to distinguish himself, and 
countenance human pride and folly, in its ridiculous 
labours for the acquisition of personal superiority, must, 
to say the least, have formed extraordinary views con- 
cerning the character of his Creator. That God has 
not acted in this manner is unanswerably clear from the 
universal tenor of the scriptural language. Only a 
sinsde specimen, and that a doubtful one, of the style in 
queWon, can be found in the sacred writings. Nor is 
this in the Hebrew style ; but copied from the decree of 
a Persian monarch, some thousands of years after the 
Pentateuch was written. The simplicity of the scrip- 
tural language is supreme. Every thing is spoken of 
as it is, and in the mere phraseology of nature. A Jew, 
if the passage had been intended to speak in this man- 
ner, would hardly have been able to discover its signifi- 
cation. 

But what places the point in question out of dispute, 



is the declaration of the same glorious Being, in the 
third chapter and twenty-second verse : ' And the Lord 
God said, behold, the man is become as one of us, to 
know good and evil.' It will not be pretended that 
even a modern prince, when declaring that one of his 
subjects had become like himself, would say, This man 
has become as one of us. 

Our Saviour, who understood this subject incompa- 
rably better than these commentators, has explained to 
us this phraseology in a manner which solves every ra- 
tional doubt. Speaking, as St John declares, John xii. 
41, in Isaiah vi. 8, he says, ' Whom shall I send, and 
who will go for us.' Again, addressing his Father, 
John xvii. 21, he says, ' That they all may be one, as 
thou Father art in me, and I in thee ; that they also 
may be one in us.' And again, verse 22, ' That they 
may be one, even as we are one.' In all these instances, 
the same person uses the same language, with the same, 
and that both obvious and exact, propriety. 

Secondly : This phraseology also is not addressed to 
angels. Angels could not be addressed in this man- 
ner ; for such an address would have had neither truth 
nor meaning. In the work of creating man, angels 
had as little agency as the man who was to be created. 
Suppose, instead of the proposal to angels to unite with 
God in creating man, we were to substitute a history of 
this transaction. We should then say, that God and 
his angels created man ; and therefore, that angels per- 
formed a part of this work ; or were, in some sense and 
degree, the creators of man. The absurdity of this ac- 
count needs no explanation. It is as really, it is equal- 
ly, absurd to suppose, that God would address angels 
in this manner, and propose to them to occupy them- 
selves, or to be in any way concerned in this work ; in 
which both he and they knew it was neither proper, 
nor possible for them to be at all concerned, as to sup- 
pose that they actually performed a part of it It was, 
also, according to every scriptural account of the Cre- 
ator, and of angels, wholly improper for him to asso- 
ciate them with himself in a work which was exclusively 
his own. Nor will it be asserted, that God here pro- 
poses to create man in the image of angels. In verse 2, 
it is said, ' God created man in his own image.' In ad- 
dition to this it is to be remembered, that angels are not 
mentioned in this history, till a considerable time after- 
ward ; and, therefore, if they had been intended, this 
could not be known ; whereas in the sense in which 
these words have been customarily interpreted, the per- 
sons spoken of in the text are expressly named. ' In 
the beginning Aleim ' (the covenanters *) ' created the 
heaven and the earth.' 

I have observed, that the Author of all things is ex- 
hibited in the text as solemnly consulting concerning 
the creation of man. ' Let us make man,' said the 
Divine Workman, ' in our image, after our likeness ;' 
not, let man exist, or let there be man ; as he had be- 
fore said, ' Let there be light, let there be a firmament, 
let the earth bring forth grass :' and so on, with respect 
to every thing else that was made. This solemn man 
ner of introducing man into being, was strongly ex- 
pressive of his importance, and very honourable to his 
character. The distinction made between him and all 
the preceding objects of creation was intentional, and 
declared him to be of more consequence than them all. 

* l 3 arkhurst. 



, 



MAN. 



117 



This subject I will now endeavour to illustrate in the 
following observations. 

I. The time at which man was created, is strongly 
expressive »f the importance of his character. 

The creation of the world was now completed. ' The 
heavens were finished, and all the host of them.' The 
sun was constituted a perpetual fountain of light, and 
set in the firmament to rule over the day, and to dis- 
tribute warmth and life, activity and enjoyment, to all 
the sentient inhabitants of this world. In his absence, 
' the moon walked in brightness, to rule the night ;' 
and shed on the earth a softer but not less beautiful 
splendour than that of the day. The stars also, spread- 
ing their glory throughout the sky, delightfully illus- 
trated the wisdom of the Creator, and rejoiced over the 
inferior works of his hands. 

The whole process also of forming the earth, of 
clothing it with verdure, of replenishing it with ani- 
mals, of providing the means of their subsistence and 
comfort, and of arraying it with beauty and magnifi- 
cence, was brought to an end. Fresh from the perfect 
hand of its Creator, it was a work of such excellence, 
that the eye of infinite wisdom, surveying all its parts, 
saw that it was ' very good.' It was a habitation which 
angels beheld with delight ; a palace fitted for the resi- 
dence of an immortal, virtuous, happy being ; of him 
who was to be made in the image of God, of him who 
was to have dominion over the earth, and every thing 
which it contained. 

This mighty preparation conveys to us high ideas 
concerning the object for which so much was done. 
God does nothing but with the strictest propriety. The 
bounty which here flowed in such copious streams, was 
directed by infinite wisdom, as well as poured out by 
infinite goodness. While, on the one hand, it was glo- 
rious to its author ; it was, on the other, perfectly suit- 
ed to the character of the recipient. The recipient, 
therefore, was of such a character, as to be the proper 
'object of these illustrious communications. 

II. The nature of man is a still more interesting ob- 
ject of our attention. 

Man is a compound existence, made up of two great 
parts ; the body, and the soul, or spirit. The body was 
formed of the dust of the ground, and can claim no 
higher origin than that of the animals by which we are 
surrounded ; is possessed only of the same life and ac- 
tivity, and is the subject of the same suffering and en- 
joyment. Still, it is a frame of the most wonderful 
nature. The parts of which it is composed ; their num- 
ber, their various natures, dependencies, operations, and 
uses ; the arrangement by which they are formed into 
a system, a world within itself; the faculties attached 
to it, of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling; 
its capacity of pain and pleasure, the warnings which it 
is fitted to give of approaching or commencing evil, and 
the power which it so variously possesses, of self-restora- 
tion ; are all wonderful, mysterious, and strongly decla- 
ratory of the skill and goodness of the Creator. Nor 
ought we, on this occasion, to forget the peculiar struc- 
ture of the person ; the beauty of the complexion, the 
symmetry of the members, particularly that displayed 
in the features of the face ; the gracefiilnessand dignity 
of the motions ; nor the power of the countenance to 
express the thoughts and feelings of the mind. By this 
last-mentioned attribute, the face becomes an index to 
the character of the invisible man ; and shows, not only 



his ideas, but his emotions also ; his virtue and vice, his 
loveliness and deformity ; and, in a word, whatever his 
fellow-men are interested to know. 

All these things were at first formed for endless du- 
ration. The body, like the mind, was originally inca- 
pable of decomposition or decay. Its life was a mere 
progress of youth, and bloom, and beauty ; and disease 
and death had not yet marked it for their prey. 

Of a still more wonderful nature was the human 
soul, or spirit. This indeed would naturally be ex- 
pected, from the peculiar descripion of it given in the 
text : ' Let us make man in our image, after our like- 
ness.' And again, ' So God created man in his own 
image ; in the image of God created he him.' It will 
not be doubted that the image of God was impressed, 
and was capable of being impressed on the soul only, 
and not on the body. As little ought it to be doubted, 
that this phraseology attributes to the soul a distinguished 
importance, not a little enhanced by these repetitions. 
Since this peculiar language embodies all the important 
characteristics of the human soul, I shall conform the 
observations, which it will be necessary to make at the 
present time on this subject, to the single scheme of 
explaining these declarations in the text. 

The image of God, in which man is here said to 
have been created, denotes especially the following 
things. 

1. That the soul, or spirit, was created a pure un- 
compounded substance. 

It is impossible that thought should be the act of a 
plurality of subjects, since it is in its own nature per- 
fectly simple and indivisible. It will be readily ac- 
knowledged, that such is the nature of God ; and that 
the same nature is also possessed by angels. There is 
as little reason to deny, that it is also the nature of the 
human soul. On this subject however I shall dwell 
more extensively in the following Discourse, and shall 
here consider it as granted. 

In this important particular, it will be seen, that the 
soul differs entirely from all material substances. These 
are, universally, collections of innumerable atoms ; and 
therefore become, whenever the bond which unites them 
is destroyed, subjects of dissolution. Nothing more is 
necessary to the destruction of the material form, than 
the mere separation of its parts. The soul being per- 
fectly simple, is incapable of suffering this process, and 
cannot perish, unless by annihilation. As there is no 
example of annihilation within the experience of man, 
no reason can be drawn from analogy to support the 
supposition, that the existence of the soul will ever be 
terminated. 

2. The soul was formed a thinking substance. 

St Paul, Col. iii. 10, says, ' And have put on the 
new man, which is renewed in knowledge, after the 
image of Him that created him.' To know therefore, 
the great exercise of thought, is in one respect of h^ 
importance to be like God. Thinking beings are the 
only beings who are active ; who originate changes in 
the universe, who commence operations, who contrive 
useful purposes, who direct unconcious objects to their 
proper uses, and who are the subjects of enjoyment or 
suffering. 

Bare thought is not, however, all that is here to be 
understood. Animals think ; but are not, still, created 
in the image of God. The broad distinction between 
men and animals is, that the former discern the nature 



118 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



of mora] good and evil, and can therefore be made, and 
are actually made, subjects of law and moral govern- 
ment ; of both which the latter are absolutely incapable. 

Even this is not the whole of what is intended, either 
by Moses or Paul. The knowledge which they con- 
sider as comprised in the image of God, is that of a 
sanctified or virtuous mind ; such a mind as Adam pos- 
sessed at his creation. It is the knowledge possessed 
by that - love which rejoiceth in the truth ;' which is, of 
course, unprejudiced and impartial ; which allows argu- 
ment and evidence their true weight ; and which there- 
fore perceives and admits truth, especially moral truth, 
as it is. This, and this only, is the manner in which 
Adam knew ; and, in which, to a considerable extent, 
every sanctified mind also knows. But this knowledge 
is, in some respects, essentially different from that pos- 
sessed by men in, what the Scriptures call, their natural 
state. ' The natural man,' says St Paul, or as it is ren- 
dered by Dr Macknight, ' the animal man receiveth not 
the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness 
unto him ; neither can he know them, because they are 
spiritually discerned.' 

A most important characteristic of this knowledge is, 
that it discerns the glory and excellence of God, dis- 
played in his works, and especially in his word. By the 
natural man, every thing of this nature is unknown. 
To the renewed man, every such thing is real and ob- 
vious, whenever the objects in which it exists are pre- 
sented to his eye, and placed within the grasp of his 
understanding. This difference does not arise from 
difference of capacity. The capacity of the natural 
man is in innumerable instances greater, and his power 
of discerning stronger, than that of the renewed man. 
The reason why he views spiritual objects in so imper- 
fect and unhappy a manner, lies supremely in his dis- 
position. His biasses against their true nature are 
intense, and his views therefore always oblique and de- 
lusive. When Adam was created he was a friend of 
God ; saw his character with friendly eyes, and there- 
fore discerned its excellence. 

3. That the soul was formed with dispositions or 
affections. 

God himself is possessed of infinite affections ; of 
infinite love to good, and of infinite hatred to evil ; and 
is the subject of infinite' joy in himself, his designs, and 
his works. 

In this respect also the soul was formed to resemble 
its Maker, an endowment of more importance than 
even knowledge itself. These are the great springs 
whence proceed all the action of minds ; the directory 
of our contemplation, the cause of our knowledge, and 
the source of our virtue, usefulness, and enjoyment. 
Man without them would be a clod, and the world a desert. 

4. That the affections of the soul were duly attem- 
pered and directed ; or, in other words, were virtuous. 

«.In Ephes. iv. 24, St Paul says, ' And that ye put on 
e new man, which after God ' {x.»ra. &tov } after the 
image of God) ' is created in righteousness and true 
holiness.' Holiness is that state of the affections in 
which the soul loves what God loves. God loves him- 
self, his creation, its interests, and every thing which 
promotes them ; on the contrary, he hates every thing 
by which they are destroyed or injured. Such is the 
virtue of the human soul ; such its love, such its hatred, 
whenever it is enstamped with the image of God. Such 
was the character of Adam at his creation. 



5. That the soul had dominion over the world. 
God is the infinite Ruler. Man was constituted the 

ruler of this lower world, with a delegated dominion 
over all its inhabitants. The government of God is 
wholly righteous, reasonable, and benevolent. Such 
only was that which man, at his creation, was disposed 
to exercise. All creatures, under his government, were 
uninvaded, uninjured, and happy. 

6. That the soul of the first man was possessed of 
spiritual enjoyment. 

By this I intend that enjoyment which springs from 
affections harmonizing with the conscience, and with 
each other. In such a soul, every affection is delight- 
ful ; and all its views, purposes, and pursuits, are just, 
sincere, benevolent, and lovely. Love, the controlling 
affection, however various may be its exercises, is only 
a succession of varied pleasure. Its two great consti- 
tuents are, delight in the objects beloved, and a desire 
to do them good. The more excellent, dignified, and 
enduring these objects are, the more noble, pure, and 
rapturous, is the enjoyment which it derives from them. 
Love to God, therefore, transcendently the greatest and 
most excellent of all objects, is capable of becoming in 
itself, and in its consequences, higher enjoyment than 
any other. At the same time, every other affection is, 
in such a mind, perfectly accordant with this command- 
ing one. Other objects are all duly loved, and every 
exercise of the heart is attended by the delightful sense 
of rectitude. 

To such a mind also, all the various displays of wis- 
dom, power, and goodness, in the works of creation and 
providence, are illustrious sources of pleasure. Wher- 
ever the eye turns its glance, God is seen ; and wher- 
ever He is seen, he is seen with delight. The endlessly 
diversified forms of beauty, grandeur, and glory in the 
works of God are, and are regarded as being, only ex- 
hibitions of infinite excellence, made to delight, im- 
prove, and ennoble the intelligent system. 

7. That the soul was created, immortal. 

Both the body and mind of man were originally 
formed and destined for immortality. After the apos- 
tasy, however, the body was sentenced to ' return to the 
dust ;' as being rendered wholly unfit to exist in the 
new creation. But the soul was left possessed of the 
never-dying principle, with which it was originally en- 
dowed ; was incapable of dissolution, and was indestruc- 
tible, except by the exertions of almighty power. 

Thus was man, as he came from the hands of his Ma- 
ker, a creature endued with high and glorious perfec- 
tions. To complete his happiness, ' God created him 
male and female :' and this not only for the multiplica- 
tion of his species, but also for the interchange of those 
amiable affections, and those offices of kindness, which 
arise from the inherent diversity of character in the 
sexes. In the emphatical language of the Scriptures, 
they were made ' helpmeets.' for each other ; and were 
designed to furnish, mutually, a social and superior hap- 
piness, of which solitude is incapable. A more delicate 
and beautiful form was united in the woman, to a mind 
possessing gentler and lovelier affections, a more refined 
taste, and more elegant sentiments. In the man, a firmer 
and stronger frame was joined to a mind more robust. 
more patient of toil, and more equal to difficulties. In 
each, the other was intended to find, that which was 
wanting in itself ; and to approve, love, and admire, 
both qualities and actions, of which itself was imperfect- 



MAN. 



119 



ly capable ; while in their reciprocations of tenderness 
and good will, each beheld every blessing mightily en- 
hanced, and intensely endeared. 

From these considerations are naturally derived the 
following 



1. How illustrious a being was man, as he came from 
the hands of his Maker ! 

With what dignified attributes was he endued ! For 
what high pursuits was he qualified ! To what sublime 
enjoyments was he destined ! In him was found, in an 
important sense, the end of this earthly system. With- 
out man, the world, its furniture, and its inhabitants, 
would have existed in vain. Whatever skill, power, and 
goodness were displayed by the creating Hand ; there 
was, before the formation of man, none to understand, 
admire, love, enjoy, or praise the Creator. The earth 
was clothed with beauty, the landscape unfolded its de- 
lightful scenes, the sky spread its magnificent curtains, 
the sun ' travelled in the greatness of his strength,' the 
moon and stars solemnly displayed the glorious wisdom 
of their Author, without an eye to gaze, or a heart to 
contemplate. A magnificent habitation was indeed 
built and furnished, but no tenant was found. Brutes 
were the only beings which could enjoy at all, and their 
enjoyment was limited to animal gratification. 

But man was separated from all earthly creatures, by 
being formed an intelligent being. His mind could 
trace the skill and glory of the Creator in the works of 
his hands ; and from the nature of the work, could un- 
derstand, admire, and adore the Workman. His 
thoughts could rise to God, and wander through eter- 
nity. The universe was to him a mirror, by which he 
saw reflected every moment, in every place, and in every 
form, the beauty, greatness, and excellence of Jehovah. 
To Him, his affections, and his praises rose, more sweet 
than the incense of the morning ; and made no unhappy 
harmony with the loftier music of heaven. He was the 
priest of this great world ; and offered the morning and 
evening sacrifice of thanksgiving for the whole earthly 
creation. Of this creation he was also the lord ; not the 
tyrant, but the rightful, just, benevolent sovereign. The 
subjection of the inferior creatures to him was volun- 
tary ; and productive of nothing but order, peace, and 
happiness. With these endowments and privileges, he 
was placed in paradise, no unhappy resemblance of 
heaven itself; and surrounded by every thing which was 
* good for food, or pleasant to the eye,' or fragrant to 
the smell. In an atmosphere, impregnated with life ; 
amid streams, in which life flowed ; amid fruits, in which 
life bloomed and ripened ; encircled by ever-living 
beauty and magnificence, peaceful within, safe without, 
and conscious of immortality ; he was destined to labour, 
only that he might be useful and happy, and to contem- 
plate the wonders of the universe, and worship its glo- 
rious Author, as his prime and professional employ- 
ment. He was an image of the invisible God ; created 
to be like him in knowledge, righteousness, and holi- 
ness, his most illustrious attributes ; and like him, to 
exercise dominion over the works of his hands. 

In this situation also, removed far from death and 
disease, from sorrow and fear, he was formed for endless 
improvement. His mind, like that of angels, was cap- 
able of continual expansion, refinement, and elevation ; 
and his life, of perpetual exaltation in worth, useful- 



ness, and honour. God was his visitor, angels were his 
companions. 

To complete this system of delight, he was created to 
be the parent of countless millions, who, like himself, 
were all to be sinless. They were also to inhabit the 
same world of peace, life, and happiness ; to possess the 
same immortality, and to share in the same endless en- 
joyment. At the head of this lower creation, he was to 
stand and survey this great globe, filled with his own 
offspring ; and to see the whole immense family, like 
himself, children and heirs of his everlasting love. 

2. How greatly has man fallen from his original 
state. 

What proofs of humiliation are visible in every thing; 
found in the present world. 

In our bodies, particularly, what seeds of weakness, 
distress, and decay ! The first proofs that we possess life 
are the cries of pain and suffering, inarticulately uttered 
by the infant just entered into the world. How often 
does even that infant agonize and expire in the cradle ! 
If he passes into childhood, how many pains does he 
undergo ; how many fears, how many sorrows ! How 
frequently is he carried, while a child, to the grave. 
Should he arrive at youth, what a train of new evils is 
he obliged to encounter. And in how many instances 
does the eanker-worm or the frost nip the blossom, and 
wither it beneath the fond eye of parental love. Should 
he become a man, sickness, pain, and sorrow still hunt 
him through every course of life, and not unfrequently 
infix their fangs in his heart-strings ; while death, al- 
ways watching for his prey, descends when he is least 
aware, and seizes, and bears away the miserable victim. 
Should he live to old age, his strength declines, his face 
is furrowed with wrinkles, and his head whitened with 
hoary locks. His body bends towards the earth from 
which it was taken ; and exhausted by suffering, he re- 
signs his breath ; and is conveyed to the dark and nar- 
row house, devoured by worms, dissolved by corruption, 
and changed into his original dust. 

His mind, in the meantime, the sport of evil, ungo- 
vernable passions, is ignorant, wild, wayward ; the seat 
of a thousand errors, weaknesses, and follies. With its 
follies, its sins keep at least an equal pace. Selfishness 
in many forms, all of them odious, distresses the paren- 
tal eye, even in infancy. In childhood, in youth, in 
manhood, it is seen in new varieties of operation, and 
new appearances of deformity. Pride and ambition, 
avarice and sensuality, pollute and debase the man in 
early stages of life ; and all increase their savage, brutal 
control, as he advances in his progress. At the same 
time envy, fraud, deceit, violence, and cruelty, mould 
him into a monster ; and scarcely permit us to believe, 
that he was once formed in the image of God. Where 
is now the mild, benevolent, equitable dominion, exer- 
cised by our great progenitor over his happy empire ? 
Where the peace between man and the inferior inhaW- 
tants of the earth ? The chief traces of his footsteps 
through the animal world, are oppression, blood, and 
death. 

In the moral world, what scenes of pollution, fraud, 
and tyranny, of war and ravage, are everywhere dis- 
played. What groans of anguish have been heard from 
one end of heaven to the other, and from the apostasy 
to the present hour ! 

In the natural world, what a host of enemies to man 
are arrayed by famine and disease, the storm, the earth- 



120 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxn. 



quake, and the volcano ! Even his breath, his food, his 
pleasure, are all means of his destruction. 

Where is his purity, justice, truth, and good-will? 
Where his piety, his morning praise, his evening in- 
cense ? Where his converse with God, his familiarity 
with angels ? Men are now the family of Adam ; hut 
how different a family from that which has been de- 
scribed. Were the great ancestor of mankind to rise 
from the dead and cast his eyes over this earth ; what 
a race of children would he behold. Accompany him 
in your imagination to the retreats of drunkenness, 
gluttony, and pollution. Could he believe that the 
wretches, burrowed in these foul recesses, sprang from 
him who once offered up the worship of paradise ? 
Enter with him into a hall of justice, and See him pon- 
der in silent amazement the terrible exhibitions of fraud 
and falsehood, private injustice and personal cruelty. 
Behold him mark with a failing eye the lowering gloom 
of the gibbet, the horrid recesses of the gaol, and the 
felon crimes which they were destined to reward. Fol- 
low him to the throne of tyranny, and see his bosom 
heave with emotions unutterable, while he watches the 
devastation of human happiness and human hope, ac- 
complished by the iron hand of power ; man blasted and 
withered by its touch, and the fiend himself rioting on 
sorrow, tears, and death. Finally, adventure with him 
to the field of battle ; and see him tremble and faint at 
the shouts and groans, at the sight of immeasurable 
fury, carnage, and woe. How would his heart rend 
asunder with agony ; how would his eyes weep blood, 
at such a view of this miserable world ! at the remem- 
brance, that both the authors and the subjects of these 
sufferings were his own offspring. Where would he 
now find his Eden, his virtue, his immortality ? 

3. How desirable would it be to regain the blessings 
originally bestowed on man. 

The paradisiacal state has been an object of high esti- 
mation to all men. Our first parents were wise, virtu- 
ous, and happy. They were at peace with God, enjoyed 
his presence, and received continual communications of 
his favour. They were companions of angels ; and 
shared their conversation, their friendship, and their 
joys. Alike were they free from pain, sickness, sorrow, 
and death ; safe from fear and hatred, injustice and 
cruelty ; and superior to meanness, sloth, intemperance, 
and pollution. They were also immortal ; were destined 
to dwell in a perpetual Eden, were surrounded always 
by beauty, life, and fragrance ; and were employed only 
in knowing, loving, and enjoying. To regain all these 
things, would indeed be ' a consummation devoutly to be 
wished.' But God has offered them all to us ; has com- 
manded, has besought us to receive them : and has given 
his Son to die, that we might obtain the glorious pos- 
session. We may therefore regain the blessings of that 
paradise, the loss of which we so deeply lament, and the 
sprondour of which is at times the delightful theme of 
our contemplation, and the most fascinating ornament 
of descriptive song. 

The best of its blessings we may in a great measure 
regain even here. Sin blasted all the bloom and beauty 
of the primitive state, and changed the garden of God 
into a desolate wilderness. This happy place was formed 
to be the residence of virtue ; and virtue can again call 
forth all its glories, even on the face of this dreary 
world. ' Godliness has the promise of the life that now 
is, as well as of that which is to come.' The piety, truth, 



and benevolence which adorned our first parents, would 
again call down similar blessings from heaven. What 
a werld would this become, if such were again the dis- 
position of man. How transporting a deliverance, to 
be freed from all the sins and sufferings of this melan- 
choly state ; and to enjoy, wherever we roved, an ap- 
proving conscience, serenity of soul, an unspotted life, 
kindness interchanged with all men, universal peace, 
mild and equitable government, and the pure, constant, 
and delightful worship of the Infinite Benefactor. To 
escape from our present melancholy, stormy, bloody 
world, to such a state, would be to quit, for a palace of 
splendour and delight, the gloom of a vault hung round 
with midnight, and peopled with corpses; a bedlam, 
where the eye of frenzy flashed, the tongue vibrated with 
malice, and chains clanked in dreadful concert to rage 
and blasphemy ; a dungeon haunted with crimes, teem- 
ing with curses, filled with fiends in the human shape, 
and opening its doors only to the gibbet and the grave. 

4. How glorious does the Redeemer appear in the 
contemplation of this subject. 

Christ formed our first parents, endowed them with 
unspotted holiness, and invested them with immortal life. 
Christ planted Eden for their possession, and placed 
them in the enjoyment of all its felicity. Christ gave 
them the dominion of this lower world, and entitled them 
to the company of the heavenly host. All these bless- 
ings they lost by their apostasy ; and with their apos- 
tasy, the loss also has descended to their posterity. To 
restore our ruined race to the enjoyment of these bles- 
sings, Christ, with infinite compassion, left his own glory, 
lived in our world a frail suffering man, and died a 
death of shame and agony. 

He who created paradise at first, can create it again. 
He who gave immortal life and youth ; he who com- 
municated spiritual knowledge, refined affections, and 
spotless holiness to our first parents, can communicate 
them to us. By creating them at first, he has proved 
that he is able ; by becoming incarnate, living and dying 
for our sakes, he has proved that he is willing. 

For this end he has assumed the government of all 
things. ' In his fathers house,' he has told us, ' are 
many mansions.' To that happy residence ' he has 
gone before, to prepare a place for us,' Nay, he has 
declared that he will ' create new heavens and a new 
earth,' for the reception of those who trust in him, and 
* love his appearing.' In this new world, he has assured 
us, ' there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor cry- 
ing, nor any more pain : for all these former evil things 
shall then have passed away.' In this happy region, the 
' righteousness," 1 which the paradise below the sun was 
destined to reward, ' will dwell for ever.' There the 
tree of life blossoms, and bears anew; and there immor- 
tality flows again in 'the pure river of the water of life.' 
There ' the sun no more goes down ; neither does the 
moon withdraw itself;' for Jehovah is ' the everlasting 
light' of his children, and 'their God their glory.' From 
that delightful world the Redeemer cries, ' Behold, I 
come quickly, and my reward is with me' Oh that 
every heart present may answer, ' Even so, come Lord 
Jesus. Amen.' 



THE SOUL NOT MATERIAL 



121 



SERMON XXIII. 

THE SOUL NOT MATERIAL. 



And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and, breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, 

and man became a living soul Gen. ii. ?. 



In my last discourse, I considered the creation of man 
under these two heads : The character of the Creator ; 
and, the nature of the being which was created. 

Under the latter head I observed that man, the being 
which was created, was composed of two entirely dis- 
tinct parts, commonly termed the body and the soul. 
Of the latter I also observed, that it was a simple, un- 
compounded, immaterial substance : being in this re- 
spect as well as in others, made in the image or after 
the likeness of God. This assertion I regard as being 
the amount of that which is contained in the text. I 
am well aware that the text itself has been variously 
construed. Instead, however, of considering these dif- 
ferent constructions, 1 shall attempt to settle the true 
meaning, by appealing directly to an interpreter whose 
opinions will not be disputed. The apostle Paul quotes 
this passage in the following manner : ' For thus it is 
written, the first man, Adam,' tyvjsto us ■fyv&riv £aoa.<j, 
' was made, or became a living soul.' This quotation 
determines, in my view, absolutely, that the text is ac- 
curately rendered into our language by the translators. 

The doctrine which I consider as contained in the 
text has also been abundantly disputed. Three entirely 
different opinions have been formed on this subject. 

The first is that which I have already advanced ; viz. 
that man is an immaterial substance, an intelligent, vo- 
luntary being ; the subject of attributes, the author of 
actions, and destined to immortality. 

The second is, that man is a material, thinking, vo- 
luntary being ; differing in nothing, but his modifica- 
tion and its effects, from other material substances. 
Some of those who hold this scheme believe him im- 
mortal, while others limit his existence to the present 
world. 

The third is, that man is neither of these, but a mere 
succession or chain, as the abettors of it express them- 
selves, of ideas and exercises. 

That something is true with regard to this subject 
must be admitted, and that all these schemes cannot be 
true. I would willingly have avoided the discussion of 
a subject so metaphysical : but when I observe the im- 
portance which it has assumed, in modern times, and 
especially when I see theological doctrines of very high 
import, derived from the two last of these schemes as 
their proper consequences, I feel myself obliged to give 
the subject a place in this system of discourses. 

In the discussion upon which I am entering, I shall 
pursue the following plan : viz. I shall attempt to dis- 
prove the two last of these doctrines ; and, in that way, 
to establish the first. One of the three is undoubtedly 
true. If the two last are false, the first is, of course, 
true, 

I. Then, I assert that the soul is not material. 

It will be necessary, in order to exhibit the truth of 
thi3 proposition in the most convincing light, to prove 



the falsehood of the opposite doctrine, in all the forms 
in which it has been maintained. This, therefore, I 
shall attempt. 

1. Atoms in their original state do not think. 

Our senses give us the amplest evidence of this fact ; 
so ample, that no man ever disbelieved it who was not 
an idiot or a maniac At the same time, the proposi- 
tion admits of a direct demonstration. Thought is in 
its nature perfectly simple and indivisible. But if each 
atom were a thinking being, millions of thoughts would 
exist in such a compound of them as man. 

2. Atoms do not think in any aggregate, or under 
any organization. 

(1.) That a mere accumulation of atoms cannot think, 
unless the original atoms were possessed of thought, is 
self-evident. If they do not think when separate, we 
are intuitively certain, that mere juxtaposition cannot 
give them the power of thought. 

(2.) Atoms cannot derive thought from any relative 
position. Suppose one atom placed above, beneath, or 
on either side of another ; it is intuitively certain, that, 
if they did not think before they were thus posited, nei 
ther of these positions, nor any other, can have the least 
influence towards producing thought in either of them. 
What is thus true of two, is equally true of every sup 
posable number. 

3. Matter cannot derive thought from attenuation. 
The attenuation of matter is made up wholly of the 

distance, and the minuteness of its particles. That dis- 
tance has no influence on this subject, has been already 
shown. That the minuteness of the corpuscles has no 
influence on it, is clear from this fact •, that the original 
atoms, which have been proved to be unpossessed of 
thought, are the most minute divisions of matter which 
are possible. That the distance and minuteness com 
pounded do not influence it, is certain, because, if 
thought depends on neither of these, it cannot depend 
on both united : for nothing, repeated ever so often, is 
still nothing. It is also evident to our senses from the 
facts, that air, heat, and light, approximate no nearer to 
thought than stones, lead, or earth. When therefore 
men speak of the soul as a material substance, eminent- 
ly refined, tenuous, subtile, or ethereal, they speak with- 
out meaning : for all these are still the descriptions of 
mere attenuations of matter, or matter attenuated ; ^nd 
it is clearly certain, that no attenuation of matter can 
have the least efficacy towards enabling it to think. 

4. Thought cannot be the result of the chemical pro- 
perties of matter. 

It is not inherent in any of the elements which che- 
mistry has hitherto discovered. All these are mere col- 
lections of atoms ; and are therefore absolutely incogi- 
tative ; no one of their attributes having the least resem- 
blance to thought. 

It cannot be the result of their operations. The ele- 
9 



122 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxih. 



inents of matter operate by their powers or attributes. 
These powers, by whatever names they are called, and 
however diversified in their operations, are only two ; 
attraction and repulsion. But it is certain, that the only 
influence which these powers can have on corpuscles 
must be originally contained in the powers themselves. 
But nothing is more certain, than that there is no re- 
semblance to thought, either in the operation of drawing 
one particle of matter to another, or in that of forcing 
one particle of matter from another ; nor in the capacity 
of thus drawing or being drawn, nor in that of thus re- 
pelling or being repelled. But if the powers themselves, 
and the particles in which they inhere, possess no resem- 
blance of thought, they can never communicate thought 
to each other. What they have not they cannot give. 

Farther, the only possible results of chemical attrac- 
tion and repulsion arise solely from motion, relative 
position, condensation, and attenuation. But it has al- 
ready been shown, that neither of the three last can 
have the least influence towards enabling matter to 
think. Every result of chemical powers and operations 
hitherto explained, has been satisfactorily explained to 
be the effect of attraction and repulsion ; nor is there 
the least reason to believe that there is any other che- 
mical power. 

5. Thought is not the result of motion. 

Motion is a change of place or relative position, or a 
continued succession of such changes. It has been al- 
ready shown, that no relative position can have any 
possible influence towards the production of thought ; 
and that particles, if not originally cogitative, cannot 
become so by any possible relative position ; nor by any 
distance from each other, whether greater or less. Of 
course, it is certain, that no change of position, which is 
nothing but the mere assumption of a new position, or 
a variation of distance, and therefore that no succession 
of such changes can have any influence ; for motion is 
nothing but this succession of changes. Accordingly, a 
cannon ball approximates no nearer to thought by mov- 
ing at the rate of four hundred and twenty miles an 
hour, than when lodged in the chamber of a cannon ; 
the air, when moving with the swiftness of sound, than 
when at rest ; the electrical fluid, or the rays of light, 
than brass, marble, or dust. 

As motion cannot contribute at all to thought, so no 
combination of motions, however complicated and diver- 
sified, can have any such efficacy. Organic motion, 
therefore, though so multiform and mysterious as to 
perplex our minds, and to leave us in a sense lost, when 
contemplating it, in admiration, being only a combina- 
tion of simple motions, each of which has no tendency 
towards the production of thought, has not in any de- 
gree this tendency, however diversified, or however 
mysteriously combined. 

6. Thought cannot be superadded to matter, so as in 
any sense to render it true, that matter can become co- 
gitative. 

If thought be superadded to matter, the thought must 
be first created, and exist separately and independently 
of the matter. Should it be said that the creation of an 
attribute, without any subject or being in which it in- 
heres, is an absurdity : I readily grant it ; but it is an 
absurdity, of which the persons whom I oppose are the 
authors. They must therefore charge it to themselves, 
and not to me. But the thought or consciousness ex- 
isting by itself and independently, before it is annexed 



to the matter, must exist also in the same independent 
manner afterwards. It may be annexed or joined 
to the matter ; but it cannot be inherent in it. The 
thought may exist within or without the matter as an 
appendage ; but it is not, and cannot be, a property or 
attribute of the matter. The matter was perfect in all 
its essential properties, antecedently to the annexation 
of thought ; and thought was not one of those properties. 
Thought is no more one of the properties of matter, 
after being annexed to it, than it was before ; and if se- 
parated from it again, will leave the matter still perfect, 
or possessed of all its properties. Before the thought 
was annexed to it, it could not be truly said that the 
matter was cogitative ; it can be no more truly said now, 
after it is annexed, for the matter itself thinks no more 
than before. The supposition, therefore, that thought 
may be superadded to matter, is a palpable absurdity. 

7. This doctrine intends, either that the properties of 
matter and mind are the same ; or that the substratum 
of mind is the same with the substratum of matter ; and 
in either intention is an absurdity. 

That thought, volition, and motivity, the properties of 
mind, are the same thing with solidity, extension, and 
mobility, the properties of matter, is a proposition which 
contradicts intuitive certainty, and is therefore intui- 
tively false. The substrata, in both cases, are abso- 
lutely unknown by us. But it is a palpable absurdity 
to say, that an unknown thing in one case, a thing of 
which we have no conception, is the same with the thing 
in another case, equally unknown. I grant that a pro- 
position concerning things unknown may be true, but 
it can never be known by us to be true. Ideas which 
we have not, we cannot possibly compare : and there- 
fore can never discern whether they agree or disagree. 
To form propositions about them, therefore, so long as 
this is the fact, is absurd and ridiculous. But if both 
these propositions are absurdities, then the proposition 
that mind is material, is also an absurdity : for it is 
formed either of one or both of these. 

The only mode of legitimate argumentation on the 
subject, considered in this manner, is the following : 
Mind and matter present to us two totally diverse sets 
of properties. The substratum in which these proper- 
ties co-exist is, in each case, rationally regarded as the 
cause of this difference. The properties (you will ob- 
serve, I speak of essential properties only) are common- 
ly and justly considered as a pai't, and an inseparable 
part of the nature or constitution of the substratum in 
which they are inherent? not as merely annexed, or 
arbitrarily adjoined to the substratum ; but as insepa- 
rable from it in such a sense, that the destruction of the 
properties would be also the destruction of the substra- 
tum. Thus, if matter should cease to be extended, so- 
lid, or movable, it would cease to be matter. Thus, if 
minds ceased to be perceiving, conscious, voluntary, 
and active, they would cease to be minds. This part of 
their nature, therefore, which we call their properties, 
is so absolutely dependent on the constitution of the 
substratum, or that part of their nature which lies be- 
yond our reach, that both necessarily exist or cease to 
exist together. The substratum is therefore, by its 
constitution, the necessary and inseparable cause of the | 
properties ; that is, the properties are what they are, be- 
cause the substratum is what it is. As therefore the 
effects are totally unlike, it is rationally argued that 
the causes are unlike, from the well known and intui- 



THE SOUL NOT MATERIAL. 



123 



tive truth, that unlike effects cannot proceed from the 
same cause. 

8. The existence of the substratum itself cannot be 
proved. 

This truth is so well known to every metaphysician, 
and even to every person tolerably acquainted with lo- 
gic, as customarily taught in schools of science, that it 
would seem hardly to demand an illustration. Still it 
may be proper to observe, that as this supposed substra- 
tum, if it exist, is a thing of which we do not, and can- 
not, form a single idea; we can, of course, neither af- 
firm nor deny any thing concerning it, with any possi- 
ble knowledge, that either the affirmation or negation 
is true. All that we can do is to render one or the 
other in a certain degree probable. Of course, every 
discussion and every doctrine, tending to establish the 
materiality of the soul, is founded originally in uncer- 
tainty, and absolutely incapable of proof; forif it cannot 
be proved that such a substratum exists, it plainly can- 
not be proved that the soul is such a substratum, con- 
nected with its properties. 

I have hitherto considered this doctrine as it is pre- 
sented to us by reason. I shall now proceed to examine 
the account which is given of it in the Scriptures. 

Here I observe, 

1. That all other thinking beings, of which we have 
any knowledge, are exhibited in the Scriptures as being 
immaterial. 

Beside ourselves we have no knowledge of any other 
thinking beings, except God and angels. Both these 
are expressly declared to be ' spirits' in the Scriptures, 
in a plain and direct distinction from matter. That 
God is an immaterial being, will not be questioned. 
That angels are immaterial, as represented in the 
Scriptures, is so obvious, that so far as I know, it never 
has been questioned. Br Priestley, the principal mo- 
dern champion for the materiality of the soul, was so 
sensible that this is the scriptural exhibition of this 
subject, that he has laboured hard to disprove the ex- 
istence of any such beings as angels ; because he saw 
their existence, as separate spirits, would prove an in- 
surmountable obstacle to the establishment of his 
scheme ; and because he thought it easier to disprove 
their existence absolutely, than to evince that they were 
material. In doing the former, he had, however, to 
face a great multitude of express assertions contained in 
the Bible, declaring the existence of such beings ; and a 
multitude of historical accounts, affirming in the same di- 
rect manner their character, stations, and employments ; 
together with their appearance and agency, often re- 
peated in the affairs of 'this world. If he thought this 
the easier task of the two, as he evidently did, it is 
clear that the latter, viz. the proof that angels are mate- 
rial, was in his view a task absolutely hopeless. In truth, 
every thing attributed to angels in the Scriptures, re- 
futes and destroys every supposition of their materiality. 

But, if God, if angels are thinking beings, and at the 
same time immaterial, the argument from analogy 
strongly leads us to conclude, that all other thinking 
beings are immaterial also. Nor is there one valid ob- 
jection against the immateriality of the human soul 
which will not lie with equal force against that of 
angels, and that of the Creator. It is true, neither of 
these beings is united to a body ; but both God and 
angels are possessed of the power of aetingupon matter, 
and controlling it to a far greater extent than we. This 



being admitted, as it plainly must be without a question, 
the only real difficulty concerning the connexion of soul 
and body is removed, and there can remain no solid ob- 
jection against the immateriality of the soul, derived 
from this source. 

2. The souls of men are in the Scriptures declared to 
be immaterial. 

The Scriptures exhibit this doctrine in two ways; — 
in express assertions, and in facts. 

(1.) In express assertions. 

In Psalm xxxi. 5, David says, ' Into thine hand I 
commit my spirit.' These words were repeated by our 
Saviour on the cross, immediately before he expired. 
In the same manner St Stephen, immediately before his 
death, prayed to Christ in these words ; ' Lord Jesus, re- 
ceive my spirit,' That both these forms of phraseology 
have a real and important meaning, cannot be disputed ; 
nor that those who uttered them understood what that 
meaning was, and used them with the most exact pro- 
priety : one of them being Christ ; the other two, David, 
an inspired prophet, and Stephen, ' a man full of the 
Holy Ghost.' Let me then ask, what is this meaning? 
What does the word spirit, in these passages, signify ? 
Certainly it does not signify the body. It will not be 
pretended that this can be the meaning. Much less does 
it signify that organization of the body, which Dr 
Priestley considers as being especially the soul. Cer- 
tainly it does not intend the breath ; for it cannot be 
supposed that either of these persons wished to commend 
to God the last portion of air which he breathed. What 
then does it intend? There is no other alternative but 
this ; that it intends the immaterial soul ; the thinking, 
conscious being. 

This is completely evinced by that remarkable phra- 
seology, with which the Hebrews customarily declared 
the death of a man ; ' He gave up the ghost.' That this 
phrase denoted, in the mouths of those who used it, the 
yielding up of the immaterial spirit into the hands of 
God cannot be doubted, unless it be voluntarily doubt- 
ed. Should it be doubted, Solomon has determined the 
point beyond a debate. ' Then,' says he (that is, imme- 
diately after death), ' shall the dust,' or body, ' return to 
the earth as it was, and the spirit into the hands of God 
who gave it'. Here the whole Hebrew doctrine is de- 
clared on this subject, and the distinction between the 
soul and the body completely established : for of the one 
it is asserted, that it ' shall return to the earth ; and of 
the other, ' that it shall return to God.' As the dust or 
body contains all that is material in man : so it is cer- 
tain that all this, after death, '■ returns to the earth.' But 
it is equally certain that ' the spirit ' does not return to 
the earth, but ' unto God;' and is therefore something 
totally distinct from the body, or the material part of 
man. This is, therefore, unquestionably, the true mean- 
ing of the Hebrew phrase, ' giving up the ghost;' and of 
these expressions of our Saviour, David, and Stephen. 
This phraseology, it should be remembered, is always 
used by the Spirit of truth ; and is chosen by him to 
convey to us, just ideas concerning this subject. It is 
therefore really just, and is exactly expressive of that 
which is true. 

In Isa. xxxi. 3, the prophet says, ' For the Egyptians 
are men, and not God ; and their horses flesh, and not 
spirit.' Here the distinction between flesh, or body, and 
spirit is so plainly, as well as intentionally marked, that 
the passage can need no comment. 



124. 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxiit. 



In Gen. xxv. 8, it is said, ' Then Abraham gave up 
the ghost — and was gathered to his people.' This, by a 
thoughtless reader, may be supposed to mean, that Abra- 
ham was buried with his fathers. But this is an entire 
misconception : for the fathers of Abraham were buried 
several hundred miles from him ; some in Chaldea, and 
Terah, in Haran, in Mesopotamia ; whereas Abraham 
was buried in the cave of Macpelah, in Canaan. The 
true meaning of the passage is, that he was gathered to 
the assembly of the blessed, and particularly to those 
good men among his ancestors, who were united to that 
assembly. In this manner the prophets themselves ex- 
plain it. Job says, ' The rich man shall lie down, but he 
shall not be gathered.' Christ, in Isa. xlix. 5, says, 
' Though Israel be not gathered, yet shall I be glorious 
in the eyes of the Lord.' In the same manner is the 
phrase explained by Jeremiah and Ezekiel. But the 
body of Abraham was changed to dust, in the cave of 
Macpelah : while something beside that body, that is, 
the immaterial spirit, was gathered to this divine assem- 
bly. Accordingly, Christ announces to his disciples, 
that they shall ' sit down in the kingdom of God, with 
Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob ;' concerning each 
of whom it was also said, ' that he was gathered unto his 
people.' Accordingly also, God says to Moses, ' I am 
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of 
Jacob.' Christ alleges these words as unquestionable 
proof of the ctvaaTaai;, or future separate existence of 
spirits ; and subjoins to his proof this unanswerable 
argument, which the Sadducees, the materialists of that 
day, durst not attempt to dispute ; ' for God is not the 
God of the dead, but of the living.' In other words, 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, were living beings, when 
this declaration was made by God to Moses. 

Accordingly also, Christ, in the parable of Dives and 
Lazarus, informs us, that Lazarus was, after his death, 
' carried by angels to Abraham's bosom :' Lazarus being- 
gathered to his people, as Abraham was to his ; and both 
being united to the assembly of the blessed. 

This parable is itself the most explicit declaration of 
the doctrine for which I contend. In it Dives and 
Lazarus, are both asserted to have died, and to have en- 
tered the future world as separate spirits, while the ' five 
brethren ' of Dives were living, and of course, while 
their bodies were both masses of putrefaction in this 
world. No exhibition can be clearer, or more unex- 
ceptionable than this. 

It has however been objected, that this is a parabolic 
representation ; and that therefore it is not to be con- 
sidered as decisive on this point. Nothing could more 
strongly prove the decisive influence of this parable on 
the question, in the eye of the objector himself, than his 
recourse to this pitiful subterfuge. It is acknowledged 
on all hands, that the truth of a parable does not dertoand 
the reality of the persons or the historical facts which it 
contains. But that the doctrines contained in it are 
equally true with those of the literal texts, must be ad- 
mitted by every man who does not choose to say, that 
Christ in his parables is a teacher of falsehood. The 
doctrine, therefore, that spirits exist in a separate state, 
is as certainly declared here as it can be by words. 

To the thief, just ready to expire on the cross, our Sa- 
viour said, ' To day shalt thou be with me in paradise.' 
The body of the thief was that day either on the cross, 
or in the grave. Of course, his soul or spirit was that 
which went to paradise with the Redeemer. The objec- 



tors to this doctrine have attempted to escape from the 
irresistible force of this text by two comments, still more 
pitiful than the subterfuge above mentioned. The first 
is that the word, ' to-day,' refers to the time of our Sa- 
viour's speaking, and not to the time when the thief was 
to be with him in paradise. On this I shall only ask my 
opponent, Whether he really believes that our Saviour 
said thus : I speak to thee to-day, and not yesterday, 
nor to-morrow ? The other explanation is, that as in 
the eternity of God one day is the same thing as a thou- 
sand years, and a thousand years as one day, Christ 
meant by the word ' to-day' the same thing with that 
eternity. On this comment I shall only ask, Whether 
the dying Saviour spoke to the dying man, language 
which he intended he should understand, and which he 
could understand ; or whether he spoke to him language 
which he could not possibly understand, and by which 
Christ knew he would certainly be deceived ? 

St Paul, in 2 Cor. v. 6, says, 'Therefore we are al- 
ways confident, knowing that while we are at home in 
the body, we are absent from the Lord. We are con- 
fident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the 
body, and to be present with the Lord.' In this passage 
the apostle declares expressly, that to be ' at home in the 
body' is to be 'absent from the Lord;' and that to be 
' absent from the body' is to be ' present with the Lord.' 
But according to the scheme which I am opposing, the 
body is the whole man: and therefore, if the man is ever 
to be present with the Lord, his body must be present ; 
and if his body be absent, the man must be absent also ; 
in direct contradiction to the assertion of the apostle. 
To be absent from the body is, on this plan, phraseology 
without meaning ; because there is nothing but the body. 
This passage is therefore an explicit declaration, that 
man is something beside body ; distinct from it ; capable 
of being separated, or absent from it ; and in conse- 
quence of this separation, of being 'present with the 
Lord.' This something also he elsewhere declares to be 
conscious, and capable of enjoyment ; for he says, that 
to be thus present with Christ is a far better state than 
the present. This something, therefore, thus capable of 
being absent from the body, is an immaterial spirit : for 
beside body or matter, my opponents will agree that 
there is nothing except spirit. 

(2.) The Scriptures give an unanswerable proof by 
facts, that the soul is immaterial. 

The Revelation of St John furnishes many specimens 
of this nature. In the fourth chapter of this prophecy, 
he saw ' four and twenty elders,' surrounding the throne 
of the Majesty in the heavens. In the seventh chapter 
he informs us, that he ' beheld a great multitude which 
no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and 
people, and tongues, standing before the throne and be- 
fore the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palms in 
their hands,' uniting with the angels, the elders, and the 
four living ones, in the worship of God, and the ever- 
lasting ascription of praise and glory to his name. 
Upon this he asked the angel interpreter who these 
persons were ? The angel informed him, that they were 
those c who came out of great tribulation, and who had 
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood 
of the Lamb ; that therefore they are before the throne 
of God, and serve him day and night in his temple ; 
that they shall neither hunger nor thirst, nor suffer any 
more ; but shall be fed by the Lamb with living bread , 
and led unto fountains of living waters.' No ingenuity 



THE SOUL NOT MATERIAL. 



1^5 



of interpretation, no skill at evasion will enable any 
man to satisfy even himself, if he will take all the parts 
of these accounts together, that they can mean any 
thing less or more, than that these persons were all se- 
parate spirits. Elders are men ; those who are redeem- 
ed by the blood of the Lamb are men, and can be no 
other than men. Men who are around the throne of 
God, and ' before his throne ;' who are ' brought out of 
great tribulation ;' who ' serve him day and night in his 
temple ; who ' hunger, thirst, and suffer no more ;' who 
' feed on the bread, and drink the water of life ;' and 
who sustain all these characters, and do all these things, 
while the world yet remains, and many ages before its 
termination, are men in the heavens. They are there- 
fore the bodies of men, or their separate spirits. I leave 
my antagonists to choose which side of the alternative 
they please. 

But if a doubt can remain, St John has himself set- 
tled it ; for in the sixth chapter and ninth verse, he says, 
' And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the 
altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of 
God, and for the testimony which they held ; and white 
robes were given unto every one of them.' The like 
phraseology is also used, Rev. xx. 4. Now let me ask, 
what was it which John saw ? That they were persons, 
or intelligent beings, cannot be doubted ; that they have 
been once slain, and are therefore men, is equally cer- 
tain ; that they are glorified persons is also certain ; 
that they are ' souls,' or separate spirits is certain ; be- 
cause the apostle has said so, and the Spirit of God has 
said so. It is therefore true. It is also certain, from 
the whole account given by the Scriptures at large con- 
cerning this subject ; for we know, ' that flesh and blood 
cannot inherit the kingdom of God.' Should it be said, 
that these things passed in vision, and that they were 
not real exhibitions of facts ; the book being a symboli- 
cal representation, and not a real account of facts : I an- 
swer, that I have no difficulty in granting it ; although 
I have not a doubt, that every one of the things which I 
have mentioned, was strictly a matter of fact. At the 
same time, the argument stands on the same basis upon 
either scheme. If the representation be considered as 
strictly symbolical, still the doctrines which it contains 
are all exactly true. This is all for which I contend ; 
and this must be conceded by my opponents, unless they 
are willing to charge God with having taught falsehood 
to mankind. 

In exact accordance with these observations, St Paul 
observes, I Thess. iv. 14, 'For if we believe that Jesus 
died, and rose again ; even so them also who sleep in 
Jesus, will God bring with him;' that is, when ' the Lord 
shall descend,' as he mentions in the next verse but one, 
' from heaven with a shout,' with the innumerable com- 
pany of angels ; God shall bring with him to this world 
the spirits of just men made perfect, and re-unite their 
bodies to them ; and they, and those followers of Christ 
who shall ' remain alive ' at the end of the world, ' shall 
be caught up together to meet the Lord in the air.' A 
great multitude of these very persons are those glorified 
saints, whom John saw when he was admitted to that 
happy world. 

I shall not insist on the facts specified in the parable 
of Dives and Lazarus, as an example under tin's head ; 
although I think they might be fairly insisted on as fur- 
nishing such an example. Instead of dwelling on this, 
1 shall proceed to another specimen, which is certainly 



secured, if in the view of prejudice any thing can be 
secured, from evasion and cavil. 

When Christ was transfigured on the Mount, there 
were present with him Moses and Elias, ' who appeared 
in glory, and talked with him, and spake of his decease 
which he should accomplish at Jerusalem. The body 
of Elias was changed, when he was conveyed to heaven 
in a chariot of fire. But the body of Moses was buried 
by the hand of God ' in a valley in the laud of Moab, 
over against Beth-Peor;' and will rise hereafter with 
other bodies of the saints, at the general resurrection. 
Yet Moses was actually on this Mount in company with 
Elias. If Moses when he thus appeared was not a se- 
pai'ate spirit, I leave it to my antagonists to tell us what 
he was. 

Thus I have summarily considered this subject, as it 
is presented to us both by Scripture and reason. If the 
things which I have said have the same weight and con- 
clusiveness in the minds of others which they have in 
my own, it must be admitted by them as unquestionably 
evident from both sources of proof, not only that the 
soul is not material, but that the doctrine of its materia- 
lity is sustained by no solid argument whatever. Reason 
furnishes none : the Scriptures furnish none. I cannot 
help adding, that had the doctrine been considered by 
itself only, and not been thought necessary for the sup- 
port of some system, it would probably never have been 
adopted by any man living. 1 know not that it was 
ever adopted by itself, or on account of any evidence 
which was supposed to attend it, when considered singly, 
or as unconnected with other doctrines. It seems always 
to have been taken up, either as subsidiary to the sup- 
port of other parts of a system, or as necessarily flow- 
ing from other doctrines, considered as already esta- 
blished, and as being inconsistent in themselves with the 
immateriality of the soul. Dr Priestley appears to have 
adopted this scheme for the former of these reasons ; viz. 
because he thought the materiality of the soul necessary 
to the support of those parts of his system, which respect 
the character of the Redeemer. This at least is the 
fact, if I understand his own language. Atheists have 
embraced this doctrine, because they were driven to it 
by the fundamental principles of their system. There 
is always a rational suspicion concerning the soundness 
and evidence of doctrines taken up on these grounds. 

A single observation shall conclude this Discourse. 

We see here, one remarkable instance of the agree- 
ment of the Scriptures with common sense. 

All nations have united in the opinion, that the hu- 
man soul is an immaterial being, wholly distinct from 
the body. I do not intend, that ignorant nations have 
formed a system or a science on this subject ; nor that a 
savage could correctly define or explain his views of it, 
so as to leave them unobjectionable in the eye of a phi- 
losopher. But I intend, that immateriality, and distinc- 
tion from the body, are essential parts of all his opinions 
concerning the soul. When I mention this as the doc- 
trine of all nations, I would be understood to mean, not 
that there are no exceptions, but that the existing- ex- 
ceptions are, at least so far as hitherto known, few and 
insignificant with respect to this question. The abori- 
gines of this country, for example, believed that, although 
they buried the body of a friend, and left it to moulder 
into dust, the friend, the man, lived still, and went to a 
happier world. This man, therefore, was not the body, 
for that was in the grave ; but was an immaterial and 



126 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxiv. 



separate spirit ; the living, thinking thing, which con- 
trolled and actuated that body. 

Exactly the same in substance, and altogether more 
perfect in manner and degree, is the doctrine of the 
Scriptures. This harmony between the Scriptures and 
common sense was indeed to be presumed ; for God 
is the origin of both. Hence in all cases, so far 
as the views of common sense extend, they are exactly 
accordant with the Scriptures. Philosophy lias opposed 
he Scriptures often : common sense never. Accordingly 
' the common people' of the Jewish nation ' gladly heard 
Christ,' in the great body of instances, and his apos- 



tles after him ; in spite of all their prejudices, and the 
influence of their rulers ; and often awed those rulers, 
so as to restrain them from the violence which they in- 
tended. On the other hand, the Scribes and Pharisees, 
and still more the Sadducees, rejected their doctrines 
almost absolutely, notwithstanding the confirmation of 
them by their own Scriptures. In the same manner 
have the common people in Christian countries generally, 
when left to themselves, adhered to the genuine scheme 
of the gospel : while the numerous heresies which have 
disturbed the church, and misled mankind, have been 
almost without an exception, the offspring of philosophy. 



SERMON XXIV. 

THE SOUL NOT A CHAIN OF IDEAS AND EXERCISES. 



And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and 

man became a living soul. — Gen. ii. 7. 



In my last Discourse, I proposed to consider the nature 
of the human soul. Concerning this subject I remarked, 
that there were three entirely different opinions. 

The first of these, in the order in which they were 
then mentioned, is, That man is an immaterial substance, 
an intelligent, voluntary being ; the subject of attributes, 
the author of actions, and destined to immortality. 

The second is, That man is a material, thinking, 
voluntary being ; differing in nothing, but his modifica- 
tion and its effects, from other material substances. 
Some of those who hold this scheme believe him immor- 
tal, while others limit his existence to the present world. 
The third is, That man is neither of these, but a mere 
succession or chain, as the abettors of it express them- 
selves, of ideas and exercises. 

In discussing this subject, I proposed the following 
plan, viz. to prove the first of these doctrines, by dis- 
proving the two last : observing, that as one of the three 
is unquestionably true, if the two are false, the first 
is true of course. 

The second, which asserts the soul to be material, I 
then considered at length. 

I shall now proceed to the consideration of the third, 
which asserts, That the soul is a mere succession, or 
chain, of ideas and exercises. 

Before I commence the direct arguments against this 
doctrine in form, it will be proper to say something on 
the principal reason alleged against the reception of the 
first of these schemes ; or that which I consider as the 
true one, and made particularly the foundation of the 
reception of the third. This reason, so far as I have 
been informed of it, (and I have heard it alleged 
by the ablest philosopher among all those whom I have 
known to adopt this scheme, on this side of the Atlantic,) 
is the following : that we can form no conception of any 
thing in ourselves, beyond our ideas and exercises. Of 
these we are conscious and certain ; but of a supposed 
substance in which these are inherent, a cause whence 
they proceed, an agent who is the author of them, we 
have no conception. This argument, reduced to a ge- 
neral form, will stand thus : That nothing exists, of 



which we have no conception. For undoubtedly, if the 
argument is conclusive, or has weight, when alleged 
against the existence of man as an agent, substance, or 
cause ; it will have the same weight or conclusiveness, 
against the existence of every other agent, cause, or sub- 
stance ; and, in a word, against the existence of every 
thing of which we cannot form a conception. 

Let us now briefly consider the length to which we 
shall necessarily be carried by the adoption of this sup- 
posed principle. 

Of God, the original existence, from whom all things 
else are derived, it is said in the Scriptures, ( and Rea- 
son subjoins her fullest attestation to what is said) 
' Canst thou by searching find out God ; canst thou find 
out the Almighty unto perfection ?' ' It,' that is, this 
subject, ' is high as heaven, what canst thou do? deeper 
than hell, what canst thou know ? The measure thereof 
is longer than the earth, and broader than the* sea.' 
Concerning the omnipresence and omniscience of this 
great Being, David exclaims, ' Such knowledge is too 
wonderful for me ; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.' 
According to the above-mentioned principle, all that 
which we cannot understand concerning God, has no 
existence, and must stand for nothing. But how little 
do we understand concerning God : particularly, of the 
nature of that exalted Being : his influence as a cause, 
and his mode of operating. To apply the argument to 
the case in hand : it is, undoubtedly, at least as difficult 
to conceive of an Infinite agent as of a finite one. If 
then we are to deny the existence of a finite agent, be- 
cause we can form no conception of the substance of 
such a being, or the modes in which he operates, or the 
power which he possesses of producing effects ; then we 
must also deny the existence of an Infinite agent, for 
exactly the same reason ; since it is perfectly plain, that 
we can no more form any conception of these things 
in Him. 

Nor shall we have any happier success in our inquiries 
concerning attributes and operations. God styles him- 
self merciful, gracious, true, faithful, and just; and we 
uniformly attribute to him mercy, grace, wisdom, truth, 



THE SOUL NOT A CHAIN OF IDEAS. 



127 



faithfulness, and justice. These names are supposed to 
stand for certain things which they indicate ; things 
which in fact exist. In the same manner also, they are 
considered by God himself, as is evident from this plain 
reason ; that he adopts them to express his views to man- 
kind, as they adopt them to express theirs to each other ; 
and does not indicate what, if the case were otherwise, 
veracity plainly demands ; that he uses them in a man- 
ner diverse from that in which they are used by men. 
What then is the meaning of these words ? What, for 
example, is Truth in God ? There are but two answers 
which can be given to the question. One is, that he has 
invariably spoken truth ; and the other, that there is in 
him a cause, disposition, or propensity, which induces 
or inclines him to speak truth. It hardly needs to be 
observed, that the former of these is very rarely in- 
tended, when we speak of the veracity of God ; and 
the latter, almost ahvays. As this cannot but be ad- 
mitted by every man, so it is expressly declared in many 
parts of the Scriptures. St Paul, speaking concerning 
the oath of God to Abraham, says, that ' it was impos- 
sible for God to lie.' Now it is perfectly evident, that 
the mere fact that God has invariably spoken truth 
heretofore, infers not in any degree an impossibility 
that he should lie hereafter. All which can be said con- 
cerning this fact is, that it gives us satisfactory reason 
to conclude that he will not. The impossibility of his 
speaking falsehood is supposed by us to exist, where it 
must necessarily exist, if at all, in the cause which in- 
duces him to speak truth ; that is, in the moral attribute 
of his nature, commonly called Truth or Veracity. If 
there be nothing in his nature which, as a cause, influ- 
ences him to speak truth ; then his speaking truth here- 
tofore has been, and his speaking truth hereafter, if he 
should in fact speak it, will be, a mere contingency. If 
then ' it is impossible for God to lie ;' it is so for this 
reason only, that there is in his nature a cause which 
invariably produces truth in him, as its proper and uni- 
form effect ; viz. the moral attribute of truth or veracity. 

But of this cause, what conception are we able to 
form ? Plainly, none at all. Its effects are all that we 
know ; and from these only, or from its connexion with 
other moral attributes, do we argue even its existence. 
Shall we then deny this attribute to God, and say that 
all which we mean, and all which he means, when he is 
called a God of truth, is, that he has invariably spoken 
truth hitherto? There was a period in duration when 
he had not spoken at all ; because there was no being 
beside himself, and therefore none to whom he could 
speak. But will any man say he was not then as truly 
and entirely as at any period afterwards, a God of truth. 

Nor shall we be materially more successful in our 
inquiries concerning operations, than concerning attri- 
butes and agents. Christ declares that every man who 
' sees the kingdom of God, must be born again of the 
Spirit of God.' But what conception are we able to 
form of regeneration, beyond the mere fact? Christ 
himself teaches us in his allusion to the wind, in the 
same discourse, that we are unconscious alike of the 
manner in which, and the Agent by whom, it is pro- 
duced. Shall we then deny the fact, that man is thus 
regenerated ? What is true of the attribute of truth, 
thus considered, and of the operation by which the new 
birth is thus formed in man, is equally true of other 
attributes and other operations. Universally, substance, 
causation, and modus operandi, lie wholly beyond our 



reach. But shall we on this account deny the facts ; or 
assert that there are no causes to produce them ? In 
the former case, we shall annihilate the universe at 
once ; and in the latter, pronounce every fact to be a 
mere contingency. 

Thus it appears, that the general argument on which 
the scheme concerning the human soul, opposed in this 
discourse, is founded, does not contribute, even in the 
remotest manner, to support it. It appears, also, that, 
according to this argument, the very fundamental prin- 
ciples of all science must be given up, as a collection of 
palpable absurdities. 

Having premised these things, I shall now proceed to 
offer some direct arguments against this scheme. 

1. It is directly contrary to the natural conceptions 
of mankind, and is therefore false. 

Every man living, naturally and originally conceives, 
that he himself is a being, a substance, an agent ; im- 
mediately the subject of his own thoughts, and the cause 
and author of his volitions and actions. By his pre- 
ceding thoughts, volitions, and actions, he feels conscious 
to himself that he influences, in a great variety of ways, 
those which succeed ; and that by his past and present 
conduct he so influences his future conduct, that it would 
never be what it is, but for such influence. At the same 
time he is equally conscious, that he was the subject of 
past thoughts, and the author of past conduct, during a 
period which he denominates his life. This he con- 
siders himself as knowing, by means of the evidence 
termed remembrance ; and regards himself as having 
had, from the utmost limit of that period, a continued 
being. This he witnesses every day by saying, ' I was 
the subject of such and such thoughts, and the author of 
such and such conduct and designs, at such and such 
times :' denoting that the something which he calls ' I,' 
and which he considers as a living, acting existence, was 
in being at these several times, and has had a continued 
being to the present time. He does not say, ' Such an 
idea existed at such a time ; such a volition, such an 
exercise or action :' but that ' I,' a certain something, 
totally distinct from the idea or the exercise, ' was the 
subject of that idea or exercise, the author of it ; the 
agent by whom it was performed, or brought to pass.' 
Whether this be not the only course of thinking adopted 
by us with respect to this subject, I appeal to every 
member of this assembly to decide : for he will find the 
proof complete in his own mind. This mode of think- 
ing is so natural and necessary to man, that no other 
mode can, without great labour and pains-taking, be 
pursued for any length of time by any man ; if, indeed, 
it can be thus pursued at all. 

But the mode of thinking, natural to man, was consti- 
tuted by God himself, and inwrought in our very na- 
ture. If then this mode is erroneous, God has produced 
the error by his own creative act ; and is himself the 
author of a standing, universal delusion, of which man 
is the subject ahvays : not by any bias of inclination, but 
by the original constitution of his nature. Is such con- 
duct reconcileable with the Divine character ; with that 
perfect sincerity, with that infinite love of truth, which 
on the best grounds we attribute to our Maker ? If by 
his own voluntary act he deludes us in this instance, and 
necessitates us to be deluded ; is it not rationally to 
be supposed, that he may delude us in any and every 
other ? 

Farther : The real works of God, Whatever they are, 



128 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY 



[Ser. xxiv. 



are undoubtedly the best and most perfect displays of 
his character. When, therefore, intelligent creatures 
conceive of his works as they really are ; they conceive 
of Him, the author of them, in the manner most hon- 
ourable to himself, and most agreeable to his pleasure. 
For such conceptions, then, he undoubtedly formed 
them. Accordingly, if they exercise their faculty of 
understanding, and employ their powers of conceiving, 
in the manner in which they were constituted, faithfully, 
and without negligence ; their conceptions, it ought to 
be presumed, will be right and true, so far as they ex- 
tend. Their conceptions may be very few, but they 
will not be necessarily erroneous. They may mistake, 
as they must be ignorant with regard to things beyond 
the limits of their capacity ; but their original mode of 
conceiving cannot be supposed to lead them of course to 
misconception. If the contrary be true, then God has, 
by the constitution of their minds, led them necessarily 
to misconceive of his works ; and to regard him as 
having made, not the things which he has really made, 
but totally other things ; and necessarily to conceive of 
him in a totally other light, than that in which he would 
be exhibited by the real works of his hands. In this 
case, they are prevented from knowing his real charac- 
ter by his works, the only medium through which it 
can be known at all ; and are led to form a false cha- 
racter of him, from that constitution which he has given 
to their minds. 

This argument is not a little illustrated by the nature 
of language. Language was originally given to man- 
kind by God, as the medium of communicating their 
thoughts to each other. It is, therefore, unquestionably 
a just and true medium of communication. This is 
farther proved by the fact, that he has himself used it 
to communicate his own thoughts to mankind ; and 
used it in exactly the same manner, in which it is cus- 
tomarily used by them. But all languages are formed 
on the scheme of the existence and agency of real 
beings, called men. Such beings, particularly, are de- 
noted in all languages by the personal pronouns. Each 
of these expresses a being, an agent, who thinks and 
acts ; and who is uniformly spoken of as a thinking, 
acting being ; the subject of qualities and powers, and 
the author of consequent actions. Every man uses 
language in this manner. In the same manner God 
uses the language of men ; and not only speaks of 
himself as an existing living agent, thinking and act- 
ing in such and such manners ; but of men, also, as ex- 
isting, thinking, and acting, as really as himself. To 
this scheme every part of language is so conformed, that 
no man can possibly discourse, even for a few minutes, 
in such a manner as to conform his language to the 
scheme which I am opposing. The very abettors of it 
are obliged, in spite of their philosophy, to speak in the 
same manner with that of other men ; and must form a 
new language, if they would discourse in a manner ac- 
cordant with their philosophy. 

That language is truly expressive of the manner in 
which men really think, cannot be questioned. Men, 
therefore, unquestionably think, and ever have thought, 
in the manner thus clearly exhibited by the very nature 
of their language. As this language was originally 
communicated, and has since been extensively used, by 
God himself, it is rationally concluded, that the thoughts 
which it expresses are just and true. 

2. Attributes cannot be conceived to exist indepen- 



dently of substances, or of something in which they in- 
here. 

No man conceives that extension, solidity, and mo- 
bility, make up what he calls matter ; but all men regard 
matter as being an extended, solid, movable something ; 
which something is entirely distinct from these attri- 
butes, and is the subject in which they are inherent 
By the abettors of this scheme, it is thought to be an 
objection against the existence of substance, that we 
cannot conceive of its nature. Let them try whether 
they can form a conception of an idea, possessing an 
independent existence ; of consciousness, without a be- 
ing to be conscious ; of an exercise, without any thing 
exercised, or without a subject of that exercise. If they 
can form distinct conceptions of this kind, they must 
undoubtedly be pronounced to possess minds of a very 
peculiar structure. 

3. This scheme destroys personal identity. 

An idea is a mere event, having a momentary exis- 
tence, and then perishing for ever. Should another 
idea afterward exist, exactly resembling it in every 
thing but the period in which it exists, it would not, and 
could not be the same ; but would differ from it, in 
consequence of being separated from it by time, just as 
if the two ideas were to co-exist, and were separated 
from each other by place and number. As we could 
not say in the latter case, that the two ideas were but 
one or the same : so we could no more truly say this in 
the former case. An example will make this subject 
perfectly familiar. Two equal parts of space, separated 
from each other by intervening space, are numerically 
different, and cannot be said, with even the appearance 
of truth, to be the same : but are intuitively discerned 
to be distinct from each other. In the same manner, 
two equal parts of duration separated by intervening 
duration, are intuitively discerned not to be the same ; 
but are perfectly distinct from each other. The hour 
between eleven and twelve which existed yesterday, 
cannot re-exist to-day, or hereafter ; but has perished 
for ever ; and cannot be recalled even by God himself, 
since its re-existence would involve a contradiction. In 
the same manner it involves a contradiction to suppose, 
that an idea which existed yesterday should re-exist 
to-day. On this plan, therefore, the soul of man has 
no continued existence, except for an indivisible mo- 
ment ; and is not the same thing which it was the pre- 
ceding hour, day, or year ; but has varied and become 
an absolutely new soul, through every moment which 
has passed since it was created ; and will continue to be 
a new thing, every moment throughout eternity. 

Should it be alleged, that personal identity consists 
in consciousness ; that present or future ideas may be 
attended with a consciousness of the existence of those 
which are past, and that thus identity may be preserved : 
I answer, that Bishop Berkeley has demonstrated, and 
any man of reflection may easily perceive the demon- 
stration, that personal identity does not, and cannot, 
consist in consciousness. Consciousness instead of be- 
ing personal identity, is only the evidence of it ; as 
may be easily and unanswerably proved. But no evi- 
dence can exist of that which is not. As in the case 
supposed, therefore, there is no such identity in fact, no 
evidence of it can exist. 

4. According to this scheme, it follows, that there is 
nothing which can be punished or rewarded by God. 

According to the Scriptures, God will reward and 



THE SOUL NOT A CHAIN OF IDEAS. 



129 



punish tbat and that only which is the subject of guilt ; 
and according both to the Scriptures and common sense, 
this is the only equitable mode of administration. But 
the guilt or the virtue, if either be imputable to a mere 
idea or exercise, is imputable only to those ideas and 
exercises which existed at the time when the guilt or 
the virtue existed. But these, even if we should allow 
them to be capable of punishment or reward, have all 
perished before the day of trial, and can never exist 
again. That part of the chain of ideas and exercises 
which will exist at the judgment, will have begun to 
exist after the day of probation is ended, and cannot be 
chargeable with guilt which existed before themselves 
existed. These very ideas also will perish before the 
punishment will be begun, and will not be the ideas 
actually punished. Other ideas, not even then in ex- 
istence, but which will have begun to exist after the 
trial, and after the sentence, will be the things by which 
the punishment will be experienced. Thus the whole 
of what is intended by trial, reward, and punishment, 
according to this system, amounts to this ; that there are 
many chains of ideas and exercises, successively exist- 
ing, partly during a period called a state of probation, 
and partly during another period called a state of re- 
gard. In one case, the beginning of a chain is formed 
of virtuous ideas and exercises ; and the end of happy 
ones : in another, the beginning is formed of sinful 
ideas and exercises ; and the end of miserable ones. 
I presume this will be admitted to be a strange concep- 
tion of the creation and providence of God, 

5. According to this scheme, neither guilt nor virtue 
can exist. 

In all the views which have been formed by the 
human mind concerning vice and virtue, or, if this is 
saying too much, in those which have been formed by 
common sense, it has been universally deemed indis- 
pensable to the existence of either, that a natural 
ability to choose either to obey or disobey the law of 
God, should precede or accompany the virtue or the 
vice ; and that the obedience or disobedience should 
not be, in the natural sense, necessary. Accordingly, a 
finite agent has been supposed to exist, possessed of un- 
derstanding to perceive, and ability to choose, that 
which was good or evil ; that which was conformed or 
not conformed to the law under which he was placed. 
Whenever he was unpossessed of such an ability, it has 
been farther supposed, that he was incapable of either 
virtue or vice. According to this view of common 
sense, the scheme of the Scriptures seems everywhere 
to be formed. But according to the scheme which I am 
opposing, each idea and exercise in the chain is pro- 
duced by an immediate creative act of God, and must, 
by natural necessity, be what it is. How, let me ask, 
can it, in the natural sense of possibility, be otherwise 
than it is ? In the first place, an idea or exercise, itself 
an attribute, can never be the subject of the attribute of 
power ; and can therefore do nothing towards render- 
ing itself any thing beside what it is. Secondly, it is 
not in existence to prevent itself from being what it is, 
until it actually becomes possessed of its proper charac- 
ter ; and therefore could not, on this account, have pre- 
vented the existence of this character And thirdly, it 
is made what it is by Omnipotenc /hich nothing can 
resist or oppose ; and therefore is what it is by the most 
perfect natural necessity. In what manner an idea or 
exercise thus created, can be guilty for having an ex- 



istence and character which it has no natural power to 
avoid, and for being what it is by a direct act of crea- 
tion, I confess myself wholly unable to comprehend. It 
ought here to be remembered, that all preceding voli- 
tions and ideas have perished, antecedently to the 
present volition or idea ; and therefore, if we concede 
that they were capable of influence while they existed, 
they could have no influence on that which is present, 
because it had not begun to exist until after they 
had perished. Each idea and exercise is, on the con- 
trary, created what it is, independently of all which pre- 
cede it. 

6. This scheme annihilates the influence of motives. 

Motives in their nature are addressed to beings, sup- 
posed to be capable of being moved or influenced by 
them. But according to this scheme, each idea and ex- 
ercise is immediately created what it is ; and derives its 
nature and character, not from any preceding motive, 
but from omnipotence. Motives can be addressed only 
to things existing at the time when they are addressed. 
But the idea or exercise which exists at that time, in- 
stantly perishes ; and can have no possible influence on 
the nature or character of the new one which succeeds it. 
This, therefore, which the motive is intended to affect, is 
removed by the nature of the case beyond the possibility 
of being affected by it. Still, God addresses motives in 
his word to mankind ; commends them for being influ- 
enced by them, and blames them for not being thus 
influenced. How can this be consistent with the justice 
of God, when he has himself made it absolutely impos- 
sible that any such influence should exist ? Besides, if 
the influence of a motive really affected the preceding- 
idea, and in the nature of things it were possible that 
the influence should extend to the succeeding one ; yet, 
since he creates the succeeding one such as it is, it is 
plain that on this account also, no such influence can 
affect it, unless in direct opposition to an act of omnipo- 
tence. Motives therefore can have no possible influence 
on man, according to this scheme ; and yet God pro- 
poses them to man, and blames and punishes him for 
not being influenced by them. Can this be supposed of 
the Creator ? 

7. Mankind receive impressions from each other, both 
of thought and volition, of idea and exercise : but ideas 
and exercises can never communicate a consciousness of 
their existence to any thing. 

To communicate is an act, and is the result of power. 
But ideas and exercises which are themselves mere acts, 
cannot be the subjects of power, and become themselves 
active. That other men communicate to us many 
thoughts and volitions, is too certain to admit either ot 
doubt or illustration. The communication certainly 
exists, and exists continually. Either then the idea, 
which for the time being is the soul, .the man, commu- 
nicates the apprehension of itself to another idea, winch 
for the time being is another soul ; or God by a direct 
act of his power conveys this apprehension. That an idea, 
a thing merely passive, should act in this manner, or any 
manner, is plainly impossible. That God should convey 
to us an apprehension of an idea, and so convey it as tc 
give us irresistible conviction that it is conveyed to us al- 
ways by a finite agent, is, so far as I can perceive, the same 
thing as merely and uniformly to delude us. Certainly 
this cannot be attributed to God. Yet, as every such 
communication is unquestionably an act, it certainly is 
performed by an agent. An idea, a mere attribute, is 



130 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



(Ser. xxiv- 



intuitively not an agent, but an effect of agency. God 
is an agent ; but he cannot delude his creatures. 

Farther : A great multitude of these communications 
are fraught with moral turpitude ; are lies, slanders, 
sophisms ; are full of malignity and of blasphemy, are 
direct and designed temptations to sin. Can these be 
the immediate acts of Jehovah ? Is it possible that 
where such is the act, He should be the agent? Can 
we attribute this conduct to our Creator, and feel our- 
selves to be guiltless ? I will leave it therefore to my 
antagonists to explain, how ideas and exercises can com- 
municate knowledge of themselves to other ideas and 
exercises, or how this communication can be charged to 
God. 

8. According to this scheme, the Scriptural doctrine 
of the perseverance of saints is false. 

According to this scheme, many links in the chain of 
ideas and exercises are, as they plainly must be acknow- 
ledged to be, acts of mere disobedience ; and are there- 
fore absolutely and only sinful ; while others, in the same 
chain, are considered as acts of mere obedience ; and 
are therefore absolutely and only virtuous or holy. In 
this manner then, such men as are called good men or 
Christians, are alternately holy, and perfectly sinful. 
St John, in the first epistle, fifth chapter, and eighteenth 
verse, says, ' We know that whosoever is born of God, 
sinneth not ; but he that is begotten of God, keepeth 
himself : and that wicked one toucheth him not.' As 
this is said by the Spirit of God, it is true. But in what 
sense is it true ? Certainly not in the absolute sense, 
that he who is born of God does not commit any sin : 
for the same apostle says, chapter i. 8, ' If we say that 
we have no sin, we deceive ourselves ; and the truth is 
not in us.' In this sense only then it is true, viz. that 
he who is born of God does not become absolutely a sin- 
ner. Yet in the case supposed, every such person be- 
comes absolutely a sinner. For many such ideas and 
exercises in the long chain which extends through life, 
are absolutely sinful during their existence ; and each 
of these, during its continuance, is the man for the time 
being. For according to this scheme, there is, during 
each such period, nothing else existing. 

Thus, if the scheme be true, man in his best estate falls 
from grace, and rises to it again, alternately; becomes 
absolutely a saint, and absolutely a sinner ; is perfectly 
an bbject of the divine abhorrence, and the divine com- 
placency, by turns ; in thousands and millions ot in- 
stances. How this doctrine is to be reconciled with the 
declarations of the Scriptures on this subject, I shall 
leave to the abettors of the scheme to determine. 

9. This scheme contradicts intuitive certainty. 

So far as I know, it is agreed by all philosophers, and 
if the subject were fairly proposed, would be by every 
man, that we are all intuitively certain of our own exis- 
tence. But I am not more certain that I exist, than 
that I act ; that I perceive, think, speak, reason, choose, 
and carry my choice into execution. I am as intuitively 
certain that a something denoted by the word ' I,' or 
myself, is a cause of certain effects ; an agent, perform- 
ing certain actions ; as I am of any possible proposition. 
These effects I also intuitively know would not exist, 
were there not such an agent or cause. My actions are 
intuitively seen by me, not to be the effects of an extra- 
neous cause, or of something beside myself. It is meta- 
physically true, and is seen by me with the highest 
possible certainty to be true, that the thoughts and voli- 



tions which I call mine, are really mine ; and are 
brought into existence by an active power which I in- 
tuitively perceive myself continually to exercise. They 
are not the thoughts or volitions of another ; hut are 
certainly discerned by me to be mine alone. 

Whether this account of the subject be not exactly 
just, I appeal to every individual to determine for him- 
self- The propriety of this appeal will be evident from 
the consideration, that there is no other possible mode 
of presenting this subject to the view of mankind : since 
whatever any man can know concerning it, he can 
know only by recurring to what passes within himself. 
As ' the heart of man answers to the heart of man, just 
as face answereth to face in the water;' I am war- 
ranted to conclude that every other man with respect 
to this subject, experiences just such views as I experi- 
ence, and possesses the same evidence which I possess. 

But if this evidence does not assure me that I exist 
as an agent, an active cause, originally and spontane- 
ously operating, it will I think be impossible for me to 
be assured that there is any such agent. The highest 
evidence of causation or efficiency, of the necessity of a 
cause to the existence of an effect, of the production of 
beings, and changes in beings as effects, and therefore of 
the necessity of an Original cause, to account for the 
existence and government of all things, is found by me 
in the consciousness of my own agency. The certainty 
perceived by mere mental inspection, that the changes 
passing in my own mind are produced by my own ac- 
tive power, is a higher certainty than that with which 
I perceive any other changes to be accomplished by any 
other active power. All other certainty of the produc- 
tion of such changes is presented by sensitive experience, 
or derived from reasoning founded on this experience. 
But it is clear, that sensitive experience furnishes evi- 
dence of a kind always less certain and indubitable, 
than that which is seen by mental inspection. If then 
we cannot rely on the fact, that we are such agents, 
when it is exhibited with the certainty of mental inspec- 
tion ; we shall be much less warranted to rely on the 
fact, that there are any other such agents ; because it 
must always be supported by evidence in its own nature 
inferior, and in a less degree requiring or warranting 
our assent. The admission therefore of this scheme will 
directly and fundamentally weaken, if not destroy, the 
evidence by which we prove the being of God 

Besides, if we are not agents or active causes, pos- 
sessing active powers, by which we can originate certain 
changes in the state of things, but are mere chains of 
ideas and exercises, it will be difficult to assign a reason 
why God is not also a mere chain of ideas and exercises. 
Every argument against the existence of man, as a sub- 
stance and agent, must I think lie with the same force 
against the fact that God is a substance and an agent. 
On the one hand, there is at least as little difficulty in 
supposing, that an omnipotent agent may create a finite 
one, as that such an agent can be self-existent ; and on 
the other, that God can create finite agents and sub- 
stances, as that he can create chains of ideas and exer- 
cises ; mere attributes, existing separately and indepen- 
dently of any subject. 

The Scriptures everywhere exhibit man as an agent, 
such as I have des, " : bed. St Paul, speaking of himself 
and his fellow apos. ^says, 2 Corinthians vi. 1, ' We 
then, as workers together with God, beseech you also, 
that ye receive hot the grace of God in vain.' And 



CHIEF END OF MAN. 



131 



again, 1 Corintliinns iv. 15, ' For though ye have ten 
thousand instructors in Christ, yet have ye not many 
fathers : for in Christ Jesus have I begotten you through 
the gospel.' In the first of these passages, the apostle 
directly asserts, that he and his companions are * workers 
together with God,' in the great business of promoting 
th6 salvation of men : In the second, that he has been 
an agent, or active instrument ; that is, he has been ac- 
tive, in conjunction with the Spirit of God, in producing 
the regeneration of the Corinthians. As he spoke this 
hy the inspiration of that Spirit, it cannot but be true ; 
and true in that sense in which it naturally strikes the 
minds of the great body of mankind ; because it was 
written chiefly for them, and because they could under- 
stand the words to mean nothing else. 

These specimens may serve as examples of thousands 
more, in which the same thing is declared, in substance, 
throughout the Scriptures. I know not that there is 
any particular advantage in selecting these rather than 
others. Every page of the Bible almost will furnish 
many, as expressive of the same thing, as those which I 
have selected. But these are sufficient, and if these will 
not be admitted, I presume no others will be. If the 
apostles were ' workers together with God,' then they 
were not merely passive. If St Paul really begat the 
Corinthian Christians, in the spiritual sense, then he 
was not merely passive. He was not merely an effect, 
but while he was formed by creative power, and was in 
this sense an effect of that power ; lie was also formed 
an agent, a cause possessed in its own nature of active 
power, capable of spontaneous exertion ; of volitions 
which were its own ; and of motivity, by which it could 
commence motions and actions in itself, and changes of 
many kinds in other beings. 



I have thus considered this subject at length, in the 
manner in which it has appeared to my own view ; and 
if I mistake not, have shown, that the scheme which I 
have opposed, is erroneous in itself, and is followed by 
consequences plainly and eminently absurd. Each mem- 
ber of my audience must now he left to decide for 
himself, whether the doctrine contended against be true 
or false, scriptural or anti-scriptural ; whether the soul 
of iman be a chain of ideas and exercises, each created 
for the moment, and then perishing for ever ; a conca- 
tenation of mere events, in their nature fleeting and 
vanishing, and incapable of any permanent existence, 
even for an hour: or whether it is a spirit, a substance, 
a permanent being, the subject of a continued existence ; 
an agent possessed of active powers, capable of volun- 
tarily originating important designs, and carrying them 
into execution ; and thus becoming ' a worker together 
with God,' in the interesting purposes of his eternal 
kingdom. According to the latter of these schemes, the 
soul of man is one, created at one time, and continuing 
the same, as to its suhstance and nature, throughout 
eternity ; according to the other, the soul, for the time 
being, is the idea or exercise existing at that time, com- 
mencing its existence with the existence of the idea, 
and perishing with it. Of course, instead of one soul, 
there are in each chain as many as there are ideas and 
exercises in that chain : that is, millions literally innu- 
merable. If this scheme can be seriously adopted, 
rationally understood, and satisfactorily realized by any 
man ; it must be done in a manner which I confess my- 
self unable to comprehend, and by a mind possessed of 
views and reasonings to which I can make no preten- 
sion. 



SERMON XXV. 



THE CHIEF END OF MAN. 



Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. — 1 Cor. x. 31. 



In the three last Discourses, J have considered the 
Creation and Nature of Man. The next subject, natu- 
rally offered to our view by a system of theology is the 
end for which man was made. By this I mean, the 
principal purpose which he is fitted to answer; the 
thing which God had principally in view in bringing 
man into existence. 

The importance of this subject can need very little 
illustration. The question, For what end was I made ; 
or what end are my existence and faculties designed to 
answer ; is instinctively realized by every sober man to 
import all that is of any rea noment to himself. 

In the text we are required ' iv :soe\»r ».ve do 

to the glory of God. Thi der as dis- 

closing to us the true en^ \ n 

examining it, I shall att, 

I. What it is to glorify 

II. That thiB is constitui of 
man ; and, 



III. The propriety of this divine constitution. 

1. I shall attempt to show what it is to glorify 
God. 

In the Scriptures, mankind are frequently required 
to glorify their Creator. But it is perfectly plain that 
they cannot, in any manner or degree, change his na- 
ture, or the state of his perfections ; these being abso- 
lutely without variableness, or shadow of turning. It 
may, I think, be said, not only with truth, but with the 
highest reverence, that God himself cannot alter his 
perfections. Indeed this is directly declared in the 
text, which I have partially quoted. Yet it will not be 
denied, that God can glorify himself ; that is, make him- 
self glorious, by acting in such a manner as is approved 
by his own infinite wisdom, and as will display the 
glory of his character to the view of his intelligent 
creatures. In a manner, generally resembling this, 
those creatures, and among them mankind, can also 
glorify him ; that is, they can act in such a manner as 



132 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



fSBR. XXV. 



to show liis glory to each other, and in this way to 
please him, and gain his approbation. 
To glorify God, in this sense, is, 
1. To know him. 

The perfections of God are the glory of his character. 
In order that these may be disclosed by one intelligent 
creature to another, it is plainly necessary that he should 
first know them, or understand what they are : this 
knowledge being the basis on which all other regard to 
them must be founded. Without this knowledge, man- 
kind might indeed glorify God, as he is glorified by the 
mute, passive, incogitative works of his hands ; such as 
earth, plants, and trees ; that is, by being displays of 
his power and skill to conscious beings ; but they can- 
not in this manner glorify him, as intelligent beings. 

It is to be observed, that knowing God, so as to glo- 
rify him, denotes, that we have just conceptions of his 
character, and not those which are false and imaginary. 
All the imaginary views which we form of God, are 
views, not of the real God, but of a God fashioned by 
our own minds. In every erroneous conception which 
we form of the Creator, we may be said, with a small 
alteration of the language of Scripture, ' to change the 
glory of the incorruptible God into an image made by 
corruptible man ;' and an image also, usually made like 
unto him ; always debasing the character of Jehovah, 
and robbing it of its real and infinite perfection. 

The knowledge of God is gained wholly, either from 
his works, or from his word. To himself only is he 
known in the abstract. In creation and providence, 
however, and especially in the Bible, his intelligent 
creatures can '■ behold, as in a glass, the glory of the 
Lord.' This knowledge we acquire just so far as we 
understand the true nature of his works, and the true 
meaning of his word, and no farther. Erroneous 
schemes of philosophy, and false systems of divinity, con- 
tain and convey, so far as they are erroneous, no know- 
ledge of God at all ; and can never, by themselves, be 
the means of glorifying him. Therefore they can never 
become of any real value to us. As this knowledge 
can be gained only by study ; so, if we love to glorify 
God, we shall devote ourselves as much as maybe to the 
study both of his works and of his word. 

2. To think of him in a manner suited to his cha- 
racter. 

The perfections of God are immensely great, glori- 
ous, and wonderful ; and justly claim to be thought of 
by us in a manner corresponding with their exalted na- 
ture. 1 hey claim, particularly, to be thought of by us 
frequently, daily, many times a day, and, in a sense, 
always. Nothing else deserves in any measure so great 
a share of our thoughts : nothing else therefore should 
in any measure engross them to so great a degree. God 
is infinitely greater, wiser, and better than his creatures ; 
and justly demands that we should devote ourselves to 
him, in a prefeience to them, which is proportioned to 
his character. It is one charge against the wicked, and 
one part of their wickedness, that ' God is not in all 
their thoughts.' It is one attribute of good beings, who 
voluntarily glorify him, that God is in all their thoughts. 
If we would belong to the number of such beings, he 
must be in all our thoughts ; that is, we must think of 
him, in a sense, unceasingly. 

To this end it is necessary that we think of him wil- 
lingly, or with pleasure ; that we find him in all his 
works, both of creation and providence y that we regard 



him as the original and universal Agent ; as present, 
acting, and visible, in every thing which is great or 
good : as particularly visible in the things with which 
we are conversant, in our own personal afflictions and 
blessings, in those of our friends, and in those of our 
country ; in his dispensations to his church, and in his 
government of the world. As these things are chiefly 
explained to us in the Scriptures, so we should espe- 
cially think of God as his character is there unfolded, 
and labour peculiarly to find him there. 

To the same end it is still more necessary, that we 
think of him justly : that is, that our thoughts of him 
be noble and exalted ; suited, so far as our capacities 
will allow, to the great and wonderful character which 
he has discovered of himself in his works, and in his 
word. 

3. To love him. 

God is infinitely the greatest and most excellent of 
all beings. In order to glorify him, it is necessary that 
we not only discern, but also relish, his character ; that 
we wish well to the furtherance and completion of his 
designs, and rejoice in the perfect happiness which he 
enjoys in the contemplation of his own excellence, and 
the accomplishment of his pleasure, with supreme bene- 
volence to him : that Ave delight in the beauty, loveli- 
ness, and glory of his character, with supreme com- 
placency ; and that we feel the benefits bestowed on us 
and ours, with supreme gratitude. Love, in the general 
sense, is the sum and substance of all the exercises of 
piety ; of reverence, submission, dependence, resigna- 
tion, confidence, hope, and joy. When therefore it is 
here said, that it is necessary to love God, in order to 
glorify him, it is intended that to this end we must be- 
come the subjects of all these exercises. Nor is this all 
which is necessary. We must also become the subjects 
of them habitually and unceasingly, and the more we 
know of his character, the more we must delight in it ; 
and thus render to him a continually increasing tribute 
of piety. All this, and this only, is glorifying God 
with the heart, the most exalted and noble of our 
moral faculties : for this is that conduct of the heart 
which is suited to the nature of the object beloved. 

4. To serve him. 

God is originally obeyed in the correspondence of 
the heart with his precepts ; and is never in the proper 
sense obeyed, except in those cases where such a cor- 
respondence exists. But to serve him, in the full sense, 
denotes also the conformity of our external conduct to 
his most holy will. Accordingly, he has prescribed to 
us, not only the general spirit of obedience, which is 
seated in the heart, but also the various modes in which 
this spirit operates usefully towards Kim, our fellow 
creatures, and ourselves. Towards Him immediately, it 
operates usefully and amiably, in the several acts of 
worship, public and private, enjoined in the Scriptures ; 
towards our fellow creatures, in the several duties of 
patriotism, kindness, truth, forgiveness, and charity ; 
and towards ourselves, in the duties of diligence, meek- 
ness, humility, temperance, and general self-denial. In 
these things at la we are especially employed as 

active 1 Gi id, both by conforming our 

pleasure, and by exhibiting 
:\ of our fellow men. 

pleasure in his character, 
.ingeable, and perfect ; yet it 



conduct to 
this co 

5. 

T 
This charal 



CHIEF END OF MAN. 



133 



is formed of perfection, endlessly diversified. On the 
one hand it is infinitely great ; on the other it is infinite- 
ly beautiful. It involves also all the varieties of great- 
ness and beauty. Innumerable displays and diversities 
of both greatness and beauty are made to us, in those 
parts of creation and providence with which Ave are ac- 
quainted ; of greatness and beauty both natural and 
moral, of matter and of mind. All these are merely 
diversified images of beauty and greatness, originally 
existing in the divine Mind ; feeble reflections of the 
beams of the Sun of Righteousness. Moral greatness 
and moral beauty are especially that .which is called ' the 
image of God ' in the Scriptures ; that in which man 
was originally created ; that to which he is restored by 
the truth of the gospel, and the Spirit of grace ; that in 
which God himself especially delights ; and that which, 
therefore, ought to be especially relished by us. The 
greatness of God is properly the object of reverence 
and admiration : the beauty of his character is properly 
the object of love : names which in different modes are 
expressive only of pleasure or delight, existing in dif- 
ferent forms. This delight is spontaneously experienced 
by all intelligent beings who are disposed to glorify 
their Maker. All these find their happiness ultimately 
in him ; and whether that happiness is gained fi'om the 
contemplation of his character, or found in his works 
and dispensations ; whether it springs up in peace and 
self-approbation, or in the reciprocated benevolence of 
our fellow creatures ; whether it is furnished by present 
enjoyment, or is anticipated in the delightful foretaste 
of hope ; it is all finally referred to him alone as its sole 
Author. By every such mind he is regarded as ' the 
fountain of living waters,' whence flows every stream of 
pleasure to the unnumbered creatures which he has 
made. 

I have considered the enjoyment of God as one of 
the means of glorifying him, under a distinct head, be- 
cause it is usually considered as a separate exercise of 
the mind ; and not because I do not suppose it to be in 
a great measure included under the former heads. Our 
enjoyment is really and chiefly found in the exercises 
already specified ; and whenever we are the subjects of 
those exercises, we are also the subjects of correspond- 
ing enjoyment. 

Even in this world, such enjoyment is experienced, 
in no small degree, by good men. In the future world, 
it will fill the minds of all glorified.beings. There they 
will ' behold' their Maker ' face to face,' and ' know,' 
in some measure, ' as they also are known.' Here ' they 
taste and see that the Lord is good ; here they rejoice 
in the Lord, and joy in the God of their salvation.' 
There they will find ' fulness of joy, and pleasures for 
evermore ;' and there ' God will be all in all.' 

That in all these ways God is glorified, hardly needs 
illustration. When Ave study to know God, Ave show 
that he is in our view deserving of being thus studied 
and known. When Ave entertain hijpi and noble 
thoughts of his character, Ave d nost direct 

manner, that his perfection " suilici' and 

glorious to claim 

him, we show in the most d *■, that he is 

lovely. When av^ scr* 

strong language of prac q who 

ought to be served, and 
enjoy him, we prove, th; ■ 
great and good , 



exercise ourselves in all these Avays with supreme devo- 
tion of heart, and make God the object of a regard 
Avhich admits of no comparison with any other, Ave tes- 
tify that he is greater, better, and more desirable, than 
all things : a Being to whom none can be equal, none 
can be second. 

II. To glorify God is constituted by him the chief 
end of man. 

This truth is easily evinced in two Avays. 

1. God has, in the Scriptures, enjoined this conduct 
as the only duty of man. 

Whatever God designed as the great end of the cre- 
ation of man, he himself perfectly knevv, unquestionably 
chose, and has certainly enjoined on man, if he has en- 
joined any thing. But this he has enjoined, and this is 
all which he has enjoined. This, at the same time, he 
has required Avith the promise of eternal life to obedi- 
ence, and the threatening of eternal death to disobedi- 
ence : both shoAving in the strongest manner, that he 
esteemed this end of sufficient importance to be secured, 
on the one hand, by the allurement of an infinite reward, 
and on the other, by the terror of an infinite punish- 
ment. From this, it appears that he regarded the end 
as of infinite value ; and that since he has commanded 
nothing else, he esteemed nothing else as being compa- 
ratively of any value. 

2. From the nature of the case it is evident, that this 
is the highest and noblest end which man can accomplish. 

As this position Avill be rendered clearly certain by 
the considerations suggested under the folloAving head, 
I shall only observe here, that admitting it to be true, 
the consequence follows in a manner which allows of no 
debate. 

III. J shall now attempt to exhibit the propriety of 
this divine constitution. 

This I think will plainly appear from the following 
observations. 

1. When God created the universe, he created it that 
he might glorify himself. 

Ihat this Avas the end of all the Avorks of God has, it 
is apprehended, been made sufficiently evident in a for- 
mer discourse ; and Avill therefore need no illustration 
at the present time. It ought to be remembered, that 
no addition to the inherent glory or excellence of the 
Creator Avas possible, or is in this assertion supposed to 
have been possible. This, therefore, Avas not, and could 
not be, a part of the end Avhich he proposed in tins great 
work. But his glory could be manifested ; and the mani- 
festation of it is what, both in the Scriptures and in all 
sound theological discourses, is intended by the glorifi- 
cation of God. To shoAv his OAvn character, to unfold 
his poAver, knoAvledge, and goodness, to creatures capa- 
ble of understanding them, Avas the supreme object 
Avhich he had in view, in the production of all beings 
and all events. 

St John declares that ' God is love.' In other Avords, 
benevolence is the sum of his moral character, and the 
peculiar and distinguishing glory of his nature. This 
is that Avhich he himself esteems his glory, that for which 
he chiefly values himself, that Avhich is the prime object 

his own complacency. This perfection, then, he in- 

ded especially to manifest to his intelligent creation. 

; t is the essence of benevolence to love and to pro- 
'lappiness ; and of infinite benevolence to love and 
to produce infinite happiness. As, therefore, benevo- 
lence is the moving principle in the divine Mind, Avhence 



134 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxv. 



all its operations spring, and to which they are all con- 
formed ; it is evident that, with knowledge sufficient to 
contrive, and power sufficient to execute, whatever it 
dictates, co-existing in the same mind, all its dictates 
will of course be accomplished. The good therefore in 
which infinite benevolence delights, was originally cho- 
sen, has been actually begun, is uninterruptedly pursued, 
and will be absolutely completed. 

2. For the accomplishment of this end, he has created 
innumerable creatures, capable of voluntarily co-operate 
ing with him in this great design. 

Angels and men, and probably many other beings, 
are formed in the image of "God ; and, like him, are 
possessed of the three great powers, of understanding, 
will, and motivity. They are therefore capable, not 
only of being passive subjects, on which the glory of 
God can be displayed and discerned ; but of being also 
agents, by whom his glory may be perceived, loved, en- 
joyed, and voluntarily promoted. The end, therefore, 
for which these beings were made, though generally the 
same with that for which inferior creatures were created, 
is essentially different, as to the manner in which it is 
to be accomplished by them. Inferior creatures, such 
as exist in the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, 
are means of the glory of God, merely as it is displayed 
in their nature, structure, and uses ; while they, at the 
same time, are perfectly unconscious of being such 
means, and perfectly inactive towards promoting it : 
contributing to it merely as passive effects, just as a 
watch is a medium of displaying the skill of the maker. 
Intelligent beings, on the other hand, being possessed 
of active powers, are not only such displays of the divine 
glory in their nature and structure ; but are able also to 
discern, so far as their powers extend, the desirableness 
of the divine glory ; to choose it as the supreme object 
of all their designs and efforts, and to consecrate to the 
promotion of it, all their labours throughout eternity. 
Such creatures are, of course, capable of glorifying God 
in a twofold manner ; viz. by the elevated and impor- 
tant endowments of which they are possessed, and in 
the voluntary exertion of their active powers towards 
the accomplishment of the same end. Thus they are 
far more noble, exalted, and estimable, in the eye of 
God, than any other creatures. 

3. God only can direct all things to the accomplish- 
ment of this illustrious end. 

That there is a possible good, capable of involving all, 
which upon the whole is good and desirable ; that im- 
mensity furnishes sufficient room, and eternity a suffi- 
cient duration, for its accomplishment ; that God in his 
omniscience comprehends this system, by his omnipo- 
tence is able, and by his goodness or benevolence is 
disposed to bring it into existence; and that conse- 
quently he has begun, and will accomplish it ; are, unless 
I am deceived, truths too clear to be rationally doubted. 
I shall at this time take them therefore for granted. 

But nothing is more plain, than that God only could 
originally have devised such a system : all other minds 
being, without a question, infinitely too limited for such 
a worlc The beings and events which it demands and 
contains, are innumerably and endlessly diversified ; 
and one is far too difficult a contrivance to have been 
formed by any mind, less than omniscient. 

As God only could have devised this immense and 
glorious system at first ; so, none but God is, at the pre- 
sent or any other period of its existence, possessed of 



sufficient wisdom to direct the innumerable parts of the 
vast machine, and their innumerable operations, to this 
great end. All the parts and all their operations, are 
absolutely necessary to its perfect accomplishment 
The failure of either, even in a single instance, would 
be a defect ; and a defect attended with an importance, 
inconceivable by any mind but His. The mischiefs 
which would flow from such a defect in the progress of 
eternity, can be comprehended by no finite under- 
standing. Accordingly he has informed us, that the 
least event does not come to pass, that a ' sparrow does 
not fall to the ground,' that a hair does not fall from 
our heads, without his direction. How evident is it 
then, that the management of the whole system demands 
his constant oversight and control. 

At the same time, his power, as every man will readily 
acknowledge, is at least equally necessary for this pur- 
pose. The hand which has ever rolled through the 
universe the worlds of which it is composed, must still 
continue to roll them. The power by which seasons 
revolve, days and nights return, light and warmth and 
rains descend, vegetation springs, animal and rational 
energy is quickened, the sunshine of intelligence, and 
the flame of virtue are lighted up ; by which the wheels 
of the universe were set in motion, and the regions of 
immensity and eternity peopled with being ; must still 
continue its unremitted exertions, or the whole system 
would dissolve and crumble into ruin. 

Nor is the divine benevolence less absolutely neces- 
sary for the same end. No finite good-will is suffi- 
ciently vast, sufficiently invariable, so superior to pre- 
judice and provocation, so unassailable by temptation, 
so incapable of weariness, so unsusceptible of decay, as 
to be safely trusted with the ultimate conduct of so 
numerous, varying, and important interests. 

Thus, it is evident, that, unless God devise, direct, and 
control, or, in a single word, manage with his power, wis- 
dom, and goodness, the vast machine of the universe ; the 
great and divine purpose, for which it was formed, can 
never be accomplished. This immense good, therefore, 
infinitely desirable to the eye of wisdom and goodness, 
and involving in itself all that is desirable, must other- 
wise fail of course ; and nothing be left in its place but 
desolation and ruin. 

4. Unless intelligent beings voluntarily co-operate 
with God in promoting this great end, it can never be 
accomplished. 

This truth is easily evinced. God has assigned to 
intelligent beings their voluntary co-operation with 
him, as a part, and a primary part, of the end itself. 
There is in such beings no other virtue, beside this vo- 
luntary co-operation. But the virtue of intelligent 
creatures is, beyond all comparison, far the most impor- 
tant part of the whole end of creation and providence ; 
the chief constituent of the divine glory ; and the chief 
object of the divine complacency in created existence. 
At the same time, it is, under God, the supreme and 
indispensable source of f i ; that happiness, which they 
were intend i eternity. It is evi- 



dent, the;-. 

co-opc-r 

ence, 

It ni! 
makes 
of his . 
opi nil 



gent creatures thus 

end of their exist- 

'■■':■■ never be accomplished. 

:e, that this doctrine 

is creatures for the execution 

«bjti<;tion has, at least in my 

Sired and misguided Christians ; 



CHIEF END OF MAN, 



135 



and, among them, not a small number of divines. I 
have heretofore obviated it on a different occasion ; 
but it may be useful to consider it again. 

The independence of God does not at all consist in 
the fact, that creatures are unnecessary to his purposes ; 
for by making them, he has shown us, that they were 
thus necessary ; nor in the fact, that his happiness 
would have been equally perfect, if he had never begun 
the works of creation and providence ; for the Scrip- 
tures inform us, that the Lord shall rejoice in all his 
works. But, if he had formed no works, this part of 
his joy would have had no existence ; and therefore his 
happiness would have been just so far incomplete. The in- 
dependence of God consists in his absolute sufficiency 
for the accomplishment of all his purposes; and in the 
absolute certainty which that sufficiency furnishes, that 
all his purposes will be accomplished. So long as these 
remain, he cannot but be absolutely independent. The 
necessity of the existence and voluntary co-operation of 
intelligent creatures, to the purposes of God, affects not 
therefore his independence, in any manner whatever. 
On the contrary, it is a part, and a most important part, 
of those very works of God which he has chosen and 
brought into existence, in which he rejoices, and will 
for ever rejoice. 

It may be farther objected, that many intelligent be- 
ings do not thus co-operate with their Maker, and that 
therefore he will thus far be disappointed, as to the 
accomplishment of his designs. If this should be seri- 
ously said, I would refer the objector, for an answer, to 
the case of Joseph's brethren, together with his com- 
ment upon their conduct : ' Ye meant it for evil ; but 
God meant it for good.' From this case, as well as 
that of the Assyrian monarch, as explained by God 
himself, Isaiah x. 5, to the end of the eleventh chapter, 
and from many others recorded in the Scriptures, the 
objector may learn, that evil beings by their disobe- 
dience as truly accomplish the divine purposes, as good 
beings by their obedience ; and that, notwithstanding 
all their opposition, he will bring good out of the evil 
which they design ; that ' still his counsel shall stand, 
and he will do all his pleasure.' But his pleasure 
would not be done, and his glory would not be dis- 
played in the same perfect manner, if no intelligent 
creatures were to obey him, by voluntarily co-operating 
with him in his designs. In this case, the whole face of 
the universe would be changed, and a new, gloomy, and 
distressing aspect be spread over the system of- creation 
and providence. 

5. Intelligent creatures cannot thus co-operate with 
the designs of God, but by conforming to his direction. 

The coincidence of the heart, with the general pur- 
pose of God, is undoubtedly the prime constituent of 
their obedience, or co-operation. But this is far from 
being all that is necessary. As none but God can know 
or direct the things which are to be done ; so it is evi- 
dent that his intelligent creatures, in order to the pro- 
motion of his designs, must coi' Erections. 
It has been already observe' 1 itOt direct 
themselves, and that he As 
every part of his designs i 
tion ; so it is plain, 
necessary, should universau 
who do not. All their . 
labours, must therel' 
implicit confidence in his wisdo 



tirely conformed to whatever he prescribes. To his 
direction, the heart must implicitly conform itself, as 
well as to his general will ; and be disposed not only to 
glorify him, but also to glorify him in exactly that 
manner which he is pleased to point out. Unless this 
manner be pursued, the object itself must eventually 
fail of its perfect accomplishment. 

6. In such a conformity of heart and of effort con- 
sists all the worth, and all the happiness, of rational 
creatures. 

God is the source and sum of all good, both moral 
and natural. To know and love him, is to know and 
love, in a sense, all that is excellent, great, and lovely. 
To serve him, is to do all that is amiable or desirable, 
all that is good or honourable, all that is pleasing to 
God, or profitable to his rational creatures. True hap- 
piness, and true worth, are attained in the same man- 
ner, and by the same conduct. ' It is more blessed,' 
says our Saviour, ' to give than to receive.' It is not 
merely more amply rewarded by God, but more happy 
in itself; necessarily, and in the nature of things, more 
happy. In other words, to do good is a more happ 
condition of being, than to receive good. But all worth 
consists in doing good, and in the disposition by which 
it is done. In this course of conduct, therefore, both 
happiness and worth are found with the highest cer- 
tainty, and in the greatest degree ; or, in better lan- 
guage, both are found here only. But doing good and 
glorifying God are convertible phrases, denoting exact- 
ly the same thing, with one trifling exception ; viz. that 
the former is sometimes used in a sense less extensive 
than that which is commonly attached to the latter. 

It is farther to be observed, that in glorifying God, 
the mind is engrossed by an object which knows no 
limit, and in which, therefore, its efforts may be for 
ever repeated, enlarged, and exalted. No law nor con- 
sideration demands that it should limit its views, desires, 
or labours. Excess here is impossible. Approved al- 
ways by itself, and by its Maker, the more, the greater 
its efforts are, it sees no bound set to them, except by 
its capacity. 

Beyond this, as doing good is the entire employment 
of every rational being, whose heart and labours are 
thus conformed to the pleasure of his Maker, the good 
actually done cannot fail, in the progress of the system, 
of becoming immensely great. Where the joint labours 
of any society are directed solely to the purpose of pro- 
ducing happiness, these labours, if wisely directed, 
must, of course, furnish happiness, proportioned to their 
extent, energy, and duration. In the divine kingdom, 
a society, greater than the human mind can estimate, 
all the members of which direct their labours by the 
unerring wisdom of God, contributing its united efforts 
throughout eternity, to the mere production of happi- 
ness, must effectuate this glorious object in a degree 
transcending the comprehension of every mind, except 
the Omniscient. These efforts, it is to be remembered, 
are all made in circumstances the most auspicious, and 
with provision the most ample, for the great end of ef- 
fectuating happiness. Happiness is the end of the whole 
system. The circumstances and the means by which it 
is to be produced, were devised by the omniscience of 
God ; and are better suited to the end than any other 
which omniscience could devise. 

At the same time, this good is enjoyed in a manner 
wholly peculiar. The excellent and disinterested spirit 



136 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



rs 



EH. XXV. 



which is thus employed in promoting the design of 
God, in the formation of the universe ; the manifesta- 
tion of his own glory in the accomplishment of the 
supreme good of his creatures ; rejoices of necessity in 
all the happiness which is produced in other individuals, 
as in its own ; and in that of the vast whole, with an 
ecstacy supereminent and incapable of limitation. Thus 
both the spirit which produces, and the spirit which en- 
joys, contribute, each in its own way, to the eventua- 
tion of more happiness, than can be originated by any 
other cause, or enjoyed in any other manner. 

All this, however, is only the one combined, immense^ 
and divine effect of infinite wisdom, power, and good- 
ness. God is the original and glorious cause of all. To 
him, therefore, the eye instinctively looks, as the ocean 
whence all these innumerable and perennial streams of 
enjoyment flow, and into which they return. His hand 
began, and will for ever continue, this amazing work ; 
and will be seen daily, more and more clearly, uniform- 
ly and divinely, in every thing which takes, place, both 
within and without the mind. ' Of the increase of His 
government and their peace ;' of the splendour and 
beneficence of his administrations, of the activity of their 
efforts, and the intenseness of their enjoyment, ' there 
will be no end.' More and more beautiful and lovely 
in his sight, more and more approximating towards his 
sublime perfection, he will behold them with supreme 
and eternal complacency ; will look with an unclouded 
smile on the illustrious work which he has made, and 
with the voice of infinite approbation will pronounce it 
' very good.' 

Such is the end which God proposed in the creation 
of Man ; such its nature and such its propriety. How 
plainly is it the best and most glorious end which can 
be aimed at by man, or accomplished by his Creator ? 



From this fruitful theme many more important and 
practical reflections naturally arise, than can be even 
mentioned at the present time. It will, however, be 
highly proper to suggest a few of them ; and these will 
be only suggested. In the contemplation of this sub- 
ject, we can hardly fail to remark, 

1. The pitiful nature of the ends of human existence, 
and human labour, proposed by heathen philosophy, and 
modern infidelity. 

The great ends of our being, exhibited by heathen 
philosophy, were the gratification of pride, the esta- 
blishment of apathy, the acquisition of power, wealth, 
and fame, and the enjoyment of animal pleasure. All 
these, except the second, are the ends proposed also by 
modern infidelity. By all, except the last, they labour- 
ed to convert man into a fiend ; and by that, to change 
him into a brute. Barely to descend from the divine 
object which is the theme of this discourse, to these 
miserable purposes, is to fall from heaven to earth. 

2. It is plainly impossible, that these systems should 
guide man to his supreme good : and therefore, that they 
should direct his moral conduct, either with rectitude or 
profit 

The true end of his being, that which is really his 
supreme good, they knew not ; and, therefore, could not 
point it out. 

3. These systems are hence. evidently seen to be false. 
There is a real supreme good to man. Truth will cer- 
tainly guide us to this all-important object. But none of 



these philosophers have guided us to it. On the con- 
trary, they have only led mankind away from it. Their 
systems, therefore, are essentially false. 

4. We see here, the benevolent design of the Scrip- 
tures. 

The whole design of the Scriptures is to teach- man 
what is his supreme good, to show the way in which he 
may attain it, and to require him to devote his efforts t« 
the attainment. How infinitely superior are they, in 
this respect, to all human systems ! 

5. The Scriptures are fairly presumed, from this con- 
sideration, to be of divine origin. 

They alone disclose this great object to mankind ; 
and in this respect, differ immensely from all other 
writings. Whence this difference ? How can it be ex- 
plained, but by supposing the writers of them to have 
been inspired ? 

6. We learn hence the true dignity of man. 

The dignity of man has been always a favourite topic 
of his thoughts, conversation, and writings. When he 
looks into his own bosom, and discerns the nature and 
extent of his powers •, or casts his eye abroad, and be- 
holds what he has done ; it is not strange that he should 
form elevated ideas concerning his own character and 
destination. . Unhappily, however, he has always form- 
ed, when left to his own speculations, erroneous opin- 
ions concerning this subject ; and has placed his dig- 
nity in things, of which it can never be constituted. 
Personal accomplishments, brilliant or profound talents, 
extensive acquisitions of learning and science, ingenious 
inventions or improvements of art, bold achievements, 
and heroic exploits, have ever been the objects in which 
he has supposed his dignity to consist, and of which he 
has ever been inclined to boast. Some of these are in- 
deed, both desirable and commendable ; but all, of them- 
selves, are utterly insufficient to constitute real dignity. 
This is found in the mind only. Intelligence is neces- 
sary to it : but of intelligence alone it cannot be con- 
stituted. Its real seat is in the disposition. Virtue, 
moral excellence, the beauty and loveliness of the mind, 
is the real and only dignity of an intelligent being. To 
devote all its faculties and labours to the glory of the 
Creator, in the pursuit of the supreme good of the uni- 
verse, is the true worth, honour, and glory of every in 
telligent creature : and compared with it, all things else, 
of which we are capable, are 'nothing, less than nothing, 
and vanity.' 

7. We cannot but see, in these considerations, the 
obligation which we are under to devote all our facul- 
ties and labours to the promotion of this end. 

This observation needs no comment. 

8. We also see here, in a clear light, the necessity 
of Regeneration. 

The native disposition of man is opposed to the end 
of his being. This disposition, nothing has ever changed 
essentially, except the pover of the Spirit of truth. 
As rosary, therefore, as it is that man should an- 
s> Lis creation, '0 necessary is it that he 

shoj '• ' change in his moral 

. . 

iect he transcendent excel- 
i 

of God, but some display 
!. i):e scheme of creation, i 
ad, there is a splendour, 
o Jehovah. In the end 






PROBATION OF MAN. 



137 



proposed by intelligent beings in their designs, and dis- 
played in their conduct, their proper character is espe- 
cially manifested. The end proposed by God, and dis- 
played in his works of creation and providence, is un- 
questionably the noblest and most important of all pos- 
sible ends, and the strongest proof of the best of all pos- 
sible characters. It is the most finished, and the most 
ample manifestation of all that is great, exalted, lovely, 
and divine. Out of it, spring created intelligence, virtue 
and enjoyment, enlarged, refined, and brightened for 
ever. Heaven and its immortal glory are its fruits ; 
angels, and ' the spirits of just men made perfect,' are 



its offspring. The Sun of righteousness here rises on 
the astonished sight, without a cloud, and shines with the 
clear effulgence of eternal day. In the future world, 
that sun shall no more go down, neither shall that glory 
withdraw itself; but with a presence ever enjoyed, a 
lustre ever increasing, shall enlighten, warm, and quick- 
en the universe of virtuous minds with one unceasing 
day, one everlasting spring ; while all that is beautiful, 
fragrant, and delightful, lovely in the eye of God, and a 
resemblance of his transcendent perfection, shall rise, 
and bloom, and flourish, beneath the life-giving influ- 
ence for ever and ever. Amen. 



SERMON XXVI. 



PROVIDENCE.— THE PROBATION OF MAN. 



And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden, to dress it, and to keep it. And the 
Lord God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat ; but of the tree 
of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat of it ; for in the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt 
surely die Gen. ii. 15 — 17 



In several preceding Sermons, I have considered the 
work of Creation ; including the heavens and the 
earth, their inhabitants and their furniture. The next 
subject in a theological system is, the work of Provi- 
dence. 

From the text, which is an account of the first act of 
Providence towards mankind, we learn the following 
things : 

I. That the Providence of God towards man began 
immediately after he was created. 

In the great and wonderful work of creation, provi- 
sion was effectually made for the production, sub- 
sistence, and comfort of such beings as were afterwards 
to exist in this world. By this observation, I do not 
intend absolutely, that no being has been, in the strict 
sense, created since the conclusion of the period, in 
which the Scriptures exhibit this work as having been 
accomplished. Whether this has, or has not, in the 
strict sense, been the fact, is not material to the present 
design. I intend, in the Scriptural language, ' that 
the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the 
host of them.' The beings, which, during succeeding 
ages, were to exist in this world, whether in the ra- 
tional, animal, or vegetable kingdoms, were all, to- 
gether with the changes in the mineral or inanimate 
kingdom, to be produce ■' n ° instrumentality of se- 

condary causes. As the last ceature which 

was made ; when he fl . r creation 

was finished. From ling and 

controlling agency of 
commenced ; 
tended over all the 

The Providence > 
miraculous. Miraculo 
agency of God in the p 
times, to accomplish 
advantageously Rccomplwn* 



ordinary providence of God is an agency, directing the 
several creatures which he has made, to the several pur- 
poses for which they were made ; and conducted ac- 
cording to certain rules which he has been pleased to 
establish, and which are commonly, although improperly 
enough called laws of nature. In the Scriptures, with 
much more propriety as well as beauty, they are termed 
ordinances of heaven. In the succession of things, 
according to these ordinances, the power, wisdom, and 
goodness of God, are gloriously manifested in a series 
of events, beautiful and harmonious, wonderful and 
sublime, beyond any limit assignable by the thoughts 
of man. 

Before the apostasy, these laws and their effects were, 
beyond a doubt, exceedingly different from those which 
prevail at the present time. Man was then immortal, 
holy, and happy ; and was destined to breathe in air, to 
feed on fruits, and to pursue employments, suited to 
the perpetuation of this delightful state. The world 
was beautiful and pleasant. All things were peaceful, 
friendly, and means of unceasing and undisturbed en- 
joyment. The sources of pain, hunger and thirst, of 
disquiet, disease and death, were unopened and un- 
known. To a single end was directed the whole en- 
ergy of nature ; and that end was the immediate good 
of man. 

After the apostasy, a state of things began which was 
in many respects new ; a state suited to fallen beings, 
who were to live under many manifestations of the 
ivine wrath against sin ; and who in the end were to 
I e, and thus cease from all future connexion with the 
place of their former residence. 

After the deluge, the state of the world appears to 
have been still farther changed More and more pain- 
'ul proofs of the anger of God against sin were intro- 
duced into the system. Life, within a little time, was 
shortened from one thousand years to seventy. Labour, 
s 



138 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. 



sorrow, and disease, were greatly enhanced. The bloom 
of immortality, already deeply faded, now withered 
away. Food, together with the whole train of neces- 
saries, lost its power of prolonging life ; sickliness over- 
spread the vegetable kingdom, storms convulsed the air 
and the ocean, earthquakes and volcanoes shook the 
land, and decay and disorder impaired the whole face 
of the system. 

II. We learn also that man, immediately after his 
creation, was placed in a state of active employment. 

The text declares, that ' the Lord God took the man 
and put him in the garden of Eden to dress it, and to 
keep it.' Activity of body and of mind is the sole 
means of doing good, and of glorifying God ; and is, 
therefore, indispensable to the end for which intelligent 
beings were created. Hence man, like the angels, was 
destined to be active ; and was directed to industrious 
business, immediately after he was brought into the 
world. 

III. That he was, at the same time, placed in a state 
of trial. 

By this I intend, that he was put into such a condi- 
tion as to show whether he would obey or disobey his 
Maker. The rectitude and reasonableness of this dis- 
pensation are easily evinced. 

Man, as I flatter myself has been heretofore proved, 
was created a moral agent, possessed of understanding 
and will, and therefore free, and capable of obeying. 
Of course, inability to obey could not be pleaded by 
him, as a reason why he should be exempted from 
obedience. 

At the same time, his Creator had an entire and in- 
disputable right to his services. No property is so high, 
or so perfect, as that which the creator has in the thing 
created ; and no right so complete, as that which arises 
out of this property. God therefore having created 
man, had the most perfect property in him, and the 
most perfect right to dispose of him according to his 
own righteous pleasure. 

God also being possessed of infinite greatness and 
excellence, is infinitely deserving of the supreme love, 
reverence, and obedience of man. 

To serve, love, and honour God, is the most rational 
and desirable employment which is possible. It was 
therefore man's highest interest, as well as indispensa- 
ble duty, to obey. In no other manner could he be either 
virtuous or happy. Of course, it may with the utmost 
reverence and propriety be concluded, that God would 
not have acted in a manner conformable to perfect rec- 
titude, if he had not required obedience from all his 
rational creatures ; since they could neither do, nor 
enjoy, the good, of which they were made capable, in 
any other manner. 

IV. That the situation in which man was placed, 
furnished him with eminent inducements and advantages 
to obey. 

The truth of this proposition will, I think, appear 
evident from the following particulars : — 

I. Man was created holy, without any mixture of 
sinful affections. 

This needs no proof, because it will be generally 
acknowledged, and because it has already been suffi- 
ciently proved in a former discourse. His understand 
ing admitted truth without prejudice, and without any 
necessary error, except such as proceeded from mere 
ignorance. He did not know all things ; but those 



which he knew, he knew truly, or as they really ex- 
isted. His will also was perfectly conformed to the 
dictates of his understanding. 

2. He was placed in a situation in which external 
things were most favourable to his obedience. 

His habitation was delightful, and only delightful. 
Plenty, ease, and peace, fragrance, beauty, and joy, 
sprang up spontaneously around him, and accompanied 
him whithersoever he went. He was the Lord and pro- 
prietor of a world ; and that world was an Eden, a 
paradise of improvement and pleasure. 

His employments were all innocent, virtuous, and 
delightful. In the happy and unlaborious agriculture 
to which he was summoned, he found business conge- 
nial to his nature, powers, and wishes. Every thing 
flourished under his hand ; and furnished him the 
peculiar pleasure of seeing his efforts contribute to his 
own enjoyment, and to the beauty and perfection of 
the objects by which he was surrounded. He felt that 
he was useful ; that he was employed in a manner 
chosen by his Maker ; and that he therefore pleased 
and obeyed Him ; while he also daily contributed to 
the advancement of his own happiness. This conscious- 
ness, united with an employment of the same general 
nature, is probably necessary to all extensive and per- 
manent good. 

All things also daily manifested to him the presence 
of God, and exhibited this glorious Being only as great, 
wise, and good ; reminding him unceasingly of the 
Benefactor to whom alone he was indebted, and of the 
immense extent of the obligations under which he was 
laid by the overflowing kindness of this Benefactor. 
Thus every thing with a continual voice called on him 
to persist in his obedience, and in this manner to pre- 
serve the happiness which it insured. 

3. God immediately revealed himself to man, in 
several ways which are recorded, and in many more 
which are necessarily implied. 

God taught man to dress the garden of Eden ; or, 
in other words, communicated to hiin the knowledge 
of an agriculture, suited to the nature and circumstances 
of the spot in which he was placed. It was necessary 
for man to be employed. Idleness, even in paradise, 
would, not improbably, have proved fatal to his in- 
nocence and peace. Equally necessary was it, that the 
nature of his employment should be revealed to him, 
the manner in which it might be pursued with ease to 
himself, and the means by which it might be rendered 
most effectual to every desirable purpose. Without 
such a revelation, ages must in all probability have 
passed away, before he would have discovered how to 
employ himself with either convenience or profit 

At the same time, God revealed himself to him im- 
mediately ; and conversed with him freely, often, and 
familiarly; directing hiir. by an audible voice, and in 
a manner wholly intelligible, to whatever his duty re- 
quired. To ■ derive the whole benefit 
flowing fr; ! .God endowed him 
with tb knowledge of lan- 
guap'; ' is is clearly evinced 
by .'stand the converse 

ures as carried 

terms, of the 

sai. use among men. 

our first parents were 
.ide* to he helps meet for 



PROBATION OF MAN. 



139 



each other. Without speech, we cannot conceive a 
social state to exist ; nor imagine the mutual assistance 
aimed at in the creation of the first pair, to he in any- 
possible manner accomplished. Without speech, mil- 
lions crowded together, would, for this very reason, 
find themselves in a more perfect solitude. Without 
speech mutually understood, mankind even now are 
strangers and aliens to each other ; and are not only 
unable and uninclined to render to each other any ma- 
terial assistance, but are even ready mutually to suspect, 
hate, and separate. Confidence is never reposed, friend- 
ship never springs up, where, language is not under- 
stood, and where communications are not intelligibly 
and definitely made. 

It is farther proved by the record of the fact itself. 
Adam, immediately after his creation, gave names to 
every beast of the field, and to every fowl of the air ; 
names suited to their respective natures, and conveyed 
down, as their appropriate names, to his posterity. He 
also named Eve, when she was first brought to him, and 
assigned his reason for the name which he had chosen. 
Both he and she also conversed easily and freely, as 
appears abundantly from the account given of them, 
notwithstanding its brevity 

That language was revealed to man is, as an abstract 
proposition, abundantly proved by the impossibility, 
that the fact can have been otherwise. Without society, 
language could not be formed, and without language, 
society could not commence. 

God also revealed to man, in direct and definite 
terms, his whole duty ; and disclosed to him the law by 
which his life was to be governed. With the same 
clearness was he taught the rewards annexed to obe- 
dience, and the punishments due to disobedience. Of 
this truth we have a remarkable exemplification in the 
text ; where we are presented with one of the principal 
rules given to our first parents for the regulation of 
their conduct. Man therefore was not left to find out 
either his duty or his danger, by the critical and doubt- 
ful decision of slow discovery, and distant inference ; but 
received the knowledge of both in the same plain and 
certain manner, in which children are taught obedience 
by parental instruction. 

4. The immediate means of trial were reasonably and 
benevolently selected. 

In the garden of Eden, ' the Lord God made to grow 
every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for 
food.' Man lived in the midst of spontaneous abun- 
dance. The palate and the eye were alike gratified, 
and the wishes seemed to have nothing left to ask 
One fruit only was forbidden, and this merely for the 
purpose of trying his fidelity. Had man been placed 
in hard and difficult circumstances, encircled by few 
enjoyments, expose* to great temptations, and the 
subject of mm is:e and doubt concerning his 

duty; he would stif bo'i-id to 

obey. But his real 
God has giver, i 

thing was df •','■ or useful. 

A trifling grati ■ , was 

the utmos' 
The conti nuai 
the favou 
to bless him, v. 
situation can be ii' 
could have 



in his duty. All motives which we should think likely 
to influence, urged him to obey ; and none of this de- 
scription prompted him to disobey. The motives to 
obedience were many, and in their moment infinite ; 
those to disobedience were few, poor, and trifling. 

The law under which our first parents were placed 
is styled in the Scriptures, ' the first or old covenant ;' 
and is commonly called by divines, the covenant of 
works ; in distinction from the new or second covenant, 
of which Christ is the mediator, and which is called the 
covenant of grace. A covenant of works is no other 
than a law requiring obedience, and prohibiting disobe- 
dience, promising a reward to the former, and threaten- 
ing punishment to the latter. It takes, in this case, the 
name of a covenant, rather than that of a law, (although 
it has all the nature and sanctions of a law,) because God 
was pleased to communicate his will to man in the form 
of a covenant : a mode, gentle, condescending, and 
highly expressive of the divine benignity. 

No being already sinful, can be possibly holden guilt- 
less under such a covenant ; or, in better language, 
when tried for his conduct, ' be justified.' His former 
crimes render it impossible that it should become a 
covenant of life to him. To offer the conditions of such 
a covenant to beings of this character, would be merely 
to tantalize them ; since by the very terms of it they 
would be originally fixed in a state of condemnation. 
Accordingly, when God proposed to place mankind 
anew, in a state of probation, he ' set forth Christ as a 
propitiation for the remission of sins, already past ;' 
and offered to .accept of his obedience in their stead, as 
the ground of their justification. 

But sinless creatures are, with perfect and obvious 
propriety, placed under such a covenant. Their cha- 
racter being spotless, is such as to admit of their justifi- 
cation on the ground of their own obedience. If that 
obedience should, during the time of trial, be perfect, 
their justification and reward must follow of course, 
from the conditions of the law itself; and no atonement 
could be necessary for them. Thus the holy angels 
obeyed, and were justified. Thus Adam would have 
been justified, had he continued obedient. Thus also 
the evil angels fell, and were condemned. 

V. We learn also that the obedience of Adam, as pre- 
scribed by this law, was concentred in a single point ; 
and was thus rendered easy, and so far as might be, 
secure, in a manner strongly expressive of the goodness 
of God. 

If he eat net of the forbidden fruit, he was approved. 

I do not intend, that he was not required to obey 
God in all things. This unquestionably was demanded 
of him, as well as of every other creature ; and was 
beyond a doubt his indispensable duty. But I mean, 
that God absolutely suspended his acceptance, justifica- 
tion, and reward, on the single point of his abstaining 
from the forbidden fruit. This mode of dealing with 
* '-in, rendered his obedience peculiarly easy. Is 
,ut the duty, which he was especially required to 
lerform, up to his view, in the most distinct manner 
ble ; and rendered it too intelligible to be mistaken. 
torn was left for doubt or debate. The object in 
on was a sensible object perfectly defined, and 
tly understood.- No metaphysical or philosophical 
■ =ion was demanded or admitted. No uncertainty 
[, as to the degree in which his obedience was 
(1. He was left at no loss concerning the time, 



140 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



fSEB. XXVI. 



the manner, or the nature of that conduct, which it was 
proper for him to observe. He knew the whole extent 
of what was commanded, and what was forbidden ; and 
therefore could not but know whether he obeyed or 
disobeyed. This knowledge, always of high importance, 
was especially important to him, so lately brought into 
existence, so unversed in argumentation, acquainted 
only with plain facts, and under the guidance of nothing 
but mere common sense. 

Besides, as his obedience was confined to a single 
point, he was taught and enabled to summon all his 
watchfulness, resolution, and strength, to this point only ; 
to keep it supremely in view, and to be continually 
guarded against every thing which might lead him to 
transgress here. In making this the medium of trial, 
God secured him of course against all other dangers ; so 
that he was left at full leisure to watch against all possi- 
ble temptations to this single evil. Were an earthly- 
parent to try the obedience of a child, and make his 
right to the inheritance of an estate depend on the per- 
formance of his filial duty ; such a mode of trying him 
would be thought not only reasonable, but generous, 
noble, and strongly indicative of parental affection. 

VI. We learn from the text, that the rewards pro- 
mised to him were infinitely great ; and furnished, there- 
fore, an infinite motive to obedience. 

That Adam, if faithfully obedient, would have in- 
herited immortal life, and its various blessings, is evi- 
dently involved in the words of the law, ' If thou eatest 
thereof, thou shalt die.' If thou eatest not, thou shalt 
not die, but live for ever, is the necessary counterpart ; 
without admitting which, the threatening expressed 
would mean nothing, and the law become a mere nullity. 
For in this case, his situation, whether he obeyed or 
disobeyed, would be exactly the same ; and he would 
be left without a single motive to obedience. That the 
posterity of Adam have been essentially affected by his 
apostasy is not often denied, and I think cannot be, 
with even the appearance of reason. As I propose to 
discuss this subject hereafter, I shall for the present take 
this point for granted. If it be admitted, it must also 
be admitted, that they would have been equally inter- 
ested in the benefits which would have resulted from his 
obedience, and would, like him, have lived for ever. 
After the apostasy, ' he begat a son in his own' moral 
'likeness;' sinful and miserable, like himself. Had he 
obeyed, the children begotten by him would, without a 
reasonable doubt, have been born in his likeness also, 
and been destined, like himself, to unceasing holiness 
and immortal life. It will not be denied, that the mo- 
tives here presented to obedience were in themselves of 
infinite magnitude. They were also motives, coming 
directly to his heart ; affected him, as far as might be, 
with their whole importance, daily forced upon his view ; 
and reasonably expected, if any thing could be expected, 
to prevail 

VII. We learn that motives, equally powerful, lent 
their whole force to deter him from disobeying. 

The reward promised was immortal life ; the punish- 
ment threatened was, I apprehend, eternal death. These 
two appear to be the only reward and punishment, ulti- 
mately promised and threatened in the divine law, as 
the proper retribution of obedience and disobedience. 
in the great kingdom of Jehovah. As this subject will 
naturally be brought up to view, when I come to con- 
sider the sentence pronounced on the offenders, I shall 



dismiss it for the present. What motives could possibly 
have greater influence on a thinking mind than these? 
With what force, especially, must they be addressed to 
such a mind as that of Adam ; unbiassed by any influ- 
ence of sin, loving obedience entirely, accustomed only 
to happiness, entitled to immortal life, and yet capable 
of losing finally this glorious state ? What a contra t 
between these two objects ; hoiv affecting, how amazing ! 



From these summary considerations it appears, 

1 . That God acted, in establishing the probation of our 
first parents, not only justly, but kindly and bountifully. 

In forming our own estimate of this subject, we are 
prone to consider chiefly, and often solely, the issue of 
their trial ; which we cannot but acknowledge, as well 
as feel to be, in the most striking point of view, incom- 
prehensibly melancholy and dreadful. In this consi- 
deration also, we are partial, as being deeply interested 
judges, since we are involved in the calamities flow- 
ing from their transgression. But neither of these 
things ought to have any influence on our judgment 
concerning this subject. We ought to inquire only 
concerning the circumstances in which they were placed, 
and the conditions prescribed to them. If these were 
reasonable and just, then God was reasonable and just 
in prescribing them ; and that they were so, even we 
cannot deny. 

That it is, in the nature of the case, right for God to 
try all his intelligent creatures, cannot, I think, be ra- 
tionally doubted ; and that the trial of our first parents 
was eminently reasonable, in all its circumstances, ap- 
pears to me unquestionable. 

Their situation was clearly a strong proof of the 
bounty and kindness of their Maker : and was com- 
posed of abundance, peace, ease, and enjoyment, and 
attended by the living and delightful hope of superior 
good, unceasingly filling their continually enlarging 
faculties, views, and desires. It Avas necessary that they 
should be employed ; and their employment was such, 
as ever since, notwithstanding the toil and suffering by 
which it has been accompanied, has been most conge- 
nial to human nature, and most delightful to the human 
heart. How much more desirable must it have been in 
a state to which toil and suffering were absolute stran- 
gers ! Idleness would render even virtuous beings use- 
less, and, so far as I see, worthless. Virtuous action is 
all the real worth of intelligent beings. Without it, 
there can exist no self-approbation, no peace of mind, 
no inherent dignity, no consciousness of excellence, no 
desert of esteem. To be employed, therefore, was in- 
dispensable both to the character and to the happiness 
of our first parents. 

Their advantages for obeying, and their inducements 
to obedience, seem to have been in the best manner 
suited to such bi ■ ere ai I eculiarly ex- 

pressive of the gf-~ ■'. It is difficult to ima- 

gine how ci into existence, 

could ! more ad- 



6 
t 
11 



bound to 

Had Adam 

d the equity of 

/ with reason, any 

of this subject 

be conditions and cir- 



ii: 



PROBATION OF MAN. 



141 



cumstances themselves ; as we should have formed it, 
had the conditions and circumstances been presented to 
us before the issue. In this case we should not have hesi- 
tated to acknowledge either the justice or the goodness 
of the Creator. Whenever we now judge otherwise, our 
judgment does not proceed from reason and evidence ; 
but is the mere offspring of prejudice and feeling. 

2. These considerations teach us also the extreme er- 
ror and perverseness of those men, who, in the language 
of sneer and contempt, declare that God cannot be sup- 
posed to have condemned mankind for the mere eating 
of an apple. 

I have here adopted the language which has been of- 
ten used concerning this subject, not by infidels only, 
but by multitudes of such as profess to believe the 
Scriptures. It is, however, not the language of reason 
and common sense, but of partiality and passion ; of a 
most unhappy nature, and existing in a very censurable 
degree. 

Nothing in which God is concerned, or is supposed 
to have been concerned, can be the proper object of 
contempt or sneer, of sport or ridicule. Every thought 
concerning this great, pure, and awful Being, ought to 
spring from the most profound reverence ; and when- 
ever expressed, ought to be uttered only in the most 
reverential terms. Especially are we bound to exclude 
all levity of mind from a case of such deep importance 
and amazing concern, as the apostasy of man ; an event 
which not only exposed the immediate subjects of it to 
the divine wrath, and the final sentence of reprobation, 
but entailed also an endless multitude of miseries, as 
well as an endless course of depravity, on their sinning 
progeny. The exposure of a single human soul to the 
anger of God, and to the miseries of perdition, is a 
subject too solemn to be taken up by a trifling mind, 
or discussed with a thoughtless tongue. AVhen we are 
considering sin and condemnation, the guilt and mise- 
ries of the present life, or the endless corruption and 
sufferings of the life to come ; whatever else may be in 
unison with these subjects, sport and sneer are only dis- 
cordant ; and jar and grate upon the ear of a sober man 
with a harshness, equally unsuited to the nature of the 
subjects, and distressing to every rational feeling. He 
who can adopt sentiments of contempt and ridicule ; 
and still more, he who can utter them, in a case where 
his all is at stake ; is a madman, much fitter to grope in 
bedlam, than to mingle with rational society. 

The phraseology here adopted is totally unjust and 
unfounded, totally false and hollow. It insinuates, and 
intentionally insinuates, that God was influenced in his 
condemnation of our first parents by a resentment, ex- 
cited only by the value which he placed on the forbid- 
den fruit ; and that, as exhibited in this part of the 
Scriptures, he was mov " • e weak and pitiful 

passions with which men • iHsldy 

resent the loss of their 'ue of 

the fruit was insigni >- 

men conclude, thiy 

to be angry at th» * . 

inent, much less 
gressors. V. 
less to argue, 
dmit, that 

;ni at all fo 

But the prii 
i bject ; the argumenl 



out a foundation. The Scriptures, neither here, nor else- 
where, present us with any such views of God. No- 
thing is more remote from the story actually told, or 
from the doctrines really expressed. Every thing which 
is taught by the Bible concerning this subject, is highly 
solemn and affecting. 

Our first parents were condemned, because they dis- 
obeyed their Maker, revolted from his authority, and 
rebelled against his government. Whatever was the 
mode, whatever was the instrument of the rebellion, the 
sin was substantially the same. The same authority 
was denied, the same obligation broken ; and, of course, 
the same guilt was thus far incurred. There is how- 
ever a difference in transgressions, and a plain one, 
which renders the guilt greater in proportion to the 
smallness of the temptation. That disposition which 
disobeys under the influence of a small temptation is 
certainly worse than that which, resisting such a temp- 
tation, yields only to inducements which are very great. 
This rule of judging is universal ; and in other cases, is 
acknowledged without a question. It ought to be ac- 
knowledged here. Had Adam disobeyed, to gain the 
dominion of the universe, or admission into heaven ; 
these men would have pronounced the trial unreason- 
able : because the temptatior was evidently too great 
for his faculties, and disproportioned to his ability to 
resist. On the same principle they ought now to ac- 
knowledge, that the trial was wholly equitable ; because 
it allowed of no temptations, except such as were insig- 
nificant and trifling. Thus the argument is directly 
against them, and unanswerably refutes their favourite 
doctrine. 

The fruit, whatever it was, was plainly of no impor- 
tance in the possession, to Him who, at his bidding, can 
in a moment call into existence a world, or a million of 
worlds, with all their furniture and beauty. Nor lias 
it, in this sense, the most remote relation to the subject 
in hand. The guilt of our first parents lay solely in re- 
belling against the will of God, their Creator, Sove- 
reign, and Benefactor. For this rebellion they were 
justly condemned, if God can justly condemn a rebellious 
creature. 

3. We are taught by this passage of Scripture, in one 
important particular, the views which God entertains of 
sin. 

The sentence here denounced against disobedience, 
is denounced against the first act. ' In the day that 
thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die.' The deatli 
threatened in this law, is threatened to a single trans- 
gression. Accordingly, for a single transgression they 
were afterward condemned. 

How different is this exhibition of the mind of God, 
concerning this subject, from the views which we are 
accustomed to cherish ! We are prone to believe, that 
.^ven after numerous transgressions, nay, after the sins 
of a whole life, God will still regard us with so much 
• that we shall scarcely be condemned. Our first 
s eat the forbidden fruit, and were condemned, 
things, apparently much more aggravated, 
ne ! Yet how greatly are we at ease con- 
fute divine anger, and our approaching destina- 
Under the persuasion that we are not so sinful 
and indeed, that we are scarcely sinful at all, 
. the law, the transgression, and the penalty, 
awfully resounded in our ears ; and hardly suppose our- 
ives interested in either. To the final judgment, and 



142 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. xxvir. 



the final condemnation of the wicked, we turn a care- 
less, self-satisfied eye ; as objects which, however inte- 
resting to others, have little or no reference to our- 
selves. Thus flattered and supported by views of our 
guilt, utterly opposed to the Scriptures, and wholly con- 
trary to those of God, we go on in the commission of 
sin without any serious alarm, and persuade ourselves, 
that whether ' the Lord will do good ' to us or not, ' he ' 
certainly ' will never do evil.' In this deplorable man- 
ner life is spent, the day of repentance trifled away, and 
the hope of redemption and forgiveness lost for ever. 

But let every sinner in this house remember, that he 
was condemned for his first sin, for the second, for the 



third, and for every one which has followed. Call to 
mind, then, I beseech you, the amazing number of 
transgressions actually charged to the account of every 
sinner present. Think how many have been committed 
in a single day ; how many more in a week, in a month, 
in a year. How astonishing must be the sum of those 
which are committed in a whole life ! The same God, 
who condemned Adam for one transgression, regards 
every sin of which you have been guilty, with the same 
abhorrence. How awful was the sentence of condem- 
nation pronounced on him ! What then can remain 
for you in your present condition, but, ' a fearful look- 
ing for of judgment and fiery indignation !' 



SERMON XXVII. 



PROVIDENCE. —THE TEMPTATION AND FALL. 



Nouj the serpent was more subtile than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said 
unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden ? And the woman said 
unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden : but of the fruit of the tree, winch is in 
the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. And 
the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die : for God doth know, that in the day ye eat thereof, 
then your eyes shall be opened : and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. And when the woman 
saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make 
one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat ; and gave also unto her husband with her, and he did 
eat.- — Gen. iii. I — 6. 



In the last Discourse, I considered the situation of our 
first parents in the state of trial, in which God was 
pleased to place them ; and the conditions of the law or 
covenant under which they were placed. These, I en- 
deavoured to show, were just and reasonable ; and such 
as clearly spoke the benevolence of God. 

In the text we are informed of the result of this trial, 
viz. that they transgressed the law, fell from their ori- 
ginal purity, forfeited the favour and blessing of 
God, and were condemned to suffer the penalty of the 
law. 

In this remarkable passage of Scripture, four things 
especially claim our serious attention : — 

I. The character of the tempter : 

II. The manner of the temptation : 

III. The character and circumstances of the persons 
tempted ; and, 

IV. The consequences of the temptation. 

I. The character of the tempter demands our attention. 

The tempter is exhibited to us here by the name of 
the Serpent ; or, as in the Hebrew, ' that Serpent.' 
This phraseology naturally leads us to imagine that a 
part of this discourse, as originally written, has been 
lost ; altered perhaps by Moses, according to the com- 
mand of God ; or afterwards by some prophet, aci 
ing to the same command ; because the passage 
answered the end intended by it, and was not h< 
forth a necessary part of the canon of Scripture, 
perhaps it was originally differently written, and 
present language is owing to some mistake of a 
scriber. Of this Serpent, St John declares th<-. 
Satan ; the head or leader of those angels, ' w • 



not their first estate,' but revolted from God, and threw 
oft" their subjection to his government. 

This exalted being, unsatisfied with his dignity and 
glory in heaven, appears to have aspired to a station 
still higher, and to have chosen to hazard the loss of all 
which he possessed, rather than to continue in that in 
which he was placed ; a station, not improbably, the 
first in the created universe. In thus aspiring, he fell 
from this height to the lowest depth of degradation, 
guilt, and misery ; and completely verified the declara- 
tion of Christ, that such as have been ' first,' will in 
various instances be ' last ' in the great kingdom of God. 

After his fall, the evil passions which began to influ- 
ence him in heaven, appear to have gained an entire 
ascendency. All his purposes have, since that event, 
been evil, mischievous, and abominable ; and the means 
by which he has laboured to accomplish them have 
been base, grovelling, and suited to the nature of the 
purposes. , 

That upon which lie now entered was probably as 
b^ : > as cruel as was ever 

e be more remembered with 

f!)less we are to 

successfully solicited 

'he crucifixion of the 

o this work 

h as these. 

j id at the 

■'■', possessing 

or to l,is own ; because 

and consequently happy 



TEMPTATION AND FALL. 



143 



also; because they stood higher in the approbation of 
God, and the estimation of angels ; and because they 
were, in prospect, the heirs of immortal life and endless 
enjoyment. 

His resentment against God, which fired his rebel- 
lious spirit at all times, now saw and seized what he 
thought an advantageous opportunity, to disappoint his 
great Enemy of his favourite design ; to overcast the 
face and glory of his new creation, to dishonour his 
name, to disturb again the peace of his kingdom, and 
to frustrate purposes which seemed to be near, if not 
nearest to his heart. 

His pride also was, doubtless, greatly gratified with 
the prospect of being able to disappoint his Maker ; to 
counteract his designs, and to prove that his wisdom 
was not so great as to secure him from being thwarted 
and vanquished by the sagacity of his enemy. 

Nor was his malevolence probably less concerned in 
this enterprise. He had now become the professed, 
habitual, and eternal enemy of God, and of his creation. 
Good he regarded, wherever he saw it, with an evil and 
malignant eye, and an aching heart. That others were 
happy, was, to his debased feelings, a certain source of 
misery. The only emotions which resembled happiness 
in his mind were now those, which, in the true fiend- 
like manner, exulted in overcoming others, in destroy- 
ing or lessening their enjoyments, and in reducing them 
to the same level of deformity and wretchedness with 
himself. These emotions could not but be strongly ex- 
cited by the prospect of ruining a world of happy be- 
ings ; such as were, and were to be, our first parents 
and their offspring. 

For the gratification of these abandoned dispositions, 
he was prepared to employ any means. Accordingly, 
he chose rather to inhabit and animate a serpent, and 
ally himself to the brutes, than to fail of his design. 
In the body of this serpent he approached and accosted 
Eve ; doubtless expecting what actually took place, that 
both himself and his purposes would in this way be 
effectually concealed. 

II. The manner of the temptation was remarkably 
distinguished by art and subtlety. 

He accosted the general mother of mankind when she 
was alone, and of course most unguarded. Had Adam 
been present, it seems unquestionable, that both would 
have assisted each other ; and that their mutual strength 
might have resisted with success the insidiousness which 
was sufficient to prevail over one. 

He began his address to her with a question which 
involved in it apparently, not impiety, but surprise ; and 
which was calculated in the highest degree to excite her 
attention and curiosity, without raising in her mind any 

alarm or even suspicion. ea, hath God said, Ye 

shall not eat of every trei cden?' Can this 

be possible ? What enc t pur- 

pose were these fruits, cv- \ - cater 

by you ? 

sible i 
Hail 

honest i 

and fled • , -x ■ 

said just 

Hence sh 

him in his 

all. The qi 

suspected by 



themselves dangerous, and leading easily to a fatal 
issue. 

Eve, in the native simplicity and integrity of her 
heart, replied, ' We may eat of the fruit of the trees of 
the garden. But of the fruit of the tree, which is in 
the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not 
eat of it, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die.' 

This answer brought the subject immediately to the 
point, which the tempter wished ; and gave him a fair 
opportunity, without directly denying the divine prohi- 
bition, to seduce the heart of his victim. He replied ac- 
cordingly, ' Ye shall not surely die. For God doth know, 
that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be 
opened ; and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.' 

Nothing could, in such circumstances, he more art- 
fully conducted. It was not a difficult thing in itself to 
persuade Eve that she should not die. Death was an 
evil, whose nature she could but very imperfectly com- 
prehend, and of which she had known no example. But 
of the pleasantness of the fruit, its fragrance and beauty, 
she had a distinct comprehension. She also in all proba- 
bility knew, in some degree, the character of those 
' gods? (Elohim, that is, angels,) to whose nature, know- 
ledge, and dignity, she was to rise by eating the pro- 
hibited fruit. At the same time, he applied directly to 
the only object which was likely to he to her an object 
of desire. She and her husband were surrounded with 
good ; and had nothing to regret, and nothing to fear. 
Their only danger seems to have been on the side of 
coveting more, because they already had so much ; and 
of wishing, hecause they were now so wise and happy, 
to become wiser and happier. The tempter, by his own 
experience, perfectly understood the power of this mode 
of attack, and the proper avenue, through which to in- 
troduce the .temptation. Eve knew that angels were 
superior to her, as she was superior to the brutes ; and 
probably knew not, but that this was the way in which 
they became angels. These views would naturally make 
her consider the tree, as wholly to he ' desired to make 
one wise ;' and lead her to forget the danger of disobe- 
dience. 

At the same time, the boldness and impudence of the 
tempter's assertions, probably astonished and confound- 
ed her. There is something in the confidence with 
which, at times, assertions are made, which has always 
more or less commanded belief in the ignorant and in- 
experienced ; such as she was at this time. To her he 
appeared to understand the subject in a manner, of 
which she had never before formed a conception ; and 
the boldness and peremptoriness of his declarations 
gave them such an air of truth and wisdom, as she was 
unprepared to resist. Nor did he fail to avail himself 
of the influence of that passion which is so universal, so 
easily kindled, and so powerfully operative in the minds 
of all her descendants : viz. jealousy. ' God doth know, 
that in the day ye eat thereof, your eyes shall be opened, 
and ye shall be a» gods.' In this speech he artfully 
but evidently insinuated, that the true reason why the 
t was forbidden, was that God knew this to be its na- 
nd efficacy ; that the prohibition was therefore in- 
incevely and unkindly made ; and that the whole pre- 

Ming, on the part of God, was sinister, selfish, and 
•ivo. 

proceeding gave an entirely new aspect to the 
d conduct of God ; and to a mind begin- 
nctured with jealousy, rendered that cha- 



144 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See. 



racter unamiable, and that conduct suspected and un- 
worthy. 

When this was accomplished, and Eve had let go her 
hold on her glorious Benefactor, till then absolutely 
loved, venerated, and trusted ; she was prepared for 
every thing which could follow. A little contemplation 
of the fruit itself, after she had begun the course of in- 
fidelity in her heart, led her, as temptations have always 
led the heart of unbelief, to direct transgression and 
open rebellion. To eat it, she now perceived, would at 
once gratify her taste, and raise her to the envied dis- 
tinction which was promised. 

Such is the summary account which God has thought 
proper to give us in his word, of one of the two most 
important transactions which this world has ever seen. 
A part only, and not improbably a small one, of the 
events which actually took place, is recorded. That 
various other things passed on this occasion, cannot be 
doubted. Besides the abruptness of the introduction, 
the first question appears to be asked in consequence of 
something which had preceded. These outlines the 
great English poet has filled with several natural and 
interesting circumstances, which, or something like 
which, may, not improbably, have happened. It is not 
difficult to believe that the serpent may have alleged, 
that he himself had eaten of the fruit, and had not died ; 
but on the contrary had gained, from its mysterious and 
happy influence, the powers of understanding and 
speech, with which he appeared to be elevated above his 
kindred brutes. 

Be this as it may ; it seems evident that the story, as 
here told, is either the close, or the epitome, or both, of 
a full account of the transaction. Yet, as it is, it is a 
specimen of consummate art, insidiousness, and fraud. 
The manner of address, on the part of the serpent, is 
calculated insensibly to insinuate and inspire jealousy 
and irreverence towards God ; uneasy and repining 
thoughts of the condition in which man was placed by 
him ; ardent ambition to be like angels in knowledge, 
happiness, and glory ; and longing desires to eat the 
forbidden fruit for this end, together with strong hopes 
that no evil consequences would follow the transgression. 

III. The character of the persons tempted was pro- 
bably singular. 

They were newly created ; were innocent, were holy ; 
and, considering the short period of their being, were 
undoubtedly possessed of no small discernment in divine 
things. They loved truth, were free from all biasses 
and prejudices, possessed a vigorous understanding, 
and thus were prepared for a ready reception of every 
truth, and for a rapid progress in useful knowledge. 
The progress which they actually made must have been 
great, under such advantages, compared with what, at 
first thought, may seem probable. 

Still they were imperfect beings, Avithout experience, 
and destitute of knowledge in many particulars, which 
would naturally be wished in a case where art and false- 
hood were employed against them ; and, although fur- 
nished with a clear comprehension of their own duty. 
were totally ignorant of the character, and ur 
readily to conjecture the designs of their adv>- 
The first deceit which they ever knew, was now prac 
tised on themselves ; and the first falsehood, of v 
they ever heard, was now directed to their own de^i 
tion. Of the rebellion of the angels, they probably i 
nothing ; and of the character of the tempter, they 



would not naturally form even a suspicion. Accus- 
tomed to hear only truth, they would not easily expect 
a lie ; and habituated only to faithfulness and friend- 
ship, fraud and malevolence were, in their approach to 
them, assured of a necessary and sufficient disguise. 
That artless, child-like simplicity, which so delights the 
mind, and embellishes the pictures of the historian and 
the poet ; which adorned the life, and endeared and 
enforced the lessons of the Redeemer himself; and 
which now constitutes no small part of evangelical ex- 
cellence ; was then a principal trait of their character. 
In the peculiar kind of wisdom which we call pru- 
dence, they certainly had made little progress ; and 
caution must have been known to them only in lessons 
ofinstruction. 

Thus they were, in several important respects, beings 
fitted for imposition, and not unnaturally the victims of 
insidiousness and cunning. The same means, at the 
present time, insnare persons of the same character ; 
and it is not in the nature of things, that superior sa- 
gacity, however employed, should not possess the power 
of influencing, more or less, the same simplicity. Firm 
obedience, such as they were bound to render to their 
God, a prompt, undeliberating refusal, and an original, 
steadfast determination not to listen, would have secured 
them from yielding ; but when they began to hear, and 
to investigate, they began to be exposed ; and their 
danger increased with every step of their progress in 
inquiry. 

In the meantime, it seems that neither of them 
thought of supplicating the aid of their Creator. A 
single prayer would have put the tempter to flight, and 
dissolved the charm of the temptation. A single re- 
collection also of his commands, his kindness, and his 
instructions, might easily have produced the same effect. 
But neither prayer nor recollection was summoned to 
their assistance. Like their descendants, when forget- 
ful of God, and, in a sense forgotten by him, they were 
weak, frail, and exposed to every danger. 

IV. The consequences of the temptation were, as you 
well know, eminently unhappy. 

Eve, pleased with the appearance of the prohibited 
fruit, and warmed with the thought of becoming wise ; 
of leaving her present humble station, and assuming 
that of an angel, rashly ventured on the forbidden 
ground ; disobeyed the command of her Creator, defiled 
herself with sin, and yielded her title to immortal life. 
In the same manner, Adam also partook of the trans- 
gression, and of all its miserable effects ; lost his inno- 
cence, and resigned his dominion, glory, and happiness. 
The remoter consequences of this event, I shall have 
occasion to consider in a future discourse. The re- 
mainder of this, I shall occupy with some considerations 
on two great questions, often and earnestly asked, con- 
cerning tl ;• Jili a few practical remarks. 

TV i jo to .vhich I have referred, is 

th ; entirely holy, how 

. 

•oper form, is no 



of God? 

al an- 

c'assed 

■ aUempted. 

een in a great mea- 



TEMPTATION AND FALL. 



145 



sure abstract : and being supposed to have meaning 
when it had none, and to convey ideas which it did not 
contain, has served only to bewilder, where it was in- 
tended to instruct. 

The common method of conducting the investigation 
of this subject has been, to seek for some cause in the 
nature of man, styled a principle of action, to which 
this effect might be fairly attributed. As the principles 
of moral action in Adam must have been holy, and 
could in no degree have been sinful ; it is inquired, 
How could a holy principle be the cause of a sinful 
action ? 

It will be obvious to a careful examiner, that in this 
inquiry the word, principle, is intended to denote a fix- 
ed, unchangeable cause ; productive only of effects, of 
the same moral nature ; and is supposed to exist, and to 
operate, during the interval of transgression. On this 
foundation the inquiry is made ; and if the foundation 
be solid and just, the inquiry cannot be answered ; be- 
cause, in the actual case, viz. the case of our first pa- 
rents, there was no other principle of action, beside a 
holy principle. 

But in this scheme of thought there is a plain and 
important fallacy : not improbably originated, and cer- 
tainly established, by the use of the word, principle. 
I do not deny, on the contrary, I readily admit, that 
there is a cause of moral action in intelligent beings, 
frequently indicated by the words, principle, affections, 
habits, nature, tendency, propensity, and several others. 
In this case, however, as well as in many others, it is 
carefully to be observed, that these terms indicate a 
cause which, to us, is wholly unknown, except that its 
existence is proved by its effects. There is, as every 
man who does not embrace the doctrine of casual or 
contingent existence must admit, a reason why one be- 
ing is holy and another sinful, or why the same being is 
holy at one time and sinful at another, as truly as that 
there is a reason, why he exists. There is also a reason 
why a being is, at some times, more strongly inclined to 
a regular practice of sin, or holiness, than at others. Our 
judgment concerning moral beings, is customarily formed 
in accordance with these truths. We speak of human 
nature as sinful, intending not the actual commission of ' 
sin, but a general characteristic of man, under the influ- 
ence of which he has committed sins heretofore, and is 
prepared and is prone to commit others. With the 
same meaning in our minds, we use the phrases, sinful 
propensity, corrupt heart, depraved mind ; and the con- 
trary ones, holy or virtuous disposition, moral rectitude, 
holiness of character, and many others of the like im- 
port. When we use these kinds of phraseology, we in- 
tend that a reason really exists, although undefinable 
and unintelligible by ourselves, why one mind will, 
either usually or uniformly, be the subject of holy voli- 
tions, and another, of sinful ones. We do not intend 
to assert that any one, or any number of the volitions of 
the man whom we characterize, has been or will be holy 
or sinful ; nor do we indeed design to refer immediately 
to actual volitions at all. Instead of this, we mean to 
indicate a state of mind generally existing, out of which 
holy volitions may, in one case, be fairly expected to 
arise, and sinful ones in another : such a state as that, 
if it were to be changed, and the existing state of a holy 
mind were to become the same with that of a sinful 
mind, its volitions would henceforth be sinful, and vice 
versa. This state is the cause, which I have mentioned ; 



a cause, the existence of which must be admitted, unless 
we acknowledge it to be a perfect casualty, that any vo- 
lition is sinful rather than holy. This cause is what is 
so often mentioned in the Scriptures, under the name 
of the heart : as when it is said, ' The heart is deceit- 
ful above all things, and desperately wicked.* I have 
already remarked that this cause is unknown except by 
its effects. From these however we learn, that it is not 
so powerful, nor so unchangeable, as to incline the mind 
in which it exists, so strongly to holiness as to prevent 
it absolutely from sinning, nor so strongly to sin as to 
prevent it absolutely from acting in a holy manner. 
Both revelation and facts, the only sources from which 
we derive any knowledge of the subject, place this truth 
beyond a reasonable debate. Beings who have sinned, 
have afterwards become holy ; and beings who have been 
holy, have afterwards sinned : and nothing more seems 
necessary to explain this subject to us sufficiently, than 
barely to suppose, what we cannot avoid supposing, that 
a temptation actually presented to the mind, is dispro- 
portioned in its power, to the inclination of that mind 
towards resistance. 

I have now, I flatter myself, prepared the way for 
introducing the only intelligible, and in any degree 
satisfactory method of examining this subject, which is, 
to consider the man, and the facts ; and not the abstract 
principles. 

In this view, the case stands thus : God created a 
moral being, capable, in the nature of things, of either 
sin or holiness. Originally, this being was holy ; that 
is, disposed to obey the will of God ; possessing a state 
of mind propense to virtuous, and opposed to sinful 
conduct. Fitted by his moral nature to be operated on 
by motives, as all moral beings are, he was placed in a 
world filled with motives, of which some induced to 
obedience, and others to disobedience. Wherever the 
means of happiness and misery exist, such motives exist 
of course, and of both kinds ; for these means them- 
selves are the motives, or perhaps more properly, the 
happiness and misery are the motives. Now it is plain, 
that in such a world (and all possible worlds except a 
world of perfect misery must be such) motives of both 
kinds must, at times, be present to the view of such a 
being. It is equally evident, that some of the motives 
to sin may, considered by themselves, become to such a 
being stronger inducements to action, than some of the 
motives to holiness. In other words, higher enjoy- 
ment may be found, or expected, in some courses of sin, 
than in some courses of holiness. That to a mind ca- 
pable of contemplating one or a few things only at once, 
and of feeling with different strength at different times, 
the motives to sin may chiefly or alone be present, will 
not be doubted. For it is apprehended, no finite watch- 
fulness is sufficient to realize, with absolute certainty, 
the full presence of the motives to holiness at all times ; 
nor to keep out ofi view all the motives to sin. Of 
course, every such mind may, for aught that appears, 
be induced by some supposable motive, or combination 
of motives, at some times and in some circumstances at 
least, to yield to temptation and disobey. 

There is no proof from the nature of things, that finite 
strength and stability are sufficient to resist all possible 
motives to sin. From facts we are irresistibly led to ad- 
mit the contrary doctrine. Angels, though entirely 
holy, yielded to such motives ; as did our first parents 
also, who possessed the same virtuous character. These 

T 



146 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxvn. 



facts furnish a strong presumption at least, that it is not 
within the limits of created perfection to resist tempta- 
tion in all possible cases ; and that the final perse- 
verance of saints and angels, both in a state of trial, and 
in a state of reward, is derived ultimately from the al- 
mighty power of God. 

In a former discourse I observed, that there were 
three methods in which sin, or moral evil, is supposed to 
have been introduced into the universe. The first is, 
that he permitted it to exist. One of the remaining two 
is, that God could not, without destroying the free 
agency of his creatures, prevent them from sinning : the 
other, that he creates their sinful volitions. 

To the former of these methods of accounting for the 
introduction of sin, it is unanswerably objected, that 
God has actually preserved some of the angels from fall- 
ing ; and that he has promised to preserve, and will 
therefore certainly preserve, the spirits of just men made 
perfect, and that this has been and will be done, with- 
out infringing at all on their moral agency. Of course, 
he could just as easily have preserved Adam from fall- 
ing, without infringing on his moral agency. To the 
second scheme I object, 

1. That it is wholly without proof. 

But a doctrine of this magnitude ought not to be ad- 
mitted, without the most ample evidence. 

2. It is ui.-necessary. 

All the satisfaction which this subject admits, is cap- 
able of being derived as completely from attributing 
this event to the agency of creatures, as to the agency 
of God. At the same time it is as easy to conceive, to 
evince, and to admit, that man is an agent, as that God 
is an agent. No difficulty attends the former case, which 
does not in an equal degree attend the latter. If man 
is an agent, then there is no necessity of tracing his 
actions beyond himself. We find no necessity, when we 
think of God as an agent, of tracing his actions beyond 
himself. There is no more necessity of tracing human 
actions beyond man ; nor is there, so far as I can per- 
ceive, any additional light thrown on the subject of 
human agency, by referring our actions to God. That 
God created us ; that he can, and does, influence our 
actions in various ways as he pleases ; and that even we 
can in various ways influence the actions of each other, 
must be admitted on all hands. But I see no proof, 
that God is the author or agent of human actions ; nor 
the least difficulty in believing, that he has made us ca- 
pable of being the agents and authors of them ourselves. 

3. It increases the difficulties which it professes to 
remove. 

It is at least as difficult to conceive how God can be 
the author of actions, existing in a human mind, as how 
that mind can be the author of them. Here, therefore, 
no advantage is gained. On the other hand, difficulties 
are multiplied without end. No conception is more 
perplexing or distressing than this : that God creates 
oursin by an act of his omnipotence, and then punishes it. 

4. The Scriptures nowhere assert this doctrine. 
The passages commonly alleged in support of this 

doctrine, appear to me at least to be forced from their 
natural, obvious interpretation, for this purpose. Nor 
ought it to be admitted, that a doctrine of this importance 
would be taught in ambiguous and obscure passages only. 
A strong support of this opinion is found in the copious- 
ness, variety, and explicitness of the passages, in which 
the Scriptures teach us the agency of God in our sancti- 



fication. This important distinction between the two 
cases, ought to have its full weight with our minds ; and 
should, I think, be considered as decisive. 

Should it be here objected, that the scheme which I 
am contending for, is opposed to the doctrine of God's 
agency in our sanctification : I deny the objection to be 
true. The Scriptural doctrine of sanctification does 
not, I apprehend, teach us that he is the author, or 
creator, even of our holy volitions. On the contrary, 
Scriptural regeneration is the creation, not of our voli- 
tions, but of such a state, temper, or disposition, that the 
mind itself produces other volitions, than those which it 
would have produced in its former state. After rege- 
neration, God affects the mind in sanctifying it, in the 
manner commonly denoted by the word influence ; and 
not by a work of creation, continually carried on in the 
mind. Hence God is said to sanctify his children by 
his word, as well as by his Spirit. But it is impossible 
that his word should any way be concerned with the 
creation of new volitions. 

To these observations it ought to be added, that seve- 
ral of the objections heretofore alleged against the doc- 
trine, that the soul is a mere chain of ideas and exercises, 
lie with equal weight against this. These have, however, 
been too lately mentioned to demand a repetition. 

The second question to which I have referred, and 
which, like the other, affects not the sin of Adam only, 
but all sin, is this : Why did God permit Adam to fall ? 

Before I attempt to answer this question, it will be 
proper to observe, that according to all the schemes of 
accounting for the introduction of moral evil which 
have been mentioned, the fall of Adam was permitted, 
that is, was not hindered by God. It may be also pro- 
per to state the difference, which in my own view exists, 
between permitting or not hindering sin, and creating 
it. It is this : In the former case, man is the actor of 
his own sin. His sin is therefore wholly his own ; 
chargeable only to himself; chosen by him unnecessarily, 
while possessed of a power to choose otherwise ; avoid- 
able by him, and of course guilty, and righteously 
punishable. Exactly the same natural power is in this 
case possessed by him while a sinner, which is after- 
ward possessed by him when a saint ; which Adam 
possessed before he fell, and which the holy angels now 
possess in the heavens. This power is also, in my 
view, perfect freedom ; a power of agency as absolute 
as can be possessed by an intelligent creature. 

In the latter case, the volitions of man are imme- 
diately produced by omnipotence ; are the acts of God 
himself, and not at all of man ; are merely annexed to 
man, as accidents ; are in the natural sense necessary, 
and irresistible ; and, so far as I can see, are in no 
sense chargeable to man. 

In the former case, God is supposed to create beings, 
possessed of the full power to originate any, and every 
moral action ; in the natural sense, able to stand, as ; 
well as liable to fall ; and falling, only because they did I 
not make the best use which they could, of their power | 
to stand. In the latter case, he created their apostasy. I 
Their fall therefore was irresistible unless it should be 
proved that a creature can resist omnipotence. 

With these things premised, I observe, in answer to 
this question, that a state of trial supposes of course a 
capability of falling, and cannot exist without. That, 
in this state, God is obliged to secure his creatures from 
falling, has not hitherto been proved ; and certainly 



TEMPTATION AND FALL. 



147 



ought not to be admitted without proof. If he rewards 
them with happiness proportioned to their obedience, 
so long as they continue obedient ; I see not how any 
thing farther can be demanded at his hands. Perfect 
justice seems, in this case, to be satisfied. 

Still it will be asked, why God suffered a thing so 
evil and distressing as sin to exist ? 

Probably the best answer ever given to this question 
in the present world, is that which was given by Christ, 
concerning one branch of the divine dispensations to 
mankind ; ' Even so, Father ; for so it seemed good in 
thy sight.' It was a dispensation approved by infinite 
wisdom, and seen by the omniscient eye to be necessary 
towards that good which God proposed in creating the 
universe. 

The restless and roving mind of man is, however, 
often unsatisfied with this answer. I will therefore add 
by way of explanation, and I hope with that profound 
reverence which all creatures owe to their Creator, and 
that diffidence which becomes a creature of yesterday, 
that if Adam had not fallen, Christ would not have re- 
jdeemed mankind : for had there been no apostates, 
there could have been no Redeemer, and no redemp- 
tion. The mercy of God, therefore, the most perfect of 
his attributes, and the consummation of his excellence, 
would have been unknown to the universe. All the 
blessings bestowed on mankind, would have been the 
reward of the obedience of Adam and his posterity. 
But the blessings bestowed on glorified saints, are the 
rewards of the obedience of the eternal Son of God. 
These rewards could not have been given, had not 
Christ obeyed : and Christ could not have obeyed, had 
he not become the substitute for sinners, or the Media- 
tor between God and apostate creatures. These re- 
wards, also, will differ from those in the former case, 
as the respective persons, who obeyed, differed in the 
excellence of their charactei-s, and the value of their 
obedience. 

Had Adam obeyed, it is, I think, highly probable 
that the original world would have continued, and the 
present heavens. The new earth and the new heavens, 
which will be created after the Mediatorial kingdom is 
finished, would never have been. No human beings 
would have been admitted into heaven. None of that 
joy would have been experienced, which now springs 
up in heavenly minds over the repentance and salvation 
of sinners, and which will increase and brighten for 
ever. None of those things, ' into which angels desire 
to look,' * would have been brought into being ; nor 
would that glorious purpose of the creation of all things, 
mentioned by the apostle, the knowledge acquired by 
' principalities and powers in heavenly places, concern- 
ing the manifold wisdom of God,' disclosed in his dis- 
pensations to his church, f have ever been accomplished. 
By the redemption of Christ, heaven as well as earth, 
angels as well as men, are materially changed from their 
former circumstances and character, Nay, the whole 
immense and eternal kingdom of-Jehovah, by means of 
this amazing work, assumes a new aspect ; and both 
creation and providence are invested with a new cha- 
racter. God is seen by his intelligent creatures in 
new manifestations of beauty, glory, and loveliness. 
Throughout never-ending ages, virtuous minds will be 
enlarged with knowledge, exalted in holiness, and im- 



• Sep 1 Pot. i. 12. 



+ See Eph. ii. 9 ; 10. 



proved in dignity and happiness, beyond all which 
would have otherwise been proper or possible ; and 
their affections, obedience, and praise, become more 
refined and more elevated, in a rapid and regular pro- 
gress. The former legal system, therefore, of which 
the primitive state of Adam was a part, had compara- 
tively ' no glory, by reason of the excelling glory ' of 
the system of redemption. 

How far these observations may contribute to the 
satisfaction of the inquirer, 1 will not presume to de- 
termine. That the system of divine dispensations is 
now, and will for ever be, widely different from what 
it would have been, had the work of redemption not 
taken place, must, I think, be acknowledged. I will 
only add, that as ' we are of yesterday,' and, conse- 
quently, ' know nothing,' it is not, and cannot be, 
strange, that things of this extent should be so ' high,' 
and so vast, that ' we cannot attain to them.' 

Should an emmet, from the top of his ant-hill, un- 
dertake to survey the world around him ; and to des- 
cant on the beauty or deformity of the landscape, the 
suitableness of the soil, climate, and accommodations, 
for the settlement, health, husbandry, and commerce of 
men ; and propose plans for the improvement of some 
of these things, and the reformation of others ; we 
should probably consider him as a very imperfect 
judge of such subjects ; and smile both at his presump- 
tion and his philosophy. With respect to the subject in 
hand, we are emmets ; and take our survey only from the 
top of an ant-hill. When it is considered, that the 
consequences of this event reach through eternity, and 
that such wonderful consequences have already followed 
it, a small share of modesty will induce us to confess 
our inability to judge concerning it, and to take the 
station of humble learners at the feet of our Divine 
instructor rather than to ascend the chair of philoso- 
phical judgment and haughty decision. 



1. In this difficult part of the history of man, we 
cannot, I think, fail to see, how superior the Scriptural 
account of the introduction of moral evil into the world 
is to every other. 

The Scriptural account is summarily this. Two be- 
ings, the parents of mankind, created holy, and placed 
by God in a paradise of.good, were deceived and se- 
duced by the insidious art of an evil and superior being, 
permitted, for wise and good purposes, to have access to 
them. 

The two principal schemes of philosophy on this sub- 
ject, are these : — (I.) That the soul Avas created holy, 
and was contaminated by being united to matter ; be- 
cause matter is the seat of sin and pollution : — (2.) 
That the soul was created holy, but apostatized in a 
pre-existent state. 

Of the first, it is sufficient to say, that it is contrary, 
not to truth only, but to possibility : since it is clearly 
impossible that any being, except a thinking, voluntary 
one, should be the subject of either virtue or sin. 

On the second, it is to be observed, that all the dif- 
ficulties attend it, which attend the supposition of an 
apostasy in the present state. The difficulty does not 
at all lie in the fact, that man apostatized here, but in 
the fact, that he apostatized at all. Of course, whether 
we suppose the apostasy to have taken place in this 
world or in another, the difficulties involved in it. still 



148 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. XXVif. 



remain possessed of their full strength, and without be- 
ing in the least degree obviated. 

Besides, that man did pre-exist is a mere assumption, 
of which there is not a shadow of evidence ; and against 
which even the light of nature furnishes strong proba- 
bility. 

2. In this story we see the amazing evil of sin, mani- 
fested in the conduct of the tempter. 

What a disposition was that which was exhibited in 
the seduction cf our first parents from their obedience. 
From what a state of innocence and happiness did it 
plunge them and their posterity ! At the same time, 
no personal resentment operated, no revenge burned in 
his breast against them ; for between him and them 
there had never been a controversy, nor even a con- 
nexion. They were ignorant that such a being as him- 
self existed, and had never done nor wished him any 
evil whatever, 

But he envied, he hated their virtue, their happiness, 
and their prospects. Under the influence of these in- 
fernal feelings, he laboured to destroy them, and a 
world with them ; and voluntarily entailed on countless 
millions of intelligent beings, sin, and wrath, and ruin. 
How vast, how wonderful, how dreadful, is this malice ! 
How hateful is he in whom it resided ! Such is the 
true nature of all sin. In degree it may differ, in kind 
it is the same. 

Let it be here remembered, that every tempter is 
employed substantially in the same manner. Every 
tempter, in seducing a fellow creature, is influenced by 
sin, and tempts to sin. The person tempted is induced 
to disobey God, to become guilty and odious, to incur 
his anger, and to expose himself to the miseries of the 
second death. What a dreadful employment is this ! 
Yet how common, how evidently universal ! No lan- 
guage seems sufficiently forcible to describe the turpi- 
tude of a murderer or a traitor. But how guiltless does 
the murder of the body seem, when compared with the 
murder of the soul. What treachery can be named 
with that which cheats an immortal' being out of heaven, 
and deceives him into hell ! 

Nor is the mode in which temptations are usually 
conducted any other than that recited in the text. In 
every temptation, the truth of God is denied ; his wis- 
dom or goodness questioned ; his conduct exhibited as 
strange, and his commands as unreasonable. Obedience 
is always represented as exposed to disadvantages, and 
sin as the true road to real and exquisite enjoyment. 
Jealousy is thus naturally kindled, discontent excited, 
and the man induced to repine at his lot ; to murmur, 
in thought at least, against his Maker, and to covet and 
seek forbidden enjoyments. 

In the meantime, the soul is flattered perpetually 
with the hope of safety in sin ; is taught to expect ex- 
emption from punishment, and is boldly informed, that 
' it shall not surely die.' Thousands and millions of 
times has this story been told, and repeated through 
every age, from the apostasy to the present hour. 
Thousands and millions also of foolish and unhappy 
■wretches listen to the tale, because it is loved ; and re- 
ceive it on a tenth part of the evidence which they 
would demand, to enforce on their minds a single truth, 
or a single duty ; or rather, they receive it first, and 
wait for the evidence till some future time. Eve is of- 
ten censured for yielding to a tempter of finished cun- 
ning. How many of her descendants yield to fools and 



blockheads, to gross and blundering solicitations ; un- 
furnished with even a plausible pretence, or that mise- 
rable consolation to sinners, an apology for the compli. 
ance. Let no one cast the first stone at our common 
parent, who is not conscious that he himself has not 
sinned in the same manner. 

3. We learn from this story, that the only time of 
successful resistance to temptation is the moment when 
it is presented. 

I have already remarked, that had our first parents' 
promptly refused to listen, they would in all probability 
have escaped the snare. What is true of them is true 
of all their posterity. The very act of deliberating, re- 
sults from want of sufficient faith in God, and sufficient 
firmness in our duty. In our deliberations, also, we 
are exposed to many dangers. We are ignorant, yet 
believe ourselves knowing ; foolish, yet are vain of our 
wisdom ; weak, yet are always ready to confide in our 
strength. Hence Ave form false conclusions from mise- 
rable premises : yet we think both the premises and 
conclusions sound, because they are devised by such sa- 
gacious beings as ourselves. In our love to sin, we 
have an enemy within us, of whose presence, or even 
existence, we are usually not aware, ever ready to aid 
the assaults of the enemy without. From our igno- 
rance we are easily perplexed, from our vanity easily 
flattered, and from both easily overcome. Of our per- 
plexity, every tempter takes advantage, while he covers 
the hook with a bait for our vanity. The more we rea- 
son, the more we plunge ourselves into difficulties, and 
the less hope do we find of an escape. The longer the 
assault continues, the more feeble, embarrassed, and ir- 
resolute do we become ; and the more bold, powerful, 
and assured, our seducer : till at length, that resolution 
and understanding which at first would have gained an 
easy and certain victory, become an unresisting prey. 
' Resist then the devil,' resist every tempter at first, at 
the moment of solicitation, ' and he will flee from you.' 

4. We are also taught by this passage of Scripture, 
that the ultimate safety of mankind, when they are 
tempted, lies in God only. 

Had Eve sought the protection of God, when she 
was assailed by the adversary, she had never fallen. 
Had she remembered the character of God, she had 
never believed the declarations of the tempter. Had 
she admitted no jealousy, no suspicion, of the divine 
wisdom and goodness, she had in all probability kept 
her happy state. 

The same dangers attend all her descendants. If Ave 
wish to overcome, or escape temptations, it is indispen- 
sable that Ave remember the presence, and acknoAvledge 
the character of God ; that we distrust in no degree his 
sincerity or kindness, and that Ave go directly to him 
for the succour which Ave need. The closing petition 
in the prayer taught by Christ to his disciples is, ' Lead 
us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil :' that 
is, Suffer us not to be led into temptation : but should 
this danger betide us at any time, deliver us from the 
evil to Avhich we shall be then exposed. Of six peti- 
tions only, of Avhich this prayer consists ; a prayer 
taught by him who kneAV all the dangers and necessi- 
ties of man, this is one. So necessary did he deter- 
mine this assistance and guardianship to be ; and so 
necessary our continual prayer that it might be afforded. 

In the first temptation, Ave see the doctrine strongly 
illustrated. Here no prayer ascended for aid. Here, 






SENTENCE PRONOUNCED ON MAN. 



149 



therefore, no aid was given ; and here, left to them- 
selves, the miserable victims were of course destroyed. 
Let us then learn wisdom, both from their example and 
their end. Let us avoid the one, that we may escape 
the other. For protection from tempters and tempta- 
tions, both within us and without us, let our prayers 
unceasingly rise with fervent repetition. Especially, 



when the serpent approaches, when the charm is about 
to begin, and when his mouth is ready to open and 
swallow us up, let our cries for help ascend to heaven, 
that He, who is swift to hear, and always prepared to 
pity and relieve, may mercifully extend his arm, and 
snatch us from the jaws of destruction. 



SERMON XXVIII. 

PROVIDENCE— THE SENTENCE PRONOUNCED ON MAN. 



And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above 
every beast of the field : upon thy belly shalt thou go ; and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life. And 
I will put enmity between thee and the ivoman, and between thy seed and her seed : it shall bruise thy head, 
and thou shalt bruise his heel. Unto the woman he said, 1 will greatly multiply thy sorrovj and thy con- 
ception : in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children ; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall 
rule over thee. And unto Adam he said, Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast 
eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee , saying, Thou shalt not eat of it : cursed is the ground for thy 
sake : in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life. Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth 
to thee ; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return 

unto the ground ; for out of it wast thou taken : for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return 

Gen. iii. 14—19. 



In my last Discourse, I considered at length the 
Temptation of our first parents, and their consequent 
Fall from holiness, and from the favour of God. The 
next subject which, in a system of theology, invites our 
attention, is the sentence which followed their trans- 
gression. 

This sentence is contained in the text, and naturally 
divides itself, for our consideration, into three parts : 

I. The sentence pronounced on the tempter : 

II. That pronounced on the woman : and, 

III. That pronounced on the man. 

The order in which this subject is exhibited to us, is 
the same which existed in the temptation itself, and in 
the transgression also. The serpent first sinned in 
tempting the woman ; the woman sinned next, in yield- 
ing to his solicitations, and eating the forbidden fruit ; 
and the man last, in yielding to the solicitations of the 
woman. 

On the sentence, as here pronounced, it will be pro- 
per to remark generally, that it is not a mere repetition 
of the words of the law. Nor is it to be considered, as 
in fact involving the whole of the sentence contained in 
the law. That sentence seems to have been left by God 
as it was originally denounced ; and nothing more to 
have been now intended as a threatening, except to dis- 
close to our first parents various evils, attendant on the 
state of guilt and degradation to which they had reduc- 
ed themselves, and to remind them of the mortal condi- 
tion in which they were now finally fixed. On the ser- 
pent indeed, a sentence new, and before undisclosed, 
was declared. The evils which he was to suffer in con- 
sequence of this sin, were announced : while in the same 
threatening was included also, a promise of great and 
singular benefits to those whom he had most wickedly 
seduced. 

The original threatening of the law, or covenant, 
under which our first parents were placed, involved all 



the evils which they and their posterity were ever to 
suffer. The sentence now passed on the transgressors, 
unfolded, particularly, several distresses which they were 
hereafter to experience under this original threatening ; 
and at the same time, furnished them with consolations 
of high importance. 

I. The sentence passed on the serpent claims a two- 
fold consideration ; in its literal meaning, and in its 
principal meaning. 

In the literal meaning of this denunciation, the ser- 
pent is ' cursed beyond all other beasts,' is doomed ' to 
creep on the ground, and to eat dust all the days of his 
life.' Perpetual war, it is declared, shall exist between 
' his seed and that of the woman ;' in which ' he shall 
bruise the heel' of his adversary, while his adversary 
' shall bruise his head.' 

This, which I have chosen to call the literal meaning 
of the sentence, is, I acknowledge, rather an application 
of it to the literal serpent. The language in which it is 
explained is, I think, plainly figurative ; and involves, 
generally, a state of peculiar degradation and suffering. 
It has been supposed, and I apprehend justly, that the 
original condition of the serpent, as an animal, was 
superior and distinguished. Ancient opinions considered 
the serpent as winged, beautiful, and privileged above 
other animals. If these opinions be allowed to be just, 
it will be easily seen that the degradation was remark- 
able, and altogether calculated to convince our first 
parents of the miserable tendency and influence of 
transgression. In every view the condition specified is 
a condition deeply degraded, and suited obviously to 
show the proper effect of sin on all the instruments by 
which it was accomplished. Whatever the serpent lost, 
as well as whatever he suffered, was an infliction, pro- 
perly evincing the hatred of God to every thing con- 
cerned in the seduction of mankind ; and to show to 
their progenitors, in immediate consequence, both the 



150 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxviii. 



evil of which they had been guilty, and the certainty of 
their future punishment 

The enmity which was announced, and which has ex- 
isted between the seed of the woman generally, that is, 
mankind, and the seed of the serpent, has been a source 
of innumerable evils to the serpent. Animals of this 
kind have ever been peculiarly hated and hunted, pecu- 
liarly attacked and destroyed, from the beginning. 
Even the harmless ones do not escape. A war of ex^ 
termination has plainly been declared against them, and 
carried on through all generations with unrelaxing and 
unceasing animosity. In consequence of this hostility,. 
millions of them have probably perished, which other- 
wise might have continued through the date allotted by 
providence to their being. In the meantime, not a 
small number of the human race have fallen victims to 
the enmity of these venomous beings ; and have usually 
been wounded in the very part of the body mentioned 
in this prediction. 

The principal meaning of this sentence, or its appli- 
cation to the allegorical serpent, the real tempter, is 
however of infinitely more importance, and has a totally 
superior claim to our attention. 

The tempter and the woman were, in the transgres- 
sion, united together as rebels against their Creator. In 
the eye of the tempter, this union was begun, only to be 
strengthened and perpetuated. He had once sinned, 
and was finally rejected by God. He therefore natural- 
ly, and in a sense, necessarily concluded, that rebellious 
men would be rejected also. No event had hitherto 
happened in the universe, which, to the view of a cre- 
ated being, rendered it possible for a rebel against his 
Maker to be restored. Satan therefore of necessity 
concluded, that sinning man would never be restored ; 
and tliat God, who had created man holy, and destined 
him to endless enjoyment, would be wholly disappointed 
of his own favourite designs. At the same time, he con- 
fidently saw the whole race added to his own kingdom, 
and the regions of sin and misery enlarged, and peopled, 
by the inhabitants of another ruined world. 

But he now, for the first time, was solemnly informed 
that a part, at least, of his expectations would perish. 
Man, he was here told, would on the one hand, be still 
his enemy, throughout succeeding ages; and himself, on 
the other, be made to suffer new and unknown, yet 
very alarming evils, from a descendant, or descendants, 
of this very woman whom he had beguiled into sin. 
' His head,' the chief, the vital, the percipient part of 
himself, ' was to be bruised,' or crushed, by some one or 
other of the progeny of those whom he had insnared. 
That he understood the real and full import of this 
threatening, cannot be supposed ; but it is obvious that 
he could not but perceive some very great and alarming 
punishment to be in store for his new and flagrant guilt. 
Thus all his hopes, like those of every hypocrite, were 
blasted in a moment ; and were changed into that pain- 
fid suspense and constant alarm, which are always more 
dreadful than any misery, except final and eternal woe. 
From the actual fulfilment of this prediction, and 
the comments of the scriptural writers on the threaten- 
ing contained in it, we are able to determine its full 
import with precision and certainty. The ' seed of the 
woman,' we know, was the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of 
God, and the Redeemer of mankind. We are express- 
ly taught that he, although by the instigation of the 
original tempter nailed to the cross and ' bruised ' thus 



in ' his heel,' his inferior part, his flesh yet ' triumphed 
and made an open show of principalities and powers ' 
in his crucifixion, and thoroughly ' led captivity cap- 
tive,' after he had effectually spoiled them of all their 
glory.' In this great event, he not only vanquished 
' death, but also destroyed him that had the power of 
death ; that is, the devil.' 

In this great event, he disappointed and ruined all 
the hopes and designs of this proud and malicious spirit. 
His future lot he rendered far more shameful and 
wretched than before ; lowered his pride for ever in the 
dust ; turned his malevolence backward on himself ; 
mortified his envy anew, and inexpressibly ; and made 
the race whom he had seduced, the instruments of com- 
pleting his degradation and ruin. 

From man, that is, from penitent, returning, and re- 
formed man, this divine person ' took away the sting 
of ' the threatened ' death ;' and chiefly, the death itself 
which was threatened. The grave he opened anew, and 
forced it to surrender its captives to himself. For all 
those of this numerous race, who are willing to confide 
in him as their Redeemer, he opened the gates of im- 
mortality ; of a new and far more glorious immortality 
than that which they had lost. He purchased for them 
the sanctification of the soul, the forgiveness of their 
sins, and ' an inheritance undefiled and eternal ' among 
the very angels, to whose rank and character Eve, by. 
eating the forbidden fruit, expected to arise. They in- 
deed, in a manner, however, far different from that 
which was in the tempter's thoughts, ' will become as 
gods,' or angels ; as the same Saviour has informed us ; 
and will, together with them, receive felicity in a ' body, 
fashioned like unto his glorious body,' and inconceivably 
superior to the refined dust which composed the forms 
of our first parents. In a state perfectly sanctified and 
cleansed, they will enjoy a happiness, ennobled and ex- 
panded beyond all that heaven itself imagined, before 
the mediation of the Son of God ; a happiness, suited to 
reward his infinitely meritorious obedience in the work 
of redemption. Thus the sum of happiness to the uni- 
verse will be undoubtedly increased, and to an immense 
extent, by the very means which this haughty, malig- 
nant spirit employed for its destruction. 

The character, the station, the residence, the employ- 
ments, the honour, and the happiness of man will be 
wonderfully exalted ; the exhibitions of the divine glory 
will be supremely enhanced ; and the mercy of God, be- 
fore unknown and unimagined, will be displayed with 
infinite and eternal splendour. God, in the new, pe- 
culiar, and most endearing relations of Father, Be- 
deemer, and Sanctifier, far more intimate and affecting 
than those of Creator and Ruler, will be more nearly 
united to his intelligent creatures ; and will be seen in 
more venerable and lovely exhibitions of his supreme 
excellence: while the themes of contemplation, gratitude, 
and praise, will be far more noble and .interesting than 
could have been proper or possible, had not our first 
parents lost their primitive station and happiness. Thus 
the providence of God will wear a new and more glorious 
aspect ; the divine kingdom assume a splendour and im- 
portance before unknown ; and the universe become a 
different, and incomparably more exalted scene of being. 

In the meantime the tempter himself, at the close of 
this earthly system, when all his wickedness shall have 
been acted, and all his wiles exhausted, will, together 
with his debased and wretched companions, be con- 



SENTENCE PRONOUNCED ON MAN. 



151 



signed to ' everlasting chains,' to total disappointment, 
to extreme humiliation, to eternal darkness, and to woe 
and despair, endless and inexpressible. 

II. The sentence pronounced on the woman y next de- 
viands our attention. 

This consisted of two parts : The pain and sorrow 
which were to attend her in bearing and bringing 
forth children, and her subjection to her husband. 
Neither of these would have had any being, had she re- 
sisted the temptation. She would have been a mother, 
but without pain and anguish ; and she would have been 
a wife, but without any humiliating inferiority to her 
husband. 

Now her state in both respects was entirely changed. 
Here life became full of sorrow, and largely acquainted 
with grief ; and a great proportion of all her sufferings 
were to arise from these peculiar sources. 

III. The sentence on the man is the last proposed 
subject of consideration. 

This consists of four distinct parts ; toil, sorrow, 
humiliation, and death. 

In the original state of man, he laboured, but with- 
out toil. The earth brought forth its fruits spon- 
taneously, and abundantly ; and supplied him with food, 
without any necessary care or exertions of his own. He 
was formed to industry, that he might be useful, and of 
■course dignified and virtuous, and not merely that he 
might eat. His faculties also were firm and undecaying, 
unsusceptible of weariness, and incapable of suffering. 
His labour was therefore voluntary and delightful ; a pri- 
vilege, and not a calamity. The sources of sorrow also 
were not then opened, and man had not learned to drink 
of its bitter streams. Fear, scorn, disease, bereavement, 
and all the moral causes of distress, were not yet ap- 
pendages of this new world. Intemperance, sloth, im- 
purity, falsehood, treachery, broken friendship, and 
iron-handed oppression, together with a long train of 
their miserable companions, were yet strangers to man. 

His station, as well as his character, was in the mean- 
time noble and dignified. Angels did not disdain to 
own and converse with him, as their friend and fellow 
servant. All his views, pursuits, wishes, and employ- 
ments, were refined and elevated ; and were suited to 
the immortal life and unspotted holiness in which he 
was created. 

Death, the offspring of sin, had hitherto been an en- 
tire stranger to the great kingdom of God. All his crea- 
tures, and man as truly as any of them, were possessed 
of life literally endless ; and looked forward through 
the perpetual succession of ages, without anxiety and 
without fear. 

In all these great particulars, man was now destined 
to a total change of being. He was condemned to hard 
and painful toil, to a course of life in which a great pro- 
portion of the changes were merely varieties of suffer- 
ing, to a degradation from all his honours and hopes, to 
a state of deep humiliation, and to death as the end of 
his earthly being, accompanied with a train of the most 
affecting distresses and horrors. In this toil, these af- 
flictions, this degradation, and this melancholy end, both 
sexes shared in most respects alike. Both were hence- 
forth sinful ; both were degraded, both were unhappy, 
both were mortal. 

A question of no small importance in theology, and 
often canvassed by divines, as well as other Christians, 
ivill ve>y naturally be asked in this place; viz. what 



was the extent of the curse or original penalty, threaten- 
ed in the covenant made with Adam ? 

That temporal death was threatened in this sentence 
will not be questioned. In my own opinion, spiritual 
death and eternal death, were also included. 

That eternal death constituted a part of this sentence, 
appears to me evident ; because, 

1. Adam was plainly threatened with the loss of im- 
mortal life. 

Whatever else was contained in the threatening, this 
must be allowed to be a part of it. It follows, therefore, 
that either eternal death was threatened, or annihila- 
tion, or temporal death, followed by eternal happiness. 
The last will not be pretended. The second, viz. an- 
nihilation, could not be threatened, because it was cer- 
tainly no part of the "design of God in the creation 
of man. It seems evident, therefore, that the first is the 
true and only scheme of this part of the Scriptures, be- 
cause these three are the only possible interpretations of 
the passage. 

2. In the sentence, a direct promise is made of the re- 
demption of Christ, as the remedy for the curse which is 
here denounced. 

But the redemption of Christ was not a remedy for 
that part of the curse, which denounced temporal death 
as the reward of the apostasy. Men still die, Adam 
died, notwithstanding the redemption of Christ. The 
remedy, therefore, mentioned in the sentence, did not 
refer to any thing contained in it, if temporal death was 
all which it contained. On the contrary, it referred to 
something of which Adam had heard, and at the time 
knew nothing. Yet it is plain that both he and his wife, 
in some good measure, knew the import of the remedy ; 
for he, immediately after the sentence was pronounced, 
' called his wife Eve,' or Chavoh, ' because she was the 
mother of all living ;' that is, of all who should live for 
ever, by means of ' the seed of the woman ;' and she, at 
the birth of Cain, says, ' I have gotten a man, the Lord ;' 
that is, the promised Lord, or seed, who was ' to bruise 
the serpent's head.' As then they knew what was meant 
by the remedy ; so I think it clear that they knew what 
the curse intended ; and this, according to the view of 
the subject here presented, can be no other than eternal 
death. 

That they understood, in some good measure, the 
meaning of both the remedy and the curse, is also evi- 
dent from the fact, that they became penitent, and were 
accepted of God. There can be no repentance, where 
there is no hope of acceptance. Despair here, is the 
only predominant emotion ; and with despair, repent- 
ance cannot, in' the physical sense, co-exist. Without an 
atonement, repentance cannot be accepted. As an 
atonement was here promised, I cannot see how the re- 
pentance of our first parents could be accepted or offered, 
unless with a direct reference in their minds to that 
atonement, as the ground of their acceptance. 

3. The apostle Paul appears to me to have settled 
this point, in the fifth chapter of his epistle to the Ro- 
mans.* 

As I cannot comment at this time on the passage at 
large, I shall refer you only to a single verse, which ap- 
pears to me, in this respect, a summary of the whole. 
In verse sixteenth he says, ' And not as it was by one 
that sinned, so is the gift : for the judgment was by one 

* S."e from verse 12 to the end. 



152 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. xxvih. 



to condemnation : but the free gift is of many offences 
unto justification.' The judgment here mentioned is, 
unquestionably, the judgment originally passed on ' the 
one that sinned,' viz. Adam, and subsequently on all 
others, who have sinned after him. This is said to have 
been unto ' condemnation,' a condemnation from which 
we are delivered by the justification specified, and styled, 
in the next verse but one, ' the justification of life.' By 
this justification we are delivered from eternal death. 
Of course this is the death to which Ave, and Adam be- 
fore us, were condemned by the judgment mentioned 
in this passage. 

4. The death which rewards sin in fact, and which 
would have rewarded the sin of Adam, if Christ had 
not become a Mediator, and he a penitent, is eternal 
death. 

The true import of the threatening is, I think, cer- 
tainly learned from its execution. But this is an inflic- 
tion of eternal death. The consequence is obvious and 
irresistible. 

I do not, indeed, suppose our first parents to have 
been distinctly possessed of the exact meaning of the 
sentence. I consider them as only informed of the ge- 
neral import ; and as being taught that they were to 
suffer, if disobedient, the perpetual loss of the favour 
and blessing, of God, and to undergo the manifestations 
of his anger throughout their future existence. To this 
they were able to come as near in their views as they 
could, to adequate conceptions of temporal death. 

That spiritual death was also threatened in this sen- 
tence, appears to me sufficiently evident for the reasons 
to be alleged, after I shall have mentioned the chief ob- 
jection, which, so far as I am informed, has been made 
to this doctrine. It is this : Spiritual death is the very 
state which sinners, as such, love, the prime object of 
their choice, and what especially constitutes them sin- 
ners. To this I answer, 

(].) Spiritual death ought, in relation to this ques- 
tion, to be considered as threatened to Adam, and not 
as threatened to those who were already sinners. 

Spiritual death, or habitual and immovable sin, in 
the view of Adam, a holy, spotless being, and hating 
wholly every sin, might, I think, be regarded not only 
as not chosen or loved by him, but as an object of su- 
preme dread and horror. Let it be, for a moment, only 
considered how such a being must feel, under a sense of 
losing his holy character for ever, and of being con- 
firmed, beyond recall, in a perpetual hatred of God, and 
a perpetual love and practice of sin ; and, I believe, all 
serious persons will agree, that this debased, odious, and 
contemptible character must appear to him an evil li- 
terally infinite. To sin once, was, to him, an object of 
horror ; but to be consigned for that sin to habitual and 
eternal rebellion and iniquity, and to become thus for 
ever hateful, vile, and despicable, must be on the one 
hand a loss, and on the other a suffering, dreadful be- 
yond all conception except that of experience. It was, 
therefore, capable of being the subject of threatening or 
penalty, and that to any supposable degree. 

(2.) Spiritual death is plainly the chief evil which is, 
or perhaps can be, suffered by guilty beings. 

Perpetual and habitual sin, or that depraved state of 
soul which operates only in sinful actions, is an evil 
greater, if considered only as mere suffering, than per- 
haps all others. 

It is, in the first instance, the source of all the oppo- 



sition, or rather is itself all the opposition, of the soul 
to God : the alienation from God, consciousness of his 
disapprobation and wrath, fear of his vengeance, and 
that miserable murmuring and repining against his 
government and dispensations, which is felt by every 
sinful being. 

It is also the source of the hatred, malevolence, envy, 
revenge, deceit, violence, and injustice, which so uni- 
versally and dreadfully distress and destroy intelligent 
creatures in the present world ; and in every world 
where these dispositions prevail. It also cuts up by the 
roots all inclination, in rational beings, to befriend each 
other ; and prompts them to become, as much as possi- 
ble, the means of each other's misery. 

Finally, the several emotions of the soul in this state, 
are, in themselves, misery. This will readily be acknow- 
ledged, concerning many of these emotions. It is true 
of them universally. If we suppose them to be in- 
creased to a given degree and to rage without gratifi- 
cation, nothing more is, or can be necessary to complete 
the misery of a creature. Is not envy alone sufficient 
to make wretchedness complete ? Is not murmuring 
against God ? Is not the consciousness of being per- 
fectly and eternally hateful and despicable ? Is not any 
vehement and ungratified desire ; if, at the same time, 
that desire is felt to be unlawful, base, and vile ? Con- 
sider all such affections as invariable and endless ; and, 
what they are clearly known to be, most unworthy and 
abominable ; and so inwrought into the soul that they 
cannot be separated from it but by annihilation ; and I 
think you will acknowledge readily, that a more perfect 
curse cannot be named. 

(3.) The things which in various places are said in 
the Scriptures, concerning the state of damnation, in 
which this penalty is actually inflicted, seem fully to 
imply that spiritual death is a part of the curse. 

In the first chapter of Proverbs, Wisdom, that is, 
Christ, in denouncing the same curse against the im- 
penitent, particularly under the gospel, closes the threat- 
enings with this remarkable declaration ; ' Therefore 
shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled 
with their own devices.' 

In this passage the curse may be said to be repeated 
and explained ; and here one part of the explanation is, 
that the impenitent shall be ' filled with their own de- 
vices.' The devices of a man are his aims, pursuits, and 
plans, in which his affections are all exerted. With 
these, and all of them, the very pursuits and plans which 
are their own ; that is, which have in this life been their 
own ; Christ declares, the impenitent shall not only be 
afflicted, but ' filled.' Thus, also, Solomon says, ' The 
backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways; and 
the good man from himself ;' that is, from his own mind, 
affections, and character ; from the remembrance of 
what he was, and the consciousness of what he is ; the 
wicked and the good man shall either suffer or enjoy 
hereafter, in an eminent manner. 

Again : Wisdom, or Christ, addressing himself to 
sinners, in the eighth chapter, says, ' All they that hate 
me, love death.' It can hardly be said that sinners love 
either temporal or eternal death, considered as mere 
suffering ; but that they love spiritual death is unques- 
tionable. But the death here loved is, I think, clearly 
the death beyond the grave. 

The fact is also undoubted, that the damned are not 
only unhappy, but wicked. Nor will it be denied, that 



SENTENCE PRONOUNCED ON MAN. 



153 



they are thus judicially ; that they are given over by 
God to this character, in the same manner as persons are 
judicially given up to blindness, hardness of heart, and 
final ruin, in the present world. It will also, I presume, 
be readily conceded, that their misery will in a great 
measure arise from their own sinful affections and pur- 
suits, and those of their companions in woe. These facts 
appear to be a comment on the curse of the law, and to 
explain to us in this particular its true import. 



(1.) This subject affords strong proof of the divine 
origin of the Scriptures. 

The manner in which the declarations in this sentence 
have been already fulfilled, is certainly a very interest- 
ing testimony to the truth of the history of which it is 
a part ; a history of a vast comprehension, and involving 
a great proportion of all the things contained in the 
Bible ; and a history, probably more objected to by in- 
fidels, than any other found in revelation. 

Of the fulfilment of the sentence on the serpent, literal- 
ly understood, there cannot be a question. A hostility, 
totally singular, has always existed between him and 
mankind, and a war has always been carried on with 
peculiar enmity. To destroy this animal has been a 
settled pursuit in the heart of man, through every age 
and every country. The manner in which this destruc- 
tion has been accomplished, has also been continually 
that which is here predicted ; and the extent of the 
destruction has been in a sense without bounds. It has 
not been originated by a spirit of self-defence, but of 
hatred. It has been a war of the kind which the Ro- 
mans describe as carried on ad internecionem : or to 
the final destruction of one or the other of the comba- 
tants. The cause of this will in vain be sought for in 
conviction and contrivance. Serpents are certainly far 
less mischievous to mankind than many other animals, 
which yet are not thus hunted and destroyed. Their 
shape is such, and their whole appearance, as in other 
cases is regarded not only without disgust, but with 
pleasure. Yet the sight of a serpent is instantly produc- 
tive of a dread, a horror, a chill totally singular, and ex- 
tended to all the race of Adam. An enmity innate and 
irremovable exists between us and them, felt even at 
the mention of the name, and strongly and proverbially 
expressed in a great variety of forms. Even those ser- 
pents which are known to be harmless, are, like the rest, 
hated in the same manner, seen with the same horror, 
and killed with the same eagerness. How striking an 
exhibition is this of the reality of the sentence ! How 
strong a proof, from fact, of the truth of the history ! 

Of the fulfilment of this sentence on the serpent, 
figuratively considered, we have no knowledge, except 
from the Scriptures themselves. In them, as I have 
already shown, we have a full account of the complete 
and wonderful accomplishment of it in the redemption 
of man. In this account, although contained in the 
Scriptures, we are presented with high evidence of their 
divinity. It is not conceivable, it is not possible that 
Moses, unless inspired, should have written this predic- 
tion, with even a conjecture that it would afterwards be 
thus fulfilled. Nor is it much more consistent with 
possibility, that the apostles should have contrived the 
subsequent story so, as thus wonderfully to have ac- 
corded with this singular prophecy. 

The fulfilment is here as complete as it is wonderful ; 



and, although dependent on myriads of events, these all 
appear in one perfect system, tending always to this 
end, and in this end consummating the scheme of the 
prophecy. He who can believe these things to have 
been accidental, or to have been contrived by mere 
human ingenuity, must have a peculiar facility of be- 
lieving at his pleasure ; and must be \vholly freed from 
the shackles of evidence, whether certain or probable. 

Nor is the fulfilment of the sentence on the woman 
less remarkable. In all ages, countries, and climates of 
the world, women have been distinguished from every 
species of animals, by the pains and sorrows which they 
have experienced in bearing and bringing forth their 
offspring ; a striking proof that the human race have 
forfeited and lost their original supremacy over the in- 
ferior inhabitants of the earth. A great part of all the 
dangers and sufferings of the tender and delicate sex 
are plainly derived from this source. No experience, 
no watchful observation, no medical skill, however la- 
boriously exerted, and however long continued, have 
been sufficient to lessen this great portion of human 
woe, or materially to prevent the entire fulfilment of 
the sentence pronounced on the general mother of man- 
kind. The same sorrow, pain, and fear, still remain ; 
the same dangers still betide, the same diseases still 
ravage; and death, in the same humiliating and dis- 
tressing forms, and in the same proportion and number 
of instances, still triumphs over one half of our species, 
in exact accordance with the threatening of the text. 

Nor has the oilier part of the prediction been less 
wonderfully, or much less aftectingly accomplished. 
Throughout all savage nations (and savage nations 
have constituted a great part of mankind in every age 
of the world witli which we are acquainted), women have 
been reduced to extreme humiliation, dependence, and 
distress, by the stronger sex. Brutal strength and 
agility are the only attributes valued by savages ; and 
women being inferior to men in these attributes, have 
by savages been universally depressed. Of course they 
have been destined and compelled to all those employ- 
ments which men disliked, or contemned. The very 
feebleness of frame, which in the view of men rendered 
them inferior to themselves, might, one would think, 
naturally excuse them from the fatigue and hardship of 
severe labour, and plead for them an exemption from 
business, to which their strength was totally unequal. 
Still it has pleaded in vain. They have been made 
mere drudges, and doomed to the most toilsome, dis- 
tressing, and servile offices, for the mere convenience 
of men. Men, when not roused to the pleasures and 
glories of hunting and Avar, have in the savage life spent 
their time in sloth, in sleep, and in diversion; while 
women have been forced to plant and gather their corn, 
to make their utensils, and to perform besides all the 
domestic business. They have also been obliged to 
bear most of the burdens, and to carry the children, 
while infants, in their various journeys. 

All the savages of the several parts of the globe, have 
pursued one course of life in this respect. In some 
nations, women have been condemned to such wretch- 
edness, in consequence of their subjection, as to expose 
their female children to destruction, in order to prevent 
them from suffering the same misery with themselves ; 
esteeming an untimely and violent death a happier lot 
than life, when doomed to suffer such dreadful op- 
pression. 



154 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. xxvur. 



' In all the Mohammedan nations also, and through- 
out the vast empires of Hindoostan and China, women 
have suffered in a manner not much less humiliating. 
In Mohammedan countries they are bought and sold 
like cattle, are considered as mere property, are im- 
prisoned, as they are in China also, for life ; and are 
regarded universally and only as instruments of amuse- 
ment and pleasure, by their brutal masters. 

Christianity has indeed, in a great measure, in this 
as well as in other respects, reversed the curse. In 
1 Tim. ii. 15, the apostle, speaking of women, says, 
' Nevertheless she shall be saved in ' (that is, by means 
of) ' child-bearing, if they continue in faith, and charity, 
and holiness, with sobriety.' I apprehend the true 
meaning of this passage to be, that child-bearing shall 
eminently prove the means of salvation to the sex, 
through the influence of that system of Christianity 
which was intended to be the general reversion of the 
curse. According to this declaration of the apostle, we 
actually see that the danger and distress to which wo- 
men are peculiarly exposed, are the means of their piety 
and salvation. Women are usually pious in far greater 
numbers than men. The late President Edwards, of 
Nassau Hall, considered the proportion within the li- 
mits of his information, as at least two to one ; and 
various other divines, of great knowledge in the religion 
of mankind, have concurred with him in this opinion. 
This interesting fact is probably owing chiefly, if not 
wholly, to the danger, sorrow, and death, to which the 
sex are especially exposed ; and which, always before 
their eyes, operate as solemn and effectual monitions of 
their speedy departure to the eternal world. In this 
way they are usually more sober-minded, more attentive 
to spiritual and eternal things, and more disposed to 
give them their due influence than men ; and thus, far 
oftener become the subjects of piety, and the heirs of 
endless life. 

In Christian countries also, women have risen from 
the miserable state of humiliation and servitude which 
I have described, to their proper importance and dig- 
nity. In such countries, to a great extent, they are 
educated, informed, refined, and elevated to the charac- 
ter of respectable, rational, and moral beings. The 
character which they sustain, and the treatment to 
which they are entitled in the gospel, are highly be- 
coming its refined and noble character-. Refined and 
elegant tenderness was unknown, until it was made a 
part of the revealed system. There it is enjoined in the 
strongest of all terms, and by the noblest of all allusions. 
t Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the 
church, and gave himself for it,' is the affecting lan- 
guage of the great apostle of the Gentiles, on this in- 
teresting subject ; and such language as was never used 
by any other man. Accordingly, in Christian nations, 
and in Christian nations only, are women restored to 
the blessings which, among the rest of mankind, they 
have lost : and in many of them, are as far restored to 
them as, in so imperfect a state of being, can be ration- 
ally expected. 

The sentence passed on the man, is also fulfilled in 
the same perfect manner. 

We see ' the ground cursed, and bringing forth 
thorns and briers,' instead of the living fruits of para- 
dise. We see man destined to labour for his bread, and 
to ' eat that bread in the sweat of his brow.' 

We see him also ' of few days and full of trouble.' 



Fears of ten thousand dangers and distresses haunt him 
every day, and on every side ; pain and disease, de- 
rived from earth, air, and ocean, from his birth and his 
food, his exercise and his rest, and affecting every 
nerve and every pore ; sorrow for every disappointment 
of his hopes, and for every frail and vanishing enjoy- 
ment which he attains, and extending through all the 
days of his life : embitter their whole progress, and ren- 
der his continuance in this world often so undesirable, 
that, with Job, he is ever ready to cry out, ' I would not 
live always.' 

Nor do we see him less fallen in his character, sta- 
tion, employments, happiness, and universal condition. 
Of a prince, the lord of a world, he is become a drudge, 
a poor dependent wretch ; dependent on every person 
and thing around him ; and in the evils which betide 
and those which threaten him daily, is reduced far be- 
low the condition of the brutes. In the happiest coun- 
tries of the world, how clearly is this the state of man? 
How much more strikingly in those which are scorched 
with heat, or stiffened with frost, around the year ; in 
those which are cursed with drought and sterility ; and 
in those which are haunted by the pestilence, and all 
its dismal attendants ? This part of the sentence is, 
however, less commonly regarded as a strong exhibi 
tion of the truth of this history, than the others : I think, 
without propriety or justice. The real reason undoubt- 
edly is, that we consider the present condition of man 
as his only condition, and are reluctant to admit that he 
was ever placed in any other. Of this, however, there 
is no evidence, and no substantial probability. The 
tradition of all ancient nations teaches directly the con- 
trary doctrine, and amply supports the history of Mo- 
ses. Nor is it reasonable to believe, that man came 
from the hands of God the same frail, miserable being, 
which we now behold him ; or the world, that mass of 
inclemency, barrenness, and confusion, which we see in 
its present state. A paradise is, to the first view of the 
mind, the proper state of a world ; and unspotted virtue 
and happiness, the proper state of rational beings, as 
they come from the hands of the Creator. All things 
betoken a world and a race of inhabitants in ruins ; and 
such has been the decision of all the ancient nations ; a 
decision, unquestionably derived by tradition from the 
real facts. 

In this view, every thing which respects man is a 
lively fulfilment of the prediction in the text ; a fulfil- 
ment exact and complete ; and exhibiting in the strong- 
est manner, the truth of the history in which it is con- 
tained. 

(2.) In this story is presented to us a glorious manifes- 
tation of the mercy of God. 

Before God proceeded to utter the sentence of con- 
demnation on the man and woman, and while he was 
declaring the punishment of the tempter, he disclosed 
the future designs of redeeming and forgiving love. 

The Lord Jesus Christ was the person who here 
passed sentence on these offenders. As ' the Father 
judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment to 
the Son ;' as ' no man hath seen God the Father at any 
time, nor can see him and live ;' it is certain that God, 
as here spoken of, was no other than the second person 
of the Trinity ; the Redeemer of mankind. This di- 
vine person even now began the work of redemption, 
in the very moment when the first objects of it first ex- 
isted ; thus early showing that ' the Lord is gracious, 



v 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN. 



155 



and full of compassion ; slow to anger, and of great 
mercy.' 

What a divinely amiable character does the Re- 
deemer here exhibit ! The first opportunity, the first 
moment of that opportunity, he seizes, to make known 
to apostate man his design to ' save his people from their 
sins.' As if he feared that the sentence would over- 
whelm the poor unhappy culprits, he prepared them to 
support the terms of it, by publishing their recovery 
before he declared their condemnation and ruin. 

Adam and Eve appear to have clearly understood 
that they and theirs, although under sentence of death, 
were even by this sentence to find life. As soon as the 
denunciation is made, Adam, who in the paradisiacal 
state had called his wife Woman, even when immortal 
life was secured to them ; now, as I have before ob- 
served, called her Eve, which signifies living, or com- 
municating life ; and adds this reason for the name, 
'because she was the mother of all living;' that is, of 
all who, according to the gracious declarations of "this 
sentence, were to be restored to immortal life. Eve 
herself, also, on the birth of her first son, expresses her 
full faith in the prediction, when, after naming him 
Cain, she says, as has been already observed, ' I have 
gotten a man, the Lord;' not 'from the Lord,' as in 
our translation ; but, a man, who is the Lord ; ' the seed 
of the woman, who is to bruise the serpent's head.' 
Thus it is evident that they well understood the predic- 
tion, and realized the consolation which it conveyed. 

What instance of divine mercy can be conceived of 
more tender, more condescending, more like redeeming 
love, than this. How much does the Saviour of man- 



kind appear like himself! How early lie began ' to 
seek and to save that which was lost!' He perfectly 
knew that he himself was to die on the cross, to accom- 
plish this redemption : yet he utters the glad tidings to 
mankind with eagerness and haste, as if impatient to 
make known to them the salvation which he was to pur- 
chase with his blood. 

As when he came in sight of Jerusalem, at the Mount 
of Olives, ' he wept over ' that guilty, ruined ' city ;' so 
here he may be naturally considered as taking a solemn 
and compassionate view of a ruined world, and all the 
lost myriads of the race of Adam ; as weeping over their 
destruction, and as saying, not, ' How often would I 
gather,' but, ' I Avill gather you,' fallen and perishing 
sinners, ' as a hen gathereth her chickens under her 
wings.' ' Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great 
joy : for unto you shall be born a Saviour, even Christ 
the Lord.' ' Beautiful on the mountains shall he come, 
bringing good tidings, publishing peace, bringing good 
tidings of good, publishing salvation, and saying unto 
Zion, Thy God reigneth.' Lost as ye are, oh ye chil- 
dren of Adam, ' unto you I call : I rejoice in the habi- 
table parts of the earth, and my delights are still with 
the sons of men.' ' Glory still shall be to God in the 
highest, and on earth peace, and good-will towards 
men.' ' Sing, oh heavens, and be joyful, oh earth ; and 
break forth into singing, oh mountains ; for the Lord 
hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon 
his afflicted.' ' The heavens shall drop down from 
above, and the skies shall pour down righteousness; 
the earth shall also open, and bring forth salvation. 



SERMON XXIX. 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN PROVED FROM REVELATION AND FROM FACTS. 



Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin ; and so death hath passed upon all 

men, for that all have sinned Rom. v. 1 2. 



In the three preceding discourses, I have considered the 
Trial, Temptation, Apostasy, and Sentence of our first 
Parents. The next subject in a theological system is, 
The effect of the apostasy on their descendants. The 
consideration of this subject I shall therefore begin in 
the following discourse. 

In the text, independently of all comments and criti- 
cisms, three things are directly asserted : 

I. That by one man sin entered the world. 

II. That in consequence of this event all men have 
sinned. 

III. That death, as the consequence of sin, hath 
passed upon all men. 

Concerning the last of these assertions there is no 
debate. The two first, therefore, will occupy the present 
discussion ; and these, for the sake of convenience, I 
shall reduce to the single following proposition : — 

That in consequence of the apostasy of Adam all 
men have sinned. 

Before I enter on the examination of this doctrine, 



I shall premise a few observations, which I hope will in 
some degree be useful towards accomplishing the gene- 
ral design proposed in this sermon. 

Perhaps no doctrine is more reluctantly received by 
the human mind, than that which I have just now stated. 
Accordingly, it has been strenuously contended against, 
and resolutely rejected, not only by infidels, but by a 
considerable part of the Christian world, ever since it 
became a topic of public debate. Nor, when we re- 
member the present character of man, can we think it 
strange that such opposition should exist. The doc- 
trine in question, more than any other, humbles the 
pride, awakens the fears, and lessens the happiness, of 
every child of Adam. A common interest, therefore, 
naturally summons all men to oppose it ; and not un- 
frequently bears down the evidence by which it is sup- 
ported. Christians feel this interest as truly as other 
men ; and under the influence of this feeling, resist or 
forget, the proof of the doctrine. At the same time the 
doctrine itself, it must be acknowledged, is connected 



156 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



P» 



■with many things very mysterious, and very perplexing. 
These, adding embarrassment to reluctance, have in 
many instances persuaded men to refuse the doctrine, 
in spite of the testimony of experience and revelation. 
For myself I readily confess, that if I saw any mode of 
avoiding the evidence by which it is established, I 
would certainly reject it also. 

But.it can never be wise, it can never be vindicable, 
to deny truth, or reject evidence. If the doctrine be 
true, it is our interest to know it ; if it be clearly 
evinced, it is our duty to receive it ; and that, however 
reluctant we may be, and however mysterious the doc- 
trine. To every sober man, this duty will appear of 
high importance, and indispensable obligation, if he 
finds that God has taught him this doctrine, as one of 
the truths which he has been pleased to require man- 
kind to believe. To the interest always involved in 
the performance of our duty, he will find also super- 
added, the solemn concern of coming to the knowledge 
of his own guilt and danger, that he may be induced to 
avail himself of the only means of pardon and safety. 
While he feels himself ' whole,' he certainly can never 
suspect his ' need of a physician :' while he is unaware 
of his guilt, he cannot be supposed ever to look to 
Christ for deliverance. 

With these things in view, I hope that every mem- 
ber of this audience will readily open his mind to the 
discussion of this subject, melancholy and painful as it 
is ; whilst, in proof of the doctrine, I allege the follow- 
ing arguments, derived partly from fact, and partly 
from revelation. 

From Revelation I allege, 

1. The text, as decisive proof of this doctrine. 
This proof is twofold, h irst, the doctrine is directly 

asserted, ' All have sinned.' Lest there should be any 
doubt, whether an absolute universality is intended in 
this place, the apostle has exhibited his intention in the 
most decisive manner. ' So death hath passed upon all 
men, for that all have sinned.' Here we are taught, that 
all sin who die. As therefore every child of Adam dies ; 
so, according to the sentence of the apostle, every child 
of Adam is a sinner. Secondly, the apostle proves the 
doctrine by argument, and, in my view, unanswerably. 
Death cannot be the reward, or allotment, of virtuous 
beings. It is plainly a punishment, and a dreadful 
one ; and can of course be, in no possible sense, a testi- 
mony of the divine approbation. But the approbation 
of God is invariably given to obedience. If then all 
men were obedient only, not one of them could suffer 
death, or any other evil. Accordingly, Adam, while 
obedient, was assured of immortal life. In the same 
manner also ' the angels, who kept their first estate,' are 
immortal and happy. 

But death befalls all the race of Adam : therefore 
every one is a sinner. 

2. After Adam had lost the image of God, we are 
informed, that he begat a son in his own likeness. 

' The image of God,' in which Adam was created, has 
been hei'etofore shown to be divine knowledge, righte- 
ousness, and true holiness. ' The likeness of Adam ' is, 
by unquestionable analogy, the moral character which 
he possessed after his apostasy. In this likeness, Seth 
is said to have been begotten. That Cain was begotten 
in the same likeness will not be disputed. The same 
tiling is indirectly, but decisively, asserted also concern- 
ing Abel : for he is declared to have lived and died in 



faith, that is, in the future Redeemer. But Christ, as 
the Redeemer, could not have been an object of faith to 
Abel, had he not been a sinner ; or, in other words, had 
he not borne the likeness of apostate Adam. But, if 
this was the nature of the immediate children of Adam, 
it cannot even be suspected that it is not equally the na- 
ture of his remoter progeny ; or that they do not all 
bear the likeness of their common parent. Not a shadow 
of reason can be given, why one law should have 
governed the birth and character of his immediate de- 
scendants, and another, the birth and character of the 
rest. 

3. St Paul in the three first chapters of the Epistle 
to the Romans, has argued this point at large, concern- 
ing both Jews and Gentiles. 

On this argument he himself is, undoubtedly, the best 
commentator ; and his comment is given to us in the 
following terms. ' What then ? Are we (Jews) better 
than they (Gentiles) ? No, in no wise ; for we have 
before proved both Jews and Gentiles, that they are all 
under sin ; as it is written, There is none righteous, no 
not one. There is none that understandeth, there is 
none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of 
the way, they are together become unprofitable ; there 
is none that doeth good, no not one.' 

4i. The same apostle declares, that by the works of 
the law, no flesh shall b£ justified in the sight of God. 

But if sinless men, if even one sinless man, existed 
in this world, he could not fail to be justified by the 
works of the law ; for the law itself says, ' He who 
doeth these things,' that is, the things required in the 
law, ' shall live by them.' As, therefore, ' no flesh,' no 
child of Adam, ' shall be justified by the works of law ;' 
it follows irresistibly, that every one is sinful. 

Of the same purport is the declaration of Christ to 
Nicodemus, 'Except a man be born again, he cannot 
see the kingdom of God.' The only use or effect of the 
new birth is, that in it holiness is implanted in the mind. 
But if any man were sinless, he could not need regene- 
ration, nor be regenerated. He would already perfectly 
possess that holiness which is imperfectly communicated 
in regeneration ; and of course, would ' see the king- 
dom of God,' as certainly and easily, at least, as those 
who possessed less holiness than himself. 

In the like manner St Paul argues, 2 Cor. v. 14 : 
' For,' says he, ' we thus judge : that if one died for all, 
then were all dead ;' that is, in trespasses and sins. 

To these Scriptural exhibitions on this subject, I 
might add a vast multitude of others. In truth, no doc- 
trine of the Scriptures is expressed in more numerous 
or more various forms ; or in terms more direct, or less 
capable of misapprehension. 

What the Scriptures declare in so pointed and ample 
a manner, facts elucidate with such clearness and force 
as to be, at least in my opinion, incapable of being ra- 
tionally resisted. 

1. The laws of all nations are a strong proof, that 
the human character is universally sinful. 

Human laws are made only to repress and restrain 
sin ; are derived only from experience, and are forced 
upon mankind by iron handed necessity. They exist 
in every country, and restrain sin of every kind which 
human laws can affect, or human tribunals can prove 
and punish. The penalties by which they attempt this 
restraint, are various and dreadful ; are the most effica- 
cious which experience can suggest, or ingenuity devise ; 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN. 



157 



and are changed continually, as they are found to fail 
of their effect, by the substitution of others which pro- 
mise greater success. Still they have always fallen short 
of their purpose. The propensity to evil in the heart of 
man, has defied all their force and terror ; and boldly 
ventured on the forbidden perpetration, in the sight of 
the pillory and the prison, the gibbet and the rack. No 
ingenuity on the one hand, and no suffering on the 
other, has in any country been sufficient to overcome 
this propensity, and so far to change the character of 
man, as to exterminate even a single sin. 

To this head ought to be referred all the means, fur- 
nished by law, of safety to our persons and our property : 
the bolts, bars, and locks, by which we endeavour to 
defend our houses and their contents, our persons and 
our families, especially in the night, against the inroads 
of theft and violence : the notes, bonds, and deeds, by 
which we endeavour to secure our contracts, prevent the 
mischiefs of fraud, and compel dishonesty to fulfil its en- 
gagements : the jails and dungeons, the chains and gal- 
leys, by which we endeavour to confine villains, and 
prevent them from disturbing by their crimes the peace 
of society : the post, the pillory, and the gibbet, by 
which we punish some culprits, and labour to deter 
others from repeating their perpetrations : all these, and 
the like things, are gloomy and dreadful proofs of the 
corruption of the world in which they exist. They exist 
wherever men are found, of sufficient capacity and in 
proper circumstances, to attempt a regular opposition to 
crimes, a continual preservation of peace, and a general 
establishment of personal safety. The sinfulness, there- 
fore, which they intend to resist, is equally universal. 
In a world of virtue they could have no place, because 
they could not be of any possible use ; the spirit of the 
inhabitants supplying infinitely better, the peace and 
safety which they so imperfectly secure. 

2. The religion of all nations is a forcible proof of 
the same doctrine. 

The religion of every nation has been expiatory ; 
that is, it has been so formed, as intentionally to make 
satisfaction for sin, and to obtain reconciliation with a 
God, acknowledged to be offended. Of this nature, ob- 
viously, are sacrifices. The victim was always intended 
to be an offering for sin, and the means of regaining 
forfeited favour. The more valuable the victim, the 
more efficacious was supposed to be the atonement, and 
the more certain the favour solicited. Accordingly, 
when inferior offerings were found or believed to fail, 
human sacrifices were substituted for them ; and these, 
not unfrequently, of the highest estimation : youths, no- 
bly born, possessed of eminent endowments, and edu- 
cated in the manner most advantageously fitted to in- 
sure mental distinction. Sacrifices of this general na- 
ture were offered by all the ancient heathen nations, and 
have been offered by many still existing. In Hindostan 
they appear to be offered at the present time. 

Nor did the other offerings of the heathen speak any 
other language. The fragrance, the beauty, the costli- 
ness, the frequency, and the multitude of these, were 
plainly intended to conciliate the good-will of the god 
who was supplicated ; a good-will confessedly estranged, 
but supposed to be capable of being acquired anew. 

According to the same scheme also were formed their 
prayers, which either implicitly or explicitly acknow- 
ledged the sins of the suppliant, and besought the re- 
storation of the favour which he had forfeited. 



On the same principle, tedious pilgrimages, consum- 
ing at times a length of years, and traversing no trifling 
part of the breadth of the globe, were undertaken and 
executed. The burning heat, the parching drought, and 
the excessive perils of an Arabian or a Nubian desert, 
were quietly and even cheerfully sustained by hosts of 
wanderers, who had voluntarily exiled themselves from 
their friends, families, and country, with the hope of ob- 
taining the remission of sin, considered as absolutely 
necessary, and supposed to be unattainable by any 
means less dangerous and distressing. 

Ablutions speak the same design in a manner still 
more direct and unequivocal. To wash away his guilt, 
the Egyptian plunged himself in the Nile ; and the 
Hindoo in the Ganges. From these waters, invested by 
popular superstition with the transcendent power of re- 
moving moral pollution, each expected to come out 
cleansed from all his turpitude, and entitled anew to the 
complacency of the god, whom he was conscious of hav- 
ing offended. On this ground, the holy streams were 
resorted to by immense multitudes with incredible eager- 
ness and anxiety, and were supposed to furnish a certain 
passport to future blessings. 

To ablution was added penance, as very hopeful 
means of obtaining the same desirable object. This un- 
natural resort existed in a great variety of forms ; all 
of them humiliating, forbidding, and dreadful. Hun- 
ger, thirst, the heat of summer, and the frost of winter, 
nakedness, weariness, extreme want, and excruciating 
pain, have been undergone by millions of the human 
race without a groan, a murmur, or a sigh, from an 
expectation that this voluntary suffering would shelter 
the criminal from the demands of future justice. It 
ought to be remarked, that the length to which this 
self-denial has often proceeded, shows in the strongest 
manner not only the reality, but the intense degree of 
guilt, with which the subject of it supposed himself to be 
stained. 

All these were regarded as essential duties of reli- 
gion, and as indispensably demanded of every man. In 
performing them, every man confessed that he was 
stained with the common guilt, and that he needed an 
expiation. 

3. The same doctrine is proved by the writings of all 
nations, among whom writings are found. 

The history, both of nations and individuals is, pro- 
fessedly, a true account of their actions and characters. 
It is also rarely written by men who are not at least 
candid towards those, concerning whom they write ; and 
often by those who are strongly prejudiced in their fa- 
vour ; men of the same nation or party, or for some other 
reason partially inclined towards the individual or the 
cause which is the subject of their history. There is 
also in most historians a strong, prevailing inclination 
to cover the defects and crimes of those whose actions 
they record ; lest by a full disclosure of them they should 
render the history less entertaining than they wish to 
their readers. From all these causes, history is often a 
mere panegyric ; and almost always, perhaps always, a 
much more favourable account of the conduct of men 
than truth would warrant. The history of the Bible, 
being dictated by Inspiration, presents its subjects more 
generally darkened and deformed, in a great proportion 
of instances ; both because it was designed to unfold the 
moral characters of men in an especial manner, and 
because it is true. Hence, we commonly suppose the 



158 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SliB. XXIX. 



people of Israel to hare been more depraved than other 
nations. This, however, is an erroneous opinion, as 
any man who reads the first chapter of the Epistle to the 
Romans will easily discern. Had prophets written the 
history of the rest of mankind, there is but too much 
reason to believe, that nations and individuals generally, 
who have been the subjects of history, would have pre- 
sented features equally disgusting and monstrous with 
those of the Israelites. 

But favourable as all these causes are to the human 
character, powerfully as they have influenced writers to 
present, and that with many adventitious ornaments, 
only the bright, and to conceal as much as possible the 
dark, side of man ; history is still a satire upon our 
race, scarcely less severe than any of those professedly 
written under this name. Should we, contrary to all 
probability, or in better language, to absolute certainty, 
acknowledge the portrait to be an exact, unflattering, 
likeness ; we must still be obliged to confess the whole 
aspect to be misshapen and monstrous ; without sym- 
metry, beauty, or loveliness. Man, as described by his- 
tory, is undeniably, and always has been, an evil, odious 
being ; disobedient and ungrateful to his Maker ; unjust, 
insincere, and unkind to his fellow man ; and far remov- 
ed from the character which the Scriptures demand, which 
conscience approves, or which, even in our opinion, 
God can be supposed to love. 

With history, moral and philosophical writings have 
abundantly concurred. I will here pass all those which 
have been immediately directed to the point in question, 
and have either declared or argued it, in form ; their 
aid being unnecessary for the present purpose. Those 
which have been conducted with other designs, nay, 
those which have intentionally opposed this doctrine, 
have nevertheless served to establish it. This they have 
done in many ways ; particularly by the feebleness of 
their arguments advanced in opposition to it ; by the 
pains which they have taken to disguise human turpi- 
tude by fair names, flattering ascriptions, and false jus- 
tifications ; by the gross moral sentiments which they 
have abetted ; and by the deformed dispositions which 
they have thus disclosed to the public view. Their very 
confessions also, of what they in vain attempt to deny, 
furnish no small evidence of its truth ; while their efforts 
not unfrequently wear the appearance of a concerted 
design to carry a point, scarcely supposed to be tenable ; 
of an artful and insidious struggle to gain converts, and 
achieve a victory, rather than of an honest endeavour 
to establish a truth, of which the author is sincerely 
convinced. Upon the whole, in spite of all the exer- 
tions made to cover this humiliating truth, and hide 
from the perception of man an object so offensive, the 
fetor still escapes, and forces itself upon the senses in a 
manner so disgusting as to compel a conviction of its 
existence. 

Poems, plays, novels, and other books of entertain- 
ment, written professedly only to amuse and please, are 
necessitated to unfold the same truth in a still clearer 
manner. All the characters almost, are characters mix- 
ed with sin : and the few unmixed ones which they have 
attempted, are perceived by mere taste, unaccompanied 
with intellectual examination, to be dull, lifeless, and 
unnatural. Accordingly, rational criticism has every- 
where condemned them as improperly introduced, be- 
cause they have no originals in fact. The sentiments 
also thrown out in these productions, are evidential of 



the same truth. In innumerable forms they declare, 
and appeal to, the universal corruption of mankind, as 
the object about which they are extensively occupied ; 
and the only source, in a great multitude of instances, 
from which they are derived. Were not human nature 
corrupted, a great part of them could never have had 
either existence or meaning. 

4. The conversation of all men abundantly declares 
the same truth. 

All men continually ascribe sin to all men, except 
themselves ; and few, very few, have ever dared to deny 
even themselves to be sinners. The best of mankind 
readily confess and deeply lament their own sins, in 
terms of the greatest humiliation and sorrow. Paul de- 
clares himself to be encompassed with a ' body of sin 
and death.' Jacob, Job, Moses, David, Hezekiah, Da- 
niel, Jeremiah, Peter, James, and John, all acknowledged 
their own guilt, without hesitation or concealment. Good 
men in every succeeding age have followed their steps, 
in this frankness and integrity, so suited to their ge- 
neral character, and have with a single voice declared 
their own share in the common corruption. Could this 
fact have taken place, if the corruption were not univer- 
sal ? If Job, Daniel, Paul, and John, were not sinless, 
we must seek in vain for persons of this character among 
men : for no men have by their conduct ever proved 
themselves to approximate nearer to this enviable cha- 
racter. If the doctrine of this discourse be not true, on 
what principles shall this conduct be explained ? Can it 
be supposed that men distinguished for their virtue, have 
thus violated their integrity by confessing guilt, with 
which they were not chargeable ; and become gratuitous- 
ly wicked, merely for the sake of persuading others that 
they were wicked ? Have men of the fairest reputation 
assumed a scandalous character, merely for the sake of 
acquiring that character ? Nothing is more clear, than 
that men would never ascribe sin to themselves, and 
voluntarily pronounce themselves deformed and hateful ; 
especially men of distinguished sincerity, and possessing 
the fairest means of escaping such an imputation ; unless 
they were compelled to this ascription by the real state 
of the fact, and the irresistible conviction of their own 
consciences. 

Another class of persons, however, at times deny 
themselves to be sinful, and employ various expedients 
to support themselves in this denial ; such as labouring 
to prove that they are mere machines, the subjects of no 
moral attributes, and utterly incapable of any moral 
action ; and attempting to disprove all distinction be- 
tween right and wrong. But this denial, instead of 
proving the authors of -it to be sinless, is an unquestion- 
able proof that they are peculiarly sinful. Their gene- 
ral sinfulness of character is, in all instances, unanswer- 
ably evident from the general tenor of their conduct, 
Were they not the subjects of that blindness which is 
the result of sin only, they could not fail to confess their 
true character ; a character, to all with whom they have 
intercourse, so obvious, that they never deceive any one 
by this denial except themselves. Accordingly, no one 
gives credit to their assertions. On the contrary, all 
around them regard them as more sinful than other men, 
and as unanswerably proving their peculiar depravity bj 
this very denial. 

In the mean time, the conversation of mankind proves 
the truth of the doctrine, with the same clear evidence, 
in another manner. All men ascribe sin to all other 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN. 



159 



men. The sin either exists in those to whom it is as- 
cribed, or it does not. If it be acknowledged thus to 
exist, the debate is at an end. If it do not exist in those 
to whom it is ascribed, the ascription itself, being a gross 
act of injustice, is sin in the ascriber. As all are con- 
cerned in making this ascription, all are certainly sin- 
ful ; whether one or the other side of this dilemma be 
chosen. Indeed, if our fellow men were not too evi- 
dently sinful to admit of any debate, all men would re- 
gard such an ascription with horror and detestation. So 
palpable and malignant an act of injustice could not be 
tolerated for a moment. Ministers particularly, when 
preaching in a solemn and pungent manner on this sub- 
ject, would be considered only as designing to slander 
and abuse their audiences : and to say the least, would 
never be able to assemble a congregation a second time. 
Still few, a very few of mankind, pretend to be offended 
with them, for the plainest exhibitions of this subject. 
On the contrary, hardly any sermons are more popular 
or better received, than those which pourtray the human 
character as deformed, guilty, and odious ; if at the same 
time they wear evident proofs of sincerity, solemnity, 
and concern ; and are not conducted in a strain of in- 
vective. Whence can this arise, but from the fact, that 
the preacher ' commends himself to every man's con- 
science by manifestation of the truth ?' 

Very few men also think of resenting this ascription, 
as made in the common intercourse of mankind, unless 
when made with some appearance of contempt or malig- 
nity. All men hear it continually, yet no man ordina- 
rily conceives it to be unjust or false, unkind or uncivil, 
nor even as extraordinary or unexpected. On the con- 
trary, it is plainly considered as a thing of course, and 
is listened to without emotion. Could this be, were the 
doctrine untrue ? 

To the evidence, furnished by the consideration of 
these facts, it ought to be added, that they contain the 
direct confession of the whole human race, that the doc- 
trine is true ; a confession made in several different 
forms ; all of them unequivocal, solemn, and decisive. 
Of course, it expresses the real opinion of the whole 
human race concerning this subject. But it is undoubt- 
edly true, that in all cases where mankind have suffi- 
cient ability and opportunity to understand a subject, 
where they examine and decide without partiality, and 
especially where they decide against every bias of hu- 
man nature, their decision is true, and to be admitted 
without a question. The present case is absolutely of 
this nature. We have sufficient opportunity and dis- 
cernment to determine whether we ourselves, and our 
fellow men, are sinners or not. It is certain that every 
bias of our minds inclines us to believe ourselves free 
from sin ; and that in pronouncing ourselves sinful we 
op x ose every prejudice, and every personal interest. 
But all men have thus pronounced. The decision is 
therefore just, and is expressed in such a manner as to 
admit neither of doubt nor misconstruction. 

5. No man has been ever yet produced as an example 
of complete holiness in the present world. 

Amid a race of beings so generally sinful as mankind, 
a person perfectly holy could not fail of being distin- 
guished, as wholly extraordinary, by his fellow men. 
Amid the numerous, flattering, panegyrical accounts 
which have been given, and which have strongly evinced 
the disposition of their authors to say the most favour- 
able thing concerning human nature, it is incredible that 



we should not find some one spotless subject of their 
panegyric, if such a one had ever existed. Such a cha- 
racter in the present world would be so extraordinary 
as to excite the utmost attention of our race, and the 
story could not fail of being recorded. Particularly, the 
opposers of the doctrine which I am attempting to esta- 
blish, must certainly have known the fact, had any such 
character existed ; for many of them are very industrious 
and learned men. But no such character has ever 
been mentioned by them, or by any other person. 
Yet, according to their system, many such ought to 
appear in every country, and in every age. Their sys- 
tem is therefore false, otherwise these facts could not 
exist. 

The Lord Jesus Christ is the only person that ever 
appeared in this world, ' who knew no sin.' Accord- 
ingly, he is totally distinguishable in his character from 
all the children of Adam ; and has actually been thus 
distinguished to such a degree, that no other person has 
been imagined to approximate at all towards his perfec- 
tion. In the whole history of man, no single solitary 
instance of this nature has been ever found. Time has 
rolled on for six thousand years ; the world is, and long- 
has been, filled with myriads of myriads of inhabitants ; 
yet even now a spotless man would be regarded as a 
prodigy, and the knowledge of so extraordinary a per- 
son would be carefully treasured up for the instruction 
of succeeding generations. 

6. This doctrine is proved to every man who examines 
his own character, by the state of his own heart and life. 

The evidence, furnished to the doctrine from this 
source, may be advantageously exhibited under the fol- 
lowing heads. 

(1.) Every such man is, at times, the subject of serious 
apprehensions concerning his future state. These ap- 
prehensions certainly prove the mind in which they 
exist, to be sinful. No man probably ever believed 
that God will or can make sinless beings unhappy 
hereafter ; particularly, that if himself were sinless, God 
would make him unhappy. It is, I think, discernible 
by reason, that ' perfect love,' or holiness, necessarily 
1 casteth out fear ;' or in other words, that these appre- 
hensions cannot exist in a sinless being. However dis- 
posed, therefore, any man may be to combat this doc- 
trine, and however satisfied with his arguments against 
it ; he will find, if he attends to his own thoughts, that 
he still secretly believes it ; and proves that he believes 
it by his fears concerning his own future existence. 
Were an angel from heaven to declare to him that he is 
free from sin, and that through life he would preserve 
this character ; all his fears would unquestionably vanish, 
and leave him perfectly undisturbed, concerning every 
thing which lies beyond the grave. 

(2.) Every man is conscious that he does not perform 
all his duty. It will be observed, that I here suppose all 
men to acknowledge, in their minds, the distinction be- 
tween right and wrong. There are those indeed, as I 
before observed, who openly deny this distinction ; but 
as these men use exactly the same language with others, 
when speaking of their own excellencies and those of 
their friends, or complaining of the conduct of their 
enemies; I consider them as admitting this distinction, 
in their thoughts, equally with the rest of mankind. 
Cert, inly no persons more strenuously insist on their 
own rights, or complain more bitterly of the wrongs, 
which they suppose themselves to suffer. 



160 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xxix. 



It cannot be denied, that we are fairly bound to do all 
the good which is in our power. But there is not a man 
living, who will soberly assert that he has acted in this 
manner. The knowledge of those around him, con- 
cerning his life, would refute the assertion, and cover 
him with blushes for the folly and disingenuousness 
which it evinced. The testimony of his conscience also, 
concerning his thoughts, would declare it to be false; and 
accuse him of having added to his former guilt, by the 
insincerity of this assertion. 

(3.) Every man living is conscious of having commit- 
ted many positive sins. This truth may be sufficiently 
established by two obvious modes of illustration. 

No man living durst recite every transaction of his 
life, even to his nearest and best friend. There are 
things in the story which he cannot bring himself, by 
any consideration to disclose. This is true concerning 
his external conduct. Still more it is true concerning 
his thoughts ; because in still greater numbers and higher 
degrees, they have violated his sense of moral obliga- 
tion ; and contravened what he secretly believes to be 
the will of God. Nor is there probably a man living, 
who has not often rejoiced that some, both of his thoughts 
and actions, are now known to himself only, and con- 
cealed effectually from his fellow men. 

Again, no man can go into his closet, and solemnly 
declare to his Maker, that he has not been guilty of 
positive sins. Even the impudence and pride of the 
self-righteous Pharisee, ' who went into the temple to 
pray,' did not stretch so far as this. The utmost which 
he ventured upon was, to ' thank God that he was not as 
other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or publicans.' 
He durst not thank God that he was not so sinful as 
Abraham, Job, or Moses ; all of whom he still knew to 
be sinful. Much less durst he, or any other man, de- 
clare himself before God to be absolutely free from 
moral pollution. 

But were we sinless, it would be perfectly easy, safe, 
and natural, for us to declare the inmost thoughts of our 
hearts, so far as their moral nature only was concerned, 
to our fellow creatures ; for we are never afraid to dis- 
close to them, unless in cases where mere prudence pre- 
vents, any of our conduct which we are assured has been 
right. With the same ease and consciousness of pro- 
priety should we also assert before God, that we were 
without sin if we felt assured that this was our true cha- 
racter. 

Were any man who was taught the nature of the final 
judgment, informed by an angel that it would commence 
this day, and find him in his present state ; he would 
tremble at the information. If an exception ought to 
be made, it must be of him only, who by a living faith in 
the Lord Jesus Christ, a sincere repentance of his sins, 
and a laborious preparation to give up his account with 
joy, has acquired strong confidence towards God, and a 
vigorous hope of evangelical justification. It hardly 
needs to be observed, that every such person acknow- 
ledges in the fullest manner, his own sinfulness, and 
that of all men. 

4. Every man who makes the attempt to do his duty, 
and abstain from sin, finds the attempt attended by 
many difficulties. ' When he would do good, evil,' very 
frequently at least, will be ' present with him ;' and he 
will ' find a law in his members, warring against the law 
of his mind, and bringing him under captivity.' ' The 
good which ' for some reason or other ' he is desirous 



to do,' he will often fail of doing, and ' the evil which 
for some reason or other ' he wishes not to do,' he still 
will often ' do.' To say the least, he will often find an 
uncomfortable and guilty reluctance to do his duty, and 
an equally unhappy and guilty disposition to practise 
sin. 

Often, very often do the best of men, when summon- 
ed by their circumstances, and warned by their con- 
sciences to perforin acts of piety to God, or beneficence 
to mankind, of opposition to their lusts, or resistance to 
temptations, find one sin and another ' easily besetting,' 
and many a ' weight ' hanging heavily upon them. The 
character of God appears less lovely and venerable than 
it has done at other times ; and the heart is less open to 
acts of justice, truth, charity, and forgiveness. Tempta- 
tions approach with more charms, and sin is stripped of 
no small part of its deformity. The world assumes new 
importance, beauty, and power. Evil examples solicit 
with stronger influence ; and evil suggestions awaken 
doubt, uneasiness, and discouragement. Blysteries, at 
such seasons, become converted, without much difficulty, 
into errors ; and that which is inexplicable is suspected 
to be untrue. Self-denial is felt in many instances to 
be hard, unnecessary, and scarcely a duty ; while indul- 
gence, on the other hand, seems not only inviting, but 
excusable ; not only pleasant, but safe. Accordingly, 
the duty in hand is left undone, or performed with diffi- 
culty and by halves. The feet drag heavily in ' the 
strait and narrow path ;' or turn aside to find relief in a 
way less steep, rough, and forbidden. 

If such is the case with the best men, it will not be 
wondered at, that others find their difficulties still 
greater. In all Christian countries there are multitudes 
who are not sanctified, and who yet intend to obtain 
eternal life : men taught in their childhood to know 
and fear God, to reverence their duty, and to perform 
it in every external manner : to attend on the worship 
of God, to read and believe his word ; to deal justly, 
kindly, and truly with their fellow men : to watch and 
resist their spiritual enemies within and without, and 
universally to respect the dictates of their own con- 
sciences. Men habituated to such a course of life from 
the beginning, are often decent, amiable, and highly 
respected. Yet every such man when convinced of sin, 
will, in unbosoming himself to a minister of the gospel 
in whom he confides, freely confess that he has never 
really done his duty in a single instance ; but has al- 
ways been a sinner merely ; that he finds not in his 
heart a disposition ever to pray in such a manner as his 
conscience tells him God requires, and much less a pre- 
paration of soul to perform his duty at large. 

Men of profligate characters are in still more deplor- 
able circumstances. They do not even attempt to per- 
form their duty at all : find no struggle between con- 
science and inclination ; slide down the declivity of sin 
without an effort to stop their dangerous career ; and 
satisfied with the smooihness and slipperiness of their 
course, give themselves no concern about the gulf which 
yawns at the bottom. 

Whence do these things arise? Certainly not from 
external circumstances. The profligate has no more 
external difficulties than the conscientious man ; and 
might, if he pleased, be equally decent and amiable. 
The conscientious man has no more external difficulties 
than the man of piety ; and might, if he pleased, be a 
Christian also. The Christian has no more extei-nal 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN. 



161 



difficulties at one time than at anotlier ; and might, if 
he pleased, perform his duty with the same exactness 
and ease, and be always equally virtuous. By this I do 
not mean indeed, that in the metaphysical sense, their 
external difficulties are precisely the same ; but that 
they are so much the same as in no case to prevent 
them at all from performing- their duty, if they were 
suitably inclined ; or in other words, if they possessed 
the disposition of angels. The heart undoubtedly is in 
each of these cases the only essential bar to obedience. 
Were the heart right with God, the Christian would be 



perfect at all times ; the conscientious man would be- 
come a Christian, and the profligate ivould cease from 
his abandonment, and become not only decent and ami- 
able, but a Christian also. This reluctance to duty, 
therefore, these difficulties found in attempts to abstain 
from sin, prove the character to be corrupt, and the 
heart to be sinful. As they attend all men, they prove 
the common nature to be polluted ; and evince, unan- 
swerably, the sinful character of all the children of 
Adam. 



SERMON XXX. 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN PROVED BY MAN'S REJECTION OF THE WORD OF GOD. 



The wise men are ashamed ; they are dismayed and taken : lo, they have rejected the word of the Lord, and 

what wisdom is in them. — Jer. viii. 9. 



The wise ones are confounded, 

They are dismayed and ensnared ; 

Behold, they have spurned at the word of Jehovah ; 

And as for wisdom, what is there in them ? 

Blayney's Translation. 

In my last Discourse, I proposed to consider at length, 
the following Scriptural doctrine : That in consequence 
of the apostasy of Adam, all men have sinned. 

In pursuing this design I exhibited the Universality 
of Sin :- — 1. From Revelation ; and, 2. From Facts. 

From each of these sources I adduced a series of 
proofs, which appeared to me to furnish a complete 
establishment of the doctrine. Still it will be useful to 
examine so important a subject in a variety of modes, 
and to learn in what manner other sources furnish evi- 
dence of this great Scriptural declaration. I propose 
therefore to illustrate the doctrine, at the present time, 
from another fact : via. the rejection of the word of God 
by mankind. 

In the verse preceding the text, the people of Judea 
are exhibited as saying, in the midst of all their apostasy 
and wickedness, ' We are wise, and the law of the Lord 
is with us ;' that is, we are holy, or virtuous; and the 
law of the Lord is possessed, understood, and obeyed by 
us ; is in our hands, in our minds, and in our hearts. 
To this arrogant declaration the prophet replies, ' Lo, 
certainly in vain made he it ; the pen of the scribes is 
in vain ;' that is, ' To you God has given his law, or 
word, in vain ; the false pen of the scribes hath con- 
verted it into falsehood.'* ' The false interpretations 
of the law by the scribes have changed the law itself, in 
the form in which they teach, and you receive it, into 
falsehood ; and to you, therefore, notwithstanding its 
excellence, it is in vain.' 

' The wise men ' themselves, he proceeds to observe 
in the text, 'are' by these means 'ashamed' or con- 
founded, ' and taken ' or ensnared, in their own false 
interpretations and reasonings on theflaw ; and can 
form no consistent, no safe scheme, either of doctrine 
or practice. Nay, their mode of understanding and 

•jjlaynay. ' 



explaining the word of' God is, in effect, an absolute 
rejection of it. Consequently ' there is no wisdom,' no 
holiness or virtue, ' in them.' Their rejection of the 
word of the Lord is a plain proof that they are totally 
destitute of all moral good. 

What was true of these wise men or scribes, is un- 
questionably true of all other men in the like circum- 
stances. To the scribes the word of God was offered, 
and was enjoined on them with divine authority. They 
disliked and rejected it. This conduct proved them to 
be void of holiness. In like manner it has been offered 
to immense multitudes of other men, who have disliked 
and rejected it also. The consequence follows irresisti- 
bly, that they, as well as these Israelites, are void of 
holiness. 

Holiness is plainly the only virtue or moral excel- 
lence, the only character which can recommend intelli- 
gent beings to God. The Scriptures know of no other ; 
and although they call this character by different names, 
such as holiness, righteousness, goodness, and wisdom, 
they still mean always the same thing. Nor can reason 
devise any other excellence of this nature. Holiness 
and virtue are synonymous. 

The doctrine of the text then, generally expressed, 
is this : 

The rejection of the word of God is decisive proof, 
that those who reject it are destitute of virtue, or moral 
excellence. 

To illustrate this doctrine will be the object of the 
present discourse ; and the illustration will be derived 
from three considerations. 

I. The nature of the word which is rejected : 

II. The manner in which it has been rejected : 

III. The doctrines which those who have rejected it 
have preferred to it. 

I. The nature of the word which is rejected, strongly 
illustrates this doctrine. 

Under this head I observe, 

1. The word which is thus rejected is the law, or 
preceptive will, of the Creator and .Ruler of all things. 

As Ccd created us, he has the highest possible pro- 
it 



1G2 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxx. 



perty in us, and the most absolute right both to us and 
our services. This right can be bounded by nothing 
but his pleasure. Whatever is his, he has an unlimited 
right to dispose of as he pleases '; nor can any one war- 
rantably say to him, in this respect, ' What doest thou ?' 
Hence his right to prescribe the manner in which we 
and all other creatures shall be employed and disposed 
of, is plainly supreme. 

If then we refuse to render to him the obedience 
which he requires, in all or any of the cases or degrees 
prescribed by him ; we are guilty of refusing to render 
to him that which is his own. No injustice, no fraud, 
no rohbery, can be more palpable or extreme than this. 
No injustice to man can be compared with it ; for no- 
thing is man's by a right which can be compared with 
this right of God. 

3. This law, in all its requisitions, is perfectly rea- 
sonable and just. 

It is contained in the two great commands, ' Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,' and 
' Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' 

Both these precepts are in the highest degree, and in 
the most obvious manner, just and reasonable ; and 
would demand our obedience with unanswerable pro- 
priety, if the nature of the precepts only were regarded. 
Men, in obeying them, would act in the best manner 
possible for themselves ; and would most promote both 
public and personal happiness. Nay, there is no other 
manner of acting which can be justly called desirable. 
Every departure from conformity to these precepts is of 
course evil, and of malignant influence on the well-being 
of the universe. 

God is infinitely excellent, as well as infinitely great 
and awful ; and on account of this excellence most 
clearly deserves, and most justly claims, the highest 
love of his intelligent creatures. Nothing more is 
therefore demanded by this law, than ought cheerfully 
to be done, if no such law existed. 

3. The law of God is good, as well as just ; profit- 
able to those who obey, as well as honourable to him 
who is obeyed. 

Obedience to this law constitutes the only real worth 
of rational beings ; and is the sum of all those affections 
and their consequences, which form the internal happi- 
ness of man ; the most essential and valuable part of his 
happiness. The true loveliness, dignity, and excellence 
of man is nothing, besides that state of the mind, which 
is in exact conformity to this law. From this character, 
and from this alone, spring the peace and self-approba- 
tion, the internal harmony and delight, which are the 
proper ' prize of virtue ;' the independent and eternal 
possession of every good mind. 

In the same degree is the usefulness of rational beings 
formed. Man is useful only when he is voluntarily 
useful. Obedience to the law of God is all that is in- 
tended by voluntary usefulness. Love to God is the 
great and only source of usefulness to him in his king- 
dom ; and love to man is the only source of voluntary 
beneficence to man. ' The love which is the fulfilling 
of the law,' is a vital and immortal principle of doing 
good to all men, both friends and enemies, at all times, 
and in every manner. Nor is there any real and vo- 
luntary beneficence, beside what springs from this prin- 
ciple. Rational beings, wholly under its influence, 
would form a perfect state of happiness in any world ; 
and such beings, freed from all restraints, would, if des- 



titute of it, create consummate misery. He then who 
refuses obedience to this law, is guilty of gross injustice 
to God, relinquishes all personal excellence, peace, hap- 
piness, and worth ; ^md renouncing all voluntary useful- 
ness on the one hand, prepares himself on the other, to 
become a nuisance to the universe. 

4. To this obedience an endless and perfect reward 
is annexed. 

Were the law hard in its requisitions, and obedience 
to it severe and distressing ; yet, if crowned in the end 
with a reward ample and abundant, the whole of the 
requisitions taken together would not be unreasonable, 
nor undesirable. The time, during which we are here 
required to obey, is but a moment ; the reward, on the 
contrary, is eternal. The hardship of obedience must 
therefore be transient and trifling; while the reward 
would be endless, and therefore immense in its value. 

To obedience then, reason and wisdom direct and 
urge with motives of infinite power ; and from disobe- 
dience, with similar motives deter. Nothing of course 
can be a reason for disobedience, were our present hap- 
piness only concerned, except a disposition so depraved 
as to prefer sin, without a future reward, to holiness 
with immortal glory. 

5. To disobedience a punishment is threatened, which 
is also endless. 

Every creature who disobeys, therefore, chooses to 
hazard endless woe for the pleasure of disobeying, ra- 
ther than to gain eternal life with the pain found, or 
supposed to be found, in obeying. So plainly do men 
' choose death rather than life ;' and in ' sinning against 
God, wrong their own souls.' 

In this state of sin and wretchedness, however, God 
did not leave them to perish, as they chose ; but he 
sent his own ' beloved Son, the brightness of his glory, 
and the express image of his person,' to become their 
atonement and intercessor. Through his mediation he 
proposed to them to repent of their former disobedience, 
and to return to obedience, to virtue, and to his ever- 
lasting favour. On these conditions he promised to 
receive and bless them, notwithstanding their apostasy. 

In this situation he placed them in his word ; and 
commanded them, in what may be called a new law, a 
law of grace and mercy, to believe in Christ, to repent 
of their sins, and return to holiness. The gospel is a 
law, and of equal authority and obligation with the moral 
law. ' God commandeth all men every where to repent.' 
' And this,' saith John, ' is his commandment, that we 
believe on him whom he hath sent' The proposals of 
the gospel are, therefore, not merely declarations or pro- 
mises, but a law ; compliance with which is the highest 
duty of mankind. 

What then is the nature of this duty ? In the most sum- 
mary language, it is this : That we renounce our sins, 
and return to God, and to obedience ; committing our- 
selves with an affectionate confidence to Christ, as our 
instructor, intercessor, and Lord ; and as an all-sufficient 
and acceptable propitiation to God the Father. This 
done, our sins will be forgiven ; and our title to endless 
life renewed, enlarged, and made sure beyond defeat and 
danger. 

To beings ruined and destroyed as Ave are, reason 
would naturally conclude, any escape from the terrible 
evils to which we are certainly exposed without hope by 
our apostasy, would be not only acceptable, but trans- 
porting. Nothing, it would seem, would be asked or 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN. 



163 



wished, but to have the way pointed out, and the condi- 
tions made known. This only being done, all the mi- 
serable beings who are thus exposed, must, one would 
expect, hasten with rapture and amazement to comply 
with the terms of reconciliation, and ' lay hold on the 
hope set before them.' 

But the terms, instead of being thus hard, are the 
easiest which can be wished, and the most reasonable of 
which we can form a conception. They are in the high- 
est degree desirable for their own sake, even if they 
were to be followed by no reward. The faith, the re- 
pentance, and the holiness required, are themselves the 
beginning and the consummation of the best of all cha- 
racters, and the springs of a happiness far more exquisite 
and sincere than any other. Besides, they are indis- 
pensably necessary to all other good. No permanent, 
no sincere good can be enjoyed by him who does not 
thus believe, repent, and obey, God cannot love, nor 
bless him. He cannot be approved and peaceful within, 
nor useful and happy without. Nor can a world, in- 
habited by such beings, be a happy world at all. On 
the contrary, all the mischief found in this world, would 
revive beyond the grave, and disturb and desolate hea- 
ven itself, were impenitent, unbelieving, and disobedient 
men to become its inhabitants. Happiness springs from 
the voluntary exertions of rational beings. But beings 
not holy, as none of the human race can be, without 
faith and repentance, never voluntarily do good, but al- 
ways evil. Thus God requires nothing but what is 
necessary, absolutely necessary for man, when he de- 
mands these as the conditions of their acceptance and 
happiness. 

In the mean time, this happiness is not merely offered, 
but enjoined. All the authority of the eternal God is 
employed to enforce compliance. Nay, he goes farther, 
and daily condescends tojentreat us to be thus reconciled 
to him. But to all these we return a peremptory re- 
fusal, and a scornful indignant rejection of this benevo- 
lent and glorious word of the Lord. 

What reason can be assigned for this conduct ? Not 
argument : for all arguments plead most powerfully for 
our compliance. Not common prudence, or a wise re- 
gard for our well-being : for we disregard and destroy it. 
Nothing but sin, and the love of sinning ; mere corrup- 
tion, mere depravity. No higher evidence can be given 
that there is no wisdom or virtue in men. 

II. The manner in which the word of God is rejected 
by man, is another striking proof his destitution of 
virtue. 

Particularly, the word of God is rejected with unbe- 
lief. 

Unbelief, with respect to any object of our faith, has 
no rational, no vindicable ground, except the -want of 
sufficient evidence. But the word of God is attended 
with all the evidence which can be supposed to attend 
such a subject ; all that ought to be wished, or asked ; 
and much more than could, without actual proof, be ra- 
tionally expected. Accordingly, all good men to whom 
this evidence has been proposed, have without an excep- 
tion acknowledged the evidence itself, and admitted the 
word which it supports, to be that of Gofll 

When it is once admitted to be his word, his own 
veracity is the highest possible proof of the truth of every 
thing which he has spoken. Whenever it is rejected in 
this case, it is rejected because it is disliked ; not be- 
cause it is not proved. The evidence is rejected because 



we dislike the truth : not the truth because we dislike the 
evidence. 

Unbelief is either speculative or practical. In spe- 
culative unbelief we deny the truth of the word of God : 
in practical unbelief we admit its truth, but reject its 
influence. 

In the speculative unbelief of men, the unworthy man- 
ner of rejecting the word of God is manifest in the 
following particulars : — 

1. It is rejected on the ground of vain and deceitful 
arguments. 

This will appear from a variety of facts. 

The arguments on which one unbeliever relies, do not 
appear to have satisfied other unbelievers. Every new 
infidel writer advances his own scheme of refuting the 
evidence, or rather his own objections (for refutation 
there is none), and evidently places no reliance on the 
schemes of his predecessors. This has been the constant 
progress of infidelity, from the beginning to the present 
time. No instance occurs in which any infidel has 
thought it proper to come forward with a defence of the 
works, or arguments of any former infidel. The ar- 
guments of each appear important, and perhaps satis- 
factory to himself; but are visibly of little force in the 
eye of his successors. All, except his own, are ta- 
citly at least acknowledged to be unavailing in the 
eye of each ; and his own, in the eyes of all who follow 
him. 

But if these arguments were sound, they Avould be ac- 
knowledged, felt, and insisted on by all ; and would 
anew be pleaded with confidence, supported and relied 
on by others, as well as by the inventor. 

2. When these objections have been completely and 
often refuted, they still allege them again, without taking 
any notice of the refutations. 

These refutations have been multiplied so much, so 
openly, and so often alleged, and so triumphantly urged, 
that nothing but despair of replying with success could 
prevent unbelievers from attempting a reply. Yet we 
find it wholly neglected, and unattempted by their suc- 
cessors. They now allege anew the old objections, and 
plainly because they can find no others : the whole 
circle being exhausted, and nothing remaining to mo- 
dern infidels but a reiteration of what has been done by 
those who went before them. While any thing new re- 
mained they laid no stress on what had been done be- 
fore. Now they are contented to repeat the old thread- 
bare objections over and over, without placing them in 
a new light, or supporting them with any new evidence ; 
although so often and so completely answered, as to 
make the renewed advancement of them ridiculous. 
Were they honest men, they would first reply to the 
answers heretofore given to these objections ; and then, 
but not till then, allege them anew. 

3. They rarely attempt to argue at all ; but attack 
their antagonists, and defend themselves, chiefly with 
contempt, sneers, and ridicule. 

Sneers, contempt, and ridicule, are not arguments, 
and were never needed to defend a sound cause. The 
cause which can find sound reasons, will never be sup- 
ported by these means. Yet infidelity has made these 
her chief engines throughout her whole progress, and 
relied on them supremely in all her assaults upon reve- 
lation. 

Wherever this conduct appears, wherever argument 
is deserted and forgotten, and ridicule sneers, and con- 



164 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[3sa. 



tempt, are the weapons of attack or defence ; a strong 
suspicion of the goodness of the cause exists of course, 
and a solid reason is furnished for believing it to be un- 
sound and false. Infidelity has always thus done, and 
has therefore always laboured under very strong sus- 
picions of this nature. 

4. Men have exhibited violent hatred to the word of 
God in this rejection. 

This hatred, from the beginning to the present time, 
lias been manifested by all classes of men who have re- 
jected the word of the Lord ; and by most, if not all, 
the individuals who have thus rejected it. 

This hatred has been strongly manifested in the con- 
tempt, ridicule, and sneers, of which I have already 
spoken. It lias strongly manifested itself in an uninter- 
rupted course of obloquy against God, the Redeemer, 
the Scriptures, the sabbath, and the sanctuary ; against 
the church, the ministers, the worship, and the character 
of God ; against religion at large, against conscientious- 
ness, morality, and duty of every kind ; against all that 
is virtue, and all that are virtuous. 

Nor has it been less abundantly manifested in an im- 
mense train of oppositions and persecutions. The Jews 
began the course in the most furious cruelty against 
Christ and Christians. The Heathens, Mohammedans, 
and Papists, have continued it. Infidels are now tread- 
ing in their steps ; and although perpetually railing 
against persecutions, have proved the most bloody and 
vehement persecutors that have existed since the world 
began. 

One spirit has animated them all, and one conduct 
characterized them all, from the beginning to the pre- 
sent time. No more deformed, odious, depraved exhi- 
bitions have been ever made of the human character : 
no more flagrant or convincing proofs of human corrup- 
tion have been ever presented to the eye ofTnan. All, 
also, who have been concerned in this rejection, have 
uniformly displayed a vile, depraved, personal charac- 
ter; a love of sin, a hatred to holiness, pre-eminent and 
wonderful. The more spiritual and heavenly, the more 
holy and excellent, any doctrines or precepts of the word 
of God are, the more they have been hated, maligned, 
and blasphemed. Yet all that God hath done and 
spoken in his word, has been highly glorious and be- 
coming to a God, highly beneficial and necessary to 
man, and productive of no other end but making man 
virtuous and happy. On the contrary, all this opposi- 
tion has sprung from sin, and been marked with gross 
and dreadful depravity, in every stage, and in every form. 

The practical unbelief of mankind has been substan- 
tially of the same character, and distinguished by the 
same deformity. But here the unbeliever has openly 
condemned himself by acknowledging the word of God 
in speech, and denying it in practice. An inconsistence 
and shame attend him therefore, which do not, in the 
like circumstances, attend the speculative unbeliever. 
In the meantime, his rejection of the Scriptures as the 
rule of his obedience, and means of eternal life to him- 
self, is as absolute as that of the professed infidel. His 
speculative views are different, but his heart is essen- 
tially the same. His ' carnal mind,' as truly as that of 
the infidel, ' is enmity against God : not subject to his 
law, neither indeed can be.' It is not strange, there- 
fore, that we see unbelievers of both kinds, exhibiting 
their rejection of the word of God substantially in the 
same manner. 



III. The truth contained in the text, is strongly illus- 
trated by the doctrines, both speculative and practical , 
which those who have rejected the Scriptures have pre- 
ferred to them. 

The four great classes of men who have openly re- 
jected the word of God, are Jews and Mohammedans, 
Heathens and Infidels. Each of these I shall consider 
summarily, in the order specified, 

1. The Jews, although professedly receiving the Old 
Testament as the word of God, yet as you well know, 
rejected, and still reject, Christ and his gospel, and of 
course the system of religion which he has taught to 
mankind. In rejecting Christ they reject of course, all 
the types which shadowed, and all the prophecies which 
foretold his character, advent, and mediation. As those 
types and prophecies terminate only in Christ, so with- 
out him they have no real meaning. Their true import 
therefore was denied by the Jews. In rejecting the gos- 
pel, they set aside all the evangelical declarations and 
doctrines contained in ' the law and the prophets ;' par- 
ticularly the gospel as preached to Abraham and his 
posterity, and all those just and spiritual exhibitions of 
the law delivered to us by Christ and his apostles. With 
these things in view, it must unquestionably be con- 
ceded, that the Jews are fairly numbered among those 
who openly reject the word of God; not less truly so than 
those of their ancestors, who apostatized to heathenism. 

It is unnecessary for me to dwell, in detail, on the doc- 
trines substituted by these people for those in the word 
of God. You well know from the Scriptures themselves, 
that they placed their holiness and their hopes in a mere 
round of external services ; such as long prayers, osten- 
tatious fastings, ablutions, and other external purifica- 
tions ; ' tithing mint, anise, and cummin ;' and many 
other things of the like nature. In all these the heart 
was utterly unconcerned, and the whole scheme of re- 
ligion was confined to a course of mere external actions ; 
from which integrity, justice, benevolence, and piety, 
were wholly excluded. Instead of these things, they 
licensed and practised the most abominable opposition 
to God, and the most scandalous hatred and persecution 
of their fellow men. A considerable part denied a fu- 
ture existence, and justified all the indulgence of pride, 
avarice, and sensuality, which have every where been 
connected with that denial. Another part openly sanc- 
tioned disobedience to the fifth command, by permitting 
a son to devote that part of his property which was ne- 
cessary for the subsistence of his parents, to the service 
of the temple ; and warranting him to withold from 
them, in this manner, all the duties of filial piety. At 
the same time, they persecuted with the fury of maniacs, 
men of real piety : bound heavy burdens ; shut up to 
their countrymen the access to religious knowledge ; 
devoured widows' houses, and wallowed in every species 
of sensual pollution. For all their iniquities, at the 
same time, they found a sanction in some ' tradition of 
their elders,' or some invention of their own ; and those 
who taught these things were believed by their country- 
men to be men of distinguished virtue. Such were, 
summarily, the doctrines, both speculative and practical, 
which the J^N preferred to the word of God. The 
spirit which could even acquiesce in such doctrines as 
these, much more which could deliberately prefer them 
to the law and gospel of Jehovah, can plainly have been 
no other than that of ' a sinful nation, a people laden 
with iniouity, a seed of evil doers.' 



UNIVERSALITY OF SIN. 



165 



2. Mohammed, it is well known, adopted, according 
to his own testimony, the religion of Moses and Christ ; 
and professedly republished it in a new form to man- 
kind. But in this republication he left out, wholly, the 
spirit of the scriptural religion, and in many respects did 
not preserve even ' the form of godliness.' His two 
great doctrines were, That there is but one God, and 
that Mohammed is his prophet. By the latter doctrine 
he secured to himself the right of dictating to his follow- 
ers just what he pleased. Accordingly he delivered to 
them a collection of precepts, requiring nothing but a 
course of external services, without the least goodness of 
heart ; and promised heaven to prayers, ablutions, fast- 
ings, alms, pilgrimages to Mecca, and circumcision. 
Religion he considered as founded on cleanliness, which 
he declared to be ' the one half of faith, and the key of 
prayer.' Fasting he pronounced to be ' the gate of re- 
ligion.' He allowed four wives to every one of his fol- 
lowers, and as many concubines as each was able to 
maintain. Heaven he converted into a mere mansion 
of debauchery, and changed the mild and rational mode 
of propagating religion, taught by Christ and his apos- 
tles, into a regular system of the most brutal and bar- 
barous persecution. In a word, his doctrines flattered 
and licensed every human corruption, every sordid lust, 
every sinful indulgence. 

3. The doctrines of Heathenism are still more de- 
formed, and still more expressive of opposition to God. 
Instead of one God, the heathen, as you know, believed 
in many. Instead of the perfect Jehovah, they ' heaped 
up to themselves gods after their own lusts ;' debased by 
filial impiety, fraud, theft, falsehood, injustice, treachery, 
murder, and lewdness, indulged in every manner which 
can debase an intelligent nature. They worshipped 
men, beasts, birds, fishes, reptiles, and insects. They 
prostrated themselves before trees, shrubs, plants, stocks, 
and stones. They sacrificed human victims, prostituted 
men and women in religious services, and sanctioned 
every violation of purity, justice, kindness, and piety. 
Read the first chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, and 
you will find a short but exact and affecting account of 
what they not only did, but justified, licensed, and en- 
joined. 

4. Modern Infidelity has, in various instances, strongly 
commended the ancient heathenism, both partially and 
in the gross : and in publishing its own doctrines, has 
shown that the spirit by which it is actuated, is no other 
than the very spirit of its predecessors. It has denied 
the existence and perfections of God, at times partially, 
at other times wholly. It has admitted his existence, 
and denied his providence ; the accountableness of man, 
a future state, the distinction between right and wrong, 
or holiness and sin, piety and rebellion ; has declared 
all that men can do with impunity, to be right ; has li- 
censed wrath, revenge, murder, pride, oppression, glut- 
tony, drunkenness, fornication, adultery, and incest. 
Surely it is unnecessary for me to observe, that the spirit 
manifested in the doctrines which teach these things, is 
in the highest degree hostile to God, to truth, and to 
righteousness. 

To Jews and Infidels, the gospel hapbeen directly 
published in form. To a great part of mankind it was 
published in the days of the apostles, and has been ex- 
tensively offered to many nations in succeeding periods 
of time. That it has not made a universal progress over 
the globe, has been owing to the fact, that those to whom 



it has been offered have in so many instances refused it 
acceptance. Had the ancestors of the present genera- 
tion of men given the religion of the Bible a welcome- 
admission to their hearts, in the days of the apostles, it 
would long since have been preached to every family 
under heaven. Men, therefore, have stopped its pro- 
gress, and not God. 

But as the fact has been, the gospel has been pub- 
lished to a great part of the human race ; and by a great 
proportion of these it has been rejected. So general has 
been this rejection, as entirely to determine the true na- 
ture of the human character ; for it cannot be pretend- 
ed that there is one original nature in those who have 
heard and rejected the gospel, and another in the rest 
of mankind. 

It ought to be added on this part of the subject, that 
many of those who have professedly received the word 
of God in the Christian world, have, in instances innu- 
merable, in every country and every age, exhibited the 
same disposition in the same manner. These men have 
almost universally denied the real import of the book, 
which they have professed to receive. Its spiritual and 
heavenly doctrines they have, in forms very diverse, but 
in design and spirit wholly the same, lowered continu- 
ally down, so as to suit, or at least so as not to disgust, 
the taste of a sinful heart. The extent also and purity 
of the scriptural precepts, they have contracted and de- 
based, so as to license, in a professed consistency with 
them, a great part of those evil practices which are gra- 
tifying to a polluted, sinful mind. The doctrines of the 
gospel they have with one consent reduced to the level 
of mere natural religion ; and that the natural religion, 
in substance, which was taught by the graver heathen 
philosophers, and is now echoed by the more decent in- 
fidels. The precepts of the gospel also they have taught 
to speak a moral language, undistinguishable, as to its 
import, from that of Plato, Seneca, and Herbert. Thus, 
in truth, notwithstanding their professed belief of the 
word of God, they have rejected both the law and the 
gospel ; and rejected them for the doctrines and precepts 
which they thus inculcate. That such is the real design 
of all these men, I am convinced by this remarkable 
fact ; viz. that when driven from one error, they always 
take refuge in another ; and never come a whit nearer, 
however often confuted, to the reception of the truth. 
The sum of the argument then is this : God has given to 
mankind a law for the government of their moral con- 
duct, which is not only reasonable and just in itself, but 
dictated by infinite benevolence on his part, and su- 
premely profitable to them : a law demanding of them, 
that they ' love him with all the heart,' and that they 
' love each other as themselves.' This character, which 
is no other than the image of his moral perfection, is the 
supreme excellence, and the only moral excellence, of 
intelligent beings. In itself it is high and indispensable 
enjoyment to every such being ; and in its efficacy it is 
the only voluntary cause of all other enjoyments : a 
cause existing originally and supremely in Him, and by 
derivation existing extensively in them. 

This law, therefore, is a perfect law, and worthy of 
Jehovah. Were men virtuously disposed ; were they not 
depraved, were they not sinful ; their obedience to its 
commands would be immediate, universal, and absolute. 
Instead of this, wherever it has been proposed to them, 
they have chosen to disobey it, notwithstanding the glo- 
rious and eternal reward promised to their obedience, 



166 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxj. 



and the awful penalty threatened to disobedience. What 
stronger proof of their depravity can be demanded ? 

There is, however, one proof still more affecting. In 
the miserable situation, into which men brought them- 
selves by their apostasy, God regarded them with infi- 
nite compassion, and undertook to rescue them from 
their sin and misery. For this end he sent his own be- 
loved Son into the world, to live here a humble, pain- 
ful, and persecuted life, and to die an accursed and ex- 
cruciating death, ' to make ' in the human soul ' an^end 
of sin, to finish transgression, to make reconciliation for 
iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness.' In 
consequence of his atonement, God has offered, anew, 
to receive the fallei* race of Adam into his favour, on 
the conditions of faith and repentance in the Redeemer ; 
conditions in themselves indispensable to their return to 
God, and to obedience : indispensable to their own 
comfort, honour, and virtue ; and, beyond expression, 
easy, reasonable, and desirable. As he foresaw that 
they would still resist this boundless love, and would 
fail of it through their corruption, ignorance, error, and 
prejudice ; he published his gospel to enlighten them, 
and sent his Spirit to sanctify them, that by all means 
they might be saved. Still, in a multitude of instances 
almost literally endless, a multitude so great as to prove 
this to be the common character of all the children of 
Adam, they have rejected these most merciful proffers 
of boundless good, ' crucified his Son afresh,' cast con- 
tempt on his cross, ' accounted the blood of the cove- 
nant wherewith they were sanctified an unholy thing, and 
done despite to the Spirit of grace.' 

And now, my friends and brethren, 'judge, I pray 
you, between God and his vineyard. What could have 
been done to his vineyard, that he has not done in it ? 
Wherefore, when he looked that it should bring forth 
grapes, brought it forth poisonous berries ?' * Where- 
fore brought it forth ' the grapes of Sodom, and the 
clusters of Gomorrah ?' Every tree is known by its 



fruit. This f vine is plainly, therefore, of ' the vine of 
Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah. Its grapes are 
grapes of gall ; its clusters are bitter. Its wine is the 
poison of dragons, and the cruel venom of asps.' 

Were man virtuously disposed, it is incredible, nay, 
it is plainly impossible, that he should not yield himself 
to this law, as soon as it is proposed to him. As obe- 
dience to this law is the only excellence of conduct, so a 
virtuous state of mind, a virtuous disposition, a virtuous 
character, by all of which phrases we intend that un- 
known cause heretofore specified, which gives birth to 
virtuous rather than to vicious conduct, would, so soon 
as this law was proposed to it, render, in a sense in- 
stinctively, an immediate, cheerful, and universal obe- 
dience. 

Were such a mind also to apostatize, and yet to retain 
a disposition in a preponderating degree virtuous ; were 
it afterward to be informed of a method by which it 
might return to obedience, and the favour of God ; it 
would be plainly impossible that such a mind should not 
receive this information, and embrace this method of 
returning, with readiness, and even with rapture. If, at 
the same time, the terms of its reinstatement in obedi- 
ence, and in the divine favour, were in themselves emi- 
nently easy and reasonable, and in their efficacy produc- 
tive of its highest future amiableness, dignity, and en- 
joyment ; if they were such as rendered it peculiarly 
lovely in the sight of God, and prepared it to be pecu- 
liarly useful to its fellow creatures ; such a mind would, 
beyond a doubt, seize the terms themselves with delight, 
and the divine object which they secured, with ecstasy. 

The rejection of the word of God, of the law and the 
gospel alike, is therefore entirely inexplicable, unless 
we acknowledge that the disposition by which it is re- 
jected, is a disposition directly opposed to that of a vir- 
tuous mind ; wholly unlike that with which Adam was | 
created, and the genuine moral likeness of Adam after 
his apostasy. 



Lowth. 



t Dent, xxxii. 32 



SERMON XXXI. 

DEPRAVITY OF MAN : ITS DEGREE 



Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully 

set in them to do evil. — Eccxes. viii. 11. 

In the two last discourses, I proposed for consideration 
the following doctrine : — That in consequence of the 
apostasy of Adam, all men have sinned ; and en- 
deavoured to prove the universality of sin in the former 
of these discourses ; — 1. From Revelation ; — and, 2. 
From Facts. And in the latter, from the great fact, 
that mankind have rejected the Word of the Lord. 

It is now my design to examine, in several particu- 
lars, the degree in which the sinfulness of man exists. 
On this subject I observe, 

1. That the human character is not depraved to the 
full extent of the human powers. 

It has been said, neither unfrequently, nor by men 



void of understanding, that man is as depraved a being 
as his faculties will permit him to be ; but it has been 
said without consideration, and without truth. Neither 
the Scriptures, nor experience, warrant this assertion. 
' Wicked men and seducers,' it is declared, ' will wax 
worse and worse ; deceiving and being deceived.' Dur- 
ing the first half of human life, this may, perhaps, be 
explained by^ie growth of the faculties ; but during a 
considerable period, preceding its termination, it cannot 
be thus explained : for the faculties decay, while the de- 
pravity still increases. Nations, also, are declared to 
be, at some periods of time, far worse than at others ; 
although it cannot be pretended, that during that period 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



167 



specified their faculties were superior. Saul appears to 
have been a man of more talents than Jeroboam ; Jero- 
boam than Ahab ; and Uzziah than either ; yet Ahab 
was a worse man than Jeroboam ; Jeroboam than Saul ; 
and Saul than Uzziah. The ' young man ' who came 
to Christ, to know ' what good thing he should do to 
have eternal life,' was certainly less depraved than his 
talents would have permitted him to be. 

Like him, we see daily, many men who neither are 
nor profess to be Christians; and who, instead of being 
wicked to a degree commensurate to the extent of 
their faculties, go through life in the exercise of dispo- 
sitions so sincere, just, and amiable, and in the perform- 
ance of actions so upright and beneficent, as to secure 
a high degree of respect and affection from ourselves, 
and from all with whom they are connected. It cer- 
tainly cannot be said, that such men are as sinful as 
many others possessed of powers far inferior : much less 
that they are as sinful as they can be. We also see in- 
dividuals at times assume, without any visible enlarge- 
ment of their faculties, a new and surprising degree of 
depravity at once ; and become suddenly far more 
fraudulent, false, lewd, cruel, revengeful, impious, and 
universally abandoned, than at a period not long pre- 
ceding. In the families of which we are members, we 
have abundant opportunity to learn from so intimate a 
connexion, the true characters of all who compose 
them ; and are furnished daily with decisive evidence, 
that they are far less profligate than, with their facul- 
ties, they might become. Those who make the asser- 
tion, against which I am contending, will find them- 
selves, if they will examine, rarely believing, that their 
wives and children, though not Christians, are fiends. 

2. There are certain characteristics of human nature, 
which, considered by themselves, are innocent. 

Such are hunger, thirst, the fear of suffering, and the 
desire of happiness ; together with several others. All 
these are inseparable, not only from the rational, but 
also from the animal nature, as existing in this world ; 
and accompany the Christian through every degree of 
holiness which he attains, as truly as the sinner. The 
two last, the desire of happiness, and the fear of suffer- 
ing, are inseparable from the rational, and even from 
the percipient, nature. 

3. Some of the natural human characteristics are 
amiable. 

Such are natural affection ; the simplicity and sweet- 
ness of disposition in children, often found also in per- 
sons of adult years ; compassion, generosity, modesty, 
and what is sometimes called natural conscientiousness ; 
that is, a fixed and strong sense of the importance of 
doing that which is right. These characteristics appear 
to have adorned ' the young man,' whom I have al- 
ready mentioned. We know that they are amiable, 
because we are informed that Jesus, ' beholding him, 
loved him.' In the same manner we, and all others, 
who are not abandoned, love them always and irresisti- 
bly, whenever they are presented to our view. They 
all, also, are required, and exist in every Christian ; en- 
hancing his holiness, and rendering him a better man. 
Without them it is not easy to perceive how, the Chris- 
tian character could exist. Accordingly, St Paul exhi- 
bits those who are destitute of these attributes, as being 
literally profligates. 

4- These, and all other qualities of the mind are, how- 
evor, means either of virtue or sin, according to the na- 



ture of that controlling disposition or energy which con- 
stitutes the moral character. 

By this disposition or energy, I intend that unknown 
cause whence it arises, that the actions of the mind are 
either sinful or virtuous. On this energy depends the 
moral nature of all actions, and the moral character of 
every mind. This character, and these actions, are va- 
riously and extensively modified by the attributes above- 
mentioned. But the moral nature is not changed. So 
far as they have a prevailing influence, a sinful disposi- 
tion is checked, and prevented from operating in the 
worst manner and degree. Under the prevalence of a 
sinful disposition, these attributes are partly extinguish- 
ed, and partly converted into instruments of sin. In a 
virtuous mind, they all become means of virtue, and in- 
crease the energy of such a mind. 

5. There is not in the mind by nature, or in an un- 
regenerated state, any real moral excellence, or evange- 
lical virtue. 

' For I know,' says St Paul, ' that in me (that is, in 
my flesh) dwelleth no good thing.' ' The carnal mind.' 
says the same apostle, ' is enmity against God, not sub- 
ject to his law, neither indeed can be.' And again, 
' The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit 
of God : for they are foolishness unto him ; neither can 
he know them, for they are spiritually discerned.' 
' That which is born,' saith our Saviour, ' of the flesh, 
is flesh.' ' Without faith,' says St Paul, ' it is impossi- 
ble to please God.' 

6. The heart of man, after all the abatements are 
made which can be made, is set to do evil, in a most af- 
fecting and dreadful manner. 

Of this truth, the text is a direct and very forcible as- 
sertion. The word which is rendered, ' fully set,' in 
our translation, is used by Ahasuerus, Esther vii. 5, to 
express the daring presumption with which Haman had 
risen up to destroy Esther and her nation. It is also 
said to denote being filled with a violent propensity, as 
the sails of a ship are filled, when borne along by a 
powerful blast. A strong tendency to evil in the heart 
of the sons of men, therefore, is here asserted in very 
forcible terms. 

In corsidering the degree of iniquity indicated in this 
and similar passages, it is not my design, nor within my 
power or wish, to settle this point with mathematical 
exactness. In the Scriptures, God has exhibited this 
subject in an indefinite, and yet in a more impressive 
and affecting manner, than any which mankind have 
substituted. No views of human corruption are so af- 
fecting or so awful, as those which are presented to us 
in the word of God. This example may be confidently 
followed ; and no man is required to limit this subject 
more exactly, than it has been done by his Maker. 

With these observations premised, I shall proceed to 
adduce several proofs of the doctrine, expressed in the 
text. 

1. The Scriptures directly assert this doctrine in the 
fullest manner. 

' Every imagination of man's heart,' saith God, ' is 
only evil, continually.' Of the Gentiles, the apostle de- 
clares, that ' they are without excuse : because that when 
they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither 
were thankful ; but became vain in their imaginations ; 
and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing them- 
selves to be wise, they became fools. Who changed the 
truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served tho 



168 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr, xxxr. 



creature, more than the Creator, who is blessed for 
ever. Amen. For this cause God gave them up to 
vile affections. And as they did not like to retain God 
in their knowledge, God gave them up to a reprobate 
mind. Being filled with all unrighteousness, fornica- 
tion, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness ; full of 
envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity ; whisperers, 
backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, 
inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, without 
understanding, covenant-breakers, without natural affec- 
tion, implacable, unmerciful : who, knowing the judg- 
ment of God (that they which commit such things are 
worthy of death), not only do the same, but have plea- 
sure in them that do them.' 

Of the Jews, the same apostle says, Rom. iii. 9, 
' What then, are we better than they ? No, in no wise ; 
for we have before proved both Jews and Gentiles, that 
they are all under sin. As it is written, There is none 
righteous ; no, not one. There is none that under- 
standeth ; there is none that seeketh after God ; they 
are all gone out of the way ; they are together become 
unprofitable ; there is none that doeth good, no, not 
one. Their mouth is an open sepulchre ; with their 
tongues they have used deceit ; the poison of asps is un- 
der their lips. Whose mouth is full of cursing and bit- 
terness ; their feet are swift to shed blood. There is no 
fear of God before their eyes.' — ' Now we know, that 
what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who 
are under the law ; that every mouth might be stopped, 
and all the world become guilty before God.' — ' There- 
fore, by the deeds of the law shall no flesh living be 
justified.' 

Such is the character of men, given in form, and in 
the course of the most important logical discussion con- 
tained in the Scriptures, by the apostle Paul. Conso- 
nant with this representation, are all the exhibitions 
made in the Old and New Testament, of this subject. 
The depravity represented, is not only declared to be 
universal, but also to be of this high and dreadful ma- 
lignity. Mankind are not exhibited as prone to one 
sin only, but to all these, and all other sins ; and not 
prone to these sins merely, but filled with them as at- 
tributes, and executing them swiftly and dreadfully as 
practices. 

II. The same truth is evident to every man, if he ex- 
amines the subject faithfully, from the state of his own 
heart and life. 

This very extensive field of evidence can now be ex- 
plored only in a very imperfect manner : but a little at- 
tention to it will in no small degree illustrate and prove 
the doctrine. 

1. Every man who scrutinizes his own heart at all, 
knows that, naturally, he in no sense obeys the first and 
great command of the law of God ; Thou shalt love the 
Lord thy God with all thy heart. 

This is the first, and altogether the most important 
duty of intelligent creatures ; and is plainly that duty, 
separated from which, no other can be performed. All 
possible motives in the highest possible degrees conspire 
to induce a rational being to perform it. If then these 
motives do not influence the heart ; if we love not our 
Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor, the author of all 
good, and himself the Infinite Good ; we cannot be ima- 
gined to love with right principles any other being. If 
we perform not our plain duty to Him, we cannot be 
supposed to perform our duty to any other. 



2. All men are daily reproached by their own con- 
sciences, as being greatly and continually guilty of sin. 

The fear of the anger of God, and of future punish- 
ment, and the pride which every man feels in thinking 
himself of a good and honourable character, are biases 
which strongly influence us to reject, as much as possi- 
ble, so humiliating a doctrine as this. But in spite of 
both, our consciences irresistibly impelled by the truth, 
declare the greatness of our depravity every day ; and 
we cannot hide our eyes from the humiliating declara- 
tion. Were it possible to avoid the acknowledgment, 
Ave should certainly avoid it ; but the truth is so obvious 
and so undeniable, that we cannot escape. 

The only exception to this remark proves the truth 
of the doctrine still more strongly. The man whose 
conscience does not thus testify, is plainly of a pecu- 
liarly depraved character ; not merely because, his con- 
science does not thus testify, but because he is always 
guilty of gross sin in various other respects. So com- 
mon, or rather so universal is this fact, as to become 
the subject of proverbial remark. He, therefore, who 
is thus situated, is still more depraved than mankind in 
general. 

3. The stupidity of mankind, and their hardness of 
heart, are strong exhibitions of the same doctrine. 

That men should be thus guilty, and yet be insensi- 
ble to the nature and degree of their depravity, is ar 
event, certainly not to have been expected from the 
reason, of which we so continually boast. Our sins are 
committed against the infinite God, the eternal, un- 
changeable enemy of sin ; and are therefore the means 
of exposing us in an awful manner to his wrath and 
vengeance. At the same time, the character is in itself 
debased, deformed, and hateful beyond expression. 
Who then can be supposed to possess any share of rea- 
son, and not be humbled beyond measure at the latter 
of these considerations, and equally alarmed by the for- 
mer ? Yet mankind by nature are universally, not on- 
ly not humbled, but haughty ; not only not alarmed, but 
stupid, as to their danger ; and cheerful, gay, exulting, 
and insolent, in the career of their iniquity. 

In the meantime, no warnings are sufficient to awaken 
them to a sense of guilt, danger, or duty ; no counsels 
to persuade them to return to obedience, no motives to 
deter them from sin. The heart is like the nether mill- 
stone, incapable of any useful, serious, divine impres- 
sion ; daily becoming more and more guilty, stupid, and 
hardened ; and wandering farther and farther from duty 
and from God, from hope and from heaven. 

Eternal life is offered, and has been offered, to those 
now before me, ten thousand times. Who has accepted 
the offer? Their sins have been ten thousand times 
reproved and condemned. Who has repented, and for- 
saken them ? Their duty has in countless instances, 
been pressed upon them. Who has obeyed ? God has 
called, Christ has entreated, the Spirit of grace has 
striven. Who has listened, complied, and yielded ? To 
continue in sin, is to be exposed to endless misery. To 
repent and return to God, is to secure endless life. 
Every hardened, impenitent sinner declares, therefore, 
that in his view, sin with endless misery for its reward, 
is more to be chosen than holiness or obedience, with 
endless life. What greater proof of dreadful depravity 
can be given or demanded ? 

III. The same doctrine is most affeclingly evinced 
by the whole course of human conduct. 



|i ei 



} w 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



169 



This evidence will advantageously appear, 

1. From the private conduct of mankind, as indivi- 
duals. 

I shall not here insist at large on the most private 
avid retired scenes of life, where we see, in multitudes 
of instances, notwithstanding all the concealment and 
disguise with which vice hides itself from the observa- 
tion of the world, innumerable forms and degrees of 
corruption acted out in a very painful and humiliating 
manner. In spite of the veil which night and solitude 
cast over the innumerable perpetrations of the human 
race, how many kinds of deformity rise up daily to our 
view ! How many early, bitter, and unnatural conten- 
tions, even of little children ! What affecting tokens 
even of infantine selfishness, wrath, revenge, and cru- 
elty ! How many proofs of filial impiety, ingratitude, 
and rebellion, in the morning of life ! What unbro- 
therly and unsisterly coldness and alienation ; what un- 
kind and unforgiving hearts appear in those, ' who are 
bone of the same bone, and flesh of the same flesh !' 
How many jealous, hard-hearted, little, base sentiments 
and actions afflict the bosom of parental tenderness in 
those, whom nature makes inexpressibly beloved, in 
spite of every fault, as well as of every folly ! 

What a task is it to rear a single family, without 
leaving such faults unextirpated, as are open and infa- 
mous! How vast a labour to train up even one child 
to virtue and to duty ; or even to prevent one from be- 
coming grossly sinful, and finally lost! What toils and 
pains, what cares and watchings ; how many reproofs, 
restraints, and corrections ; how many prayers, and 
sighs, and tears, are employed and suffered, before this 
hard task can be accomplished ! How rarely is it ac- 
complished at all ! What then must be the corruption 
of that heart which makes all these efforts necessary ; 
and which can resist and overcome them all ! 

From this summary view, let us turn our thoughts to 
the obvious conduct of men ; as it exists in our own and 
every other country. What amazing selfishness visibly 
appears in the general conduct of mankind ; and how 
little are they, amidst all the culture of education and 
humanity, all the restraints of law, and all the illumina- 
tions, injunctions, and threatenings of religion, disposed 
to act agreeably to the dictates of truth, righteousness, 
and benevolence towards each other. A little property, 
a little power, a very humble office, or some other tri- 
fling object of ambition, will at any time make those 
who have been for life bosom friends, vehement and ir- 
reconcilable enemies. A furious and long continued 
lawsuit is resorted to, in order to decide the unsettled 
property ; a lawsuit carried on with bitterness, fraud, 
and perjury ; and terminated in insolent victory and 
sullen defeat, in riveted hatred and gloomy retaliation. 
The place of honour and power is sought for with elec- 
tioneering, caballing, slander, fraud, and falsehood ; and 
is enjoyed with insolence, or lost with envy, malice, and 
secret resolutions of future revenge. 

In the common bargains between men, how rarely is 
it the design to exchange an equivalent for that which 
is received ; although the only possible rule of honesty ; 
and how generally, to make what is called a good, and 
what is in reality a fraudulent, bargain. How perpetual 
are the efforts to impose on our neighbours commodities 
of less than the professed value ; commodities imper- 
fect, corrupted, and decayed. How many persons ob- 
tain their whole living, and spend their whole lives, in 



this kind of fraud. What pains are also taken to con- 
ceal or belie the state of the markets ; of our own cir- 
cumstances, our real intentions, or our ability to fulfill 
the engagements into which we enter. What base de- 
ceptions are practised in cases of bankruptcy ; and what 
frauds perpetrated, in order to attain legally the cha 
racter and immunities of a bankrupt. How difficul 
has it been even to make a law which can at all secure 
to creditors an equitable share in the actual remains of 
a bankrupt's property. How strange would the obser- 
vations which I am now making, appear in a world of 
honest, virtuous beings ! 

Friendship is plainly one of the things, most to be 
looked for among rational beings : as it is one of the 
most profitable, and most pleasing, of all those which 
are in our power, To this union of affections, this per- 
petual correspondence of hearts, this delightful har- 
mony of life, all our interests strongly lead us, with mo- 
tives highly noble and aftectingly persuasive. Yet So- 
lomon could say, and with plain propriety could say, 
' A faithful man, who can find ?' Not a small part of 
our conversation, or of our writings, is filled with bitter 
complaints of frail, alloyed, treacherous, broken friend- 
ship ; and of unworthy, false, and perfidious friends. 
Why are we not friends ? Can virtue furnish any part 
of the reason ? 

The pleasures of men, their darling and customary 
pleasures, have ever seemed to me an affecting proof of 
extreme depravity in our nature. 

St James directs, ' Is any man afflicted, let him pray. 
Is any merry' (that is, cheerful), ' let him sing psalms.' 
In other words, let the hours of cheerfulness be spent 
innocently (for such is the employment recommended), 
gratefully to God, and profitably to ourselves. Such 
are the amusements, such the pleasures recommended 
by an apostle. 

In examining the pleasures actually sought by man- 
kind, I shall, without any particular notice, pass by the 
brutal entertainments so greedily sought, so highly en- 
joyed, and so firmly established under the sanction of 
law, in Greece, Home, and other heathen countries ; 
the public games, in which naked men contended for 
superiority in feats of agility and strength ; the gladia- 
torial shows, in which men, trained for the purpose, 
butchered each other for the amusement of their fellow 
men ; and the exposures of human beings to the fury 
of wild beasts, while thousands enjoyed the sport of see- 
ing them torn asunder, as a mere entertainment. I will 
not dwell upon the fact, that beside the vulgar and the 
savage, men of high rank, of enlightened minds, and 
of polished manners, and, what is still more humiliating 
and disgusting, women of the first birth, education, and 
character, were regularly present. I will pass by the 
Saturnalia, in which Rome sunk, for a week every year, 
into the coarsest and most vulgar brutism, and all dis- 
tinction and decency were abolished. Useful, as the 
investigation might be, it must, for the want of time, 
be omitted on the present occasion. 

Let me then ask, What are the actual pleasures 
usually sought with eager favouritism, in countries 
claiming the title of Christian ? Go to the table, where 
' provision is ' professedly 'made for the flesh, to fulfill 
the lusts thereof,' and you will find one answer to the 
question. What a circle is very frequently seated around 
it ! Or rather, what does that circle in many instances 
become before the table is deserted. To pass the en- 



no 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. sxxi. 



ormous expense, care, and anxiety, with which nature 
and art are employed and ransacked, to gratify the de- 
mands of a sickly and fastidious palate in how many 
instances, throughout even the civilized and Christian 
world, is a feast the mere resort of gluttony and drun- 
kenness. How swinishly are the overflowing bounties 
of the infinite God abused to the prostitution of man ; 
to the destruction of his health, the waste of his time, 
the perversion of his talents, the neglect of his duty, 
the corruption of his heart, the stupefaction of his rea- 
son, the loss of his usefulness, and the ruin of his soul ! 
How many drunkards, think you, my brethren, have 
been found in a single century, the most enlightened 
and improved, since the beginning of the world, and in 
the countries inhabited by Christians, around the festive 
boards of the well-informed and polished members of 
society ! How many more gluttons ! What a scene of 
low and vulgar brutism, at the same time, is daily pre- 
sented by taverns, ale-houses, and dram-shops ; and on 
days of public rejoicing and festivity. 

Turn we hence to the horse-race ; another darling 
diversion of mankind ; and not of the ignorant and 
clownish only, but of the enlightened and polished ; 
nay, even of the noble and dignified ranks of men. 
What has gathered the concourse ? The professed ob- 
ject is to see two or more horses run a race, and one 
outstrip the other in his speed. Without calling in 
question the lawfulness of setting these animals upon 
the stretch of their powers for our amusement ; what a 
picture is presented to our view by the bets which are 
laid, the fraud and falsehood practised ; the perjuries, 
oaths, curses, and blasphemies uttered ; the drunkenness 
and sloth which are indulged ; the battles which are 
fought, and the universal prostitution of morals which 
is accomplished. 

At a cockpit, another darling scene of amusement to 
vast multitudes of mankind, all these gross and dreadful 
iniquities abound ; together with a cruelty, causeless, 
shameless, and horrid ; a cruelty impossible to that 
' righteous man, who is merciful to his beast,' and of 
course to every harmless creature in his power. 

Of the same deplorable nature is the amusement of 
bull-baiting ; an amusement warranted by the voice of 
law, and the deliberate decisions of senatorial wisdom 
and royal dignity. The strength and courage of this 
animal are here made the very means of torturing him 
with the most exquisite agonies, which can easily be 
devised ; all not only quietly suffered, but established, 
for the sake of guarding the palate of the epicure from 
offence and disappointment on the one hand ; and on 
the other, for the purpose of slaking the thirst for plea- 
sure, in minds which can finddelight in ferocity, anguish, 
and death. 

From these humiliating scenes, direct your steps to 
the gaming-table. I need not tell you how chosen a 
diversion, or set of diversions is found here ; or to what 
an incomprehensible extent sought in every country, 
civilized and savage. Here fraud in every form begins, 
carries on, and closes the business. Here is the cham- 
ber of moroseness, gloom, discontent, animosity, pro- 
faneness, contention, drunkenness, and universal de- 
pravity. Here property is wickedly lost, and wickedly 
won. Here time is most shamefully and sinfully wasted. 
Here all duties are most dreadfully neglected ; and here 
the estate, the health, the character, the family, and the 
soul, are consigned to perdition. 



From the gaming-table, turn your researches next to 
the theatre. Think, first, of the almost uniform charac- 
ter of the miserable wretches, who are trained to create 
the diversion. How low are they, almost without an 
exception, fallen ; and how low do they fall, of course, 
by the deplorable employment to which they are most 
wickedly tempted to devote themselves ? If you are at 
a loss, read a history, or even a professed panegyric, of 
this class of mankind. You will find it filled up with 
crimes which disgrace the name even of sinful man, and 
with characters which are a blot even on this guilty 
world. Consider, next, the performances, which these 
unhappy men and women are employed to exhibit. 
How few can be read without a blush, or without a sigh, 
by a person not seduced by habit, or not lost to virtue, 
and even to sobriety. How great a part are mere means 
of pollution. What art, labour, and genius, are engaged 
in them, to garnish gross and dreadful vice ; to disguise 
its nature and effects, to robe it in the princely attire of 
virtue, and to crown it with the rewards of well-doing ! 
How often is even common decency insulted, ridiculed, 
and put to flight ! In how many ways, and with how 
much art, is corruption softly and secretly instilled into 
the soul ! In how many instances is virtue defaced, dis- 
honoured, and like the Saviour of mankind, crowned 
with thorns, sceptered with a reed, and mocked with 
pretended and insolent homage ! 

Turn your eyes, next, to the audience, whose wishes 
and property give birth to the whole establishment. Of 
whom is this audience composed ? Of how few persons, 
whom virtue ever knew, or with whom she would not 
blush to confess her acquaintance ! Of how many, who 
are strangers to all good ! Of how many, who are ig- 
norant even of decency ; to whom vice is pleasing, and 
grossness an entertainment ! 

Accordingly, all the course of exhibition, except a 
little part thrust in as a sacrifice to decency and reputa- 
tion, is formed of polluted sentiments, and polluted 
characters ; in which, whatever is not directly and open- 
ly abominable, is meant merely as the white covering, 
intended to shroud from the eye the death and rotten- 
ness within. Our own copious language, employed in 
thousands of dramatic performances, probably cannot 
boast of a sufficient number of such plays, as an apostle 
would have pronounced innocent, to furnish a single 
stage for a single season. 

From the stage, men are directly prepared to go to 
the brothel. The corruption of the one fits the mind 
with no common preparation to direct its course to the 
other. 

One of the first facts which here strikes, and afflicts 
the thinking mind, is, that these houses of pestilence 
and ruin, of sin and perdition, are tolerated in countries 
inhabited and ruled by such as profess themselves to be 
Christians ; by those who have been ' baptized into the 
name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' 
Another is, that they are frequented by vast multitudes : 
and another, that these are not composed of the low, 
ignorant, and despised only ; but in great numbers, of 
the wealthy, the enlightened, the polite, and even the 
noble and the princely. To this we must add, because 
truth adds, that seduction has in all instances begun the 
ruin of the miserable wretches who inhabit these walls 
of Sodom. This seduction also has been accomplished 
by art. falsehood, serpentine insidiousness, and outrage- 
ous perjury. The endless ruin of a soul has been the 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN 



171 



price of a momentary and debased gratification ; and 
the poor and pitiable victim has been solicited and in- 
duced, to sacrifice eternal life to the fiend-like persua- 
sion of her betrayer. 

In the meantime all, or nearly all those, who are 
authors of the deception, or haunters of these tenements 
of prostitution, accompany to the same perdition the 
miserable victims of their treachery. Of ' the strange, 1 
or polluted ' woman,' God saith, ' None that go in unto 
her return again ; neither take they hold of the paths of 
life.' 

Another fact, to which your attention is called in 
these dreadful scenes, is, that here all sin springs up as 
in a hot bed ; that besides the horrid debasement which 
is here the characteristical guilt, all possible sin is rank, 
luxuriant, and prosperous. Profaneness, drunkenness, 
treachery, fraud, and murder, haunt these baleful walls, 
as a collection of infernal beings in a second hell. Like 
that dreadful world also, its doors are barred against all 
return and repentance, against life and hope. Scarcely 
an example is found in which those, who have once en- 
tered ever make their escape. Sin and Perdition are 
marked on the gateway ; and over the door is read, in 
letters of fire, This house is the way to hell, going down 
to the chambers of death. 

The last subject which, in this complicated mass of 
iniquity, demands your investigation, is the immense 
extent of the pollution, and the incomprehensible num- 
bers of mankind which it involves, and has ever involved. 
A prophet has recorded Sodom as a monument of eter- 
nal infamy. Were prophets to exist in every land, 
Sodoms would not improbably be portrayed on many 
pages of every historical record. Ihe great capitals of 
most European and Asiatic countries are in many re- 
spects, perhaps, not a whit behind the impurity found in 
those monuments of the divine vengeance, ' the cities of 
the plain.' I wish I could say our own had a less share 
in this charge. Modern lewdness, although usually 
concealed with care from the eye of the world, has yet 
publicly proceeded to lengths which amaze the mind 
even of cool contemplation, sicken the heart of delicacy, 
and turn back the eye of virtue with horror. The world 
has become complaisant to it ; and changed its very 
language, to give soft and imposing names to the 
wretches who have robbed the swine of their stye, or 
wallowed at their side in the mire. The prostitute is 
misnamed with softening appellations, intended to veil 
her odious character, and her enormous crimes. The 
lewd man is styled a man of gayety, spirit, and life ; 
a man of the world, a liberal man, a man unshackled by 
fanaticism or superstition. 

At the same time, means innumerable, tolerated by 
law, and pursued with impunity, are employed to cherish 
this worst, this most fatal of all evils. Houses of pol- 
lution in immense numbers are erected, allowed, and 
frequented. Abandoned women are brought forward 
to places of public and honourable resort ; admitted 
without opposition to assemblies for amusement, made 
up of those who fill the upper spheres of life ; seated at 
tables of distinction, and rolled on the wheels of splen- 
dour. Genius prostitutes its elevated powers to seduce 
the miserable victim, to varnish the guilt of pollution, 
to soothe, to torpor the wounded conscience, and to 
make the way to hell smooth, pleasant, and unsuspected ; 
forms and tunes the enchanting song, to imbrute the 
heedless mind ; fashions and animates the marble into 



every form of temptation ; traces on the canvass its lines 
of symmetry and beauty, and sheds the splendour of its 
colouring, only to corrupt and to ruin. The shop, to 
complete the havoc, publicly holds out the infamous 
book, the alluring image, and the fascinating picture, to 
every passenger; and in defiance of laws and magistrates, 
eagerly helps forward the work of destruction. 

All these are chosen and customary pursuits of man- 
kind. Those who follow them are immortal beings, 
who have souls to be saved, sins to be forgiven, and 
endless life to be secured. All of them have heard the 
gospel of salvation ; have been exhorted to yield them- 
selves to the Redeemer, and have been earnestly invited 
to enter into heaven. 

The life of all is a vapour ; the day of grace and of 
pardon is bounded by that momentary life ; and each 
feels his time to be so short, that he cannot find even an 
hour to employ on the great work of repentance, and 
the salvation of his soul. 

Such then are the pleasures of mankind. What, it 
may now be asked, are those employments of men, 
which wear a more serious aspect ? 

Among these, the first which strikes the mind of a 
serious investigator, is their general and wonderful pro- 
fanation of the word of God. To this sin, it is gene- 
rally acknowledged, there is hardly any temptation. 
Wickedness here assumes, therefore, the character of 
disinterestedness ; and the sin is committed from the 
pure love of sinning. Yet how immensely extensive is 
this evil practice. The Heathen and the Mohammedan, 
the Jewish and the Christian nations, professing widely 
different views in other respects concerning the Ruler 
of all things, quietly unite in profaning his awful name. 
Men of all ages and characters, however discordant 
otherwise, harmonize here. The sage and the block- 
head, the gentleman and the clown, the nobleman and 
the peasant, join their voices in unison ; and form one 
great chorus, not for the praise, but for the dishonour 
of God. The prince swears on his throne, and the beg- 
gar on his dunghill ; the child lisps out the imperfect 
curse, and the tongue of the man of grey hairs trembles 
beneath the faltering blasphemy. From California to 
Japan, the general voice of mankind rises up to heaven, 
not ' as the odour of sweet incense,' but as one vast ex- 
halation of impiety, infinitely disgraceful to our reason, 
immensely ungrateful, and immensely wicked. 

The next dreadful effusion of this evil spirit is the 
multiform falsehood, which in such an astonishing man- 
ner clouds and disgraces this miserable world. Truth 
is the foundation of all virtue, and consequently of all 
happiness. Without it. society, in the proper sense, 
cannot exist. Even the dreadful bands of thieves and 
ruffians are proverbially acknowledged to be indebted 
to it for their own horrid union. But cast your eyes 
over this wide world, and mark how extensively ' truth 
has fallen in the streets ' of cities, the solitary habita- 
tions of the country, and the wild retreats of the savage 
and barbarian. Mark how soon falsehood begins to 
blacken the tongue of the child, and how greatly to 
deepen its hue with the increase of years. Trace if you 
can, without intense mortification, the secret windings of 
the private slanderer ; and behold if you can, without 
amazement, in endless multitudes, the impudent, un- 
blushing lies of public newspapers. Survey with horror, 
for without horror you cannot survey, the perjuries of 
testimony, the perjuries of elections, the perjuries of the 



172 



SYSTEM OF 



custom-house, and the perjuries of public office. Look, 
with still more amazement and regret, on the falsehoods 
of the great and powerful. ' Truth,' said king John of 
France, ' if banished from the rest of the world, ought 
still to find a mansion in the bosom of princes.' Yet 
how regularly from year to year, and from century to 
century, courts and legislatures assert and deny succes- 
sively, the same facts, without a retraction, and without 
a blush. Cast your eyes, and tell me if they do not 
sicken while you cast them, on the mountainous mass 
of falsehood heaped up by insidious learning, and in- 
fidel philosophy, against the word of God, and against 
all the interest, virtue, and happiness of man. When 
you have done these things, finish the humiliating inves- 
tigation by gazing at the whole nation of the French, 
swearing eternal hatred to royalty, and eternal fealty to 
six successive constitutions of government, adopted with- 
in little more than six successive years, and then bowing 
down quietly at the foot of a despot. 

From falsehood, the transition is almost necessary to 
fraud. On this subject, however, as on all the remain- 
ing ones, I can dwell but a moment. The laws of all 
civilized nations have been chiefly employed in repress- 
ing this sin, and in repressing it with every suffering 
which ingenuity could devise, or human nature sustain. 
Yet in spite of the whip, the brand, the prison, and the 
galley ; in spite of the gibbet and the cross, the rack 
and the faggot ; what commodity, what kind of dealing 
is not the subject of fraud ; and what child of Adam is 
not its mortified object ? All kinds of money are coun- 
terfeited ; all kinds of instruments for conveyance, or 
security, are forged. Vast multitudes of mankind gain 
their livelihood from cheating. The beggar cheats you 
in his tale of suffering, the man of business in his com- 
modity, the statesman plunders the public, the prince 
defrauds his subjects by false representations of his 
wants, and false representations of his expenditure. 
In London only, a very corrupt, but far from being the 
most corrupt city in Europe, 1 1 5,000 human beings, 
among whom are 50,000 abandoned females, live, ac- 
cording to the sagacious and upright Colquhoun, either 
partly or wholly by customary fraud ; and annually 
plunder their fellow men of two millions sterling : while 
on the river Thames a more systematized robbery has 
yearly wrested from individuals no less than 500,000 
pounds of the same currency ; and from the crown, 
during a century, ten millions. 

Duelling and suicide present to our view two other 
kindred testimonies of enormous corruption. On these 
however I cannot, and need not, dwell. Instead of ex- 
patiating on them, I will exhibit to you two official 
accounts of the moral state of the capital of France. 
By a public return to the government of births, deaths, 
&c. in Paris, in the year 1801, it appears that there 
were, 

Legitimate births . . . 14,829 

Illegitimate 4,841 $ Ab 7u°"*^ rter 

Marriages 3,S26 

Divorces 7g0 C About one sixth of 

£ the whole. 
Died in their own houses 12,510 
In poor houses and hospitals 8,257 § About two fifths of 
Found dead in the streets 201 £ the whole. 

In the Republican year, ending Sept. 23, 1803, by 
the report of the prefect of police to the grand judge 
for the district of Paris, the number of 



THEOLOGY. ISim. kxxi. 

o • -j f Men , . 490 i ,.,_ 

Suicides was . . . -? -,, 1C c- t coy 

} Women . 167 % 

Murdered persons . £ w" ' ' m i 150 

r \ Women . C9 3 

Divorces 644 

Murderers executed 155 

Condemned to the gallies ... .... 1210 

Condemned to hard labour and imprisonment . 1626 

Branded with hot irons ........ 64 

Among the criminals executed were seven fathers, who 
had poisoned their children : ten husbands, who had 
murdered their wives : six wives, who poisoned their 
husbands : and fifteen children, who destroyed their pa- 
rents. 

During that year also 12,076 lewd woman had been 
registered, and paid for the protection of the police ; 
1552 kept mistresses were noted ; and 308 public bro- 
thels licensed, by the prefect of police at Paris. 

This tremendous recital admits no comment. The 
spectator shrinks from it with horror ; and forced to ac- 
knowledge those comprised in the story, to be human 
beings, wishes to deny that himself is a man. 

2. The doctrine is dreadfully evinced in the public 
conduct of mankind. 

On this part of the subject, copious and important as 
it is, I shall make a very few observations only, under 
the following heads : — 

(I.) Their government. 

Under a righteous administration of government, the 
intense corruption of the human character is gloomily 
manifested by subjects, in the violation of their allegiance, 
and their evasions or their transgressions of law. God 
has made it our duty to ' render tribute to whom tribute 
is due ; custom to whom custom ; and honour to whom 
honour.' Nor has He permitted us to perform these 
duties with a less scrupulous exactness than any other. 
Compare with this precept the reluctant payment of 
reasonable taxes ; the unceasing and immense smug- 
gling ; the innumerable frauds practised on the custom- 
house ; the murmurings, the seditions, the revolts, the 
malignant factions, and the furious civil discords, which 
have blackened the annals even of the freest and hap- 
piest nations ; and you cannot want evidence of the de- 
pravity of that spirit, which has given birth to these 
enormities. 

On the other hand, how often is the government it- 
self no other than an administration of iniquity. The 
endless train of evils, however, which have flowed in 
upon mankind from this source, have been here so long 
the ruling theme, both of conversation and writings ; 
the oppression, fraud, plunder, baleful examples, and 
deplorable corruption of despotic princes, have been so 
thoroughly learned by heart ; as to render a particular 
discussion of them, at the present time, unnecessary 
But however frequently they have been repeated, they 
are not on that account less real, or dreadful manifesta^ 
tions of human turpitude. I know that it is a common 
refuge of the objectors to this doctrine, to attribute both 
these kinds of evidence of human corruption to the form 
of the government, and not to the nature of man. But 
this complaisance to human nature is out of place. Kings 
and princes are mere men ; and differ from other men, 
only because they are surrounded by greater tempta- 
tions. Their nature and propensities are precisely the 
same with yours and mine. Their opportunities of doing 
good are, at the same time, immensely greater ; and 
were they originally virtuous, would be seized and 
employed with an avidity proportioned to their extent, 



DEPRAVITY OP MAN. 



173 



for this great purpose only. Were human nature pure, 
is is professed; were it not dreadfully corrupted, kings 
would be the best of men ; as possessing the greatest 
power, and the widest means of beneficence. How un- 
like this has been the fact, not with respect to kings 
only, but to almost all men invested with high authority. 
Republican legislatures have been at least as oppressive 
to mankind as monarchs, particularly to the dependen- 
cies of their empire. Rome and Sparta ground their 
provinces with a harder hand than the Persian despot ; 
and no human tyranny was ever marked with such hor- 
rors as the republican tyranny of France. 

(2.) The wars of mankind are a still more dreadful 
exhibition of wickedness than their government. 

Here, as if the momentary life of man was too long, 
and his sufferings too few and too small, men have pro- 
fessedly embarked in the design of cutting off life, and 
enhancing the number and degree of sufferings. War 
has prevailed through every age, and in every country ; 
and in all has waded through human blood, trampled on 
human corpses, and laid waste the fields and the dwell- 
ings, the happiness and the hopes of mankind. It has 
been employed to empty earth, and people hell ; to make 
angels weep, and fiends triumph, over the deplorable 
guilt and debasement of the human character. 

(3.) The doctrine is not less strongly evidenced by 
the religion of mankind. 



With this subject I will wind up the melancholy de- 
tail. Jehovah created this world, stored it with the 
means of good, and filled it with rational and immortal 
beings. Instead of loving, serving, and adoring Him, 
they have worshipped devils, the vilest of all beings, and 
alike his enemies and their own. They have worship- 
ped each other, they have worshipped brutes, they have 
worshipped vegetables. The smith hath molten a god 
of gold : the carpenter has hewn a god of wood ; and 
millions have prostrated themselves to both, in praise 
and prayer. To appease the anger of these gods, they 
have attempted to wash their sins away by ablutions, and 
to make atonement for them by penance. To these 
gods they have offered up countless hecatombs; and 
butchered, tortured, and burnt their own children. Be- 
fore these gods their religion has enjoined and sanc- 
tioned, the unlimited prostitution of matrons and virgins 
to casual lust and systematized pollution. The same 
religion has also sanctioned war and slaughter, plunder 
and devastation, fraud and perjury, seduction and viola- 
tion, without bounds. Its persecutions have reddened 
the world with blood, and changed its countries into 
catacombs. On ' the pale horse,' seen in the Apoca- 
lyptic vision, ' death ' has gone before it ; ' and hell 
following after,' has exulted in its deplorable follies, its 
crimes without number, and the miseries which it has 
occasioned without end. 






SERMON XXXII. 



HUMAN DEPP.AVITY, DERIVED FROM ADAM. 



Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death hath passed upon all men 

for that all have sinned Rom. v. 20. 



From these words I proposed, in a former Discourse, 
to discuss the following doctrine : 

That in consequence of the apostasy of Adam all men 
have sinned. 

In the three last Discourses I have considered the 
aniversality and the degree of human corruption. The 
next subject of our incpjiry is, the source whence this 
corruption is derived. In the text, as well as in the doc- 
trine, it is exhibited as existing in consequence of the 
apostasy of Adam. 

Before I proceed to a direct examination of this 
branch of the doctrine, it will be advantageous to make 
a few preliminary observations. 

(1.) It will, I presume, be admitted that there is a 
cause of this depravity. 

The depravity of man is either caused or casual. If 
it be casual, every thing else may, for aught that appears, 
be casual also. A denial of this position, therefore, be- 
comes a direct establishment of the atheistical scheme of 
casual existence. 

Besides, uniformity is in all cases a complete refuta- 
tion of the supposition of casualty. That mere accident 
should be the parent of the same moral character in all 
the progeny of Adam, or of uniformity of any kind in 



so many thousand millions of cases, is contradictory to 
plain mathematical certainty. 

(2.) This cause, whatever it is, is commensurate with 
its effects. As therefore the effects extend to all men, 
it follows that the cause also is universal. 

(3.) The cause of this depravity is undoubtedly one 
and the same. This is argued irresistibly from the na- 
ture of the effects, which is everywhere the same. 

(4.) This cause did not always exist. Before their 
apostasy, our first parents were undepraved. As the 
effect did not then exist, the cause plainly did not 
exist. 

These observations must, I think, be admitted with- 
out a controversy. It follows therefore that in searching 
for the source of human corruption we must, if we act 
wisely, be guided by them : since nothing can be this 
source of which all these things cannot be truly predi- 
cated. 

(5.) In inquiring after the source of human corrup- 
tion, we inquire only after a fact. 

This subject, sufficiently difficult in itself, has been 
almost always embarrassed by uniting with it foreign 
considerations. A fact, it ought ever to be remembered, 
is what it is, independently of every thing else. If it 



m 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. 



be true, that the coi'ruption of mankind exists in con- 
sequence of the apostasy of Adam, this truth cannot be 
affected by any reluctance in us to admit it ; by any 
opinions which we may form of the propriety or im- 
propriety of the dispensation ; nor by any inexpli- 
•cableness, arising from the efficient cause, the moral 
nature, or the consequences of the fact. These things 
may be the foundation of other inquiries, and of 
perplexities and difficulties ever so great ; still they 
cannot even remotely affect the subject of the present 
investigatiou. 

(6.) When I assert, that in consequence of the 
apostasy of Adam all men have sinned, I do not in- 
tend that the posterity of Adam are guilty of his trans- 
gression. 

Moral actions are not, so far as I can see, transferable 
from one being to another. The personal act of any 
agent is in its very nature the act of that agent solely, 
and incapable of being participated by any other agent. 
Of course, the guilt of such a personal act is equally in- 
capable of being transferred or participated. The guilt 
is inherent in the action, and is attributable therefore to 
the agent only. 

So clear is this doctrine, that I presume no evidence 
was ever supposed to be derived originally from reason 
to the contrary doctrine. If therefore any evidence can 
be found to support this doctrine, it must be found in 
revelation. But in revelation, it is presumed, it cannot 
be found. Unquestionably it is nowhere directly as- 
serted in the Scriptures. If it be contained in them, it 
must be by implication. Let me ask, Where is this im- 
plication ? Certainly not in any use of the term ' im- 
pute,' commonly appealed to by the supporters of this 
scheme. I have examined with care every passage in 
which this word and its connexions are used in the Scrip- 
tures, and feel completely assured that it is used in a to- 
tally different sense, in every instance without an excep- 
tion. The verb "hoyt£op.ctt, which is the original word 
rendered by the English word ' impute,' denotes origi- 
nally and always, to reckon, to account, to reckon to 
the account of a man, to charge to his account ; but 
never to transfer moral action, guilt, or desert, from one 
being to another. Thus it is said by Shimei, 'Let 
not my Lord impute this sin unto his servant :' that is, 
Let not my lord charge my sin of-cursing David against 
me, or to my account. Thus also it is said, ' Abraham 
believed God ; and it was accounted to him for right- 
eousness ;' that is, his faith was reckoned to him in 
the stead of that perfect legal righteousness, in the pos- 
session of which he would have been accepted before 
God. 

The passage which seems the nearest to the purpose 
of those against whom I am contending, is 1 Cor. xv. 
22. ' As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be 
made alive.' The words in the original are a> tu 
A%cc.fi and su ra Xoio-Ta. The Greek preposition E> 
signifies very often, as any person acquainted with the 
language must. have observed, exactly the same thing 
with the English phrase by means of. The passage would, 
therefore, have been explicitly and correctly translated, 
As by means of Adam all die, even so by means of Christ 
shall all be made alive. Adam is therefore only asserted 
here to be an instrumental cause of the death specified. 
A parallel passage will, I think, make the justice of 
these remarks evident beyond any reasonable debate. 
In 1 Cor. vii. 14, it is said, ' The unbelieving husband 



is sanctified by the believing wife, and the unbelieving 
wife is sanctified by the husband.' No person will pre- 
tend that in this passage the apostle declares the sancti- 
fication of the believing wife to be transferred to the hus- 
band, so as to become the personal state or character of 
the husband. This is evidently not the fact, because he 
is still an unbeliever. The meaning plainly is, that by 
means of his wife he is, in such a sense, considered as 
sanctified, as to prevent his children from being unclean ; 
or, in more explicit terms, from being incapable of being 
offered to God in baptism. 

(7.) Neither do I intend that the descendants of Adam 
are punished for his transgression. 

This doctrine is completely set aside by God himself, 
in Ezek. xviii. 20, ' The soul that sinneth it shall die. 
The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father ; nei- 
ther shall the father bear the iniquity of the son ; the 
righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him ; and 
the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.' In 
this passage it is, I think, as explicitly as language will 
admit, declared that no man shall be punished for the 
sin of another ; particularly that the son shall not be 
punished for the sin of his father ; and, by obvious and, 
I think, irresistible implication, that the sons of Adam 
shall not be punished for the sins of this their common 
parent. 

Having thus prepared the way, as I conceive, for 
the direct discussion of the doctrine, I shall now pro- 
ceed to adduce in support of its truth the following 
proofs : — 

I. The Text. 

Here it is asserted, ' that by one man sin entered into 
the world:' 8/ hog clvfyairov; ' through, or by means of, 
one man.' I will not take upon me to say, that the 
apostle declares the sin of Adam to be the only suppos- 
able or possible cause of the entrance of sin into the 
world ; but he plainly declares it to be the actual cause. 
The sin which thus entered he declares also to be uni- 
versal ' even as universal as the death which entered by 
sin. In the 1 8th verse, which is separated from the text 
by a parenthesis only, the apostle teaches us in the most 
direct terms that this universal sin is a consequence of 
the transgression of Adam. His words are, ' Therefore, 
as by the offence of one' (or as in the original, li' ho; 
7ru.(>ci7rTa t u,ct7o;, ' by one offence) judgment came upon 
all to condemnation; and in the 19th verse, ' By one 
man's disobedience many' (in the original o/ ntiKhoi, the 
many) ' were made ' (in the Greek, x«Ts<7T«f.?<ra», 
were constituted) ' sinners.'' The meaning of these pas- 
sages is, I think, plainly the following : that by means 
of the offence, or transgression of Adam, the judgment 
or sentence of God, came upon all men unto condemna- 
tion ; because, and solely because, all menF, in that state 
of things which was constituted in consequence of the 
transgression of Adam, became sinners. 

I have heretofore declared that the manner in which 
the state of things became such, is not at all involved in 
the present discussion. I now observe farther,^xhat I 
am unable to explain this part of the subject. Many at- 
tempts have been made to explain it ; but I freely con- 
fess myself to have seen none which was satisfactory to 
me ; or which did not leave the difficulties as great and 
for aught I know, as numerous as they were before. J 
shall not add to these difficulties by any imperfect ex- 
planations of my own. At the same time I repeat, that ic i 
the fact in question is not at all affected by these diffi 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



175 



culties ; and that a denial of this fact is perplexed with 
difficulties which are greater both in number and 
degree. 

II. The doctrine is evident also from the sentence pro- 
nounced on our first parents. 

In this sentence God declared, that ' the ground was 
cursed for the sake ' of Adam, or because of his trans- 
gression ; ' that it should bring forth thorns and thistles ; 
that he should eat bread in the sweat of his brow ; and 
that both he and his wife should lead lives of toil, suf- 
fering, and sorrow, until they should finally return to the 
dust, from which they were taken.' In a former Dis- 
course it was shown that all the parts of this sentence 
have been regularly fulfilled from the beginning to the 
present day. All of them therefore constituted a sen- 
tence actually pronounced on all the progeny of Adam, 
and proved to be so, because it is executed on them all. 
The cursing of the ground, particularly, by which it was 

i deprived of its former spontaneous fruitfulness, and con- 
demned to perpetual sterility ; by which thorns and 

: briers were substituted for the fruits of paradise ; and by 

' which ease, happiness, and immortality, were exchanged 
for labour, suffering, and death, inwrought into the very 
constitution now given to the earth ; was a fact which 
involved of course the punishment of all men, because 
all men suffer distress by means of this fact, and because 

i no rational beings, beside sinners, are in the providence 
of God subjected to any suffering. Every descendant 
of Adam must of course be an inhabitant of the world 
which was thus cursed, and must of necessity be a par- 
taker of the very evils denounced in this curse. When 
the sentence was declared, therefore, it was certainly 
foreseen that all those who would afterward share in the 
sufferings which it disclosed, that is, all the children of 
Adam, would be sinners. As all the progeny of Adam 
must inhabit the world thus cursed, all must necessarily 
partake of these evils, because they were inseparably 
united to the world in which they dwelt. If then it was 

i not foreseen that they would be sinners, the curse must 
have been denounced against them, either vhen obe- 
dient and virtuous, or while their future moral character 
was uncertain. The former will not be admitted by any 
man ; the latter will no more be admitted by any man, 
if he reflect at all on the subject ; for God can no more 
be supposed to condemn and punish those who are not 

, known by him to be sinful, than those who are known 
to be virtuous. It follows therefore that, as the world 
was thus changed in consequence of the transgression of 
Adam, and of a paradise became a wilderness of thorns 
and briers, so, in consequence of the same transgression, 
the character of man was also changed ; and instead of 
being immortal, virtuous, and happy, he became the sub- 

, ject of sin, suffering, and death. Wiih respect to one of 

i these considerations, viz. the mortality of mankind, the 
apostle Paul expressly asserts the doctrine in a passage 

; already quoted for another purpose. ' In,' or by means 
of, ' Adam, all die.' As neither death nor any other 
suffering befalls virtuous beings, this passage may be 
fairly considered as a full confirmation of the doctrine at 

i large. 

, III. The doctrine is directly declared by Moses, 

I when he informs us that Adam begat a son in his own 
likeness. 

The meaning of the word ' likeness,' that is, the mean- 
ins intentionally attached to it by Moses, cannot, I 

i think, be mistaken. In the first chapter of the same 



history he introduces God as saying, ' Let us make man 
in our own image, after our likeness :' and subjoins, ' so 
God created man in his own image ; in the image of 
God created he him.' In a former Discourse I have 
shown that the likeness, or image, here mentioned, is 
the moral image of God ; consisting, especially, in 
' knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness,' as we are 
informed by St Paul. After dwelling so particularly on 
the image of God in which man was created, and on the 
fact, that man was created in this image, it cannot, I 
think, be questioned that Moses intended to inform us 
that Seth was begotten in the moral likeness of Adam 
after his apostasy ; and sustained from his birth a moral 
character similar to that which his two brothers, Cain 
and Abel, also sustained. This view of the subject ap- 
pears plainly to have been adopted by Job, when he 
asks, ' Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean ? 
not one*' (Job xiv. 4) : by Bildad, when he asks, ' How 
then can man be justified with God ; or how can he be 
clean that is born of a woman ' (xxv. 4.) : by David, 
when he says (Psalm li. 5), ' Behold I was shapen in 
iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me;' and 
by St Paul, when he says, ' As we have borne the image 
of the earthly (Adam), so we shall bear the image of 
the heavenly' (Adam), (1 Cor. xv. 49.) But if Seth, 
Cain, and Abel, derived their corruption from the apos- 
tasy of their parents, then it is true, not only that their 
corruption, but that of all mankind, exists in consequence 
of that apostasy. 

Accordingly, our Saviour declares universally, that 
' that which is born of the flesh, is flesh ;' and that ' that ' 
only ' which is born of the Spirit,' or ' born again, is 
spirit.' In this declaration he certainly teaches us, that 
the fleshly character is inseparably connected with the 
birth of man, it being an invariable attendant of that 
birth. In other words, every parent, as truly as Adam, 
begets children in his own moral likeness. It hardly 
needs to be observed, that the moral character, denoted 
in this observation of our Saviour by the term ' flesh,' 
is a corrupt character. ' The carnal,' or fleshly ' mind,' 
says St Paul, ' is enmity against God ; not subject to his 
law, neither indeed can be :' and again, ' To be carnally, 
or fleshly, minded is death.' In the original, the words 
in both passages are <Pt><ii/viftei rng aa^x,o; ; the minding of 
thejiesh : the exercise of our thoughts and affections in 
that manner which accords with the fleshly or native 
character. 

IV. In exact accordance with this scriptural repre- 
sentation, the doctrine is strongly evinced by the conduct 
of children as soon as they become capable of moral 
action. 

Children in the morning of life are, as was remarked 
in the preceding discourse, unquestionably amiable; 
more so in many respects than at any future period ; 
that is, whenever they do not at some future period be- 
come the subjects of sanctification. Some children also, 
as we are taught in the Scriptures, are sanctified from 
the womb. Still even these in some degree, and all 
others in a greater degree, exhibit from the dawn of 
moral action, evil affections and evil conduct. They are 
rebellious, disobedient, unkind, wrathful, and revengefuly 
All of them are proud, ambitious, vain, and universally 
selfish. All of them, particularly, are destitute of piety 
to God, the first, and far the most important exercise of 
virtue. They neither love, fear, nor obey him ; neither 
admire his divine excellence, nor arc thankful for his 






176 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxir. 



unceasing loving-kindness. Immense multitudes of 
them are taught these duties from the commencement of 
their childhood, yet they can be persuaded to perform 
them by no species of instruction hitherto devised. A 
virtuous mind would, of course, from the mere know- 
ledge of God, without any known law, without any 
other motive except what is found in his greatness, ex- 
cellency, and goodness to us, admire and love, reverence 
and glorify him with all the heart. But no instance of 
this nature can be produced. I have been employed in 
the education of children and youth more than thirty 
years, and have watched their conduct with no small at- 
tention and anxiety. Yet, among the thousands of chil- 
dren committed to my care, I cannot say with truth, that 
I have seen one whose native character I had any reason 
to believe to be virtuous, or whom I could conscientious- 
ly pronounce to be free from the evil attributes men- 
tioned above. In addition to this, it ought to be ob- 
served, that no child unspotted with sin is mentioned in 
the records of history. This, I think, could not be, had 
the fact ever existed. Mankind, therefore, according to 
the language of the Psalmist, ' are estranged from the 
womb, and go astray as soon as they are born.' 

The opposers of the doctrine undertake to avoid the 
force of this argument, by attributing the corruption of 
children to example, and the propensity of human nature 
to imitation. 

The power of example I readily acknowledge to be 
great, and the propensity to imitation strong. I acknow- 
ledge also, that from these sources we may derive a sa- 
tisfactory explanation of many things, both good and 
evil, which are done in the world. Still, I apprehend, 
the objection is a very insufficient answer to the argu- 
ment in question. For, 

1. On beings who were virtuously inclined, a good 
example ought certainly to have more power than an 
evil one. 

On beings neither virtuously nor viciously inclined, 
virtuous and vicious examples must, of course, be equal- 
ly influential ; as on beings sinfully inclined, it is ac- 
knowledged, sinful examples have an influence entirely 
preponderating. All this is evident, because virtuous 
beings must love virtuous conduct, and follow it, as 
much as vicious beings love and follow vicious conduct, 
and because neutral beings, if such are supposed to 
exist, can have no bias to either. If then mankind 
were virtuously inclined, they would follow, with a clear 
and universal preponderation, virtuous examples. If 
neither virtuously nor sinfully inclined, they would 
follow virtuous and sinful examples alike, and with an 
equal propensity to imitation. But neither of these 
facts is found in human experience. Virtuous examples, 
it is acknowledged, have some degree of influence, but 
all men know this influence to be exceedingly and dis- 
tressingly small. This truth is seen every day, in every 
place, and in every person. Whence arises the superior 
influence of vicious example, but from the fact that it 
is more pleasing to the human heart ? In heaven such 
example could have no influence. 

2. If the first men were virtuous, as the objection sup- 
poses all men to be by nature, and as, according to the 
objection, these must have been, there could have been 
no evil examples, and upon this plan, no sin in the world. 

Virtuous men, that is, men wholly virtuous, cannot 
exhibit an evil example. If then the first men were 
virtuous, their immediate successors had no vicious ex- 



ample to follow, and must therefore have been them- 
selves virtuous. Of course, the example which they set 
also was only virtuous. Hence those who followed 
them must have been virtuous, and in like manner all 
their successors. Upon this plan, sin could never have 
entered the world. But sin is in the world, and is, and 
ever has been, the universally prevailing character of 
the human race. The objectors, therefore, are reduced 
by their scheme to this dilemma ; either virtuous men 
set sinful examples, which is a plain contradiction ; or 
men became sinful without sinful examples. 

Should it be said, that after Adam and Eve aposta- 
tized, they corrupted their- children by their own sinful 
example, who again corrupted theirs, and thus every ge- 
neration became the means of corrupting those who fol- 
lowed them ; and that in this manner the existence of a 
sinful character in mankind may be explained ; I an- 
swer, that I readily admit the premises to a certain ex- 
tent, but wholly deny the conclusion. Adam and Eve, 
speedily after their apostasy, that is, before they had chil- 
dren, became penitents. The example therefore which 
they exhibited to their children was such as penitents ex- 
hibit, expressive of their abhorrence of sin, and of their 
humble obedience to God. Such an example penitents 
now exhibit ; and such a one, without a question, they 
have always exhibited. But this example, preponderating 
greatly in favour of virtue, must have had substantially 
the same influence with one perfectly virtuous. Of 
course, the perfectly virtuous minds of Adam's children 
must by this example have been strongly biassed to vir- 
tue, and according to this scheme, could not have failed 
of retaining their virtuous character. But this is plain- 
ly contrary to the fact. The descendants of Adam, of 
the first and of every succeeding generation, were evi- 
dently sinful beings, and in the course of ten generations 
became so universally and absolutely sinful, that, except 
Noah and his family, God destroyed them all by the 
deluge. God himself declares concerning them, that 
' every imagination of the thoughts of their hearts was 
only evil continually ; that it repented the Lord that 
he had made man upon the earth, and it grieved him at 
his heart.' In vain, therefore, do Ave look for the 
proper influence of virtuous example, on children born 
virtuous among the early descendants of Adam. 

If mankind are born with neutral characters, not in- 
clined either to good or to evil, the difliculty will not be 
seriously lessened. In this case, men ought now to be 
as generally virtuous as sinful : because this character 
furnishes exactly the same probability of the prevalence 
of virtue as of sin. But no such equality has at any 
period of time existed. On the contrary, men are now, 
and ever have been, without an exception, sinners. 

Uniform sin proves uniform tendency to sin ; for no- 
thing more is meant by tendency, in any case, but an 
aptitude in the nature of a thing to produce effects of a 
given kind. With this meaning only in view, we say, 
that it is the nature or tendency of an apple-tree to pro- 
duce apples, and of a fig-tree to produce figs. In the 
same manner we must, I think, say, if we would say the 
truth, that it is the tendency or nature of the human 
heart to sin. 

It is farther objected, that the uniformity of sin in 
children, and therefore in all the human race, may be 
fairly explained by the nature of moral agency. 

It is to be observed, that such as make this objection 
suppose the freedom of the will to lie in self-determina- 






DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



177 



tion, the liberty of indifference, and the liberty of con- 
tingency. By persons who hold this scheme, a more 
unfortunate objection to the doctrine could not, I ap- 
prehend, have been easily devised. 

If the freedom of the will is the freedom of contin- 
gency, then plainly its volitions are all accidents, and 
certainly the chances, arithmetically considered, are as 
numerous in favour of virtuous volitions as of sinful 
ones. There ought, therefore, on this plan, to be, and 
ever to have been, as many absolutely virtuous persons 
in the world as sinful. Plainly, all ought not to be sinful. 
If the freedom of the will is the freedom of indiffer- 
ence, the same consequence ought to follow ; for, if 
there be no bias in the mind towards either virtue or 
sin at the time immediately preceding each of its voli- 
tions, and the freedom of each volition arises out of this 
fact, then, certainly, there being no bias either way, the 
number of virtuous and that of sinful volitions must na- 
turally be equal, and no cause can be assigned why every 
man, independently of his renovation by the Spirit of 
God, should be sinful only. 

If the liberty of the will consists in self-determina- 
tion, and the mind, without the influence of any motive, 
first wills that it will form a second volition, and this 
volition depends for its freedom on the existence of 
such a preceding one, then it is plain, that from these 
preceding volitions as many virtuous as sinful ones 
ought to be derived ; because the preceding or self-de- 
termining volitions are, by the supposition, under no 
influence or bias from any cause whatever. 

Thus, it is evident that, according to all these suppo- 
sitions there could be no preponderancy, much less a 
universality of sin in the world. The state of facts is 
therefore contradictory to the objection, as supported 
by them all. 

Farther: the freedom of the will, and consequently 
moral agency, in man in this world, is the same with 
that of ' the spirits of just men made perfect ' in hea- 
ven ; the same with that of angels ; the same with that 
of the man Christ Jesus. Whence then does it come to 
pass, that the same moral agency leads or influences 
these beings universally to virtue, and men in this world 
universally to sin ? This question the objectors are 
bound to answer. 

V. The last proof of the doctrine which I shall ad- 
duce at the present time is the death of infants. 

A great part of mankind die in infancy, before they 
are, or can be, capable of moral action, in the usual 
meaning of the phrase. Their death is attended with 
all the appai'ent sufferings usually experienced by per- 
sons of riper age, and with such suffering, at least, as 
plainly is often intense. Their death is also an ordi- 
nance of God ; a dispensation of his immediate govern- 
ment. The language of this dispensation cannot, I 
think, be mistaken ; and its meaning cannot be that of 
approbation. It is also the language, literally, of the 
curse denounced against our first parents, and the exe- 
cution of that sentence, so far as this world is concerned. 
So St Paul has directly declared, ' death has passed up- 
on all men, for that all have sinned.' ' The wages of 
sin is death.' Death, then, the fruit or wages of sin, 
the punishment denounced against it in the original 
sentence, must, I think, be acknowledged to be indubi- 
table evidence of the existence of depravity in every 
moral being, that is, every being capable of depravity, 
who is the subject of death. 



It ought here to be remembered, that death arrests 
infants in every form of distress and terror in which it 
befalls persons of riper years. They, together with 
others, are swept away by the immediate hand of God, 
in those various judgments with which he awfully pu- 
nishes mankind. They are swept away by the silent, 
awful hand of the pestilence ; are consumed by the con- 
flagration, overwhelmed by the volcano, swallowed up 
by the earthquake, and wasted by the lingering agonies 
of famine. At the same time, they suffer from man- 
kind, all the deplorable violence of war, and the unna- 
natural cruelties of persecution. 

With these facts in view, Ave are compelled to one of 
these conclusions : either that infants are contaminated 
in their moral nature, and born in the likeness of apos- 
tate Adam, a fact irresistibly proved, so far as the most 
unexceptionable analogy can prove any thing, by the 
depraved moral conduct of every infant who lives so 
long as to be capable of moral action ; or that God in- 
flicts these sufferings on moral beings who are perfectly 
innocent. I leave* the alternative to the choice of those 
who object against this doctrine. 

There are but two objections to this argument within 
my knowledge. The first is, That beyond the grave, in- 
fants may be compensated for their sufferings by receiv- 
ing superior degrees of happiness. This objection will 
be easily seen to be of no validity. It is certainly un- 
necessary for God to make infants unhappy here, in or- 
der to make them happy in any manner whatever here- 
after. Angels are made completely happy in heaven, 
without having suffered any preceding unhappiness. 
Plainly, infants might be made happy to any degree in 
the same manner. But, if the sufferings of infants are 
unnecessary, then they are causeless, on the scheme of 
this objection ; and God is supposed to create so much 
misery, merely to compensate it by so much future en- 
joyment. I think this conduct will not soberly be attri- 
buted to the Creator, since it would plainly be disgrace- 
ful to any of his intelligent creatures. 

The second objection is, That God governs the universe 
by general laws, and that in their operation, inequalities 
and evils ought to be expected. There are two answers 
to this objection. The first is, that God cannot be sup- 
posed to establish any general law which produces in- 
justice, such as the suffering of virtuous* beings must 
be acknowledged to be. The second is, that this is 
itself a general law, extending probably to one-third or 
one-fourth of the human race. The dispensation there- 
fore, and not the exceptions, is unequal and evil accord- 
ing to this scheme. Surely the difficulty is not lessened 
by such a supposition. 

It will probably be farther said, that so many diffi- 
culties attend this part of the doctrine, as to perplex 
and distress the mind no less than the suppositions al- 
ready refuted. The difficulties attending the existence 
of moral evil are, I readily acknowledge, very great, 
and they easily become very distressing, whatever 
scheme of thought we may adopt concerning this sub- 
ject ; that is, if we pursue it to any extent. But, 1 ap- 
prehend, the chief of those difficulties which necessarily 
attend us will be found to lie in the fact, that moral 
evil exists. To these we may or may not, as we please, 
add others found in the particular scheme of doctrine 
which we choose to adopt. The doctrine asserted in 
this Discourse is, I think, unanswerably supported by 
Revelation, and by facts. Of course, it adds to the 



178 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxiii. 



original difficulties inherent in the existence of moral 
evil no new ones of its own. The schemes which I am 
opposing contain, on the contrary, a new series of em- 
barrassments, besides those which are common to them 
and to the doctrine of this Discourse. The truth is, 
the subject of moral evil is too extensive and too mys- 
terious to be comprehended by our understanding. 
Some things the Scriptures teach us concerning it, and 
these are usually furnished with important evidence 
from facts. Many other things pertaining to this sub- 
ject lie wholly beyond our reach. What we can know, 
it is our duty and interest to know. Where knowledge 
is unattainable, it is both our duty and interest to trust 
humbly and submissively to the instrctions of him who 
is The Only Wise. 

But in this so difficult and perplexing dispensation, 
there is nothing more absolutely inexplicable than in 
many others which, because we are less interested in 
them, we generally consider as scarcely mysterious at°all. 
I will mention one, out of very many. The state of the 
animal world, generally, is such as to baffle all human 
investigation. Why most animals exist at all, and why 
any of them are unhappy, are subjects which defy and 
silence the most ingenious inquiries of man. Nor is it 
originally strange, that the dispensations of a Being 
whose ways are above ours, ' as the heavens are higher 
than the earth,' should be incomprehensible and inex- 
plicable by us. 

It ought to be here remembered, that that which is 
true, is not affected by any difficulty whatever, so far as 
its truth merely is concerned ; and that that which is 



known, is not rendered less certain by that which is 
unknown, whatever connexion may exist between them, 
or whatever embarrassments may arise concerning that 
which is unknown. 

It was with these views that I chose to state the doc- 
trine of this Discourse in the words in which it was ex- 
pressed. I observed, that, ' in consequence of the apos- 
tasy of Adam all have sinned.' The universality of 
sin was, I trust, proved sufficiently in two preceding 
Discourses. In this, if I mistake not, it has been proved 
that the sin of mankind has existed in consequence of 
that apostasy. By this language, I presume my audience 
understand me to intend, that if Adam had not fallen, 
sin would not have entered this world. To this single 
fact I have confined all my observations, because this is 
the simple account given in the Scriptures ; and be- 
cause I supposed it capable of being easily compre- 
hended, and satisfactorily proved. 

I shall only add, that a cause of human depravity is 
here alleged, of which all the characteristics mentioned 
in the commencement of this Discourse may be truly 
predicated : viz. the corruption of that energy of the 
mind whence volitions flow, and which I have hereto- 
fore asserted to be the seat of moral character in ration- 
al beings. This cause must be acknowledged to be 
universal, to be everywhere the same, and not to have 
always existed. It must also be conceded that it began 
to exist, according to the Scriptures, as early as the 
effects, which have given birth to all our inquiries con- 
cerning the corruption of mankind. 



SERMON XXXIII. 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN: REMARKS. 



Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin ; and so death hath passed upon all 

men, for that all have sinned. — Rom. vi. 12. 



In the four preceding Discourses I have endeavoured 
to show the universality and extent of human corrup- 
tion, and its existence in consequence of the apostasy of 
Adam. It is now my design to subjoin to the observa- 
tions made in these Discourses several Remarks, natu- 
rally arising from the consideration of this subject, and 
of no inconsiderable importance. The end of all doc- 
trinal preaching is to persuade men cordially to receive 
truth, that they may be governed by it in their conduct ; 
and of preaching, in any particular instance, to persuade 
them thus to receive one truth, in order to their recep- 
tion of others. 

From doctrines so important and so absolutely funda- 
mental as those which have occupied these Discourses, 
very numerous inferences of great moment cannot fail to 
be drawn by a mind addicted to solemn contemplation. 
A small number of them only can, however, be men- 
tioned -with advantage in a single sermon. For the 
present occasion I have selected the following : 

I. It is evident from the last of these Discourses, that 
the corruption of man is not the result of any given 



form of government, nor of any given character in 
rulers. 

At this subject I have glanced in a former Discourse 
but have reserved the more extensive discussion which 
it merits for the present occasion. 

It has been frequently and triumphantly said, parti- 
cularly in modern times, that the corruption of man- 
kind is wholly artificial, and owes its existence to civilized 
society ; particularly to the form and administration of 
government, and to the civil and ecclesiastical rulers of 
mankind. 

The method in which these orders of men are sup- 
posed to have corrupted their fellow men is, that of 
oppression ; at least this is considered as the chief in- 
strument of the corruption, and is supposed to operate 
principally in two ways ; viz. keeping them poor, and 
keeping them ignorant. 

It ought, undoubtedly to be acknowledged, that the 
rulers of mankind have extensively corrupted them ; 
that they have also greatly oppressed them ; and that 
by keeping them poor and ignorant, they have contri' 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



179 



buted, in a very great and guilty degree, to the increase 
of their corruption. It ought to be farther acknow- 
ledged, that rulers, and other men of wealth and in- 
fluence, have much more effectually and extensively 
corrupted their fellow men by example, art, and seduc- 
tion ; by exhibiting to them powerful temptations, 
placing within their reach the means of sin, making 
the path to perpetration smooth, easy, and safe, and 
presenting to them arguments, ingeniously and labori- 
ously contrived to justify them in the commission, than 
they have ever done by both the methods alleged above. 
The philosophers with whom I am contending, have 
probably insisted less on this source of human corrup- 
tion, partly because they wished to render the men in 
question odious, and thought this an efficacious mean of 
accomplishing their purpose ; and partly because they 
were sensible that themselves were deeply implicated in 
the charge of corrupting mankind in the manner last 
mentioned. So far as argument and influence have 
increased the turpitude of the human character, few 
men are chargeable with so great a share of the guilt. 
Their arguments concerning moral subjects have been 
commonly mere means of seduction, and their example 
has only seconded their arguments. A host of ancient 
philosophers were banished from Rome as a public 
nuisance. Had a large proportion of modern ones 
lived in the same city, at the same time, there is little 
reason to doubt that they would have shared the same 
fate, for the same reason. 

The form of government also, in some cases, and the 
peculiar administration of it in others, have undoubt- 
edly contributed in a distinguished degree to the de- 
pravation of mankind. Monarchies have produced this 
effect by immense patronage ; by the operations of 
despotic power, demanding and effectuating a slavish 
dependence, and a base sacrifice of principle, in their 
subjects ; by splendour, luxury, war, and a general dis- 
soluteness of manners. Republican governments, al- 
though in certain circumstances more favourable to 
virtue, have yet at times been equally pernicious, by 
furnishing opportunities and strong temptations for the 
sacrifice of integrity at elections, for caballing, bribery, 
faction, private ambition, bold contentions for place and 
power, and that civil discord which is naturally accom- 
panied by the prostration of morality and religion. 
Thus Rome, in the time of Marius and Sylla, de- 
generated with inconceivable rapidity. This example 
many other republics have been but too willing to fol- 
low. The heathen priests and princes also, although 
generally believing in the most serious manner the 
miserable, demoralizing idolatry which they professed, 
found a deep interest in the establishment of their re- 
ligious systems, and the deplorable corruption by which 
they were of course attended. 

The Romish hierarchy, uniting in itself all authority 
both secular and ecclesiastical, presented immense in- 
ducements to the love of wealth, power, splendour, and 
sensuality, and vast means of gratifying these corrupt 
propensities of the human heart. At the same time, it 
held out the most efficacious motives to the perpetuation 
of these enjoyments by keeping mankind in a state of 
abject ignorance, slavery, and corruption. In this man- 
ner it contributed more to this dreadful purpose than 
any other political system which the world has ever 
seen. Like the mountains piled up by the giants, it 
seemed, for a time, to menace heaven itself with the 



loss of its dominion over the earth, and, like the deluge, 
swept from this world almost every thing which had 
life. 

It must farther be conceded, that amongst Protestant 
ministers, although plainly the most unblameable and 
exemplary class of men who in equal numbers have 
ever appeared in this world, there have not been want- 
ing those who, by means of their latitudinarian doc- 
trines and loose lives, have exercised a malignant 
influence over their fellow men, and contributed in a 
serious degree to the depravation of the human cha- 
racter. 

Finally : Infidel philosophers of modern times have 
surpassed, in the wonderful rapidity and success with 
which they have dissolved the human character, and 
destroyed the very remembrance of principle, even the 
portentous mischiefs of the Romish hierarchy. Were 
it not that such nuisances to the world are in their very 
nature incapable of operating with such efficacy for any 
long continuance, they would change the earth into a 
desert, where no principle would spring, and no hap- 
piness grow. Like the Genii, fabled in Arabian tales, 
they would enchant the towns and cities of this world 
with a more than magic wand, and where rational and 
immortal beings once lived and acted, where morals 
flourished, religion scattered her blessings, and the 
worship of God ascended to heaven as the odour of 
sweet incense, leave nothing but the forms of men, with- 
out motion, without life, without souls ; imprisoned be- 
yond the hope of escape within their encompassing 
walls, and surrounded by nothing but silence, solitude, 
and death. 

These concessions will, it is presumed, be thought 
sufficiently liberal and ample. Still the doctrine against 
which they have been pleaded is not even remotely 
affected by them, but stands in full force, and on the 
basis of conclusive evidence. For, 

1. The subjects of virtuous rulers have been deeply 
depraved. 

Rulers, although in a great majority of instances 
corrupt, and in many wonderfully corrupt, have yet in 
many others been virtuous, and in some eminently vir- 
tuous. It will not, as with truth it plainly cannot, he 
denied that virtuous rulers have had a real and happy 
influence in reforming those whom they governed. 
The example and efforts of all men in high authority 
have ever been efficacious ; if good, to encourage vir- 
tue ; if evil, to promote vice. The good which virtuous 
rulers have done has not been here merely negative ; 
that is, they have not merely ceased to corrupt their 
fellow men, but with a positive efficacy they have di- 
rectly contributed to make them better. This is so 
evident from uniform experience, that an attempt to 
prove it would be only a waste of time. Example and 
influence are proverbially powerful even in private life, 
and no man needs to be informed that they are more 
effectual in the chair of authority than in the cottage. 
Nor will any man acquainted with history deny, that 
David, Hezekiah, and Josiah ; the Maccabees, Alfred 
the Great, Edward VI., or the two elder Gustavuses, 
reformed in a serious degree the nations over whom 
they presided. 

Still it is equally well known to all persons of infor- 
mation, that no ruler and no succession of rulers ever 
changed the native character of man in any such man- 
ner, as to make the nations whom they governed gene- 



180 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



rally virtuous, or at all to lessen the evidence which 
supports the doctrine of universal depravity. What 
they have done we style with metaphysical exactness, 
reformation ; that is, forming anew the moral character 
which they actually found, and which only was every- 
where the subject of their efforts. In our very language 
we thus testify, unwillingly perhaps, that the moral cha- 
racter of our race is such as needs to be formed anew ; 
or, in other words, is depraved. Even this reformation, 
good rulers have accomplished with great labour and 
difficulty ; and it was confined to a number of instances 
in a melancholy degree moderate. Of this truth fla- 
grant proof has been furnished in the sudden and deplo- 
rable revival of all kinds of iniquity, at the moment 
when the restraining influence of a good ruler has been 
taken away by death, and new license has been given to 
the free indulgence of the native human propensities, 
by the succession of a wicked prince to the sceptre. 
Such a prince has had more influence to corrupt a na- 
tion in a year, than a virtuous one to amend them dur- 
ing his whole reign. Manasseh pulled down in a day 
what Hezekiah had been building up through his life. 
Or perhaps, in more exact language, what virtuous 
princes accomplish with such vast labour, dissolves of 
itself, under the malignant influence of corruption uni- 
versally experienced, and universally operating, when- 
ever that corruption is freed from the restraints imposed 
on it by virtue seated upon the throne. Were the mind 
of man originally inclined to virtue, this would be im- 
possible. 

2. Those subjects who have been raised above the 
oppression and ignorance contended for, have not been 
more free than others from this depravity. 

If the oppression and ignorance specified were indeed 
the causes of this corruption, then the corruption ought 
not to be extended to those subjects who were neither 
ignorant nor oppressed. But we do not find these men, 
in fact, any better than their fellow subjects. 

On the contrary, the more that men have possessed 
the means of pleasure and sin, the more wealth, inde- 
pendence, and self-control they have enjoyed, the more 
corrupt they have usually been. How often do we see 
a youth, or a poor man, by coming suddenly to opulence 
and high personal independence, lose his former sober, 
decent character, and become at once grossly immoral. 
So common is this fact as to be proverbially remarked, 
and to be the foundation of important prudential max- 
ims concerning the management of our children. All 
observing men, even of the most ordinary education, 
hold it as a fundamental doctrine of experience, that it 
is harder to bear prosperity than adversity. 

Men of science, learning, and extensive information 
have, in the meantime, been to a great extent exceed- 
ingly corrupt and wicked ; incomparably more so, in 
degree, than the ignorant ; and proportionally as much 
so in the number of instances. The ancient philoso- 
phers, the most learned and intelligent men of the hea- 
then world, were very generally gross examples of sin. 
Infidel philosophers in modern times have, in this respect, 
certainly not fallen behind them. Of the former of 
these assertions, Cicero, Plutarch, Lucian, Seneca, and 
Diogenes Laertius, themselves philosophers, are ample 
and unimpeachable witnesses ; of the latter, the writings 
and lives of the philosophers themselves. The truth is, 
as any man who knows any thing of the subject readily 
discerns, knowledge is a thing entirely distinct from 



virtue, not necessarily connected with it, and without 
virtue, is but too often the means of ingenious, power- 
ful, and dreadful iniquity. There is not a reason fur- 
nished by experience to induce a belief, that the increase 
of knowledge is of course the increase of virtue. 

3. In those states of society where rulers have the 
least influence which is possible in the present world, 
men are not less vicious in proportion to their power of 
being vicious, than they are where rulers have the 
greatest influence. 

For complete proof of this assertion I appeal to the 
state of the aboriginal Americans. In the state of so- 
ciety existing among these people, men are as inde- 
pendent, and as little influenced by power, authority, 
and governmental example, as men living together can 
be. Here neither kings, nor nobles, nor priests, have 
any other weight or control than that which springs of 
course from the mere gathering together of human be- 
ings. Yet no man who knows any thing of the morals of 
these people, can hesitate to acknowledge them corrupt 
in a degree enormous and dreadful. Fraud, falsehood, 
lewdness, drunkenness, treachery, malice, cruelty, and 
murder, acted out in the most deplorable manner, are 
strong and dreadful features of the whole savage charac- 
ter. Here then, the vice exists anterior to artificial so- 
ciety, and in the state nearest to that which is called 
' the state of nature.' What is true of the American 
savages is true of all others ; and universally furnishes 
undeniable proof of fearful depravity, originally inher- 
ent in man, and wholly independent of the causes al- 
leged in this objection. 

4. Republics have been equally corrupt with monar- 
chies. 

In republics the influence and the oppression of kings 
are unknown. If then republics have been no less cor- 
rupt than monarchies, regal oppression and influence 
are falsely alleged as the proper and original causes of 
human depravity ; since here they do not exist. In the 
most absolute freedom ever found in republics, wicked- 
ness has been as truly the character of men as in king- 
doms. This character also has been equally depraved, 
not in all instances I readily grant, but in more than 
enough to establish the doctrine. Carthage, Rome, 
Athens, Sparta, Venice, the Grison states, and republi- 
can France, are undeniable examples. It ought parti- 
cularly to be remarked, that republics have usually op- 
pressed their provinces with more unfeeling cruelty 
than monarchies. Their own freedom, therefore, has 
not made them at all more friendly, but less so, to the 
freedom and happiness of their fellow men. The de- 
plorable vassalage, existing in our own country to an 
enormous extent, is a flagrant and melancholy, although 
it may be thought an invidious proof of this assertion. 
If then some republics have been distinguished by a 
higher degree of virtue, as has undoubtedly been the 
fact, the cause was not their freedom, for that has uni- 
versally existed and operated, but something peculiar 
to themselves. 

5. In the republics which have been most distin- 
guished for virtue, ministers of the gospel have had the 
greatest influence. 

Switzerland, Holland, Massachusetts, and Connecti- 
cut have long, by general acknowledgment, been placed 
among the most virtuous republics. But in all these, 
clergymen have had more influence than in any other. 
On the contrary, where clergymen have had little influ- 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



J81 



ence, there has been comparatively but very little virtue. 
Of this truth, instances are numerous, and at hand. 
They are also too clear to admit of a doubt. The ge- 
neral voice of mankind has decided this point, and from 
this voice there can be no appeal. 

Hence it is evident that the influence of clergymen 
is so far from contributing to the corruption of man- 
kind, upon the whole, that it has meliorated their cha- 
racter most where it has most prevailed, and rendered 
them materially better than they have been elsewhere. 
I speak here, it will be observed, only of Protestant mi- 
nisters of the gospel. I know it has been the custom of 
infidels to group them together with Romish priests, to 
whom of all men they have been most opposed, and 
whom they more than any other men have contributed 
to overthrow : and with heathen priests, w ith whom they 
have nothing in common, except the essential charac- 
teristics of men, and a title at times applied to both ; a 
mere generic name, formed by the same letters indeed, 
but meaning in the different applications, things as un- 
like as folly and wisdom, holiness and sin. As well 
might Newton, Locke, Butler, and Boyle, be united in 
a monstrous assemblage with Spinosa, Voltaire, Diderot, 
and Condorcet, because they have all been styled philo- 
sophers ; Alfred twinned with Kouli Khan, because 
they have both been called kings ; and Sydenham be 
coupled with an Indian Powwaw, because they have 
both been named physicians. 

It ought farther to be observed as a universal truth, 
that in all Protestant countries, the countries where 
virtue has flourished more than in any other, the exist- 
ence of virtue has been exactly proportioned to the in- 
fluence of ministers of the gospel. All real virtue is 
the effect of the gospel crowned with the divine bless- 
ing. But wherever the gospel has the greatest effects, 
its ministers are the most respected and influential ; for 
the principal efficacy of the gospel is conveyed through 
their preaching, candidly and kindly received. Scot- 
land may be mentioned as a strong instance of this ge- 
neral truth. In that country, under a regal govern- 
ment, and amid the influence of a powerful body of no- 
bles, supposed by my antagonist to be so hostile to the 
existence of virtue, there has, perhaps, long been less 
vice and more virtue, than in any European country of 
equal extent. Yet there the influence of clergymen 
has, in all probability, been greater than in any other 
Protestant country. 

6. In a state of anarchy, virtue is uniformly at the 
lowest ebb, and vice most prevalent and dreadful. 

In a state of anarchy all lawful authority and regular 
influence, both civil and ecclesiastical, are extinguished, 
and lose therefore whatever efficacy they may be sup- 
posed to possess towards the corruption of mankind. 
Yet of all situations in which society can be placed, 
anarchy is the most pernicious to the morals of men. 
Of this truth we have proverbial evidence in the great 
practical maxim, that ' no people can exist for any 
length of time in a state of anarchy.' Of the soundness 
of this important doctrine our own country, during the 
late revolution, gave sufficient proof. When the re- 
straints of government and religion were only partially 
taken off, men became vicious in a moment, to a de- 
gree here unexampled. I myself have seen a number 
of men, commonly sober, decent, moral, and orderly in 
their deportment, lose, upon joining a mob, even the 
appearance of these characteristics, and exhibit more 



and grosser vice in a few hours than in many preceding- 
years. 

The restraints of government and religion are, there- 
fore, so far from making men worse upon the whole, 
that without them men become so profligate as to ren- 
der it impossible for them even to live together. All 
this is indeed very easily understood. Government, in 
the great body of cases, restrains men only from vice ; 
and religion, that is, the religion of the gospel, in eve- 
ry case. The sanctions of government are protection 
to those who obey, and punishment to those who dis- 
obey. The sanctions of religion are endless rewards 
to virtue, and endless punishments to sin. That these 
sanctions promote vice is a paradox which I leave to 
be solved by others. He who can solve it will prove 
in his solution, that men are disposed to be virtuous 
and vicious, without motives to either ; and to be vir- 
tuous only under the influence of the strongest motives 
to vice, and vicious only under the influence of the 
strongest motives to virtue. The honour of this disco- 
very I shall not dispute with any man who is willing to 
claim it as his own. 

The truth plainly is, and ever has been, mankind as 
a body are uniformly more or less Avicked in propor- 
tion to the means which they possess of vicious indul- 
gence, and to the temptations with which they are sur- 
rounded. Kings, nobles, and all others possessed of 
wealth, power, talents, and influence, although having 
the same nature with other men, are usually more vi- 
cious, because these things furnish them with ampler 
means of sin, and stronger temptations. Mediocrity of 
life, on the contrary, has ever been believed by wise 
men among heathens, as well as Christians, to be the 
state most favourable to virtue, and has, therefore, pro- 
verbially been styled the golden mean. Agur has taught 
this doctrine from the mouth of God. Experience and 
common sense have given it their fullest attestation. 

Even poverty and persecution have in many instances 
proved favourable to morals and religion. The poverty 
of Sparta was a prime source of whatever was honour- 
able in its character ; and Christianity flourished amid 
the sufferings of its martyrs. 

From these observations it is evident, that the de- 
pravity of man exists independently of every state of 
society, and is found in every situation in which man is 
found ; that it exists wherever oppression is, and where- 
ever it is not ; with and without the authority or influ- 
ence of privileged men ; in the independent savage, 
and the abject slave of Asiatic despotism ; in the wild 
Arabian, and the silken courtier : in the prince who is 
above all law, and the peasant who is subjected to every 
law. The scheme which I am opposing is, therefore, a 
mere plaything of doubting Philosophy, making for 
herself worlds as children make soap-bubbles, amusing 
herself less rationally, and hoping for their permanency 
with more egregious credulity 

II. It is evident from these Discourses that the scheme 
of human 'perfectibility is without any foundation. 

There are two methods, in which this truth may be 
satisfactorily evinced. 
1. From fact. 

Mankind have in every age laboured with great 
earnestness to perfect the human character. The im- 
mense toils of education have been intentionally direct- 
ed to this end. Schools and colleges without number 
have been erected, multitudes of wise and industrious 



182 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. XXXIII, 



men have laboured through life, books have been writ- 
ten, laws have been enacted, and magistrates have been 
employed in an almost endless multitude, for the same 
great purpose. Nay, God has himself revealed his own 
will ; requiring with infinite authority, instructing with 
infinite wisdom, and urging with infinite motives, that 
men should become virtuous. The Redeemer of man- 
kind was born, lived, and died ; the Spirit of grace 
has descended, influenced, and blessed ; the worship 
of God has regularly been celebrated through a great 
part of the ivorld ; and a vast succession of wise and 
faithful ministers have spent life, to accomplish this glo- 
rious design. Yet how little has been done ! How- 
few have been seriously amended ! What one has been 
raised to perfection ? Trace the history, search the 
race of man, and tell me where he is to be found. 

Shall we then believe that the schemes of modern 
philosophy will accomplish what all preceding philoso- 
phers, and men much wiser than philosophers, what the 
word of God, the redemption of his Son, and the com- 
munications of his Spirit have never yet accomplished ? 
Can human perfection be the result of a benevolence 
which, indeed, utters good works, but is a total stranger 
to good actions : which is occupied in lamenting while 
it should relieve ; which says to the poor, the hungry, 
and the naked, ' Depart in peace ; be ye warmed, and 
be ye filled ;' which is exhaled in sighs, and emptied 
out in tears ; which shrinks from the cottage of poverty, 
and withdraws its icy hand from the supplication of 
distress ; which agonizes over imagined sufferers in 
Japan, but can neither see nor hear real ones at its own 
door ; which deplores the disastrous fate of profligates 
and villains, and arraigns the justice which consigns 
them to the jail or the gibbet ; but exults in the ruin of 
worth, the destruction of human peace, and the contem- 
plated devastation of a world ? Can the perfection of 
man be the result of intelligence which dictates, as the 
happiest state of society, a community of labours, in 
which the idle would literally do nothing, and the in- 
dustrious nothing more than to supply their own absolute 
wants ; a community of property, in which little would 
be earned, and much of that little wasted on mere lust, 
and the remainder lost, because none would preserve 
what none expected to enjoy ; a community of wives, in 
which affection would cease, principle vanish, furious 
animosity distract, and fierce revenge assassinate ; and 
in which children would grow up, when they did not 
perish in infancy, without a known father, without com- 
fortable subsistence, without education, without worth, 
without a name ? When men become immortal by 
medicine and moral energy, according to the dreams of 
the same philosophy, they may perhaps become perfect 
by the proposed schemes of its discipline. 

To such persons as insist that the melioration sug- 
gested has failed, because the means used were imper- 
fectly fitted to accomplish the end, I answer: If the end 
were possible, it is reasonable to believe that amid so 
great a variety, extent, and continuance of these means, 
directed to this end by the highest human wisdom, some 
one system would have succeeded. As these have all 
failed, it cannot be rationally doubted that all others 
will fail. Those, particularly, which are now offered 
as substitutes, promise not even the remotest degree of 
success ; and are, on the other hand, fraught with the 
most portentous threatenings of absolute ruin. To these 
things I will add, that the authors of them, on whom 



their efficacy ought first to be proved, are farther re- 
moved from virtue than mankind in general. Until 
their own character, therefore, is materially changed for 
the better, they may be unanswerably addressed with 
the forcible Jewish proverb, ' Physician, heal thyself.' 

2. It is also clearly evinced by the nature of the case. 

The depravity of man is a part of his constitution, of 
his nature, of himself. To perfect his character, it 
would be necessary to change him into a new creature ; 
and separate a part of that which makes him what he is ; 
viz. his moral character. It would be equally rational 
to say, that man in the present world can become a 
flying creature, as that he can become a perfect crea- 
ture. If he can be turned into a bird, he may also, 
perhaps, be changed into an angel. All that has 
been hitherto done, and therefore all that will here- 
after be done, is to confine one class of his desires, viz. 
those which" are sinful by their excess, within juster 
bounds ; and to prevent in some measure the risings of 
the other, viz. those which are sinful in their nature. 
Until more than this shall be effected, the world will be 
equally and justly astonished at the folly which could 
persuade Godwin that a plough could be made to move 
through a field of itself, and that man could be ren- 
dered perfect by his scheme of discipline. 

III. From these Discourses it is evident, that the 
fundamental principle of moral and political science, so 
far as man is concerned, is his depravity. 

It will not be questioned, that virtuous and depraved 
beings differ from each other radically, nor that the 
science of the one must, of course, differ in its funda- 
mental principles from the science of the other. A phi- 
losopher might, if possessed of competent knowledge, 
describe exactly the character of an angel, and yet 
scarcely say any thing except what pertains to a moral 
being as such, which would be at all applicable to the 
character of man. A book, displaying the whole nature 
and conduct of our first parents in Paradise, would con- 
tain scarcely any thing descriptive of their apostate 
descendants. But all science of this nature is founded 
in facts, and is formed of facts, and the relations which 
spring from them. The first great fact in the science 
of man is, that he is a depraved being. This is the'first 
and fundamental fact, because out of it arise, and by it 
are characterized, all his volitions, and all his conduct. 
Hence every thing pertaining to man is coloured and 
qualified by this part of his moral nature, and no de- 
scription of him can be true, and no doctrine sound or 
defensible into which this consideration does not essen- 
tially enter ; equally true is it, that no system of regu- 
lations can be practically suited to him, or fitted to con- 
trol his conduct with success or efficacy, which is not 
founded on the same principle. 

From these observations it is evident, that much of 
what is published and received as moral and political 
science, is only ' science fabely so called.' It considers 
man as originally a virtuous being, accidentally, and in 
some small degrees, warped from the path of rectitude, 
and always ready to return to it again ; deceived and 
abused by insidious and peculiarly corrupted indivi- 
duals, but, left to himself, designing nothing beside what 
is good, and uttering nothing but what is true. This 
indeed is a character ' devoutly to be wished :' but the 
picture is without an original ; in the language of 
painters, a mere fancy-piece : and it would be as easy 
to find the human character in a gryphon of Ariosto, or 



DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



183 



the sylphs, gnomes, and nymphs of Rosicrucius, as in a 
library filled with this species of philosophy. 

Were these systems to terminate in speculation only, 
their authors might be permitted to dream on without 
disturbance. But unhappily, their doctrines are made 
the foundation and directory of personal conduct, and 
public administration. Rules of private life, municipal 
laws, and other governmental regulations, are drawn 
from these pleasing, but merely hypothetical doctrines ; 
and are intended, and expected actually to control men 
and their affairs, so as to effectuate good order, peace, 
and prosperity. Here the influence of systems, which 
proceed according to this scheme, becomes eminently 
dangerous, malignant, and fatal. All the measures 
founded on them are fitted for the inhabitants of some 
other planet, or the natives of fairy-land, or the forms 
which haunt the dreams of a distempered fancy, with an 
incomparably better adaptation than for men. Of course 
1 they can never become practical or useful to such beings 
as really exist in this world, impatient even of necessary 
' restraints ; selfish, covetous, proud, envious, wrathful, 
I revengeful, lewd, forgetful of God, and hostile to each 
other. Open your eyes on the beings around you ; cast 
• them back on the annals of history ; turn them inward 
upon yourselves, and you will find ample and over- 
whelming proof of the truth of these observations. 

On this fundamental folly was founded all those vain, 
empty, miserable systems of policy which, in a por- 
I tentous succession, deluded republican France into 
' misery and ruin. In the treatises, laws, and measures 
brought into being in that nation, during its late won- 
■■ derful struggle to become free, the people were urii- 
i formly declared to be good, honest, virtuous, influenced 
li only by the purest motives, and aiming only at the best 
I ends. These very people, at the same time, were em- 
ployed in little else except unceasing plunder, uniform 
treachery, the violation of all laws, the utterance of all 

■ falsehood, the murder of their king, nobles, and clergy, 
' and all the boundless butchery of each other. In a 

state of immorality, in a prostration of all principle, at 
I which even this sinful world stood aghast, this despica- 
il ble flattery was continually reiterated, and the miserable 
objects of it very naturally concluded that, as they were 
praised while they were doing these things, they were 
, praised for doing them. Of course they were fixed in 
I this conduct beyond recall. Every malignant passion 
was let loose, the reins were thrown upon the neck of 
every sordid appetite, the people became a collection of 
wild beasts, and the country a den of ravage and slaugh- 
ter. In this situation nothing could restrain them but 

■ force. The wretches who by their songs and incanta- 
tions had called up the fiends of mischief, could not 
lay them ; but became, in an enormous and horrid 

: succession, victims of their own spells, and were offered 
i up by hundreds to the sanguinary Moloch which they 
i had so absurdly and wickedly idolized, 
i Sound and true policy will always consider man as 
, he is, and treat him accordingly. Its measures will be 
! universally calculated for depraved beings, and it will, 
- therefore, never hesitate to establish every necessary 
restraint. Whatever is good in man it will regard as 
i the result of wise, careful, efficacious discipline, realized 

■ and blessed by God. Such discipline, therefore, it will 
; regularly establish, protect, and encourage. Honest, 

well disposed, and orderly citizens, it will protect ; the 
violation of private rights, and the disturbers of public 



peace, it will punish. Nor will its restraints and punish- 
ments stop, until they have gained in some good mea- 
sure their end. 

IV. From these Discourses it is evident, that the re- 
demption of Christ was absolutely necessary to mankind. 

If man is a depraved creature, it is plainly impossible 
that he should be justified by the law of God. When 
he comes before his Maker, to ' be judged according to 
his works,' he must be declared to have done evil, be- 
cause he has in fact done it. The law has declared, 
that ' the soul which sinneth shall die :' by the law, 
therefore, he must die, because he has sinned. Of 
course God cannot pronounce him just, or acquit him 
of guilt, because he is guilty. Under mere law, the 
only situation in which he can be, independently of the 
redemption of Christ, he can never be justified nor 
rewarded, but must be condemned and punished. In 
this situation, an atonement for his sins, such as God 
with propriety can and will accept, is just as necessary 
for man as his salvation. No being in the universe 
could, so far as we are able to discern, render this 
atonement except Christ. All other beings are, in the 
nature of things, under every possible obligation to 
render to God all the services in their power, as their 
own proper obedience, an obedience indispensably ne- 
cessary for their own justification. A supererogatory 
service does not appear to be possible for any created 
being, as there is no service which he can render to 
God which is not his indispensable duty. Thus, so far 
as we are able to discern, the atonement of Christ is ab- 
solutely necessary for the human race, and without it 
we can conceive of no possible way of salvation. 

V. The same doctrine equally teaches the absolute 
necessity of regeneration to mankind. 

That ' without holiness no man shall see the Lord,' is 
a doctrine so evidently rational and just, that it cannot 
but be believed by every sober man, even independently 
of the express declaration of the Scriptures. But with- 
out regeneration man is only unholy, and can therefore 
never ' see the Lord.' The first great effect of the re- 
demption of Christ is to render it possible for man to 
become holy, in order to his justification and accep- 
tance. Had the dispensation stopped here, man would 
still have been lost. The next step in this wonderful 
procedure is the renovation of man, or that implanta- 
tion of holiness in his heart, styled in the Scriptures, 
regeneration, or the new birth. From the commence- 
ment of this great change in his character, he becomes 
the subject of evangelical holiness ; of real piety, real 
benevolence, real self-government, or, generally, of real 
obedience to God. All his obedience, however, is im- 
perfect, and could not be accepted but for the sake of 
Christ. His mediation, his righteousness, is ' the sweet 
incense ' which perfumes every offering and act of man, 
and renders it acceptable before that pure and awful 
Being, ' in whose sight the heavens themselves are not 
clean.' But, though imperfectly holy, man when re- 
newed is really holy. ' There is some good thing found 
in him towards the Lord God of Israel.' This, as a 
seed of inestimable worth, is seen by the all-searching 
eye to promise a future and eternal production of fruits, 
invaluable in their nature, and endless in their multitude. 

VI. With equal evidence we are here taught the 
necessity of the mission of the Holy Spirit. 

The Holy Spirit is the only author of the regenera- 
tion of man. That which is born of the flesh is flesh : 



184 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxih. 






that which is bom of the Spirit is spirit.' ' Except a 
man be born of the Spirit, he cannot see the kingdom 
of God.' ' Not by works of righteousness which we have 
done, but according to his own mercy he saved us, by the 
washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy 
Ghost.' As, therefore, regeneration is absolutely ne- 
cessary to man, and as man is renewed only by the 
Holy Spirit, so the mission of the Spirit is as necessary 
to man as his regeneration, and both are no less neces- 
sary than his eternal life. 

On these three great evangelical doctrines I have 
here descanted very briefly, because they will hereafter 
be primary subjects of investigation. They have been 
now mentioned chiefly to show their connexion with 
the doctrine of human depravity, and the manner in 
which they necessarily arise out of this part of the 
scriptural scheme. 

VII. The same considerations also teach us the man- 
ner in which a preacher ought to address mankind. 

Every congregation will be regarded by a minister of 
Christ, who discerns this doctrine to be what it plainly 
is, a leading doctrine of the Scriptures, as a collection 
of depraved, guilty beings, exposed to endless punish- 
ment for their sins. On this basis will all his sermons 
be founded ; and to this point -will they all refer. He 
will exhort them to repent ; because they are sinners, 
and therefore need repentance. He will exhort them 
to believe in Christ because they cannot save them- 
selves, and because He can, and if they believe in him, 
will save them. He will teach them to seek for pardon 
of God : because they are sinners, and must either be 
pardoned or lost ; to rely on the grace of God for their 
justification, because they have no merit of their own ; 
and if they depend on their own righteousness, cannot 
be saved ; and to feel the necessity of sanctification, be- 
cause ' without holiness no man shall see the Lord ;' and 
because without the sanctification of the Spirit of grace, 
no man can become holy. 

The ' terrors of the law ' he will set before his hear- 
ers in their own awful light ; because by these, and by 
nothing but these, such beings can ordinarily ' be per- 
suaded.' The gospel he will declare to be ' glad tidings 
of great joy ;' because it is the news of forgiveness, jus- 
tification, and everlasting life, to sinners who would 
otherwise perish. Mercy he will unfold as the peculiar 
'• glory of God in the highest,' and as eminently dis- 
played when ' peace and good-will ' are published to 
mankind. The distinguishing excellence of the Re- 
deemer he will explain to be his willingness ' to seek 
and save that which was lost' The duty of Christians, 
now become peculiarly their duty, he will teach to con- 
sist ' in denying all ungodliness and worldly lusts, and 
living soberly, righteously, and godly in the world.' 
Thus, whether God or man, the law or the gospel, hea- 
ven or hell, morality or piety, are the themes of his 
preaching, he will make the corruption of the human 
heart the foundation on which all will be built, the great 
point to which all will be continually referred. 

These are subjects of preaching which cannot fail to 
interest the preacher who really believes them, or the 
hearers who listen to them with serious attention. They 
state to man, they bring to full view, they carry home 
to the heart, his real condition and only hope. He 
sees, if not prevented by sottish sloth or criminal pre- 
judice, that the whole is the truth of God, truth infinite- 
ly important to himself, * commending' itself ' to his 



conscience,' explaining his danger, disclosing the only 
way of escape, unfolding deliverance from hell, and 
pointing out the path to heaven. The preacher who 
utters these things is readily believed to have a real 
meaning, when he speaks of the solemnity and impor- 
tance of religion, and presses upon his hearers the ne- 
cessity of embracing it. They clearly discern that there 
is something, which they easily comprehend, to be done 
by them, and a momentous reason why it should be 
done : that a change real, great, and indispensable, is to 
be accomplished in their character, and that, unless it 
is accomplished, they must perish. Christianity hence 
assumes a solemnity which can be derived from no 
other considerations, and accords with no other scheme. 

The preacher who regards man as originally virtuous, 
can neither explain to him his guilt nor his danger, 
show him the necessity of Christ's mediation, or the 
importance of an interest in it, explain to him the value 
of faith, or the use of repentance, nor exhort him to fly 
to the mercy of God for forgiveness or sanctification. 
He urges, therefore, a religion in which both his hear- 
ers and himself find little interest. His addresses to 
them are naturally made up of cold, common-place mo- 
rality, such as Plato taught long since, and taught much 
better, or at least with greater force. They of course 
become dull and lifeless, unfrequent visitors to the house 
of God ; and when there, are rarely of that number 
' who have ears to hear.' 

VIII. In the same manner are all men taught how they 
ought to regard themselves in their religious concerns. 

The question, What will become of me hereafter ? is 
of infinite moment to every child of Adam, and is to be 
always determined by the true answer to another, Am I 
virtuous or sinful ? 

The man who commences his moral course with a 
full conviction of his guilt, his exposure to the wrath of 
God, and his danger of final condemnation, will, if he 
goes on, direct his feet into a path widely distant from 
that which is pursued by men directed by the contrary 
doctrines. To such a man, all the accounts given in 
the Scriptures, and in religious discourses built on the 
Scriptures, concerning human guilt and danger, will be 
true and important. The tidings of redemption will be 
to him ' tidings of great joy/ because they are directed 
to such a creature as himself. Christ to him will be in- 
finitely precious, because he is the Saviour of sinners. 
The renewing power and goodness of the Spirit of 
grace will appear to him unspeakably necessary and 
desirable, because, without this divine energy exerted 
on his heart, he will be a sinner for ever. To the atone- 
ment of Christ, he will fly for refuge, because he can- 
not make an atonement for himself! To the purifying 
influence of the Divine Spirit he wilNook for his pre- Ij 
servation in holiness, and his safe arrival in the king- 
dom of life, because he will know that he cannot pre- 
serve nor conduct himself to that kingdom. 

As a sinner he will feel himself guilty, condemned, 
and ruined ; but, as an object of the divine mercy, he 
will see glorious hopes dawning upon him from heaven. 
Separated from Christ, he will feel that he ' can do no- 
thing ' effectual towards his salvation ; but, as a candi- 
date for heaven, by faith, repentance, and holiness, he 
will discern that ' all things' may be done for him by 
the Spirit of God. Left to himself, he will perceive 
that he must die for ever, but that in Christ he may for 
ever live, 



MAN NOT JUSTIFIABLE BY WORKS. 



185 



With these views, all his self-examination, prayers, 
praises, hopes, resolutions, and efforts, will take their 
peculiar character from the great truth, that he is a de- 
praved, ruined creature. His whole life, therefore, will 
be the life of a believing, penitent, and returning sin- 
ner, owing infinite blessings to the mere grace of God ; 
and he will find more to animate his love, faithfulness, 
and gratitude, than an angel with the same powers 
could feel, because he is a forgiven and restored crea- 
ture ; forgiven an immense debt, and restored to holi- 
ness and endless life. 

But if a sinner feels himself to be originally virtuous, 
he will feebly realize his guilt, his danger, or his need 
of a Saviour. The necessity of being born again, of 
being sanctified, guided, and quickened, by the Spirit of' 
God, he cannot know. Justification he will regard as 
due to him, as the proper reward of his merit and holi- 



ness, as his original character, the native growth of his 
mind. He may, indeed, admit it to be imperfect, and 
to require some additions ; yet even these he will esteem 
rather as advantageous than necessary. Christ he will 
consider rather as a convenience, as an auxiliary to 
him, than as his Saviour. His ultimate reliance will be 
on himself, not on the Redeemer. The gospel, instead 
of being the only and most joyful news of salvation to 
sinners, will be considered by him merely as a valu- 
able book, somewhat better than any volume of philo- 
sophy, in which some interesting instructions may be 
found, and some useful precepts are given, but which i 
not indispensable to his eternal life. In a word, accor 
ding to his'predominant feeling, both he and others like 
him might have done very well without the gospel here, 
and, with little danger of failure, might have obtaimd 
salvation beyond the grave. 



SERMON XXXIV. 

APOSTATE MAN CANNOT BE JUSTIFIED BY WORKS OF LAW. 



Therefore, by the deeds of the law there shall nojlesh be justified in his sight — Rom. iii. 20. 



In several preceding Discourses I have considered the 
universality and degree of human corruption, and its 
existence in consequence of the apostasy of Adam ; and 
have also derived, from the observations made in them 
concerning these subjects, several inferences, which I 
supposed to be of serious importance to mankind. The 
next subject of inquiry in a system of theology is, the 
situation in which mankind are by means of their cor- 
ruption. It is impossible for a rational being to know 
that he has offended God, and is now the object of his 
displeasure, without being, if he is not absolutely stupid, 
deeply alarmed by a sense of his danger at least, if not 
of his guilt. 

All creatures are absolutely in the hands of God, and 
must be disposed of according to his pleasure. If he 
wills it, they are happy ; if he wills it, they are miserable. 
He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it stands 
fast. From his eye there is no concealment ; from his 
hand there is no escape ; from his anger there is no 
refuge. What, then, will become of those who are 
found guilty at the final trial, who can plead no excuse 
for their sins, and offer no expiation for their souls ? 
' He is not a man,' as we are, ' that we should answer 
him,' and that we ' should come together in judgment. 
Neither is there any daysman (any mediator) betwixt 
us, who might lay his hand upon us both,' and make 
reconciliation between us. When I say that there is 
no daysman between us and him, you will undoubtedly 
understand that I intend this as our situation while 
under law, and independently of the redemption of 
Christ. Of this situation it is immensely important for 
us to form clear and just views. False opinions here 
may easily be fatal to any man. If he feels safe while 
he is really in danger, as his danger, if it exists, must 
' be immensely great, and threaten his whole well-being, 
his sense of safety must of course be ruinous. What- 
ever is to be done for his future good, must be dene in 



this world, since he is to be judged and rewarded 'ac- 
cording to the deeds done in the body.' 

The text is the close of a long discourse concerning 
the depravity of both Jews and Gentiles, or, in other 
words, of all mankind ; and contains the great and af- 
fecting inference, drawn by St Paul himself, or rather 
given by the Spirit of God, from this humiliating doc- 
trine : ' Therefore, by the deeds of the law shall no flesh 
be justified in his sight.' 

In order to understand the import of this interesting 
declaration, it is necessary to form distinct and correct 
views of the meaning of the term justify. This word 
is a term of law, in the judicial proceedings of which it 
denotes a sentence of acquittal passed upon a person 
who has been tried, concerning his obedience or dis- 
obedience. The person tried, being found to have 
obeyed the law in the manner required, is declared by 
the judge to be guiltless of any disobedience. In the 
language of the text he is ' justified ;' that is, declared 
to be just, or blameless, in the sight of the law. With 
exactly this meaning the word is here used by St Paul. 

There have been frequent disputes concerning the 
law here specified. Some commentators have insisted 
that the moral, some that the ceremonial, and some that 
the whole law given by Moses, is here intended. That 
neither the ceremonial nor political laws of the Jews is 
here designed by the apostle is, I think, completely evi- 
dent from a bare consideration of the passage itself; the 
language is, that ' no flesh shall be justified' by means 
of the law intended. It can hardly be supposed that St 
Paul meant to say this with reference to the ceremonial 
or political laws of the Jews ; because, except the Jews 
themselves, none of the human race can be either acquit- 
ted or condemned, or even tried, by those laws, since the 
rest of mankind not only have never known them, but 
have in almost all instances, been absolutely unable to 
come to any knowledge of them. 
Si -V 



186 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY 



[Ser. xxxiv. 



The truth, I apprehend, is, that this difference of 
opinion has arisen only from the translation of the 
text. The words in the original are, Atari, s| i^yav vo- 
fiov ov }>ix.aia6rio-sTxi ita-cu. oa.(>£, iuamov ctvrov. ' Where- 
fore, by works of law no flesh,' that is, no man, ' shall be 
justified in his sight,' that is, in the sight of God. By 
works of law in the absolute sense : that is, no man shall 
be justified by any works whatever of any law, whether 
natural or revealed. 

The doctrine contained in the text is, therefore, That 
no man can be justified on the ground of his obedience 
to the law of God. 

This doctrine is so absolutely asserted in the text, 
that a plain man, in the exercise of sober common sense, 
would naturally conclude all attempts to prove it to be 
misplaced and superfluous. ( Whom,' he would in- 
stinctively say, ' shall we believe, if we do not believe 
God ? and what declaration of God can be believed, if 
this, so plain, so unambiguous, is not to be believed? The 
efforts of reason to make it more certain or more evi- 
dent are merely holding a rushlight to the sun.' So 
much has, however, been written and said to explain 
away even this declaration, and to avoid the truth which 
it contains, and the same truth as expressed in all other 
similar passages of the Scriptures, that, notwithstand- 
ing these decisions of common sense, it has become 
really necessary to examine this doctrine, as well as 
others. Nor is it only necessary to examine this doc- 
trine as contained in the Scriptures. It is also of im- 
portance to consider the manner in which it is regarded 
by reason ; and to show, that here as well as elsewhere, 
notwithstanding several objections suggested against 
the doctrine, reason still entirely harmonizes with Re- 
velation. 

In pursuance of the scheme Avhich I have thus pro- 
posed, I observe, 

I. That the law of God demands perfect obedience to 
all its requisitions. 

This is indeed true of every law ; for it is no more 
than saying that the law demands what it demands. Yet 
it is true, in a peculiar sense, of the divine law. The 
requisitions of this law are two : ' Thou shalt love the 
Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
and with all thy strength, and with all thine understand- 
ing ; and thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself :' that 
is, Thou shalt devote, with supreme affection, all thy 
powers to the service of the Lord thy God, throughout 
the continuance of thy being ; and thou shalt do unto 
others, who are included under the word ' neighbour,' 
that is, all intelligent creatures, whatsoever thou would- 
est that they, in the like circumstances, should do unto 
thee ; and this also thou shalt do throughout the con- 
tinuance of thy being. The peculiar perfection of the 
obedience here required is the universality of it. No 
other law requires the absolute consecration of all our 
powers to the obedience of its precepts, or extends its 
demands to every moment of our existence. 

That, which is commonly called the law of nature, 
viz. that part of the law, which is discoverable by un- 
biased reason, without the aid of Revelation, requires 
that we render continual reverence and gratitude to 
God, and that we invariably do justice, speak truth, 
and show kindness to our fellow men. All these things 
are required by the law of nature, because all men either 
do or may see them to be certainly their duty. 

Without inquiring at this time, whether any man 



in a state of nature, ever did any one of these duties 
in the manner commanded, I shall consider it as suf- 
ficient for the present purpose to observe, that no man 
ever performed them universally, as they are here en- 
joined. No man to whom the law of God was revealed, 
ever loved God, uniformly, with all the heart : or ren- 
dered, uniformly, to his neighbour what he would that 
his neighbour, in the like circumstances, should ren- 
der to him : neither did any man in a state of nature 
ever uninterruptedly render to God the reverence and 
gratitude, or to his neighbour the truth, justice, and 
kindness, which it required. Of this obedience, every 
man has plainly fallen short ; and very few can be found 
who will not in this view of the subject, confess them- 
selves to be sinners. 

II. The only condition of justification known by law 
is complete obedience to its precepts. 

The language of the divine law, generally resembling 
that of every other, is, ' Do these things, and thou shalt 
live ;' and ' Cursed is every one that continueth not in 
all things written in the book of the law, to do them. 
The soul that sinneth shall die : for not the hearers of 
the law are just before God, but the doers of the law 
shall be justified.' 

This condition of justification is inherent in the very 
nature of law. The law of God, for example, requires 
certain things of mankind, and promises that those who 
do them shall be rewarded. But the reward is promised 
to no others. On the contrary, those who do them not 
it declares shall be punished. The former it pronounces 
just, or guiltless, the latter it pronounces guilty. Obe- 
dience and disobedience are plainly the only conditions 
by which creatures subject to this law can be justified, 
condemned, or even tried. The same things, substanti- 
ally, are true of every other law. It is presumed no law 
was ever promulged by any authority whatever, which 
specified any other condition. 

III. It is impossible for manhood, or any other ra- 
tional beings, do more than the law of God requires. 

This law requires that we love him with all the heart, 
and soul, and mind, and strength. Higher love than 
this cannot possibly be rendered by any creature. It 
requires that Ave love him thus at all times. There is no 
time, therefore, in which such love is not our duty. 
Supererogatory love or obedience of course cannot pos- 
sibly be rendered by man. Hence, if man ever fails of 
obeying, he cannot atone for the sin by any future obe- 
dience, because all his future obedience is demanded for 
the time being. If, then, he is ever guilty of disobe- 
dience, his future obedience, however perfect, cannot 
contribute at all to his justification. 

But all men have disobeyed ; nay, all are disobedient 
every day and every hour ; and never render complete 
obedience, even in a single instance. No man, there- 
fore, is justified even for the time being. 

IV. The authority of the law is great in proportion 
to its importance to the universe, and to the greatness 
and dignity of the lawgiver. 

The law of God is the foundation of his government, 
and of the happiness which it confers on his intelligent 
creatures ; a happiness partly attendant on the obedi- 
ence, in its very nature, and partly its reward from the ,\ s 
lawgiver. The importance of the law, therefore, cannot 
be measured. 

The greatness and dignity of the lawgiver are in 
finite. 



MAN NOT JUSTIFIABLE BY WORKS. 



187 



That the guilt of disobedience be?rs, at least; a gene- 
ral proportion to these things will not be denied. Of 
course, it must be very great, much greater than we can 
comprehend. Particularly, it is incalculably greater 
than if committed merely against human laws, so infe- 
rior in their importance, and their capacity of producing 
happiness ; or against mere human lawgivers, infinitely 
inferior in dignity and excellence. 

The worth of our services, at the same time, is pro- 
portioned to the worth of ourselves who render them. 
The law of God requires the obedience of archangels as 
well as that of men. The law is the same, but the dif- 
ference between the subjects and the services in this case, 
is inestimable by us. The services of the archangel are 
plainly of very great worth, in a comparative view, those 
of man of very little. The difference evidently arises 
from the difference of worth in those who render them. 
But the lowest created being, as truly as the highest, 
can sin against any law and any ruler. His crimes, 
therefore, can be very great, while his services must, of 
necessity, be very small in their importance. 

Hence it is plain, that, if we could do works of super- 
erogation, or services not required, we still could make 
no atonement for our sins. Our sins are enormous 

i evils, and our services in a sense nothing. 

i V. The law of God threatens punishment to the first 
transgression, and also to every succeeding transgres- 

I sion. 

* Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things 

i written in the book of the law, to do them.' He, there- 
fore, ' who continues in all things written in the book of 

; the law,' except one, ' and does them ' as required, yet 
for the omission of that one ' is cursed,' ' The soul that 

• sinneth shall die.' The soul that sinneth once, that 
i sinneth at all ; not that sinneth in a long course and to 

a given degree of transgression. 

' In the day that thou eatest thereof,' said God to 
Adam, ' thou shalt surely die.' Adam ate the forbidden 
fruit once, and lost his immortality. 

Human laws also are always formed in the same man- 
i ner. The thief, the burglar, the murderer, are all pu- 
l nished by human laws for the first theft, burglary, or 
murder. This is indeed the very nature of law. It for- 
bids whatever it forbids, and requires whatever it re- 
quires, under a penalty for every transgression. The 
I plea, that this is the first transgression, though often al- 

■ leged as a reason for tenderness and clemency, was, it 

• is presumed, never proposed to a tribunal of justice as a 

■ cause of exempting the criminal from punishment, or, 
perhaps more properly, as a proof that he did not merit 
punishment. 

These considerations plainly cut off all hope, as well 
! as all ground of the justification of transgressors in the 

• sight of God on the score of justice ; and prove the ab- 
solute impossibility of justification by works of»law. 

i Still multitudes of mankind, and among them no small 

number of divines, have thought proper, notwithstanding 

this peremptory and decisive language of the law of God, 

J to annex to it a condition upon which, in their view, the 

' hopes of acceptance may be rationally formed. I say a 

• condition, because I know of but one, viz. repentance. 
As this has been abundantly insisted on, it demands a 
particular consideration. 

The scheme of those who urge this condition is, so far 
as my information extends, the following : That although 
the law of God doe« indeed demand perfect obedience, 



yet from the benevolence of God it may be fairly ex- 
pected that, even under this law, every sincere penitent 
will be accepted. 

On this scheme I observe, 

1. The law itself makes no mention of any such con- 
dition. 

Hence, the evidence of this scheme, if it exist at all, 
must be extraneous to the law itself. It cannot but be 
seen that a case of this nature must demand evidence 
clearly decisive, both because it is a case infinitely inte- 
resting to every child of Adam, and because the iaw is 
perfectly silent on this subject. This circumstance ren- 
ders the scheme originally suspected ; for we cannot 
easily conceive of a reason why, if acceptance was in- 
tended to be granted according to this scheme, God in 
publishing his law should observe an absolute silence 
concerning this condition, and should couch the law in 
such language as, for aught we can see, is directly con- 
tradictory to this scheme. 

2. Revelation is every where silent concerning this 
condition of acceptance. 

That Revelation no where expressly annexes the final 
acceptance of mankind to repentance alone, will, I sup- 
pose, be granted. I have been able to find no passage 
of this nature myself, and so far as I know, such a pas- 
sage has not hitherto been pointed out by any one of 
those who adopt the scheme. Whatever importance is 
annexed to repentance, it certainly cannot be said with 
truth, that faith in the Redeemer is not considered in the 
Gospel as absolutely necessary to the justification of the 
penitent. It is no where said, that ' God may be just, 
and yet the justifier of him who' repenteth. Until some- 
thing equivalent to this can be pointed out, as expressly 
declared in the gospel, all the evidence in favour of this 
scheme must be found in inference and argument. 

3. Revelation declares the contrary doctrine. 

In Gal. iii. 21, St Paul says, '. if there had been a law 
which could have given life, verily righteousness had 
been by the law.' In this passage it is evident beyond 
denial, that no law exists, or has ever existed, which 
could give life, or furnish acceptance and consequent 
salvation, to men. It is farther evident also, that right- 
eousness is not to man by the law, or, more properly, as 
in the original, by law ; that is by any law whatever. 
But how those who are not the subjects of righteousness, 
that is of moral excellence, or holiness, can ' see the 
Lord,' or be justified and saved, the Scriptures have no- 
where explained. 

In Gal.ii. 21, the same apostle says, - if righteousness 
come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain ;' or, more 
accurately, according to the Greek, ' if righteousness 
exist by means of law, Christ certainly hath died in 
vain.' If righteousness do not exist by means of law, 
in any sense whatever, then man as a mere subject of 
law can never be accepted. If righteousness do exist 
by means of law, then, as God himself has declared, 
' Christ died in vain.' A serious man must find an in- 
surmountable difficulty in receiving any doctrine which 
involves this consequence. 

In Rom. iii. 25, 26, the apostle says, ' Whom God 
hath set forth to be a propitiation, through faith in his 
blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of 
sins that are past, through the forbearance of God ; to 
declare, I say, at this time, his righteousness, that he 
might be just, and the justifier of him that believeth in 
Jesus,' In this passage of Scripture it is declared, that 



188 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xxxiv. 



God set forth Jesus Christ to be a propitiation, to de- 
clare his righteousness in the remission of sins, that he 
might be just, -while justifying him that believeth in 
Jesus. It is therefore certain, that if he had not set 
forth Christ to be a propitiation, he either would not 
have justified any of mankind, or, if he had done it, 
■would not have been just. Of course, all men who are 
justified, are justified only in consequence of this pro- 
pitiation, and not by means of law, in any sense what- 
ever. 

It is also evident, that Christ becomes a propitiation 
to us through faith in his blood ; and that those only 
are justified who believe in Jesus. In the same man- 
ner, in Rom. v. 9, the apostle says, ' Being justified 
through,' or by means of, ' his blood.' It is therefore 
certain ; that those who do not believe will not be justi- 
fied, and that none are justified without the blood of" 
Christ. 

In Rom. iii. 30, it is said, ' One God who shall justi- 
fy the circumcision by faith, and the uncircumcision 
through faith.' Therefore, God will justify neither cir- 
cumcision nor uncircumcision through or by repentance. 
The prophet Habakkuk, chap. ii. 4, repeatedly quoted 
by St Paul, says, ' The just shall live by faith ;' more 
exactly, ' The just by faith shall live ;' that is, he who 
by faith is just, shall live. Therefore no other will live. 

All these and the like considerations have, however, 
been unsatisfactory to the abettors of this scheme, not, 
as it appears to me, from any want of explicitness in 
the declarations themselves, but from their want of ?ac- 
cordance with a preconceived system ; a system derived, 
I am apprehensive, more from philosophy than from 
the Scriptures. Let us, therefore, examine the dictates 
of reason concerning this subject, and see whether they 
do plainly and exactly harmonize with Revelation. 

What, then, must be the nature and language of a 
law prescribing repentance as the condition of accep- 
tance and justification ? Plainly it must be this : He 
who disobeys the law shall be punished with death ; 
but if he repents of his disobedience he shall not be 
punished. What would be the consequences of such a 
law? 

1. All men who hoped to repent would disobey. 

But, from universal experience, we are assured be- 
yond a doubt, that every man would hope that he should 
at some time or other repent, because every man would 
consider repentance as in his power. The consequence 
therefore is irresistible, that every man would disobey. 

It is equally evident also, that, from the love and the 
habit of disobedience, every man would continue to dis- 
obey so long as he thought repentance was in his power. 
But disobedience protracted to so late a period, would 
become a habit so strong that none would repent. No- 
thing is more self-deceiving than a spirit of procrasti- 
nation. We see it in every thing, and always see it 
the same. Such a law therefore would frustrate itself, 
and prove a mere encouragement to disobedience. 

2. The thing punished by such a law would not be 
disobedience, but impenitence. 

It is undoubtedly true, that every law designs to 
punish that which it considers as the transgression, and 
that only. The thing punished, whatever it is, is in the 
view of the law the crime ; and in that view nothing is 
a crime except that which is punished. But here the 
law does not threaten the punishment to disobedience, 
but to impenitence. Impenitence, therefore, is in the 



view of such a law the only crime. Disobedience, ac- 
cording to the very language of the law, is no crime. 
But nothing can be a crime except that which is con- 
stituted a crime by the law. It may be said, that dis- 
obedience being forbidden by the law, is for that reason 
the crime. This opinion, however, is wholly a mistake. 
The law, without a penalty, or with respect to whatever 
it does not threaten with a penalty, ceases to be a law, 
and becomes mere advice. Disobedience to what it 
thus prohibits may indeed be imprudence, or impro- 
priety, but cannot be a crime in the eye of such a law. 
Undoubtedly, if the law regarded disobedience as a 
crime, it would punish it, as every law has done. As, 
therefore, the divine law according to this scheme, pun- 
ishes impenitence only, it regards impenitence as the 
only crime. 

But if disobedience be not a crime, it cannot be re- 
pented of; for repentance is a sorrow for crimes, and 
for them only. Repentance, therefore, would by such a 
law be rendered impossible. 

3. In the present case, that of a man with respect to 
his Maker, what degree of repentance will excuse the 
transgressor from punishment ? 

Must it be a perfect repentance ? that is, entire, and 
followed by no future sin. On this condition who could 
be saved ? No man ever has repented, no man ever 
will repent in this manner. Shall the repentance be 
imperfect ? a sorrow for sin, inferior in degree or con- 
tinuance, to that which the nature of the case actually 
demands ? a sorrow extending only to a part of the sins 
actually committed ? a confession sincerely and cheer- 
fully made with respect to some sins, and reluctantly 
concerning the rest? a renunciation of sin, partial in 
degree, partial as to the number and kinds of transgres- 
sions, and never aiming at, as well as never accomplish- 
ing a thorough reformation of character. 

The first difficulty which attends this scheme is, that 
it is nowhere found in the Scriptures. Few men who 
believe the Scriptures to be the word of God will ques- 
tion the fact, that they contain all the terms of salva- 
tion. It can hardly be supposed that when God unfolded 
his will to mankind concerning this great subject, and 
declared that he had taught them ' all things pertaining 
to life and to godliness,' he omitted this, which is 
altogether the principal thing, the point, which they 
were infinitely concerned to know. But there is not a 
declaration of this nature in the Scriptures ; at least, I 
have never been able to find one ; nor have I ever seen 
one alleged. Can it be believed, that this should be 
the main term, nay, the only one, of our salvation, 
and yet that it should be nowhere expressed in a reve- 
lation from God, professedly declaring all the terms of 
salvation ? 

This, however, is far from being all. The Scriptures 
teach us in a thousand forms, both expressly and impli- 
citly, that ' we have redemption through the blood of 
Christy even the forgiveness of our sins.' As this is the 
doctrine of the Scriptures, so it is plainly their only 
doctrine. Indeed nothing is more evident in the nature 
of the case, than that if we have redemption through 
his blood, we have it not without his blood ; and, there- 
fore, not by a repentance of our own. 

Nor does reason furnish us any additional light in 
favour of this scheme. Reason, indeed, finds itself at a 
loss to conceive in what manner even a perfect repent- 
ance can cancel former iniquities, or how an absolute 



MAN NOT JUSTIFIABLE BY WORKS. 



189 



penitent can be accepted of God. His sorrow for his 
sins can in no respect alter their nature or lessen their 
demerit, and his future reformation cannot at all obli- 
terate the guilt of his past life. Sorrow for sin is itself 

i the most unequivocal acknowledgment of guilt. If, 
then, the penitent sees and knows himself to be guilty, 
God must see it also. What then should prevent him 
from expressing his views of it in the punishment of 
the sinner? 

If this repentance is imperfect, these difficulties are 
multiplied and enhanced. The penitent in this case is 
still a sinner, and does not even perform the duty of 
repenting in the manner in which he is bound to per- 
form it. He also still loves sin in some degree, and still, 
occasionally at least, practises it. After he becomes a 
penitent, therefore, he goes on through life accumulat- 
ing guilt and meriting punishment. Can any man in 
these circumstances rationally expect acceptance with 
God ? Yet these are the best circumstances in which 
man is ever found. 

It is to no purpose to allege, that such a man obeys 
the law in part. The law knows of no such condition 
as partial obedience. Adam obeyed in part ; and, what 

i no one of his progeny has ever done, obeyed for a time 
perfectly. But for the first transgression he was con- 
demned to death, just as if he had never obeyed at all. 
So far as law is concerned, God deals with his descen- 
dants exactly in the same manner. Accordingly, in 
Ezek. xviii. 24, he says, ' But when the righteous turneth 
away from his righteousness, and committeth iniquity, 
all his righteousness that he hath done shall not be men- 
tioned. In his trespass that he hath trespassed, and in 
his sin that he hath sinned, in them he shall die.' He, 
therefore, ' who ha'th continued in all things written in 
the book of the law to do them,' except one, would still 
be incapable, according to law, of being justified. 
Should he have repented of his first transgression, and 
should we, contrary to both reason and revelation, allow 
repentance to be a real ground of justification, generally 
considered, yet if he should die in the commission of 
sin, or without repentance of the sins which he had last 
committed, he must, according to this passage, die with- 
out justification, and be finally condemned. 

Thus, if I mistake not, it has been rendered clearly 
certain, that ' by deeds of law no flesh shall be justified 
in the sight of God.' 



1. From these observations it is evident, that the 
atonement of Christ was absolutely necessary in order 
to the salvation of mankind. 

Man was originally placed under a dispensation of 
law ; and in consequence of perfect obedience was pro- 
mised immortal life ; while to his disobedience was 
threatened eternal death. Obedience, therefore, was 
the only condition of his justification, and the only 
source of hope to him beyond the grave. This law was 
perfect, and therefore immutable. No part of its de- 
mands or threatenings could be changed. It was more 
proper ' that the heavens and the earth should pass 
away, than that one jot or one tittle of the law should 
pass ' without an exact fulfilment. The truth plainly is, 
that the law is a direct exhibition of the perfect charac- 
ter of God, and to change it, would be to manifest that 
his character was changed from its absolute perfection. 
Such an event is evidently impossible. 



This perfect law, however, man lias disobeyed. By 
his disobedience he has lost the possibility of justifica- 
tion, and the hope of reward; and exposed himself, 
without any means of escape or safety, to the punish- 
ment denounced against his transgression. Had he 
been left in this situation he must have finally perished. 
In this situation Christ found him, when ' he came to 
seek and to save that which was lost.' In this situation 
he assumed the character of a mediator between God 
and man, ' and made his soul an offering for sin ; a 
sacrifice of a sweet savour,' accepted of God as a satis- 
factory expiation of human guilt. In this manner he 
rendered it possible, for before it was impossible, that 
man should be restored to the favour of God. The 
honour of the divine law was maintained, and even en- 
hanced. The immutability of the love of God to holi- 
ness, and of the hatred of God to sin, and the perfect 
harmony of the divine government in the condemnation 
of sin and the forgiveness of sinners, were all illustri- 
ously displayed to the view of the universe. To forgive 
such as should repent and return to their duty, became 
now a dispensation divested of all inconsistency and im- 
propriety. But independently of this interference of 
the Redeemer, no method appears to the human eye, in 
which the justification of mankind could have been 
accomplished, without a serious and inadmissible change 
of the law and government of God. Accordingly, we 
are informed in the Scriptures, that ' by his stripes only 
we are healed.' ' Neither is there,' nor, so far as we 
can understand, can there be, ' salvation in any other : 
for there is no name given under heaven among men, 
whereby we must be saved, but the name of Jesus 
Christ.' 

2. Speculative unbelief prevents every hope of salva- 
tion. 

By speculative unbelief I intend, First, the disbelief 
of divine revelation, or what is commonly called infi- 
delity. Every infidel not only feels, but glories in feel- 
ing, a privileged exemption from what he calls the super- 
stition of the gospel ; by which he primarily intends the 
great evangelical requisitions of ' repentance towards 
God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ.' It is 
superfluous for me to insist, that he who believes not spe- 
culatively in Christ, cannot believe in him cordially ; for 
nothing is plainer, than that without the assent of the 
understanding there can be no yielding of the heart. The 
infidel will very cheerfully take this labour off my hands, 
and boast that he yields neither his understanding nor 
his heart to the Redeemer. Of course, he places him- 
self under mere law; and must therefore find justification 
and consequent acceptance to him impossible. When I 
say impossible to him, you will undoubtedly understand 
me to mean, that it is impossible for him to be justified 
or accepted in his present character, or on his avowed 
principles. I do not mean that his understanding or his 
heart cannot be changed; for though I regard an infidel 
as a very dangerous and alarming character, yet I do 
not believe every infidel to be of course a final repro- 
bate. Infidels have undoubtedly been changed into 
Christians, and, in some instances, have become exem- 
plary ministers of the gospel. Infidels voluntarily place 
themselves under mere law, and reject with scorn, as 
well as obstinacy, an interest in the blessings of re- 
demption. Under that law, however, even after it is 
narrowed by all his own indefensible limitations, the 
infidel has still committed innumerable sins, sins for 



190 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. XXXIV. 



which he himself cannot atone, and for which he will 
not ask nor even accept the atonement made by the 
Redeemer. By the law he chooses to be tried, and by 
the law he cannot fail to be condemned. The God of 
truth in that day will declare that he has sinned, and, 
according with his own choice, must consign him to 
perdition. Such is the situation to which he voluntarily 
reduces himself, and which he prefers to Christ, with all 
his infinite blessings. 

Secondly : Speculative unbelief is the proper cha- 
racter of multitudes who admit the reality of divine 
revelation. Those who in modern language are called 
Unitarians, deny the Deity, and therefore deny, either 
explicitly or implicitly, the atonement of the Saviour. 
Dr Priestly and, I presume, all his followers deny the 
atonement expressly : some of the Socinians and Arians 
have admitted it, but I think inconsistently with their 
commanding doctrines. The disbelief of the atonement 
of Christ has the same practical influence with that of 
the disbelief of his mediation at large. If he is only a 
prophet, and a pattern of righteousness, I see not that 
he can be any more a Saviour to mankind than Moses, 
Isaiah, and Paul. He was indeed a wiser and better 
man. But it will not be denied, that all these men were 
saved ; nor that, therefore, their righteousness was such 
as, if we faithfully imitate it, would secure our salva- 
tion; that is, according to this Unitarian scheme. Nor 
will it be denied by any man, that the instructions of 
Moses and Isaiah are such as, if faithfully obeyed, will 
insure salvation. Nor can it be doubted that Paul has 
taught mankind more of the gospel than Christ himself 
personally taught. To believe in Christ, therefore, is 
substantially the same thing as to believe in Paul, Isaiah, 
or Moses. Yet, although we are required to believe all 
these men, and all other prophets and apostles, as being 
inspired by God, we are nowhere required to believe in 
them, or on them. They are nowhere styled the savi- 
ours or redeemers of mankind. On the contrary, we 
are expressly told, that there is no other Saviour of 
men hut Jesus Christ ; and that ' there is salvation in no 
other.' There is, therefore, something in Christ wholly 
different from any thing in these men ; and that some- 
thing constitutes his peculiar and essential character as 
the Saviour of mankind. As Christ is expressly de- 
clared^to have been ' the propitiation for the sins of 
men ;' ' to have made his soul an offering for sin,' and 
'to have redeemed us with his blood;' and as we are 
said to ' have redemption, even the forgiveness of our 
sins, through faith in his blood ;' it is unanswerably evi- 
dent, that in this wonderful particular he differs totally 
from all other persons of whom we have any knowledge. 
To disbelieve his atonement, therefore, is to refuse be- 
lief in his peculiar, distinguishing, and essential charac- 
ter, as the Saviour of mankind. Of course, this scheme 
shuts out all the benefits of Christ's redemption, and 
places mankind again under law. But ' by works of 
law no flesh can be justified ;' and, therefore, by this 
scheme no flesh can be saved. 

There are, indeed, Unitarians of both these classes 
who acknowledge the atonement of Christ, but who yet 
in effect deny it, by the necessary consequences of their 
leading principles. Concerning these men I have no 
more to say at present, than that the hearts of some 
persons are sounder than their heads ; and that, al- 
though their leading principles by their proper in- 
fluence destroy the hopes of salvation, yet, as all errors 



which are imbibed are not obeyed, and as among such 
errors the leading principles of men may, for aught I 
know, be sometimes included, I am disposed to enter- 
tain better hopes concerning them than I should feel 
myself authorized by these principles, considered by 
themselves, to indulge. 

3. Practical unbelief also equally cuts off" the hope of 
salvation. 

We become partakers of the benefits of Christ's re- 
demption, only, by exercising evangelical or cordial 
faith in him as the Redeemer. It is to no purpose that 
we believe the several records given us in the Scriptures 
concerning his incarnation, life, preaching, miracles, 
death, resurrection, and exaltation. It is to no pur- 
pose that we believe him to be a divine person, the real 
and all-sufficient Saviour ; - able,' willing, and faithful, 
' to save unto the uttermost all that will come unto God 
by him.' This and all other speculative faith is to no pur- 
pose, if we stop here. It is, indeed, a step towards sal- 
vation, and a necessary step, but it is one step only ; 
and, if no more he taken, we shall never arrive at the 
end of the Christian progress. In addition to this, we 
must with the heart confide in Christ, and his righte- 
ousness, and cheerfully trust our souls in his hands. 
This the practical unbeliever does not ; and, so long as 
he continues to be of this character, cannot do. 

Let every practical as well as every speculative un- 
believer, then, rememher that by his own choice, by his 
voluntary refusal to receive Christ as his Saviour, he 
cuts himself off" from justification, and consequently from 
immortal life. Every one of these men has broken the 
law of God, and sinned against him in innumerahle in- 
stances of great and dreadful iniquity. Every one in- 
finitely needs forgiveness and salvation. At the bar of 
God how terrible will be the remembrance of this 
voluntary perdition, this suicide of the soul ! 

' Repent, therefore, every one of you, and believe on 
the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, for the remission of 
your sins.' Repent now. ' Behold, now is the accepted 
time : behold, now is the day of salvation.' If repen- 
tance, if faith, be not now your duty, they can never be. 
Now, therefore, if you intend ever to ' hear his voice, 
even while it is called to-day, harden not your hearts.' 
* Boast not yourselves of to-morrow, for you know not 
what ' evils another ' day may hring forth.' Now you 
are called to repentance, faith, and holiness, and in- 
vited to eternal life. To-morrow you may be summoned 
to the grave and to the judgment. To-day you are 
before the mercy-seat, surrounded with blessings, in the 
presence of a forgiving God, and at the feet of a cruci- 
fied Saviour. To-morrow, nay, this very night, ' your 
souls may he required of you ;' your probation ended, 
your account given, the final sentence pronounced 
against you, and your souls consigned to suffering and 
sorrow which shall know no end ! 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



191 



SERMON XXXV. 



THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM GROUNDED ON THE RELIGION OF NATURE, AND 

INTRODUCED BY CHRIST. 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROOF FROM THE NAMES GIVEN TO HIM. 

For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, ^Sod sending his own Son in the likeness 
of sinful flesh and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh : that therighteousness of the law might be fulfdled 
in us, who walk not after the^flesh, but after tine Spirit Rom. viii. 3, 4. 

For God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and of a sin-offering , hath condemned sin in the 
flesh {the thing impossible to the law, because it was weak through the flesh) that the righteousness of the 
law may be fulfdled by us, who walk not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. — Dr Mac- 
knight's Translation. 



In my last Discourse I endeavoured to show, ' that man 
could not be justified, and of course could not be saved, 
by works of law.' The plain and necessary result of the 
establishment of this doctrine is, either that he cannot 
be saved at all, that is, he cannot be happy in a future 
existence ; or that he must he saved by some other than 
the legal dispensation. The Scriptures inform us, that 
the latter part of this alternative is the true one ; and 
declare, that salvation, or future happiness, is attainable 
by man. This subject then, infinitely interesting to 
every child of Adam, this subject, boundlessly great, 
sublime, and glorious ; immensely honourable to God, 
and inestimably beneficial to man, becomes the next ob- 
ject of our inquiry. 

It ought, perhaps, to be observed here, and certainly 
ought to be remembered, that our preceding investiga- 
tion has been confined chiefly to what is commonly 
called 'the religion of Nature.' By this I intend the same 
■with that which was the religion of Adam in Paradise ; 
or, generally, the religion of beings placed under law 
only. The truths to be believed, and the duties to be 
done by beings, placed under the law of God, constitute 
the system, which we call natural religion. This reli- 
gion is found nowhere clearly explained and solemnly 
sanctioned- except in the Scriptures. In them itis pre- 
sented to us in its perfect form, and with its proper 
lustre. In all the exhibitions of philosophy it is defec- 
tive, mutilated, and deformed, with superadded features, 
created only by the imperfect-reasonings, and wild ima- 
gination of man. In the Scriptures it is disclosed in its 
native beauty, freed from every defect and every mix- 
ture. 

On this system Christianity, properly so called, is 
erected. By Christianity I intend, the religion of fallen 
beings ; a religion furnishing eflfectual means of re- 
demption from their apostasy, guilt, and punishment, 
and of their restoration to the favour of God, to virtue, 
and to future happiness. The means provided for this 
end, the truths to be believed, and the duties to be done 
by such beings, in order to their escape from sin, con- 
demnation, and misery, and their attainment of justifi- 
cation, holiness, and happiness, constitute the sum and 
substance of the Christian religion. 

To such beings as we are, fallen from the favour of 
God, polluted with immovable guilt, and destined to 



die for ever, under the law which we have broken, such 
a religion is plainly of infinite importance. From the 
bare contemplation of the subject, one would think, that 
the tidings communicated by such a religion must be 
welcome to mankind beyond degree. Every thing 
which they need, every thing which they can reason- 
ably wish, every thing which can purify, adorn, or 
bless them, which can make them useful and comforta- 
ble here, or happy and glorious hereafter, it announces 
from the mouth of God. By such beings it ought»cer- 
tainly to be received as ' tidings of great joy unto all 
people.' 

In the text the great and commanding doctrines of 
this religion are briefly declared ; and these are the 
following : 

I. That it was impossible for the law to condemn, or, 
in other words, destroy sin in men, while in the state of 
nature, or under the legal dispensation. 

II. That God has accomplished-this great work by 
sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful Jlesh , as 
an offering for sin. 

III. That this was done, in order that the righteous- 
ness of the law might be fulfilled by those who, under 
the influence of the gospel, live lives of new obedience. 

It will be easily seen, that these three great proposi- 
tions contain the substance of Christianity ; that they 
teach our ruined condition under the law ; our recovery 
by Christ ; and our duty and obedience in the Christian 
character. 

The first of these propositions, that it was impossible 
for the law to destroy>sin in man while in the flesh, or to 
furnish redemption to apostate beings, has been already 
considered at length in the preceding Discourses. This 
is the state in which Christianity found man, and took 
the charge of his concerns. On this state Christianity 
is erected, as on its proper foundation ; and, but for this 
state, appears, in my view at least, to have neither use, 
explanation, nor meaning. 

The second proposition is-now to become the subject 
of discussion. As it is a proposition of vast extent, and 
contains a great many particulars of vast importance, 
demanding severally a minute examination, it will fur- 
nish an ample field for many Discourses. 

In this proposition it is asserted, that God has accom- 
plished the great work of destroying sin in man, by send- 



192 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xxxv. 



ing his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, as an of- 
fering for sin. 

The inquiries excited by this assertion are, 

I. What is the character of the Person thus sent ? 

II. What has he done ? 

III. How has he destroyed sin in man ? 

In this order I propose to consider these highly inte- 
resting subjects. 

I. I will proceed to investigate the character of the 
Person who was thus sent. 

The character given of him in the text is plainly a 
singular one. He is called ' God's own Son,' and is yet 
said to have been ' sent in the likeness of sinful flesh.' 
These two great particulars, so unlike, so contrasted, 
form a character differing altogether from every other, 
and demand a very diligent consideration. The first of 
them shall be the immediate object of our attention. 

At our entrance upon the investigation of this subject, 
the first thing which strikes the mind is, that it is a sub- 
ject of mere revelation. Without the Scriptures, there 
is no knowledge in this world that such a person exists. 
The philosopher, therefore, has no other concern with 
this subject, except either to believe or disbelieve the 
testimony which the Scriptures give. By his own rea- 
son he can add nothing to what is revealed, and without 
impiety he can alter nothing. 

Secondly : As revelation communicates to us our ori- 
ginal knowledge of this subject, so it communicates to us 
all which we now know. The things which it testifies 
were not designed to be, neither can they become, the 
materials of future philosophical investigation and im- 
provement. The knowledge which at this day exists 
concerning this subject, is all found in the Bible. 

Thirdly : The things communicated concerning it, 
being communicated, ' not in the words which man's 
wisdom teacheth, but in those which the Holy Ghost 
teacheth,' are communicated in the best and wisest man- 
ner possible ; the manner which was approved by infi- 
nite Wisdom. There is no error, no oversight ; nothing 
superfluous, nothing defective. That, and that only, is 
taught, which God thought it proper to teach, in the 
manner which God thought it proper to adopt. 

Fourthly : As the doctrines concerning this singular 
Person are of the highest moment to plain, uneducated 
men, as well as to men of learning, it is certain, that the 
things really revealed, are so revealed that such men, 
acting with integrity, can understand them sufficiently 
to make them proper and useful objects of their faith. 
Of course, the terms in which they are revealed are 
used in such a manner as these men can understand. 
They are, therefore, used according to their plain, cus- 
tomary, obvious meaning ; the meaning which they have 
in the usual intercourse of mankind. Of course, also, 
they have no technical, philosophical, or peculiar signi- 
fication ; because, if thus used, they could never be un- 
derstood by such men ; or, in other words, by almost 
the whole body of mankind. 

Fifthly : Just so much is revealed concerning this ex- 
traordinary Person, as it is useful for us to know. This 
truth is derived with absolute certainty from the wisdom 
and goodness of God. Whatever is revealed is revealed 
by this wisdom and goodness, and whatever is withheld 
is by the same wisdom and goodness withheld. That 
which is revealed, therefore, we are required by the 
authority of God to believe ; and are bound to have no 
reference iii our faith to that which is withheld. What- 



ever mysteries may be inferred, or may seem to be in- 
ferred, from the things actually revealed, can in no man- 
ner affect them, and ought in no manner to affect our 
faith in them. All that is taught is exactly true, and to be 
faithfully believed, although all that is true is not taught, 
nor capable of being divined by such minds as ours. 

Sixthly : Whatever is contained in the Scriptures 
concerning this subject, as concerning every other, that 
is, in the Scriptures as they now are, is to be regarded 
as unquestionably the word of God, unless proved not to 
be genuine by manuscript authority. Nothing is to be 
admitted with respect to this subject, which would not 
be justifiably admitted with respect to any other scriptu- 
ral subject. Particularly, all conjectural emendations 
of the text are to be rejected with scorn, as miserable at- 
tempts to mend the word of God according to the dic- 
tates of human philosophy. The reasonableness of this 
rule is too obvious to need illustration. 

With these observations premised, I proceed to ex- 
amine the character of this singular person, denoted by 
the phrase, ' God's own Son.' 

The Scriptures are undoubtedly the best commenta- 
tors on themselves, wherever they professedly undertake 
to explain their own language. Christ has in many in- 
stances called himself the Son of God ; and in many 
more (which is exactly equivalent) has declared God to 
be his Father. In one of these instances the Jews at- 
tempted to kill him for challenging this character. The 
words which he used were, ' My Father worketh hither- 
to, and I work.' ' Therefore,' says the evangelist, in 
the following verse, ' the Jews sought the more to kill 
him, because he not only had broken the sabbath, but 
said also, that God was his Father, making himself equal 
with God.' John v. 17, 18. We have here the comment 
of the evangelist on Christ's meaning in adopting this 
language ; and it is no other than this, ' That in declar- 
ing God to be his Father, he made himself equal with 
God.' No comment can be plainer, or more decisive. 
But we have, farther, the comment of Christ himself, for 
such it ought undoubtedly to be esteemed. He had 
healed the impotent man at the pool of Siloam on the 
sabbath day. The Jews ' sought to kill him' for this 
action. He justified himself by this remarkable decla- 
ration, ' My Father worketh hitherto, and I work :' that 
is, My Father worketh hitherto on the sabbath day in 
his providence ; I, who am his Son, work also in the 
same manner and with the same authority, being ' Lord 
of the sabbath,' even as he is. In the following part of 
the context, to cut off all room for misconception con- 
cerning the import of this phraseology and the character 
claimed in it, he informs the Jews, in the verses imme- 
diately following, that ' he does all things which the 
Father does ; that ' the Father shows him all things, 
which himself does ;' that ' he has life in himself, even as 
the Father has life in himself;' that ' as the Father gives 
life to whom he pleases, so does the Son ;' that ' it is the 
will of the Father, that all men should honour the Son 
even as they honour himself;' that ' those who do not 
thus honour the Son do not honour the Father ;' that 
' the Son is constituted the only Judge of the quick and 
the dead ; ' and that ' all who are in the graves shall hear, 
and obey his voice, and come forth to the resurrection, 
either of life or damnation.' Such is the comment of 
the evangelist on this phrase ; such are the proofs that 
it is uttered in its simple and obvious meaning. Who 
would imagine that this meaning cruld be differently 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



193 



understood by different readers, or be mistaken by any 
reader ? 

In Jobn x. 30, Christ said to the Jews assembled 
around him, ' I and my Father are one.' The unity here 
challenged, seems not to have offended them (see verse 
33) ; but they attempted to stone him because he said, 
' I am the son of God ;-' as he informs us in the verse 
last mentioned. Upon being- asked by him, for what 
good work they stoned him, they replied, ' For a good 
work we stone thee not, but for blasphemy, because 
thou, being a man, raakest thyself God.' It will be ad- 
mitted by all men, who believe the Bible, that Christ 
was a person of irreproachable benevolence and integ- 
rity. The Jews declared to him, as the reason why 
they were about to stone him, that in saying, ' he was 
the Son of God, he being a man, made himself God.' 
If, then, they had misapprehended his meaning, a very 
moderate share of benevolence and integrity must have 
compelled him to undeceive them ; much more must the 
perfect integrity and benevolence of Christ have pro- 
duced this effect. It is impossible that he should be 
justified in voluntarily suffering this imputed blasphemy 
to rest upon his good name ; and to prevent, as it could 
not fail to prevent, their reception of his doctrines, pre- 
cepts, and mission. This would have been voluntarily 
to lay a fatal stumbling-block, or offence, before them : 
but he himself has said, ' Woe to that man by whom 
the offence cometh.' It would, also, have been volun- 
tarily to leave the full impression of a falsehood, uttered 
by himself, on their minds ; which would be the same, 
in a moral view, as to utter intentionally the same false- 
hood. Finally, under this mistake they were about to 
murder him ; a crime which he certainly could not fail 
of preventing, if they were influenced to commit it 
merely by mistaking his meaning ; a thing so easily 
rectified by his own explanation. It is certain, then, 
that they did not mistake his meaning. 

But, to put the matter beyond all doubt, he himself 
has settled the point. ' If,' said he, ' I do not the works 
of my Father, believe me not ; but if I do, though ye 
believe not me, believe the works, that ye may know 
and believe, that the Father is in me, and I in him.' * 

The same subject of controversy arose again when 
Christ stood as a prisoner before the Sanhedrim. After 
attempting in vain to prove him guilty of any crime by 
various means, Caiaphas put him upon oath, to tell the 
Sanhedrim ' whether he was the Christ, the Son of 
God.' Christ immediately replied in the affirmative. 
The high-priest then rent his clothes ; and declared 
that he had spoken blasphemy ; viz. the very blasphemy 
of which the Jews had before accused him, for the very 
same declaration ; and the Sanhedrim pronounced him 
guilty of death. Here, as in the former case, Christ 
went on to challenge, unequivocally, the character de- 
noted by this phrase ; and said, ' Hereafter shall ye see 
the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and 
coming in the clouds of heaven.' Thus we have the 
comment of St John on this phrase, declaring, that 
Christ in using it ' made himself equal with God ;' the 
comment of the Jewish people and Sanhedrim ; de- 
claring that Christ in using it ' was guilty of blasphemy, 
because, that, being a man, he thus made himself God . 
and Christ himself, according directly with this inter- 

• That the Jews understood Christ to confirm their construction of 
his words is certain : for St John says, that they now sought again to 

tuktt Dun. 






pretation of it, justifying his own use of it with this 
meaning, and bringing irresistible proofs that he ap- 
plied it, thus understood, to himself, with the most ab- 
solute truth and propriety. If we allow the language 
here used, to be used in the customary and obvious 
manner, the only manner in which it could be under- 
stood by those to whom it was addressed, and in which 
it can be understood by ninety-nine hundredths of those 
who read it ; nay, farther, if we do not assign it a mean- 
ing which each man must laboriously contrive for him- 
self, because the obvious meaning does not suit his own 
system, or must receive from another, who has for the 
same reason contrived it in this manner, we must admit 
all this to be clearly and unquestionably said, and to de- 
termine the meaning of this phrase in the text beyond 
any rational debate. 

If I have satisfactorily settled the meaning of this 
phrase, the text contains, among other things, the fol- 
lowing important doctrine : 

That Jesus Christ is truly and perfectly God. 

This doctrine I shall attempt to maintain by a variety 
of considerations, arranged in the following manner : 

I. J shall attempt to show, that Christ is spoken of in 
the Scriptures as the true and perfect God : 

II. That the Deity of Christ is the only ground of 
consistency in the scheme of redemption : 

III. That the Jews, according to the opposite doc- 
trine, are unjustly charged, with guilt inputting Christ 
to death : 

IV. That the prophets and apostles, according to 
the same doctrine, cannot be vindicated from the sin of 
leading mankind into idolatry : 

V. To these arguments from the Scriptures, I pro- 
pose in another place, to subjoin several testimonies to 
the same doctrine from Jews, Christians, and Heathens. 

I. J shall attempt to show, that Christ is spoken of 
in the Scriptures as the true and perfect God. 

This argument may be advantageously exhibited by 
showing, 

1. That the names of God ; 

2. That the attributes of God ; 

3. That the actions of God ; and« 

4. That the relations, which God sustains to his 
creatures, are in the Scriptures ascribed to Christ ; and, 

5. That divine worship is in the Scriptures required 
to be rendered, and by persons inspired was actually 
rendered, to Christ. 

I . The names of God are in the Scriptures ascribed 
to Christ. 

(1.) He is directly called God. 

John i. 1, 'In the beginning was the word, and the 
word was with God, and the word was God.' In this 
passage St John not only declares Christ to be God, 
but to be eternal. ' In the beginning was the word.' 
And in the following verse he declares that he is co- 
eternal with God : ' The same was in the beginning 
with God.' Words exactly equivalent to those in Prov. 
viii. 23, 24, where the same truth is also asserted : ' The 
Lord possessed me in the beginning of his way ; before 
bis works of old. I was set up from everlasting ; from 
the beginning or ever the earth was.' In the following 
verse the evangelist farther declares, that Christ was 
the Creator of the universe, and without him was not 
even one thing made, which has been made.* In thii 

* See the original, 
3 B 



194 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sep.. XXXV. 



passage of Scripture, St John has not only declared, 
that Christ is God ; hut to prevent any possible mistake 
concerning what he meant by the word God, has told 
us, that he is co-eternal with God the Father ; and 
that he is the Creator of every thing which exists. 
Were the Scriptures allowed to speak their own lan- 
guage, this single passage would decide the controversy ; 
for it is impossible to declare in stronger language, or 
more explicit, that Christ is God in the highest sense, 
originally, and without derivation. 

Rom. ix. 5, ' Of whom, as concerning the flesh, 
Christ came, who is over all, God blessed for ever, 
Amen.' This passage cannot be avoided by any means, 
except a resolute denial. 

1 Tim. iii. 16,* ' Without controversy, great is the 
mystery of godliness. God was manifest in the flesh, 
justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the 
Gentiles, believed on in the world, and received up in- 
to glory.' Nothing is more evident than that these 
things are said of Christ, and that they can be said of 
no other. No other person, and no attribute can be 
said to be ' God, manifested in the flesh, justified in the 
Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, be- 
lieved on in the world, and received up into glory.' 
Let any person make the- experiment, and he will find 
it impossible to make the application of all these things 
to any other than the Redeemer. 

Matt. i. 23, and Isa. vii. 14, ' Behold, a virgin shall 
conceive, and shall bring forth a son ; and thou shalt 
call his name Emmanuel ;' that is, ' God with us.' Christ, 
therefore, is ' God with us.' 

2 Peter i. 1 , 'To them that have obtained like pre- 
cious faith with us, through the righteousness of God 
and our Saviour Jesus Christ.' According to the ori- 
ginal, of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ ; tov ®iov 
quav, actt Sarnjof, Imov ~K(>i<rTov. The common trans- 
lation is a violation of the Greek ; and, besides, it is 
' through the righteousness of Christ ' only that ' the pre- 
cious faith' of the apostles and other good men is 'obtain- 
ed.' Jesus Christ is, therefore, ' our God and Saviour.' 

Psalm xlv. 6,7, quoted in Heb. i. 8, 9, « Unto the 
Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: 
a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom. 
Thou hast loved righteousness, and hated iniquity : 
therefore, God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with 
the oil of gladness above thy fellows.' This is addressed 
by God the Father to the Son. The Father, therefore, 
has thought proper to call the Son, God. Who can 
question the propriety of the application ? That we 
may be assured that he is called God, in the full and 
perfect sense, he declares, that ' the throne of the Son 
is .for ever and ever.' To whom, but God, in the abso- 
lute sense, can an everlasting throne, or dominion, be 
attributed ? 

Rev. xxi. 5 — 7, ' And he that sat upon the throne 
said, Behold, I make all things new ; and he said unto 
me, I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the 
end, the first and the last. He that overcometh shall 
inherit all things, and I will be his God, and he shall 
be my Son.' That it is Christ who is spoken of in this 
passage, is evident by a comparison of Rev. i. 11, and 
Rev. iii. 21. In the former of these passages Christ 

* Those Sermons were written before the results of Griesbach and 
others were extensively known in this country. The author was sa- 
tisfied, from an examination of these results, that the common is the 
geuuine reading of the text. 



says, ' I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last' 
In the latter he says, ' To him that overcometh, I will 
give to sit on my throne ; even as I overcame, and am 
set down with my Father in his throne.' In Rev. xx. 
11, 12, we are informed, that John ' saw a great white 
throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the hea- 
vens and the earth fled a.way, and there was found no 
place for them :' and that he ' saw the dead, small and 
great, stand before God.' He that sat upon the throne, 
in Rev. xxi. 5, is plainly the same person who, in chap. 
xx. 11, is exhibited as sitting on the great white throne ; 
and this person we certainly know to be Christ, because 
' the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all 
judgment unto the Son ;' and because the throne here 
spoken of is the throne of final judgment. In the se- 
cond and third of these passages, Christ declares himself 
to be ' the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last,' or 
the beginning and the end ; and to be ' set down upon 
the throne of his Father.' In the first passage he de- 
clares, that ' he will be a God to him that overcometh.' 
In the last, he is declared by the evangelist to be God. 

There are many other passages in which Christ is 
directly called God. But these are sufficient to estab- 
lish the point. 

(2.) Christ is called the Great God. 

Titus ii. 13, 'Looking for the blessed hope and glo- 
rious appearing of the great God and our Saviour, 
Jesus Christ.' In the Greek it is, the Great God, even 
our Saviour Jesus Christ, or our great God and Savi- 
our Jesus Christ. God the Father will not appear at 
the judgment. If then Christ is not ' the great God,' 
God will not appear at the judgment at all. Kai, the con- 
junction here used, is rendered exactly, in many cases, 
by the English word even, particularly in the phrase 
God and our Father,' found Gal. i. 4, 1 Thess. i. 3, 2 
Thess. ii. 16, &c. In the last of these places the trans- 
lators have rendered it even, as they plainly ought to 
have done in both the others, since the present render- 
ing makes the apostle speak nonsense. 

(3.) Christ is called the true God. 

1 John v. 20, ' In his Son Jesus Christ. This,' in 
the original This Person ' is the true God and eternal 
Life.' If this passage admits any comment, it must be 
that of Christ himself, who says, ' I am the Life ;' and 
that of the evangelist, who, in the first chapter of this 
epistle, and second verse, says, ' For the Life was mani- 
fested ; and we have seen it, and bear witness, and show 
unto you that Eternal Life, which was with the Father, 
and was manifested unto us.' 

(4.) Christ is called the Mighty God. 

Psalm 1. 1 — 3, ' The mighty God, even the Lord hath 
spoken, and called the earth from the rising of the sun 
unto the going down thereof. Out of Zion, the perfec- 
tion of beauty, God hath sinned. Our God shall come, 
and shall not keep silence ; a fire shall devour before 
him, and it shall be very tempestuous round about him.' 
This psalm is a prediction of the last judgment. In the 
first verse, the Person, who comes to judge the world, 
and who speaks the things recorded in this psalm, is 
called, Ar,, Aleim, Jehovah ; and is exhibited as calling 
mankind before him, ' from the rising of the sun to his 
going down.' In the second, he is represented as 
' shining,' or displaying his glory, ' out of Zion ;' that 
is, by his dispensations to his church. In the third, is 
described the awful splendour with which he will ap- 
pear, the fire which shall consume, and the convulsion 






DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



195 



which shall rend asunder the world, at that great and 
terrible day. But Christ alone will appear on that day, 
and at his presence ' the heavens shall pass away with a 
great noise ; and, by ' the flaming fire ' with which he 
will be surrounded, ' the elements will melt with fer- 
vent heat, and the earth, and the works that ai-e therein, 
will be burnt up.' Christ, therefore, is the God, the 
Mighty God, the Jehovah, who is here mentioned. 

Isa. ix. 6, ' For unto us a Child is born ; unto us a Son 
is given ; and the government shall be upon his shoul- 
der : and his name shall be called Wonderful, Coun- 
sellor, the Mighty God, the Father of the everlasting 
age, the Prince of Peace.' This Child, this Son, is ' the 
Mighty God, the Father of the everlasting age, and the 
Prince of Peace.' He who admits that ' a Child, a 
Son,' is ' the Mighty God,' will certainly admit that 
this can be no other than Christ. He who does not 
will charge Isaiah with uttering falsehood. 

The same name, ' Wonderful,' is also given to him 
by himself, when appearing as an angel, or rather as 
' the Angel,' to Manoah and his wife, Judges xiii. 18, 
' And the angel of the Lord said unto him, Why askest 
thou thus after my name, seeing it is secret?' in the 
Hebrew , seeing it is Wonderful ; the same word being- 
used in both these passages. The Hebrew words which, 
are translated ' the angel of the Lord,' may be literally 
rendered, the Angel-Jehovah or Jehovah- Any el ; that 
is, He who, though Jehovah, is yet a Messenger.* For 
this view of the subject the Scriptures themselves fur- 
nish the most ample authority. 

In Isaiah xlviii. 12, and onward, we have these words : 
' Hearken unto me, O Jacob, and Israel my called. I 
am he ; I am the first, I also am the last. Mine hand 
also hath laid the foundation of the earth, and my right 
hand hath spanned the heavens. I call unto them ; 
they stand up together. Come ye near unto me ; hear 
ye this : I have not spoken in secret from the begin- 
ning : from the time that it was, there am I. And now 
the Lord God and his Spirit hath sent me. Thus saith 
the Lord, thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel : I am 
the Lord thy God.' Here the Person speaking informs 
us, that ' he is the first and the last ; that he has found- 
ed the earth, and spanned the heavens ; that he is Jeho- 
vah-God, the Redeemer, and the Holy One of Israel :' 
and yet he says, ' That the Lord Jehovah and his Spirit 
hath sent him ;' or as Origen and Lowth translate it, 
' The Lord Jehovah hath sent me and his Spirit.' The 
Person sending, therefore, is Jehovah ; and the Person 
sent is also Jehovah. 

The same Person, under the appearance, and by the 
name of a man, wrestled with Jacob at Peniel, and 
there gave him the name Israel, or a Prince of God ; 
assigning for it this remarkable reason : For as a 
prince hast thou power with God and with men, and 
hast prevailed.' After asking his name, and receiving 
a blessing from him ( upon which he departed), 'Jacob 
railed the name of the place Peniel ; for, said he, I have 
seen God face to face, and my life is preserved.' 

This Person is called by Hosea, God, the Angel, 
and Jehovah. ' He had power with God ; yea, he had 
power over the angel, and prevailed. He wept, and 
made supplication unto him. He found him in Bethel ; 
and there he spake with us, even Jehovah, God of 
Hosts.' Horsley, whose biblical opinions will rarely be 

* See Horsley's new Translation of Hosea. Appendix. 



disputed with success, has the following observations on 
this subject : 'This Man, therefore, of the book of Gene- 
sis, this Angel of Hosea, who -wrestled with Jacob, could 
be no other than the Jehovah-Angel, of whom we so 
often read in the English Bible, under the name of the 
Angel of the Lord.' A phrase of an unfortunate struc- 
ture, and so ill conformed to the original, that, it is to 
be feared, it has led many into the error of conceiving 
of ' the Lord ' as one person , and of ' the Angel ' as an- 
other. The word of the Hebrew, ill rendered ' the 
Lord,' is not, like the English word, an appellative, ex- 
pressing rank or condition, but it is the proper name 
Jehovah. And this proper name Jehovah, is not in the 
Hebrew a genitive after the noun substantive ' Angel,' 
as the English represent it ; but the words miT and 
"7^7(2; 'Jehovah' and 'Angel,' are two substantive 
nouns, in apposition ; both speaking of the same per- 
son, the one by the appropriate name of the essence, the 
other by a title of office. Jehovah-Angel would be a 
better rendering. The Jehovah-Angel of the Old Tes- 
tament is no other than he who, in the fulness of time, 
' was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary.' 

According to the scheme of these observations, Ma- 
noah understood the character of the ' Angel who ap- 
peared unto him ;' for he said unto his wife, ver. 22, 
' We shall surely die, because we have seen God.' In 
the same manner is the same person presented to us, 
Mai. iii. 1, 'Behold, I will send my messenger, and he 
shall prepare the way before me ; and the Lord, whom 
ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple ; even the 
Angel of the covenant, whom ye delight in : behold, he 
shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts.' In Luke vii. 27, 
Christ speaking of John the Baptist says, ' This is he, 
of whom it is written, Behold, I send my messenger be- 
fore thy face who shall prepare thy way before thee.' 
John the Baptist was, therefore, ' the messenger, who 
was to prepare the way ;' and ' the Lord, even the An- 
gel of the covenant,' was Christ. The Person also 
speaking, who is here called ' Jehovah of Hosts,' and 
who says, this messenger shall prepare the way before 
himself, is also Christ. 

(5.) Christ is called the God of Israel. 

Exod. xxiv. 9, 10, ' Then went up Moses and Aaron, 
Nadab and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel. 
And they saw the God of Israel.' Psalm lxviii. 17, 18, 
' The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thou- 
sands of angels. The Lord is among them, as in Sinai, 
in the holy place. ' Thou hast ascended on high, thou 
hast led captivity captive, thou hast received gifts for 
men.' Eph. iv. 8, ' Wherefore he saith, When he 
ascended on high, he led captivity captive, and gave 
gifts unto men. Now that he ascended, what is it, but 
that he descended first into the lower parts of the earth. 
He that descended is the same also that ascended up far 
above all heavens, that he might fulfill all things : and he 
gave some apostles, and some prophets,' &c. Here 
the apostle informs us, that the Person who ' ascended 
on high, and led captivity captive,' is Christ. The 
psalmist informs us, that the Person who ' ascended on 
high, and led captivity captive, is the Lord, ' who ap- 
peared in Sinai.' And Moses informs us, that ' the Lord 
who appeared in Sinai,' was ' the God of Israel.' We 
also know, ' that no man hath seen God, the Father, 
at any time.' Christ, therefore, is ' the God of Israel.' 
Of course, ' the God of Israel,' so often mentioned in 
the Old Testament, is everywhere, peculiarly, Christ, 



11)6 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxv. 



(6.) Christ is called Jehovah. 

On this subject Horsley observes, ' The word Je- 
hovah being descriptive of the Divine Essence, is 
equally the name of every one of the three Persons in 
that Essence. The compound Jehovah-Sabaoth belongs 
properly to the second Person, being his appropriate 
demiurgic title ; describing not merely the Lord of such 
armies as military leaders bring into the field, but the 
unmade, self-existent Maker andSustainer of the whole 
array and order of the universe.' 

Isa. vi. I, and 3, ' In the year that king Uzziah died, 
I saw Jehovah * sitting on his throne, high and lifted 
up, and his train filled the temple ; and one of the sera- 
phim cried to another, and said, Holy, Holy, Holy, is 
Jehovah of Hosts ;' and again, in the 5th, 8th, 1 1th, and 
12th verses of the same chapter. St John, quoting the 
9th and 10th verses of this chapter, in his Gospel, chap, 
xii. 40, says, ' These things said Esaias, when he saw 
his (that is, Christ's) glory, and spake of him.' To prove 
beyond controversy, that Christ is the Jehovah of Hosts 
here mentioned, I observe, that no person is spoken of 
in the chapter, except Uzziah, Jehovah of Hosts, the 
seraphim, the prophet Isaiah, and the people of Israel. 
The seraphim and the people of Israel being mentioned 
only in the aggregate, must be laid out of the question. 
Christ, therefore, being, by decision of the evan- 
gelist, spoken of in this chapter, must be either the pro- 
phet himself, king Uzziah, or Jehovah of Hosts. It 
happens also, unfortunately for Unitarians, that the pro- 
phet saw the glory of no other person but Jehovah of 
Hosts ; yet St John assures us, he saw the glory of 
Christ. St John's opinion on this subject we cannot 
mistake, if we remember, that he commences his Gospel 
in this manner : ' In the beginning was the Word, and 
the Word was with God, and the Word was God.' 

Isa. xl. 3, ' The voice of him that crieth in the wil- 
derness, Prepare ye the way of Jehovah, make straight 
in the desert a highway for our God.' John the Bap- 
tist, when asked by the messengers of the Sanhedrim, 
' Who art thou ?' answered, John i. 23, ' I am the voice 
of one crying in the wilderness. Make straight the way 
of the Lord, as saith the prophet Esaias.' St Matthew, 
speaking of John the Baptist, chap. iii. 3, says, ' This 
is he that was spoken of by Esaias the prophet, saying, 
The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye 
the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.' From 
these passages compared, it is evident that Christ, be- 
fore whom John cried, was ' the Lord ' whose way he 
directed thus to be prepared in the wilderness ; ' the 
Jehovah,' spoken of by the prophet : ' the Jehovah of 
Hosts,' who said, Mai. iii. 1, ' Behold, I will send my 
messenger before my face, and he shall prepare the way 
before me.' 

Exod. iii. 2 — 6, ' And the Angel-Jehovah appeared 
unto him, in a flame of fire, out of the midst of a bush : 
and he looked, and behold the bush burned with fire, 
and the bush was not consumed. And Moses said, I 
will now turn aside and see this great sight, why the 
bush is not burned. And when Jehovah saw that he 
turned aside to see, God called unto him out of. the 
midst of the bush, and said, Moses, Moses ! And he 
said, Here am I. And he said, Draw not nigh hither ; 
put off thy shoes from oft' thy feet : for the place 
whereon thou standest is holy ground. Moreover he 

• Lowth's Notes on tikis verse. 



said, I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, 
the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. And Moses 
hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God.' In 
this passage we are informed that the Angel-Jehovah 
appeared ' to Moses in the burning bush,' and said to 
him, ' I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and 
the God of Jacob.' The word Angel, as you well know, 
denotes a person sent ; and, of course, implies a person 
sending. The Person here sent is called Jehovah, and 
styles himself ' the God of Abraham.' It needs no 
words to show, that the Person sent cannot be God the 
Father ; or that he must be the Angel of the Covenant, 
God the Son. Christ, therefore, is the Jehovah men- 
tioned in this passage as ' the God of Abraham, the 
God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.' 

The application of these peculiar names of the God- 
head to our Saviour furnishes, in my view, an unan- 
swerable argument to prove his divinity : for, 

1. In Isaiah xlii. 8, God says, '. I am Jehovah, that 
is my name, and my glory I will not give to another.' 

In this passage, God declares, that ' he will not give 
his name,' or glory, both terms meaning here the same 
thing, ' to another.' Yet, in the word of this same 
God, his several peculiar and distinguishing names are 
given to Jesus Christ ; not indeed communicated to 
him, but applied to him, as his own original, proper ap- 
pellations. This we are taught at large, Exod. xxiii. 
20, 21. ' Behold I send an Angel before thee, to keep 
thee in the way, and to bring thee into the way which 
I have prepared. Beware of him, and obey his voice ; 
provoke him not ; for he will not pardon your trans- 
gressions, for my name is in him.' Here we are in- 
formed, that the ' Angel,' sent before the Israelites, 
would not ' pardon their transgressions, if they provoked 
him ;' and are thus certainly taught, that he possessed 
the right and the power of pardoning sin. ' But who 
can forgive sins, except God ?' We are farther in- 
formed, that the ' name ' of God is ' in ' this Angel ; not 
that it is given or communicated to him, but that it exist- 
ed in him, and belongs to him, originally. What this 
name is, the passage last quoted from Isaiah declares to 
us ; ' I am Jehovah, that is my name.' It is also declared 
in the same manner to Moses, when asking of God, 
Exod. iii. 13, what was his name, that he might declare 
it to the children of Israel : ' And God said unto Moses, 
I am that I am. Thus shall ye say unto the children 
of Israel, I am hath sent me unto you.' It is hardly 
necessary to remark, that the name, J am, has the same 
import with Jehovah. All this is rendered perfectly 
consistent and obvious by the scriptural accounts of 
Christ. ' I and my Father are one,' said our Saviour to 
the Jews. 

For God, therefore, in his own word to give or appl y 
his name, or glory, to Christ, is not to give it to another ; 
but to apply to Christ names which are his own proper 
appellations. But, according to the Unitarian doctrine, 
this assertion on the part of God cannot be true. The 
doctrine therefore is false ; for ' Let God be true, but 
every man a liar ;' that is, every man who opposes God. 

2. In Deut. xxxii. 39 ; in Isa. xliii. 10 ; xliv. 6, 8 ; 
xlv. 5, 14, 21 ; and in various other places, God says, 
that there is no God beside him ; that there is none 
else ; and that he knows not any. Yet Christ is called 
God, and announced by other names of the Deity, in 
the several passages above mentioned, and in many 
others, and this by the same God who made this decla- 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



197 



ration. That ha is not so called in a subordinate, de- 
legated, or derived sense, is unquestionably evident. 
First, from the titles given to him, viz. The True God ; 
The Mighty God ; The Great God ; The God of Is- 
rael ; Jehovah ; and I am ; all of them names never 
given in the Scriptures to any being but the Deity. 
Secondly, from the things ascribed to Christ in the same 
passages, many of which, as you must have observed, 
cannot be predicated of any being, except the one liv- 
ing- and true God. 



If it be admitted then that the Scriptures speak lan- 
guage which is to be understood in its customary sense, 
the only sense in which it can be intelligible to those to 
whom it was addressed, and to ninety-nine hundredths 
of those for whom the Scriptures were written ; if it be 
admitted, that God has chosen the most proper terms to 
communicate true ideas of himself to mankind ; it can- 
not be denied, that Jesus Christ is truly and perfectly 
God. 



SERMON XXXVI. 

DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROOFS FROM THE ATTRIBUTES AND ACTIONS ASCRIBED TO HIM. 



For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the. flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness 
of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh : that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled 
in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit Roji. viii. 3, 4. 

For God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and of a sin-offering , hath condemned sin in the 
flesh (the thing impossible for the law, because it was weak through the flesh) that the righteousness of the 
law may be fulfilled by us, who walk not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. — Dr Mac- 
knight's Translation. 



In the preceding Discourse I observed, that the great 
and commanding doctrines of Christianity are briefly 
declared in this passage of Scripture, and, as such, re- 
cited the following : 

I. That the law could not destroy sin in man. 

II. That God has accomplished this work by sending 
his own Son into the world. 

III. That this was done in order that the righteous- 
ness of the law might be fulfilled by Christians. 

As the first of these propositions had been sufficiently 
discussed, I proposed, in a series of sermons, to examine 
the second ; and to commence the examination by in- 
quiring into the character of him who is here called 
' God's own Son.' After reciting several scriptural 
comments on this phrase, I asserted, that it contains the 
following important doctrine : 

That Jesus Christ is truly and perfectly God. 

This doctrine I proposed to illustrate under several 
heads of discourse, then specified ; the first of which 
was — 

That Christ is spoken of, in the Scriptures, as the 
true and perfect God. 

The argument contained in this proposition, I pro- 
posed to exhibit by showing, that the names, attributes, 
and actions of God, together with the relations which 
he sustains to his creatures, are in the Scriptures 
ascribed to Christ ; and that divine worship is in the 
Scriptures required to be rendered, and by persons in- 
spired was actually l-endered, to him. 

The first of these subjects, viz. the names of God, I 
then showed at sufficient length for my design, to be 
abundantly applied to Christ in the Scriptures. I now 
propose to exhibit this truth concerning the attributes. 

I. The peculiar attributes of God are ascribed to 
Christ in the Scriptures. 

1. Eternity. 

Rev. i. 10, 1 1, &c. '. I was in the Spirit on the Lord's 
day, and heard behind me a great voice as of a trumpet, 



saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: 
and I turned to see the voice that spake with me ; and 
being turned I saw seven golden candlesticks ; and, in 
the midst of the seven candlesticks, one like unto the 
Son of Man : and when I saw him, I fell at his feet as 
dead : and he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto 
me, Fear not, I am the first and the last, I am he that 
liveth and was dead, and behold, I am alive for ever- 
more. Amen.' 

Rev. ii. 8, ' These things saith the first and the last, 
who was dead and is alive.' 

Isa. xliv. 6, 'Thus saith Jehovah, King of Israel, 
and his Redeemer, Jehovah of Hosts, I am the first, 
and I am the last, and beside me there is no God.' 

Isa. xlviii. 12, ' Hearken unto me, O Jacob, and Israel 
my called ; I am he ; I am the first ; I also am the 
last. Mine hand also hath laid the foundation of the 
earth,' &c. 

In the two first of these passages it will not, for it 
plainly cannot be disputed, that the person spoken of 
by St John, and afterwards speaking of himself, ' who 
was like unto the Son of Man, who was dead, is alive, 
and liveth for evermore,' was Christ ; and this person in 
four instances declares himself to be ' the first and the 
last ;' the strongest assertion, that eternity past and to 
come belongs to himself. If he is the first, none can 
have been before him : if he is the last, none can be 
after him. 

In the two last passages, from the prophet Isaiah (the 
latter of which has, in the preceding Discourse, been 
clearly proved to be written concerning Christ,) Jeho- 
vah of Hosts, who declares, that ' beside himself there 
is no God,' declares also, that, ' he is the first, and that 
he is the last.' This language, with mathematical cer- 
tainty, is attributable to but. one being, and that being 
is the only living and true God. 

Prov. viii. 22, 23, ' The Lord possessed me in the 
beginning of his way, before his works of old. I was 



198 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. sxxvr. 



set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the 
earth was.' 

That the person here spoken of under the name of 
Wisdom, is Christ, cannot be rationally questioned by 
any man who reads this chapter with attention ; espe- 
cially if he compares it with the account given by the 
same person of himself, in the first ehapter of the same 
book ; where he exhibits himself as the judge, and re- 
warder, of mankind. To place the matter out of doubt, 
St Paul informs us, that ' Christ is the wisdom of 
God.' But this person says, ' he was set up from ever- 
lasting.' 

Micah v. 2, ' And thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though 
thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out 
of thee shall he come forth unto me, that is to be ruler 
in Israel ; whose goings forth have been from of old, 
from everlasting :' in the Hebrew, from the days of 
eternity. This passage was, in a sense proverbially, ac- 
knowledged by the Jewish nation to be a prophecy of 
Christ. See Matt. ii. 6, where it is quoted as such by 
the Pharisees, in answer to Herod's inquiry concerning 
the birth-place of the Messiah. Besides, God, speaking 
in the passage itself, says, ' yet out of thee shall he come 
forth unto me,' &c. Here, ' he, whose goings forth have 
been from the days of eternity,' is said by another Per- 
son to ' come forth unto ' the person speaking ; that is, 
unto God the Father. 

John 5. 1, 2, ' In the beginning was the Word, and 
the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The 
same was in the beginning with God.' 

1 John v. 20, ' This is the true God, and,' or even, 
' the eternal life.' 

The names, Jehovah, I am, and I am that I am, al- 
ready proved to belong to Christ, are also the strongest 
expressions of original and eternal existence. The 
phrase, ' I am,' Christ in a peculiar manner applies to 
himself. John viii. 5S, ' And Jesus said unto them, 
Verily, verily, I say unto you, before Abraham was, I 
am.' John viii. 24, 'If ye believe not that I am, ye 
shall die in your sins.' Matt, xxviii. 20 ' Lo, I am with 
you alway,' &c. Here Christ does not say, Before Abra- 
ham was, I was ; or I will be with you alway ; but lam, 
teaching us explicitly, that past and future are perfectly 
present to himself, and that his own existence is one 
present time. 

2. Both by these names, and by other ascriptions of 
eternity to Christ, he is declared to be underived, or 
self-existent. 

He who is the first, he whose existence is one present 
time, necessarily exists only of himself. 

3. Omnipotence is directly ascribed to Christ. 

Rev. i. 8, ' I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning 
and the ending, saith the Lord, who is, and who was, 
and who is to come, the Almighty.' In the 11th verse 
of this chapter, Christ utters these words of himself. 
Either, then, there are two persons who truly say these 
things, each of himself; or Christ declares them of 
himself in both these verses. The choice in this alter- 
native I willingly leave to the Unitarians ; for, either 
way, the great question in debate is determined with 
equal certainty. If Christ speak the words in the 8th 
verse, he is the Almighty ; if not, there are two Persons 
who are ' the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the 
last.' Origen comments on these words in the following 
manner : ' And that thou mayest know the omnipo- 
tence of the Father and the Son to be one and the same, 



hear John speaking in the Revelation in this manner, 
" These things, saith the Lord God, who is, and who was, 
and who is to come, the Almighty ;" for who is the Al- 
mighty to come, except Christ ?' Origen supposed S 
eQxopMi/os to indicate the coming of Christ at the day of 
judgment. Psalm xlv. 3, ' Gird thy sword upon thy 
thigh, O most mighty.' He, who is most mighty, is 
plainly all mighty. Mat. xxviii. 18, ' And Jesus came 
and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto 
me in heaven and in earth.' The Greek word here is 
z^ovtjia. ; the most proper meaning of which is authority, 
control, or dominion. But he who has the authority, 
control, or dominion over all things, unquestionably pos- 
sesses all power, in the original or absolute sense. 

This control was manifested by Christ in the obe- 
dience of diseases, life, and death, the elements of this 
world, and angels, both good and evil, to his command. 
The manner in which he exercised his control over all 
these things was, it should be remembered, the same 
which he used at the creation. In both cases ' he spake 
and it was done.' The bread, with which he fed the 
two companies of four thousand and five thousand men, 
came into existence, just as the heavens and the earth 
had before done, in obedience to his mere pleasure. To 
the leper he said, ' I will, be thou clean :' to the deaf 
ears, ' Be opened :' to the blind, ' Receive thy sight :' 
to the demons, ' Come out of the man :' and to the 
winds and waves, ' Peace, be still :' as he had before 
said, ' Let there be light ;' and was in the same man- 
ner obeyed. The most proper mode, however, of ex- 
hibiting the omnipotence of Christ is to appeal to those 
acts by which it is peculiarly displayed. When we 
read John i. 3, ' All things were made by him, and with- 
out him was not any thing made which was made ;' and 
Heb. i. 2, ' Upholding all things by the word of his 
power;' we are presented with the strongest possible 
proof that his power is unlimited He who created and 
who upholds the universe, plainly can do every thing 
which in its nature is possible ; and is, in the absolute 
sense, omnipotent. 

4. Omniscience is also ascribed to Christ 

John xxi. 17, ' Peter saith unto him, Lord, thou 
knowest all things.' To this ascription of omniscience, 
Christ makes no reply, and therefore admits it in its full 
latitude. If it had not been true it is impossible that he 
should have permitted Peter to continue in so danger- 
ous an error. 

Mat. xi. 27, ' All things are delivered unto me of 
my Father, and no one knoweth the Son but the Fa- 
ther ; neither knoweth any one the Father, save the Son ; 
and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.' In this 
passage both the omniscience and incomprehensibility of 
Christ are declared by himself. He who knows the Fa- 
ther, is omniscient. He who is known only by the Fa- 
ther, is incomprehensible. 

No exercise of omniscience is more peculiarly decla- 
ratory of this perfection than ' searching the heart,' and 
none more peculiarly challenged by God as his sole pre- 
rogative. Accordingly, 1 Kings viii. 39, Solomon, ad- 
dressing himself to God in his prayer at the dedication 
of the temple, says, ' For thou, even thou only, knowest 
the hearts of all the children of men.' Yet, Rev. ii. 23, 
Christ says, ' And all the churches shall know, that I 
am he who searcheth the reins and the hearts ;' and St 
John, chap. ii. 23, 24, says, ' Now when he was in Jeru- 
salem, at the passover, on the feast day, many believed 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



199 



in his name, when they saw the miracles which he did. 
But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he 
knew all men.' Accordingly, in Matt. ix. 4, it is said, 
* And Jesus, knowing their thoughts :' in Matt. xii. 25, 
' And Jesus knew their thoughts :' in Luke, v. 22, ' When 
Jesus perceived their thoughts :' in Luke vi. 8, ' But 
he knew their thoughts :' in Luke ix. 47, ' And Jesus 
perceiving the thought of their heart :' and in Luke xi. 
17, ' But he, knowing their thoughts.' In all these 
passages we have the most absolute proof that it is the 
prerogative of Christ to search the heart ; and that, 
therefore, he is the God to whom Solomon prayed. The 
same truth is also declared in the fullest manner by 
Christ, in each of his messages to the seven churches, in 
the verses beginning with, ' I know thy works,' &c. 
See Rev. ii. 3. 

5. Omnipresence is ascribed to Christ. 

Matt, xviii. 20, ' Where two or three are gathered to- 
gether in my name, there am I in the midst of them. 
This fact, the gathering together of persons in the name 
of Christ, has, from the times of the apostles, yearly ex- 
isted in many thousands of places. Yet Christ, accord- 
ing to his own declaration, is in the midst of all these 
assemblies. 

Matt, xxviii. 20, ' Lo, I am with you alway, even un- 
to the end of the world.' Here Christ declares that he 
is with the apostles and succeeding ministers alway, unto 
the end of the world. But ministers are, in a sense, 
scattered throughout the world. With all these Christ 
has promised alway to be present. 

Unitarians object against the interpretation of this 
passage, that sa; rqg avvrehsiits tov ctiauog ought to be 
rendered, ' unto the end of the age.' To this I answer, 
First, that this phrase is used three times in the Gospel 
of St Matthew by Christ himself: Matt. xiii. 39, 40, 
and 49, ' The harvest is the end of the world ; as there- 
fore the tares are gathered and burned in the fire, so 
shall it be in the end of this world ; and again, ' So 
shall it be at the end of the world : the angel shall come 
forth and sever the wicked from among the just.' These, 
if I mistake not, are the only instances in which the 
phrase is used at all ; and in all these, except the pas- 
sage now in dispute, it certainly signifies the end of the 
world at the general judgment. There is no warrant 
for supposing that Christ, who used it in this sense, in 
three instances out of four, totally varied his meaning 
in the fourth instance, without giving any notice of such 
variation. 

Secondly • If the interpretation contended for be ad- 
mitted, the passage will still equally declare the truth 
alleged from it. For, if Christ was present alway with 
the apostles, only to the end of the Jewish age, he is 
omnipresent. They preached throughout a great part 
of the world. But no being could be present with them 
' alway,' in these separate and distant regions, but he 
' who filleth all things.' Eph. iv. 10. 

To avoid the difficulty, which is presented to the Uni- 
tarians by this passage, Mr Belsham, one of the most 
considerable Socinian writers at the present time, in- 
forms us, that Christ was with St Paul (an:l, I presume, 
therefore, with the other apostles, since, the promise was 
made personally to them), by his bodily presence, which 
yet was invisible. Accordingly, Christ must be supposed 
to have been constantly and most rapidly flying, through- 
out that age, from place to place, and from apostle to 
apostle. I cannot but blush for human nature, to see 



such wretched subterfuges resorted to by a man, styled 
a minister of the gospel, as serious comments on the 
word of God, for the sake of escaping from the plain 
meaning of his direct declarations, and for the sake of 
retaining a system palpably contradictory to those de- 
clarations. What mind does not revolt at such a debas- 
ing representation of the Redeemer ? Surely this 
gentleman might have recollected, that St Peter said, 
' The heavens must receive Christ until the times of the 
restitution of all things :' that St Paul said, ' When he 
had purged away our sins by himself on the cross, he 
sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high ;' that 
Christ himself said to his disciples, ' And now I go my 
way to him that sent me :' and to the Father, in his 
intercessory prayer, ' And now I am no more in the 
world ; hut these are in the world ; and I come to thee.' 

But this interpretation will not help the Unitarians 
over the difficulty. He could not on this plan, be with 
them alway ; and therefore his promise could not be 
fulfilled. Besides, this promise, thus understood, would 
be scarcely at all applicable to the purpose for which it 
was given ; viz. the support and consolation of those who 
should disciple and baptize all nations : for these, ex- 
isting in every age, as well as in many countries, unto 
the real end of the world, need alike the blessing which 
is promised. 

This is one of the instances in which a meaning, la- 
boriously contrived to make the Scriptures accord with 
a pre-conceived system, is substituted for the obvious 
and true one ; and may serve as a representative of the 
rest. 

G. Immutability is ascribed to Christ. 

Heb. xiii. 8, ' Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to 
day, and for ever.' 

Psalm cii. 27, &c. quoted Hebrews i. 10, &c. < And 
thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundations 
of the earth, and the heavens are the works of thy hands. 
They shall perish, but thou remainest : yea, all of them 
shall wax old as doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt 
thou change them, and they shall be changed ; but thou 
art the same, and thy years shall have no end.' This 
passage is declared by St Paul to be spoken of Christ, 
as I shall have occasion to show more particularly here- 
after : and in both passages he is declared to possess 
absolute immutability. On this subject I argue in the 
following manner : 

If Christ is unchangeable, he is so, either because his 
faculties are so immensely great, and his character is so 
perfectly good, as to be incapable of change, either by 
increase or diminution : or, if the supposition be pos- 
sible, because he possesses a mind which having origi- 
nally received all its ideas, is unable by means of its 
singular constitution, either to lose any of those which 
it has received, or to receive any more ; and which, 
having originally possessed a certain degree of energy 
and moral worth, is, by its singular nature, also made 
incapable in both these respects of any alteration. No 
words are necessary to show, that every new idea makes 
a real change in the recipient; and that, therefore, every 
intelligent creature changes of necessity every day, in 
the manner which we actually behold. 

That Christ is not unchangeable, according to the 
latter of these suppositions, will, I suppose, be admitted 
without a debate. For though I have made the suppo- 
sition, it is, I think, clearly inconsistent with the essen- 
tial nature of an intelligent being. No such being turn- 






200 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



ing his mind to the objects by which thought is excited, 
can possibly fail of receiving new ideas. Besides, that 
Christ is not in this manner unchangeable, is certain, 
from Luke ii. 52, ' And Jesus increased in wisdom and 
stature, and in favour with God and man.' Here it is 
asserted, not only that he changed when twelve years of 
age, but so perceptibly, as to have the change distinctly 
marked by those around him. 

Therefore, by necessary consequence, he, concerning 
whom this attribute is asserted, is infinitely different in 
nature from the infant, which was born of the Virgin 
Mary ; and was united to that infant by a mysterious 
union, so as to become one person, denominated with 
strict propriety by the one name Jesus Christ, or the 
Anointed Saviour. 

II. The peculiar actions of God are ascribed to 
Christ in the Scriptures. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. That the creation of all things is ascribed to 
Christ. 

John i. 3, ' By him all things were made : and with- 
out him was not even one thing made, which hath been 
made.' 

Col. i. 16, ' For by him were all things created, that 
are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, 
whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principal- 
ities, or powers, all things were created by him and for 
him.' 

Heb. i. 10, quoted from Psalm cii. 25, ' Thou, Lord, 
in the beginning hast laid the foundations of the earth ; 
and the heavens are the works of thy hands.' 

It has been denied that this last passage is applied by 
the apostle to Christ ; but the denial cannot, I think, 
have proceeded even from prejudice. It must have re- 
sulted from absolute inattention. In the 7th verse the 
apostle says, ' and of the angels he saith, Who maketh 
his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire. But 
unto the Son he saith,' What ? Two things, which fol- 
low : the first, quoted from the xlvth Psalm, beginning, 
' Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever ;' the second, 
quoted from Psalm cii. and beginning with, ' Thou, 
Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the 
earth :' and these two are coupled by the conjunction, 
x«/, or ' and.' * In this manner the passage has mean- 
ing and syntax ; but without it, has neither. If the pas- 
sage be not applied to Christ by the apostle, he departs 
entirely from his discourse begun before and continued 
after this passage ; that is, carried through the whole 
chapter ; and inserts these three verses, containing, ac- 
cording to this scheme, not even a parenthetical refer- 
ence to any thing in the chapter, nor indeed to any 
thing in the whole book. In the meantime, the ' and,' 
by which it is connected with the former quotation, and 
which determines it, beyond debate, to be a part of the 
speech of the Father to the Son, makes it, according to 
this scheme, to be ungrammatical nonsense. Surely 
such writing ought not to be attributed to the apostle 
Paul, even if we regard only his character as a man of 
understanding. It ought, however, to be remarked, 
that for the present purpose the passage may be dis- 
pensed with, without any disadvantage : those which 
remain being abundantly sufficient to establish the point. 
In the two former of these passages it is asserted, that 'all 
things in heaven and in earth, visible and invisible :' 

* See an example of the same mode of connexion) Matt, xxiii. 16 

—lb. 



nay, that ' every thing which has been made,' without 
the exception even of one, ' were created by Jesus 
Christ ;' in the latter, ' the heavens and the earth,' the 
Jewish appropriate phrase to denote the universe, are 
declared to be ' the work of his hands.' 

On these passages I observe, that if a person, tho- 
roughly acquainted with language, were to sit down 
purposely to express the proposition that Christ created 
all things, he could not find words to express it more 
clearly and decisively, than those, which convey to us 
each of these scriptural declarations. St John, particu- 
larly, has gone the utmost length which human language 
will permit ; when, after saying, ' And by him all things 
were made,' he subjoins, ' and without him was not even 
one thing made, which has been made.' 

2. The preservation of all things is also ascribed to 
Christ in the most explicit manner. 

Col. i. 17, 'By him,' that is, Christ, 'do all things 
consist.' 

Heb. i. 1,2,' God, who at sundry times, and in divers 
manners, spake unto our fathers by the prophets, hath 
in these last days spoken unto us by his Son : whom he 
hath appointed heir of all things ; by whom also he 
made the worlds : who, being the brightness of his glory, 
and the express image of his person and upholding all 
things by the word of his power,' &c. 

On these passages it cannot be necessary to dwell. 

They plainly have but one meaning ; and that mean- 
ing is too explicit to admit even of an ingenious mis- 
construction. The words make it evident, if words can 
make it evident, that Christ is the upholder of all things. 

3. The government of all things is, in the same direct 
and distinct manner, applied to Christ. 

Psalm xlv. 6, ' Thy throne, O God, is for ever and 
ever.' 

The second Psalm throughout, is an illustrious exhibi- 
tion of the universal dominion of Christ. 

The seventy-second Psalm is a still more glorious ex- 
hibition of the same subject. Here it is said, that ' his 
dominion shall extend from sea to sea, and from the 
river to ths ends of the earth ; that all kings shall bow 
down to him ; that all nations shall serve him : that 
they shall fear him as long as the sun and the moon 
endure : that his name shall endure and be blessed, for 
ever : and that the whole earth shall be filled with his 
glory. Amen.' 

Psalm ex. 1, 'The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou 
on my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy foot- 
stool.' 

Psalm viii. 5, ' Thou madest him a little (for a little 
time) lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with 
glory and honour : thou madest him to have dominion 
over the works of thy hands.' See this passage applied 
to Christ, Heb. ii. 9. 

Isa. ix. 6, 7, ' Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son 
is given : and the government shall be upon his shoul- 
der. And his name shall be called Wonderful, Coun- 
sellor, the Mighty God, the Father of the everlasting- 
Age, the Prince oi Peace. Of the increase of his go- 
vernment and peace there shall be no end.' 

Dan. vii. 13, 14, ' And 1 saw in the night visions, and 
behold, one like the Son of Man came with the clouds 
of heaven, and came to the Ancient of Days ; and they 
brought him near before him. And there was given 
him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom; that all 
people, nations, and languages, should serve him : his 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



201 



dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not 
pass away : and his kingdom that, which shall not be 
destroyed.' 

The same doctrine is pursued throughout the New 
Testament in the same explicit manner. Acts x. 36, 
' The word, which he sent to the children of Israel, pro- 
claiming glad tidings of peace by Jesus Christ. This 
person is Lord of all things.' 

Rom. ix. 5, ' Of whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ 
came, who is over all things, God blessed for ever and 
ever. Amen.' 

1 Cor. xv. 25, ' For he must reign until he hath put 
all enemies under his feet.' 

Eph. i. 20, ' Which he wrought in Christ, when he 
raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right 
hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality, 
and power, and might, and dominion, and every name 
that is named, not only in this world, but in that which 
is to come : and hath put all things under his feet ; and 
given him to be head over all things unto the church.' 

Philip, ii. 9 — 1 1, ' Wherefore God hath highly exalt- 
ed him, and given him a name, which is above every 
name ; that at the time of Jesus every knee should 
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things 
under the earth ; and that every tongue should confess, 
that he is Lord, to the glory of God the Father-.' 

These numerous passages are, comparatively, but a 
few of those in which the Scriptures assert the absolute 
and universal dominion of Christ. I have recited such 
a number of them, to show that this doctrine runs 
through the whole sacred volume. No words can be 
conceived which can express absolute and supreme do- 
minion over all beings, and all events, more unequivo- 
cally or more forcibly than these. The name of Christ 
is here declared to be ' above every name that is 
named, not only in this world, but in that which is 
to come, in earth and in heaven,' in time and in eter- 
nity. All things in all worlds are required to bow to 
him. Angels of every order, as well as men, it is de- 
clared, shall thus ' bow' to him, either voluntarily or 
involuntai-ily ; and shall ' confess, that he is Lord, to 
the glory of God the Father.' This dominion also is 
asserted to be without limits, and without end. I shall 
only add, from the mouth of Christ himself, ' I am the 
first and the last, and the living one.' Also, ' I was 
dead, and behold, I am the living one for ever and 
ever : and I have the keys of hades and of death. 
I shut, and no one openeth ; I open, and no one shut- 
teth :' Rev. i. 17, 18 ; and iii. 7 : and the equivalent 
passage, Mat. xxviii. 18, ' And Jesus came, and spake 
unto them, saying, All authority in heaven and in earth 
is given unto me.' Here Christ asserts that the right- 
ful exercise of all power in heaven and in earth is in 
his possession; that he has 'the keys of hades and of 
death ;' or the absolute control over the world of the 
dead and the region of departed spirits. From that 
world, from that region, none of the numberless inha- 
bitants can escape without his permission ; but when the 
gates are unlocked by him, none can hinder them from 
coming forth ; as at his call they will actually do on the 
great and final day. 

4. The act of giving and restoring lifej is also ex- 
pressly ascribed to Christ in a variety of ways. 

Particularly while he resided in this world, he raised 
the dead at his pleasure. The daughter of Jairus, the 
son of the widow of Nain, and his beloved Lazarus, were 



illustrious examples. All these returned again from the 
world of departed spirits at his command. ' Damsel, ' I 
say unto thee, Arise ;' ' Young man, I say unto thee, 
Arise;' 'Lazarus, Come forth!' were the only means 
which he employed ; and the spirits of these deceased 
persons instantly obeyed the call. This amazing power 
he accordingly asserts of himself in terms absolute and 
universal. John v. 21, 26, ' As the Father raiseth up 
and quickeneth, even so the Son quickeneth whom he 
will. As the Father hath life in himself, so hath he 
given to the Son to have life in himself.'* In the same 
manner St Paul declares, 1 Cor. xv. 45, ' The first 
Adam was made a living soul ; the last Adam was a 
quickening spirit.' In a still more striking manner did 
he exemplify this wonderful power in raising himself 
from the dead. That he did this cannot be doubted, 
unless we are disposed to doubt the truth of his own ex- 
press declaration. John x. 17, 18, ' Therefore doth my 
Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I 
might take it up again ; no one taketh it from me, but 
I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, 
and I have power to take it up again.' 

In this passage it is as evident as words can make it, 
that Christ ' laid down his life,' of his own accord only, 
and of his own accord ' took it up again,' and that ' no 
one was able to take it from him.' Accordingly, St 
Peter declares, Acts ii. 24, that * it was not possible for 
him to be holden of death.' 

Another most wonderful exhibition of this astonish- 
ing power will be made by him, as he himself has told 
us, in raising up the dead at the last day. ' And this 
is the will of him that sent me, that every one who 
seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have ever- 
lasting life : and I will raise him up at the last day,' 
John vi. 40. And again, verse 54, 'Whoso eateth my 
flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I 
will raise him up at the last day.' See also verses 39 
and 44. — John v. 28, ' Marvel not at this, for the hour 
is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall 
hear his voice, and shall come forth ; they that have 
done good to the resurrection of life, and they that have 
done evil to the resurrection of damnation.' 

After Christ had ascended to heaven, the apostles, 
according to his promise, raised the dead by his power 
and authority ; and thus proved the ubiquity of his 
power, as well as of his presence. 

As there can be no rational doubt concerning these 
passages, and no misconstruction of them, except by 
violence, I do not suppose any explanation of them to 
be necessary. They carry their own meaning perfectly 
in themselves, and, therefore, demand no comment 
The united language of them all is, that Christ in him- 
self perfectly possesses the power of giving life ; that in 
this world he exercised it on himself, and many others ; 
and that he will most wonderfully display the same 
power at the end of this earthly system, by raising to 
life the great congregation of the dead. 

5. The forgiveness of sin is expressly ascribed to 
Christ. 

Thus, in Exod. xxiii. 20, 21, already quoted for an- 
other purpose, it is said, ' Behold, I send an Angel be- 
fore thee to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee in- 
to the place which I have prepared. Beware of him, 
and obey his voice ; provoke him not ; for he will not 

* See also Phil. iii. 21, and Col. iii 4. 

2 c 



202 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr, XXXVI. 



pardon your transgressions : for my name is in him.' 
In this passage it is evident beyond a doubt, that the 
Angel who was sent before the Israelites was possessed 
of the power and right to forgive sins. Otherwise God 
could not have thus cautioned the Israelites not to pro- 
voke him for this reason, since the reason would not 
have existed, and would therefore have been alleged 
insincerely. But this cannot be attributed to God. 2 
Cor. ii. 10, ' For, if I forgave any thing, to whom I 
forgave it, for your sake forgave I it, in the person of 
Christ.' The apostle here declares to the Corinthians, 
that he forgave the offenders referred to in his former 
epistle, in the person of Christ, or standing as his re- 
presentative ; but if Christ could not himself forgive 
sins, the apostle might, with equal propriety, have said, 
that he forgave it in the person of any other ; the per- 
son of Christ here being equivalent to the name and 
authority of Christ. But if Christ had not the power to 
forgive sins, this authority would have been nothing. 
Col. i ii. 13, ' Forbearing one another, and forgiving 
one another, if any man have a quarrel against any, 
even as Christ forgave you.' 

The import of this passage will be sufficiently under- 
stood, if it can need any explanation, by reciting the 
parallel passage, Eph. iv. 32, ' Forgiving one another, 
even as God for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you.' 

Acts vii. 59, 60, ' And they stoned Stephen, invocat- 
ing, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. And he 
kneeled down, and cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay 
not this sin to their charge.' 

In this affecting passage, Stephen, full of the Holy 
Ghost, and vouchsafed a vision of the glory of God, and 
of Jesus standing on the right hand of God, prays to 
Christ to forgive the sin of his murderers. Words, one 
would think, cannot be more decisive. 

Matt. ix. 2 — 7, ' And, behold, they brought to him a 
man sick of the palsy, lying on a bed ; and Jesus, see- 
ing their faith, said unto the sick of the palsy, Son, be 
of good cheer ; thy sins are forgiven thee. And, be- 
hold, certain of the scribes said within themselves, This 
man blasphemeth. And Jesus knowing their thoughts, 
said, Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts ? For 
whether is easier to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee ; or 
to say, Arise, and walk ? But that ye may know that 
the Son of Man hath power on earth to forgive sins 
(then saith he to the sick of the palsy), Arise, take up 
thy bed, and go unto thine house. And he arose, and 
departed unto his house.' 

In this passage, Christ said to the sick of the palsy, 
' Son, thy sins are forgiven thee.' .Some of the scribes 
who were present accused him in their own hearts of 
blasphemy, and said, as Mark informs us, ' Who can for- 
give sin, but God only ?' In this also they spoke the 
truth. Christ knew their thoughts and asked them, 
' Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts ? For whe- 
ther is easier to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee ; or to 
say, Arise, and walk ?' Both these acts belonging to 
God only, the latter is here, with supreme force, pro- 
posed as a test of the former. Christ, therefore, makes 
it such, and tells the scribes, that he will prove to them 
his power to forgive sins by his power to raise up the 
sick of the palsy, with a command. Accordingly, as a 
proof in form, that he possessed this power, he says to 
the sick of the palsy, ' Arise, and walk.' The sick man 
' immediately arose, and departed to his house.' 

Here the power of Christ to forgive sins was denied 



by the scribes, and expressly asserted by himself. Of 
this assertion he undertook the proof on the spot ; and 
the proof proposed was a miracle. A miracle can be 
wrought by none but God ; and God cannot work a 
miracle to prove a falsehood. The miracle was wrought ; 
the assertion therefore was true. 

6. The act of giving eternal life is abundantly 
ascribed to Christ in the Scriptures. 

John x. 27, 2.8, ' My sheep hear my voice, and I know 
them, and they follow me ; and I give unto them eter- 
nal life ; and they shall never perish.' 

Rev. xxi. 6, ' I am the Alpha and Omega, the begin- 
ning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst 
of the fountain of the water of life freely.' 

Rev. ii. 7, ' To him that overcometh will I give to 
eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the para- 
dise of God.' See also verses 17 and 28. 

Rev. iii. 5, ' He that overcometh, the same shall be 
clothed in white raiment ; and I will not blot out his 
name out of the book of life.' See also verses 12 and 21. 

These passages need no explanation. 

7. To Christ is ascribed the great and awful act of 
judging the world, and of acquitting and condemning 
angels and men. 

John v. 22, ' The Father judgeth no man, but hath 
committed all judgment unto the Son.' . See also, what 
will preclude any farther inquiry, the account of the 
last judgment, given by Christ himself, in the 25th chap- 
ter of Matthew. 

All these are confessedly the acts of the infinite God 
alone, and involve the absolute possession of power and 
perfection without limits. To create, preserve, and 
govern the universe ; to give and restore life ; to forgive 
sin ; to bestow eternal life ; to judge the world of angels 
and men, and to acquit or condemn, finally and for ever, 
all intelligent beings — is, if any thing is, to be, and to 
act as being, the true God, the only infinite and eternal 
Jehovah. 

In the great act of judging the world, particularly, the 
absolute exercise and the most wonderful display ever 
made of omniscience, as well as infinite justice, will be 
made. To judge righteously in this amazing case, 
plainly requires the most exact and minute, as well as 
the most comprehensive and perfect, knowledge of all 
the thoughts, words, and actions, of intelligent beings ; 
together with all the aggravations and palliations of 
guilt, and all the enhancements and diminutions of vir- 
tue, which have existed in the universe. Consequently, 
whatever circumstances have attended these innumer- 
able beings must be perfectly known, and actually 
present at once, to the view of such a judge. Nor must 
he be less perfectly acquainted with the precise kinds 
and distributions of punishment and reward, which the 
respective works and characters of these numberless 
individuals, in their endlessly various circumstances, 
justly require. 

To these things must be added, what Christ directly 
challenges to himself, the power of opening and shutting 
heaven and hell, or hades, at his pleasure, and of con- 
ferring the happiness of heaven, and inflicting the 
miseries of hell on whom he pleases. 

If, then, Christ be not God, the real God has so or- 
dered things in his providence, that the peculiar displays 
of divine perfection, the greatest which will ever be 
made, will be made by a creature, and not by himself. 
The creation, preservation, and government of the 






DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



203 



universe ; the giving of life, and the restoration of it to 
the dead ; the forgiveness of sin ; the communication of 
endless life ; and the final judgment of intelligent 
beings ; are the highest, the most peculiar, and the most 
perfect displays of the Godhead. Omnipotence and 
infinite wisdom are pre-eminently manifested in the 
formation and government of all things ; infinite bene- 
volence, in the forgiveness and salvation of sinners ; and 
omniscience and infinite justice, in acquitting and con- 
demning, rewarding, and punishing, the righteous and 
the wicked. 

If then these, the most perfect displays of the God- 
head, do not prove Christ to be the real and supreme 
God, let me ask, In what manner and by what argu- 
ments shall we prove that there is such a God ? The 
existence and perfections of this glorious Being, have 
hitherto been always evinced from the creation, preser- 
vation, and government of the universe. But these, ifi 



the Scriptures are true, are the acts of Christ. If then, 
they prove the existence of God at all, they certainly 
prove Christ to be God. If they do not prove him, 
whose acts they are, to be God, they do not prove God 
to exist at all ; for they cannot prove him to be God, 
whose acts they are not* To what proofs, then, of the 
being of God are we to recur, unless we admit these to 
be the proofs ? and if we admit them, how can we deny 
or doubt the Deity of Christ. 

Let me farther ask each member of this assembly to 
apply this subject to his own case, and say, whether he 
is not ready fearlessly to commit his all to him, who has 
done, and will do, all these amazing things ? who in 
the Scriptures is called God, and Jehovah ; and to 
whom all the attributes of the infinite mind are ascribed ? 
If he is not, let me ask him, To what being is he willing 
to trust this mighty deposit — himself — his soul — his all. 



SERMON XXXVII. 

DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROVED FROM DIVINE REVELATIONS SUSTAINED BY HIM; AND 

FROM DIVINE WORSHIP REQUIRED AND RENDERED TO HIM. 



For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness 
of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh : that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled 
in us, who walk not after the .flesh, but after the Spirit Rom. viii. 3, 4. 

For God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and of a sin-offering , hath condemned sin in the 
flesh {the thing impossible for the law, because it was weak through the flesh) : that the righteousness of the 
law may be fulfilled by us, who walk not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit — Dr Mac- 
knight's Translation. 



Having shown in the two preceding Discourses, that 
Christ is spoken of in the Scriptures as the true and 
perfect God: because, 1. the names, 2. the attributes, and 
3. the actions of God are ascribed to him ; I shall now 
proceed to consider the remaining particulars, proposed 
under this head : viz. 

IV. That the relations which God sustains to his 
creatures, are in the Scriptures ascribed to Christ ; and, 

V. That divine worship is in the Scriptures required 
to be rendered, and by persons inspired was actually 
rendered, to Christ. 

In examining the relations, sustained by God to his 
creatures, and ascribed in the Scriptures to Christ, so 
copious a field r is open for discussion, that it can only 
be partially surveyed at the present time. I shall, 
therefore, confine my attention to the following parti- 
culars : — 

1. Christ sustains to the universe the relation of 
Creator. 

In the passages quoted in the preceding Discourse, 
to prove that the act of creating is ascribed to Christ, 
in the Scriptures, it is asserted, that he is ' the Creator 
of the heavens and the earth ; of thrones, dominions, 
principalities, and powers ; and of every individual 
thing which hath been made.' In the relation of Crea- 
tor he stands, therefore, to every being, great and small, 
in the heavens and in the earth. Atoms were called 
into existence by his word ; angels owe to him their 



exalted being. This is a relation which no being but 
the infinite Jehovah can sustain ; and is plainly that on 
which all the other relations of God to his creatures de- 
pend. Accordingly, God challenges this character to 
himself, as his character alone, sustained by himself 
only. ' I,' saith he, ' am Jehovah, and none else; form- 
ing light, and creating darkness ; making peace, and 
creating evil : I Jehovah am the author of all these 
things.'* Whatever the Creator makes, is in the most 
absolute sense his own ; and can in no sense belong to 
any other, unless by his gift. Whatever connexion, 
therefore, exists between God, as God, and creatures, 
as such, arises originally and entirely from the act of 
bringing them into being. All the rights which the in- 
finite mind claims and holds over the universe, and all 
the duties of intelligent creatures, spring originally from 
this source only. It is his universe, because he made it. 
They are his property, because by him they were creat- 
ed. As their Creator, therefore, they look to him and 
him alone, to whom they are indebted for every thing, 
and to whom they owe every thing which they can do, 
because every thing in which they can be concerned 
depends upon their existence. But for this, however 
excellent, great, and desirable, he might be, and how- 
ever deserving of their love and admiration, still they 
would not be his. This God himself teaches us in di. 

* Isaiah xlv. G, 7. Lowth. 



201 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. 



rect terms. ' Remember these things, Jacob ; and 
Israel, for thou art my servant. I have formed thee ; 
thou art my servant. But now, saith. the Lord, that 
created thee, Jacob, and he that formed thee, O 
Israel, fear not, thou art mine.' Out of this act of giv- 
ing existence arises, then, his property in all creatures : 
and his right to give them laws, to control their actions, 
to judge, reward, and punish them, and universally to 
dispose of them according to his pleasure ; together 
with all their corresponding duties. To Christ, then, 
belong all these rights. But who can possess these 
rights, or sustain the relation out of which they arise, 
beside the only living and true God ? 

In sustaining this relation to the universe, Christ pos- 
sesses also, of course, all the attributes necessary to it, 
and displayed in the work of creating ; particularly, the 
power and wisdom manifested in the production of all 
things. This power and wisdom are plainly infinite. 

I know it is said by Emlyn, and other Avians, that 
we do not see the infinity of these attributes displayed 
in creating the universe ; and that they may, for aught 
that appears to us, have existed in a sufficient degree 
for the production of all things, and yet not have been 
infinite. 

On this subject I observe, 

(1.) That of creating power in the abstract, or un- 
exercised, we have no idea at all ; and, therefore, cannot 
thus discern it to be infinite. 

(2.) We cannot comprehend infinity in any sense. 
The mind which can comprehend infinity must itself be 
infinite. When we speak of infinite power, as evident 
in the creation of all things, we simply declare the fact, 
that this power is infinite. That infinity exists with re- 
spect to duration, expansion, or any thing else which is 
infinite, we may perceive distinctly, and yet are perfectly 
unable to comprehend eternity or immensity. 

(3.) The power of creating, or giving existence, is 
evidently a subject to which limits can no more be as- 
signed in our thoughts, than to duration, or space. 
Plainly, he who gave existence to one atom, can give 
existence to atoms, and therefore to woi'lds, without 
number. He who gave intelligence, who formed men, 
and angels, and archangels, can form all kinds and de- 
grees of intelligence which can be formed, and can 
raise men, angels, and other rational beings, to any 
height, to any perfection of intelligence which in the 
nature of things is possible. To this power, therefore, 
no other bound can be set beside possibility. He who 
formed all things cannot create contradictions. This, 
however, is no circumscription of his power ; for if it 
could be done he could do it. The only difference 
which would exist, would be in the nature of the things 
themselves, and not in the power of the Maker. 

(4.) If creation and preservation be not a proof of 
infinite power, there is no proof that such power exists. 
Of this there needs no illustration but one, viz. that 
these are the only sources whence infinite power has 
been hitherto argued in the present world ; for the 
argument, a priori, I consider as of no value. 

(5.) We plainly cannot see, that creating power is 
not infinite ; nor can we furnish a single argument for 
the support of such a conclusion. The doctrine is, 
therefore, a mere gratuitous assumption, and merits as 
little consideration as any other such assumption. 

(G.) Creating power is the source of all power that 
exists, except itself. If, therefore, creating power is not j 



infinite, there is no infinite power. Christ, therefore, 
as the Creator of all things, possessed originally all 
existing power, whether we allow it to be infinite or not. 

(7.) The Scriptures have determined this point, so 
far as the subject of this Sermon is concerned : for in 
Heb. iii. 4, they say, ' Every house is builded by some 
one ; but he that built all things is God.' 

It will easily be discerned, that the remarks made 
here concerning the power displayed in creation, are 
with equal force applicable to the wisdom exhibited in 
that work. 

2. Christ sustains also the velation of Preserver. 

' By him all things consist.' Col. i. 17. ' Upholding 
all things by the word of his power.' Heb. i. 3. 

That God is the only preserver of the universe, is un- 
questionably evident to the eye of reason, and has accord- 
ingly been acknowledged by all men who have acknow- 
ledged a God. It is also, in the most definite manner, 
declared in the Scriptures. In Neh. ix. 6, the Levites, 
at the head of the congregation assembled for a solemn 
national fast, blessed God in these terms : ' Thou, even 
thou, art Jehovah alone ; thou hast made heaven, the hea- 
ven of heavens, with all their hosts ; the earth, and all 
things that are therein ; the seas, and all that is therein ; 
and thou preservest them all : and the host of heaven 
worshippeth thee. Thou art Jehovah, the God who didst 
choose Abram, and brought him forth out of Ur of the 
Chaldees, and gavest him the name of Abraham.' In 
this passage it is declared in the most explicit terms, 
that he who preserves all things, is the Being worship- 
ped by the host of heaven. ' Jehovah alone ;' ' the Je- 
hovah ;' ' the God ;' according to Parkhurst and Lowth, 
The Jehovah, the true, eternal, and unchangeable God ; 
the God who chose Abram, brought him forth out of 
Ur of the Chaldees, and gave him the name of Abra- 
ham. In the subsequent verses we are farther informed 
that he is the ' God of Israel ; the great, mighty, and the 
terrible God ; gracious and merciful :' the author of all 
the wonders in Egypt, the Red sea, and the wilderness, 
and of the dispensation of the law at Sinai ; the only 
object of prayer, supreme love, faith, and obedience. 
Yet all ' things consist by Christ,' and ' he upholds them 
all by the word of his power.' He therefore, is this 
Jehovah : this God. 

The relation of universal Preserver is plainly a re- 
lation incapable of being sustained by any being but 
Jehovah. It involves a knowledge of all beings, and 
all their circumstances; a power present in every place, 
and to every being at every moment ; sufficient in de- 
gree to hold in existence, to keep together, and to con- 
tinue in order and harmony, the mighty frame of the 
universe ; to roll the innumerable worlds of which it is 
composed, unceasingly, through the expansion ; and to 
control, with an irresistible sway, all their motions, af- 
fections, and inhabitants ; and a wisdom sufficient to 
contrive the proper employments and destinations of 
this endless multitude of beings, as well as the natures 
and attributes necessary for them, so as to accomplish 
those ends, and those only, which are worthy of the in- 
comprehensible workman. Of this power, knowledge, 
and wisdom, the Scriptures, therefore, assert Christ to 
h possessed, when they declare him to be the Preserver 
of all things. Our ideas of the power exerted in the 
preservation and also in the creation of the universe, 
they exceedingly enhance, by informing us, that both 
these amazing works are accomplished by his work. 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



205 



' Upholding all things by the word of his power.' * He 
spalce, and it was done.' Of course, both are performed 
with perfect ease ; and he who does them ' fainteth not, 
neither is weary.' 

In the character of the Preserver of the universe, all 
creatures owe to Christ the continuance of their bless- 
ings and their hopes. As we should have been nothing, 
had we not been created, so we should become nothing, 
were we not preserved. On this relation, therefore, 
next after that of Creator, we depend for every thing, 
and to him who sustains it we owe every thing. Were 
it possible that he who sustains it should be any other 
than God, we should still originally and continually, 
owe all things to him, and nothing to God. To such a 
monstrous absurdity does the opinion, that the Creator 
and Preserver is any other than the true and perfect 
God, ultimately conduct, and, if they would be consis- 
tent with themselves, does in fact conduct those who 
deny Christ to be God. 

As the Preserver of the righteous, Christ is appropri- 
ately called in the Scriptures by the emphatical name 
of the Shepherd. ' I,' saith he of himself, 'am the good 
Shepherd. The good Shepherd giveth his life for the 
sheep. I am the good Shepherd and know my sheep,' 
John x. 11, 14. — ' Our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd 
of the sheep.' Heb. xiii. 20. — ' And when the chief 
Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of 

glory, which fadeth not away,' 1 Peter v. 4 ' There 

shall be one fold, and one Shepherd,' John x. 16. — 
' Awake, O sword, against my Shepherd, against the 

Man that is my fellow,' &c. Zech. xiii. 7 ' Behold, the 

Lord God will come with strong hand, and his arm 
shall rule for him : behold, his reward is with him, and 
his work before him. He shall feed his flock, like a 
shepherd ; he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and 
carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those 
that are with young,' Isa. xk 10, 11.—' Jehovah is my 
shepherd ; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie 
down in green pastures ; he leadeth me beside the still 
waters. He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth me in the 
paths of righteousness, for his name's sake.' Psalm 
xxiii. 1 — 3. In these passages we are informed, that 
Christ is ' the good Shepherd,' ' the great Shepherd,' 
' the chief Shepherd,' and the ' Shepherd of God, the 
Man that is the fellow,' or compeer, ' of Jehovah of 
Hosts.' Vie are farther informed, that there is one 
Shepherd to the flock ; that he is the final Judge of the 
quick and the dead : that Jehovah is the ' Shepherd ' of 
Uavid, one of the righteous, and therefore, by irresisti- 
ble consequence, of all the righteous ; that the Lord 
God will feed his flock ' like a shepherd, will gather the 
lambs with his arm, and carry them in his besom.' If 
therefore Christ be not Jehovah, if he be not the Lord 
God, then there are two shepherds instead of one, of 
whom Christ is still the ' chief and the ' great Shep- 
herd ;' and, although the Shepherd of David was 
Jehovah, yet Christ is the Shepherd of all other right- 
eous persons. This character Christ recognizes, when 
he informs us that at the great day he will ' separate the 
sheep from the goats ;' and this character he will for 
ever sustain in the future world ; for there, we are 
taught, he ' will feed them, and lead them to living 
fountains of waters.' Wt. 

3. Christ sustains the character of the Po&Jjfsor cf 
all things. 



unto his own things (ra llta) ; and his own men, or 
kindred (oi ilioi), received him not;' that is, he came 
into the world, ,but mankind, or the Jewish nation, re- 
ceived him not, John i. 11 — ' All things,' saith Christ, 
' which the father hath, are mine,' or, my things, John 
xvi. 1 5. — Again, in his intercessory prayer, he says to 
the Father, ' All things that are mine, are thine, and the 
things which are thine are mine,' John xvii. 10. It 
will be needless to add any farther passages to texts so 
perfectly explicit and unambiguous as these. It is pro- 
per, however, to remark, that the possession of all things 
is inseparably connected with the creation and preser- 
vation of all things. All things are necessarily the 
property and possession of Christ, because he made 
them, and because he upholds them in being, as saith 
the Psalmist, ' The earth is Jehovah's, and the fulness 
thereof, the world, and they that dwell therein ; for he 
hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon 
the floods.' 

But the possession of the universe involves in the 
Possessor, to say the least, an absolute knowledge of 
every thing that is thus possessed. No mind can pos- 
sess any thing, to which its comprehension does not 
extend. Entitled to it, it may be ; in the actual pos- 
session of it, it cannot be. But no mind except the 
Omniscient can comprehend, or ever discern, more than 
a little part of the universe ; and, therefore, none but 
the Omniscient Mind can possess any more than this 
little part. 

There is indeed an humbler and totally different sense, 
in which it may be figuratively said, and in which it is 
said in the Scriptures, that the saints shall inherit all 
things, and in which all things are said to be theirs, 
viz. ' that all things shall work together for good to 
them.' In this manner all things cannot with propriety 
be said to belong to Christ ; because, being ' the same 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever,' his enjoyment is, like 
himself, unchangeable, and cannot, in any sense, be the 
result of the changes of which created things are the 
subjects. The happiness of created beings results only 
and necessarily from his government of all things for 
their benefit ; but his happiness existed before the 
tilings themselves, and can be dependent on nothing 
but his own mind. 

Farther : The possession of all things involves, inse- 
parably, the control over them, in such a degree, as to 
direct them immediately to the use and purposes of the 
possessor. That which we cannot command for our 
own use, we, do not in the proper sense possess. But 
the power and the knowledge necessary to the posses- 
sion of all things are in this view plainly infinite. 

4. Christ sustains the relations of Supreme Ruler to 
the universe. 

Rev. xix. 1 1, &c, ' And I saw heaven opened ; and, 
behold, a white horse, and he that sat on it was called 
Faithful and True, and his name is called the V» ord of 
God. And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a 
name written, King of kings, and Lord of lords.' Rev. 
xvii. 14, ' These shall make war with the Lamb, and 
the Lamb shall overcome them ; for he is Lord of lords, 
and King of kings.' 1 Tim. vi. 15, ' Which in his 
times the blessed and only potentate shall show, the 
King of kings, and Lord of lords.' Acts x. 36, ' Jesus 
Christ : this person is Lord of all things.' Rom. ix. 5, 
' Christ, who is over all things, God blessed for ever. 
Amen.' Philip, ii. 10, 11, ' That at the name of Jesus 



206 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxvir. 



every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things 
in earth, and things under the earth : and that every 
tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the 
glory of God the Father.' In these passages Christ is 
directly exhibited as the Lord or Ruler of the universe, 
in the most absolute sense ; the Lord of all things ; 
whom things in heaven, and things in earth, are respec- 
tively required to confess as their Lord. 

But the government of the universe requires, if any 
thing requires, the attributes of an infinite mind : good- 
ness to prompt, justice to direct, knowledge to discern, 
and power to execute, whatever is right, wise, and 
good, to be done, and to prevent the existence of what-, 
ever is not. It demands also existence every where 
present, and eternally enduring throughout the bound- 
less and everlasting kingdom of God. Without these 
attributes Christ must be the Lord only in name, and 
rule only in pretence ; and such must undoubtedly be 
the character attributed to him in these and the almost 
innumerable passages ofScripture, in which he is styled 
Lord, and said to hold dominion over all things, unless 
he is essentially possessed of these attributes. The 
Scriptures are not thus deficient in their own scheme ; 
for, when they attribute universal dominion to Christ, 
they teach us that he is qualified for such dominion, by 
declaring, ' that in him dwells all the fulness of the 
Godhead.' We are not, therefore, left at a loss by the 
Scriptures themselves concerning his perfect qualifica- 
tions for the exercise of this government ; nor can we 
wonder that he who made and preserves should also 
govern all things. 

In this relation Christ gave the law to the Israelites 
and to mankind at Mount Sinai ; and in this character, 
as the rightful lawgiver, he directed his own Spirit to 
inspire the prophets and apostles with the knowledge of 
his word, as the universal law to mankind. ' But when 
the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you 
from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, he will guide 
you into all truth ; for he shall not speak of himself; 
but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak ; and 
he will show you things to come. He shall glorify me : 
for he shall receive of mine, and shall show it unto you. 
All things which the Father hath are mine ; therefore, 
said I, that he shall take of mine, and show it unto you.' 
John xv. 26. xvi. 1 3 — 15, ' Of which salvation the pro- 
phets have inquired, searching Avhat, or what manner 
of time, the Spirit of Christ, which was in them, did 
signify.' Accordingly, the Scriptures are called the 
word of Christ : ' Let the word of Christ dwell in you 
richly, in all wisdom ;' and, the law of Christ : ' Bear 
ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.' 
The law here referred to is no other than the second 
command of the moral law, ' Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bour as thyself;' or that branch of this command which, 
respecting Christians peculiarly, is called the new com- 
mandment : ' A new commandment give I unto you, that 
ye love one another,' John xiii. 34. In this character 
Christ, when he began to preach, expounded, altered, 
and annulled, the law of Moses, in his own name, and 
at his own pleasure. All the prophets who came before 
him introduced their messages to mankind under the 
name and authority by which they spoke ; prefacing 
them with ' Thus saith the Lord ;' ' Thus saith Jeho- 
vah ;' and ' Thus saith Jehovah of Hosts.' Christ, on 
the contrary, when altering and annulling these very 
things, uses no name but his own, and speaks directly 



by his own authority, introducing his own laws with 
' Verily, I say unto you ;' plainly intended to be equi- 
valent to ' Thus saith the Lord ;' because the things 
which were prefaced with this latter phrase were openly 
altered and revoked by him. 

In this character, also, he disposes of the present and 
future allotments of all beings, opens and shuts, at his 
pleasure, the world of death and departed spirits ; con- 
signs whom he pleases to endless suffering, and bestows 
on whom he pleases immortal life. In this character, 
he is ' the head of all principality and power,' Col. ii. 
10. — ' Who, having gone into heaven,' saith St Peter, 
' is on the right hand of God ; angels, authorities, and 
powers being subjected to him.' In this relation it is 
obvious, that all intelligent beings are bound to render 
him their supreme and ultimate homage and obedience ; 
that the law is the rule of all their conduct ; from obey- 
ing which nothing can excuse them ; the law by which 
they will be tried, and approved or condemned ; that 
his word is the only rule of life and salvation to man- 
kind ; that his dominion is the supreme and universal 
control, to which, in this and every other world, intelli- 
gent beings are rightfully required to bow ; to which eve- 
ry one of them in this and all other worlds will ultimate- 
ly bow ; and by which all things are, and will for ever be, 
regulated at his pleasure ; that he is the Judge, who will 
finally acquit or condemn, reward or punish every intel- 
ligent creature. I scarcely need to ask, who can sustain 
this stupendous relation to the universe except Jehovah ?• 

5. Christ is the last end of all things. 

Col. i. 16, ' All things were created by him, and for 
him ;' that is, they were all created for his use, that he 
might destine them to such purposes, and conduct them 
to such an issue, as were agreeable to his pleasure. In 
the same manner as it is said, Prov. xvi. 4, ' Jehovah 
hath made all things for himself.' 

It will, I suppose, be granted, as I do not see how it 
can be questioned, that the end for which any thing ex- 
ists under the control of divine wisdom, is more im- 
portant than the thing itself ; or universally, that the 
end is more important than the means. I suppose it 
will also be granted, that the end for which all things 
exist, is the most important of all ends. I suppose it 
will farther be granted, that Jehovah, in making all 
things for himself, regarded himself, and in this design 
proved, that he regarded himself as more important 
than all things else ; and his glory or pleasure, for 
which they were created, as the most important of all 
the ends discerned by his omniscience, and perfectly 
worthy to be preferred to every other. But this plain- 
ly could not be, unless he who thus proposed himself as 
the end of all things, was, in the view of his omni- 
science, a more excellent, great, and glorious being, 
than any other. If there were any other being supe- 
rior to himself, such being ought plainly to be preferred 
to him ; otherwise, that which was of inferior importance 
and worth would be preferred to that which was supe- 
rior ; a preference obviously unfounded and unjust. 
Jehovah, therefore, in making all things for himself, 
hath testified in the most solemn and forcible manner 
possible, that himself is more important, great, and ex- 
cellent, than all other things whatever. 

But all things are declared, in the passage quoted 
from Colossians, to have been created by Christ for 
himself. Christ, therefore, in this act of making him- 
self the end of the creation of all things, has declared 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST 



207 



that himself is, in his own view, the most important, 
great, and excellent of all things. This declaration is 
either true or false. If false, it proceeded from ig- 
norance or from sin. It could not be from sin ;» for 
' Christ knew no sin ;' and is declared to be ' without 
spot or blemish ;' ' the Holy One and the Just ;' even 
the ' Holy One of God.' It could not be from ignor- 
ance ; because no intelligent creature who knew Je- 
hovah at all, could possibly suppose himself to be more 
important, great, and excellent, than Jehovah ; and be- 
cause Christ will not be supposed even by the Unita- 
rians, to be capable of such ignorance. It is, therefore, 
true. But if it be true, it is, by inevitable consequence, 
also true, either that Christ is greater and more import- 
ant than Jehovah, or that he is Jehovah himself. 

Farther : As Christ is the end of all things, if he be 
not Jehovah, there is nothing of which Jehovah is the 
end. As all things were made for Christ ; if Christ be 
not Jehovah, there is nothing which is made for Je- 
hovah. The united tendency and result of all that 
has been, is, or will be in the universe, is the accom- 
plishment of the pleasure and glory of Christ ; and if 
Christ be not Jehovah, Jehovah will exist without any 
glory displayed, without any interest or concern, in the 
universe. 

It ought also to be added, that he who is the end of 
all things, for whose glory and pleasure they are to 
operate, must possess power sufficient to direct them 
to his glory, and intelligence to discern that this pur- 
pose is accomplished by them all. When we consider 
the greatness and multitude of the things themselves, 
and their everlasting continuance and operation, it 
will, I think, be impossible not to conclude, that this 
power and intelligence must be, in the strictest sense, 
unlimited. 

It is with reference to this very subject, as I appre- 
hend, that our Saviour, in his intercessory prayer, ut- 
ters to the Father these remarkable words : * ' All 
things which are mine are thine ; and all things which 
are thine, are mine : and I am glorified in them,' 
John xvii. 10. Here, in two forms of expression, he 
declares to the Father the co-extension of the property 
which the Father and the Son have in the universe, 
and their mutual possession of all things ; and then 
adds, that ' he is glorified in,' or by means of, ' them 
all.' This may be properly styled Christ's own com- 
ment on the declaration of St Paul, that ' all things 
were made for him ;' that is, for his use, his glory ; for 
here Christ declares his glory to be actually accomplish- 
ed by them all. 

This doctrine is plainly and utterly inconsistent with 
the Arian notion of Christ being a subordinate God ; 
to whom divine power is supposed to have been dele- 
gated, and who in this character of a delegate, is sup- 
posed to have created the universe, and to be worship- 
ped. On this notion, I propose to make some observa- 
tions hereafter. At present I shall only remark, that 
he who is the first cause, or Creator, and the last end 
of all things, is all that is or can be meant by the Su- 
preme God. All things being made for his use, and 
being the means of his glory, there is nothing left to a 
being higher and greater than himself ; nor does it ap- 
pear that such being can have any material concern with 
the universe, in any manner whatever. 

* See the original Greek. 



I shall now consider the fifth and last particular men- 
tioned under this head : viz. That divine worship is in 
the Scriptures required, and by persons inspired was ac- 
tually rendered, to Christ. 

Divine worship is required to be rendered to Christ, 
John v. 22, 23, ' For the Father judgeth no man, 
but hath committed all judgment unto the Son : that 
all men should honour the Son even as they honour the 
Father. He that honoureth not the Son honoureth not 
the Father that sent him.' In this passage of Scripture 
we are informed, that the infinite prerogative of judg- 
ing the universe is committed by the Father to the 
Son, for this, as at least one, if not the only great end, 
' that all (that is, I apprehend, all intelligent creatures, 
the word men not being in the original) should honour 
the Son even as (that is, just in the same manner as, 
and in the same degree as) they honour the Father.' 
The final judgment, being an act which eminently dis- 
plays the infinite perfections, is committed to the Son, 
that he may be perceived with indubitable evidence to 
possess these perfections, and may therefore receive that 
peculiar honour which is due to Him only by whom 
they are possessed. The honour which is due in a 
peculiar sense to God consists supremely in religious 
worship ? in making him the object of our supreme af- 
fection ; and rendering to him our supreme obedience. 
All this is here required to Christ, in the same manner 
in which it is required to the Father. 

Whether it be supposed that this passage be intended 
to include angels or not, they are expressly required to 
worship him in Psalm xcvii. 7, ' Confounded be all 
they that serve graven images : worship him, all ye 
gods.' St Paul quotes a part of this verse in the fol- 
lowing manner : ' And again, when he bringeth in the 
first-begotten into the world, he saith, Let all the angels 
of God worship him.' It is therefore certain, that all 
the angels of God are required to worship Christ. 

The only possible debate which can arise here, is 
concerning the kind of worship which is to be rendered. 
On this I observe, first, that the Greek word is irqaa- 
KvvnvaTooctv, and that this word is used twenty-four 
times in the New Testament to denote the worship of 
the true God; that it is used many times more to de- 
note the religious worship of false gods ; and that it is, 
so far as I have observed, the only word used to denote 
what is intended by worship, when considered as an act 
immediately performed. The words StQUKwu, Xur^iva, 
and ot(Sop.xi, rendered also to worship, appear rather to 
express either habitual reverence or service, or a gene- 
ral course of worship, considered as a character or course 
of life. ll(io<7x,vvia, so far as I have been able to ob- 
serve, is the only term used to denote religious worship 
by St John ; and is certainly the appropriate word for 
this idea, if there is any such appropriate word in the 
New Testament. It is particularly the word used by 
Christ in his answer to Satan ; ' Thou shalt worship 
the Lord thy God :' and in his discourse with the woman 
of Samaria concerning the place where, the manner in 
which, and the persons by whom, God is acceptably wor- 
shipped. 

Secondly : That religious worship is here intended is 
certain, because the object of the worship commanded, 
is directly opposed, in the command itself, to idols; and 
the worship required to that which is forbidden. ' Con- 
founded be all they that serve,' that is, religiously wor- 
ship, ' graven images ; that boast themselves of idols.' 



20S 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Smi. xxxvn. 



As if God had said, Worship no more graven images, nor 
idols of any kind ; for all their worshippers shall be 
confounded : Worship him, the Messiah, the Son of 
God ; and not only you, the sottish men, who are guilty 
of this idolatry, but all ye angels also, to whom this wor- 
ship is often sottishly rendered. 

In the same manner is worship commanded to both 
men and angels. Phil. iii. 9 — 11, 'Wherefore God 
also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name 
which is above every name ; that at the name of Jesus 
every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things 
in earth, and things under the earth ; and that every 
tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the 
glory of God the Father.' In this passage, all things 
celestial, terrestrial, and subterranean (as it is in the 
original), are required to bow the knee to Christ, and 
to confess him to be Lord. To bow the knee is well 
known appropriate phraseology to denote religious wor- 
ship. ' I have left me,' says God to Elijah, ' seven thou- 
sand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed unto 
Baal, and every mouth which hath not kissed him,' 1 
Kings xix. 18.* St Paul also says, ' I how my knees 
to the Father of all mercies.' But to place it beyond 
all doubt, we need only refer to Isa. xlv. 22, 23, 
whence this passage is quoted : ' Look unto me, and be 
ye saved, all ye ends of the earth : for I am God, and 
there is none else. By myself have I sworn, and the truth 
is gone out of my mouth ; the word, and it shall not be 
revoked. Surely to me shall every knee bow, shall every 
tongue swear : saying, Only to Jehovah belongeth sal- 
vation and power.' f To ascribe to Jehovah salvation 
and power (the thing which, the apostle informs us, is 
the same with confessing that Christ is Lord), and to 
bow the knee when making this ascription, is undoubt- 
edly religious worship, if any thing is. Accordingly, 
this ascription is often made by the saints in the Scrip- 
tures, and the saints and angels in heaven. 

In accordance with these requisitions, we find Christ 
actually worshipped in great numbers of instances. I 
shall omit here the numerous instances, in which we are 
directly told that persons worshipped Christ, while here 
in the world, merely because they would give birth to a 
critical controversy, too minute and too extended for the 
present occasion. The instances about which such a 
controversy cannot at least decently arise, are sufficient- 
ly numerous for my design. 

1. In Gen. xviii. we are told that ' Jehovah appeared 
unto Abraham in the plains of Mamre, as he sat in the 
door of his tent.' The manner of his appearance was 
die following. ' As he lifted up his eyes and looked, 
lo, three men stood by him, and he ran to meet them, 
and bowed himself towards the ground.' To one of 
them he said, ' My Lord, if I have now found favour in 
thy sight, pass not away, I pray thee, from thy servant,' 
&c. The person here spoken to is called by Abraham, 
Tlit- This person in the 13th verse is called Jehovah ; 
and in the 14th says, ' Is any thing too hard for Jeho- 
vah ?' and informs Abraham of the destruction of the 
cities of the plain, which he had determined to bring 
upon them for their sins. To this person Abraham 
prays repeatedly for the preservation of these cities. 
Lot also, to whom he appeared in the following chapter, 
prayed to him for his own preservation, and that of the 
city Zoar, and was accepted. These persons are in the 



* See Hos xiii. 2; and Psalm ii. 2. 



t Lowth. 



first place called 'three men. 1 One of them, whom 
Abraham calls Adonai, or Lord, js afterward called by 
himself, by Abraham, and by Moses, Jehovah; and was 
worshipped by both Abraham and Lot. The other two 
are afterward repeatedly called angels. Now it will not 
be pretended, that God the Father appeared as a man, 
or that he ate of the provision furnished by Abraham ; 
for ' no one hath seen God ' the Father ' at any time. 
Yet this person is here styled Jehovah, and was wor- 
shipped ; and this person was Christ. 

2. In Judges xiii. the Angel-Jehovah appeared to 
Manoah and his wife. When he departed, it is said, 
that ' Manoah knew that he was the Angel-Jehovah :' 
and it is added, ' Manoah said unto his wife, We shall 
surely die, because we have seen God. But his wife 
said unto him, If Jehovah were pleased to kill us, he 
would not have received a burnt-offering and a meat- 
offering at our hands.' In verse 16, the Angel had said 
to Manoah, ' If thou wilt offer a burnt-offering, thou 
must offer it unto Jehovah ; for,' it is subjoined, ' Ma- 
noah knew not that he was the Angel-Jehovah.' But 
after he had ascended in the flame of the altar, ' then,' 
it is declared, ' Manoah knew that he was the Angel- 
Jehovah.' The burnt-offering and the meat-offering 
Manoah and his wife then perceived themselves to have 
offered unwittingly to him who had manifested to them 
his acceptance of both at their hands. 

Here the worship was not only presented to Christ, 
but, what is of much more importance to my purpose, 
was accepted by him. 

3. David worships Christ in Psal. xlv. Ixxii. and cii. 
in ascribing to him the praise which is due to God only. 
In the two first he declares, that ' the people shall praise 
him, and fear him, and fall down before him, and serve 
him for ever and ever.' In the last he makes to him a 
long continued prayer. 

4. In Isa. vi. the seraphim worshipped him, saying, 
' Holy, holy, holy, is Jehovah of Hosts.' 

5. Stephen, in Acts vii. 59, 60, prayed to Christ. 
' And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God ;' or as in 
the 1 original, ' they stoned Stephen invoking, and saying, 
Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. And he kneeled down, 
and cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin to 
their charge ; and, having said this, he fell asleep.' 

On this prayer of St Stephen I make the following 
remarks : — 

(1.) Stephen at this time was ' full of the Holy 
Ghost,' (verse 55,) and therefore perfectly secured from 
error. 

(2.) He was singularly favoured of God on account 
of the greatness of his faith and obedience ; and, as a 
peculiar testimony of the divine favour, he was per- 
mitted to ' see the heavens opened, and to behold the 
glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of 
God.' 

(3.) In the full assurance produced by this vision, and 
the faith with which he beheld it, he presented his final 
petitions to Christ. 

(4.) The first of these petitions respected the highest 
personal object which can be prayed for, viz. the eternal 
salvation of his soul ; and attributed to him to whom it 
was made that infinite power, wisdom, and goodness 
which alone can bestow salvation. 

(5.) The second petition was of the same nature, 
being a prayer, that his enemies might not be finally 
condemned for the sin of murdering him ; and of course 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



209 



attributed to the person, to whom it was addressed, the 
power of forgiving or condemning these murderers. No 
higher act of worship was ever rendered than this, nor 
was any act of worship ever performed on a more so- 
lemn occasion, nor by a person better qualified to 
worship aright, nor with a more illustrious testimony of 
acceptance. Yet this act of worship was performed to 
Christ. 

(6.) This was the very worship, and these were the 
very prayers offered to God, a little before, by Christ at 
his crucifixion. Stephen, therefore, worshipped Christ 
just as Christ worshipped the Father. 

6. St Paul often prayed to Christ directly.* Par- 
ticularly, 1 Thess. iii. 11, 12. 'Now God' himself, 
' even our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, direct our 
way unto you. And the Lord make you to increase and 
abound in love one towards another, and towards all 
men, even as we do towards you.' Here a prayer is 
offered up by St Paul, that he may be guided to the 
Thessalonians ; and that they may be made to increase 
and abound in holiness, and be established unto the end. 
This prayer is offered up to God the Father and to our 
Lord Jesus Christ, in the same manner and the same 
terms ; both being unitedly addressed in the same peti- 
tion, without any note of distinction. The second of 
these petitions is also offered up to Christ alone. The 
same petition in substance is presented to the Father 
and Son united, in the same manner, 2 Thess. ii. 16, 17. 
In the third chapter, ver. 5, Paul prays, ' Now may the 
Lord direct your hearts to the love of God, and to 
the patience of Christ :' and ver. 16, ' Now the Lord 
of peace himself give you peace by all means. The Lord 
be with you all.' Again, 2 Cor. xii. 8, ' Concerning 
this,' that is, the messenger of Satan to buffet him, St 
Paul says, ' thrice I besought the Lord, that it might 
depart from me. But he said unto me, My grace is suf- 
ficient for thee : for my power is made perfect in weak- 
ness. Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in 
mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon 
me.' In this passage St Paul informs us that he thrice 
prayed to Christ respecting the particular subject men- 
tioned. 

7. St Paul, in all his epistles except that to the He- 
brews, and St John, in his second epistle, pray to Christ, 
in that noted request, in which also Silas, Timothy, and 
Sosthenes united, that ' Grace, mercy, and peace might 
be multiplied,' or communicated, to those to whom they 
WTote, ' from God our Father, and from our Lord Jesus 
Christ.' This is an express prayer to the Father and 
the Son united, to grant grace, mercy, and peace to 
men. These are the highest of all blessings, and such 
as none but Jehovah can grant. Yet Christ can grant 
them, because the spirit of inspiration directed that he 
should be prayed to for them. 

8. The baptismal service, directed by Christ himself, 
is an act of religious worship to Christ. 

' Baptizing them in the name of the Father, of the 
Son, and of the Holy Ghost' Whether this be inter- 
preted to mean, baptizing them into the name, or in the 
name, it makes no difference. If Christians are bap- 
tized into the name, they are baptized into the name of 
God only ; for they are the children of God only by 
adoption ; that adoption by which they take his name 
upon them ; and Christ is here declared to be the God 



* See Bishop Burnet ou the Articles, p. 48. 






whose name they assume. If they are baptized in the 
name, they are baptized in the name, or authority of 
God only : but Christ is this God. 

9. The blessing pronounced on Christian assemblies, 
is an act of religious worship, rendered to Christ. 

' The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of 
God, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with 
you all. Amen.' ' Peace be to the brethren, and love 
with faith from God the Father, and the Lord Jesus 
Christ,' Eph. vi. 23. Or, as it was more commonly, 
' The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. 
Amen.' The first of these is equivalent to the blessing 
anciently pronounced by the high priest on the children 
of Israel. ' Jehovah bless thee, and keep thee : Jeho- 
vah make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious 
to thee : Jehovah lift up his countenance upon thee, and 
give thee peace.' It is the appropriate office of the 
Father to bless and preserve ; of the Son to give grace 
and illumination ; and of the Spirit to communicate 
peace. 

Finally : So universal was the custom of praying to 
Christ, that Christians were originally entitled, as their 
distinguishing appellation, ' Those who called on the 
name of Christ.' Thus Ananias says to Christ, Acts 
ix. 14, ' And he hath authority from the chief-priests to 
bind all those that call on thy name.' The people of 
Damascus also, when they heard Paul preach, ' were 
amazed and said, Is not this he, who destroyed them 
that called on this name in Jerusalem ?' 1 Cor. i. 1 , 
' Paul, called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ, and Sos- 
thenes the brother, unto the church of God which is at 
Corinth, called to be saints, with all that in every place 
call upon the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.' 2 Tim. 
ii. 22, ' Follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with 
them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.' Rom. 
x. 1 2, ' The same Lord over all is rich unto all that call 
upon him.' That Christ is here meant, is evident from 
the preceding verse. 

In all these instances, and in this universal manner, 
was Christ worshipped. In the greater part of the in- 
stances, the persons who rendered the worship were in- 
spired, and in the remaining instances were plainly un- 
der divine direction, because the worship was approved 
and accepted. 

But religious worship is lawfully rendered to God 
only. This we know from the mouth of Christ himself, 
quoting Deut. x. 20, in Matt. x. 12, ' It is written, 
Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only 
shalt thou serve.' The angel also forbade John to wor- 
ship him, saying, ' See thou do it not ; worship God.' 
Isaiah also commands, ' Sanctify the Lord of Hosts him- 
self : and let him be your fear and your dread.' God, 
also, in Exod. xxxiv. 1 4, says to the Israelites, ' Thou 
shalt worship no other God : for Jehovah, whose name 
is Jealous, is a jealous God.' 

Yet Christ is here directed to be worshipped, and is 
actually worshipped, by persons inspired. If, then, 
Christ be not God, God has commanded another to be 
worshipped ; and persons under the immediate direction 
of his Spirit have worshipped another. 

The whole church, the bride, is commanded, in Psalm 
xlv. by that God who said unto him, ' Thy throne, O 
God, is for ever and ever,' thus : ' Hearken, daughter, 
and consider, and incline thine ear ; so shall the king- 
greatly desire thy beauty ; for he is thy Lord, and wor- 
ship thou him.' The church has in all ages obeyed this 
2 d 



210 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



B 



EH. XXXVIII. 



command, and worshipped him ; prophets have worship- 
ped him ; apostles have worshipped him : men, full of 
faith and of the Holy Ghost, have besought his guidance, 
aid, grace, and blessing, while they lived, and when they 
died have besought him to receive their spirits into his 



own eternal kingdom. If Christ is God, if he is Jeho- 
vah, they have done their duty. If he is not God, if he 
is not Jehovah, they have violated through life and in 
death the first of Jehovah's commands in the decalogue ; 
' Thou shalt have no other God before me.' 



SERMON XXXVIII. 

DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROOFS. 

THIS THE ONLY GROUND OF CONSISTENCY IN THE SCHEME OF REDEMPTION.— THE JEWS OTHERWISE NOT 
CHARGEABLE WITH GUILT IN CRUCIFYING CHRIST.— THE APOSTLES OTHERWISE CHARGEABLE WITH 
LEADING MANKIND INTO IDOLATRY. 



For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness 
of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh : that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled 
in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit Rom. viii. 3, 4. 

For God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and of a sin-offering, hath condemned sin in the 
flesh (the thing impossible for the law, because it was weak through the flesh) : that the righteousness of the 
law may be fulfilled by us, who walk not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit Dr Mac- 
knight's Translation. 



According to the plan originally proposed from these 
words, I have, in the three preceding Discourses, con- 
sidered at length, the proofs of the Deity of Christ, ar- 
ranged under the first general head : viz. That Christ 
is spoken of in the Scriptures as the true and perfect 
God. 

I shall now proceed to consider the three following 
heads of Discourse, originally proposed ; viz. 

II. That the Deity of Christ is the only ground of 
consistency in the scheme of redemption. 

III. That the Jews, according to the opposite doc- 
trine, are unjustly charged with guilt in putting Christ 
to death. 

IV. That the prophets and apostles, according to the 
same doctrine, cannot be vindicated from the sin of lead- 
ing mankind into idolatry. 

The last argument then proposed, I shall omit to 
examine, until I have considered the divinity of the 
Holy Spirit ; and shall now proceed to the considera- 
tion of the 

II. That the Deity of Christ is the only ground of 
consistency in the scheme of redemption, 

The truth of this assertion I shall attempt to evince 
by showing, that the Deity of Christ is the only ground 
of consistency in the things spoken of him, as the Light 
of the world ; the Saviour of the world, and, the pro- 
pitiation for sin. 

1 . As the light of the world. 

Christ is exhibited in the Scriptures as the light of 
the world, in two respects : 

(1.) As revealing the will of God to mankind ; and, 

(2.) As communicating spiritual or divine light to the 
soul. 

In both respects, the things said of Christ in the 
Scriptures, as ' the Light of the world,' are consistent 
only on the supposition that Christ is the true God. 
That the Scriptures are the word of Jehovah will not 
be questioned by any man who believes in a revelation, 
s^nce they are called by this title, and by others equi- 



valent to it, in hundreds of instances, from Genesis to 
the Revelation of St John. But the Scriptures are ex- 
pressly declared to be the word of Christ : ■ Let the 
word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teach- 
ing and admonishing one another in psalms, and hymns, 
and spiritual songs.' In this passage, the Old Testa- 
ment is in so many terms declared to be the word of 
Christ. The gospel, every man knows, is appropriate- 
ly entitled ' The Gospel of Christ.' 

St Mark prefaces his account of the gospel with these 
words : ' The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ 
the Son of God.' 

St Paul informs us, that he received the gospel im- 
mediately by revelation from Christ : and accordingly, 
he everywhere styles it the gospel of Christ. The 
greatness of the authority which it derived from this 
source, he teaches us in the strongest manner, when he 
says, ' Though we, or an angel from heaven, or any 
one whatever, preach another gospel, let him be ac- 
cursed,' Gal. i. 8, 9. This gospel, he also says, is 
' Christ the power and wisdom of God unto salvation.' 

St Peter teaches the same truth, in a manner equally 
forcible, when he says, ' Of which salvation the pro- 
phets have inquired, searching what and what manner 
of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did sig- 
nify.' Here the Spirit which inspired the prophets, is 
styled ' the Spirit of Christ :' and this Spirit, the same 
apostle says, is ' the Holy Ghost.' ' For prophecy,' 
saith he, ' came not in old time by the will of man ;' 
' but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the 
Holy Ghost.' The Old Testament, therefore, was re- 
vealed to the prophets by the Spirit of Christ. 

Concerning the New, Christ himself teaches us the 
same doctrine, in the same decisive manner. ' How- 
beit, when he, the Spirit of truth is come ; he will guide 
you into all truth ; — for he shall not speak of himself; 
but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak. He 
shall glorify me ; for he shall receive of mine, and shall 
show it unto you. He shall teach you all things, and 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



211 



shall bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever 
1 have said unto you.' 

All things, therefore, which Christ hath said to the 
apostles, the Spirit of truth brought to their remem- 
brance. He taught them all things, and guided them 
into all the truth. Yet he spake not of himself, but 
that which he heard, which he received from Christ, and 
that only, he declared unto them. The gospel, there- 
fore, is originally and only derived from Christ. Yet 
it is repeatedly styled by St Paul, ' the gospel of God.' 

This character of the revealer of the will of God, 
St John declares repeatedly in the introduction of his 
gospel. After having declared, that ' the Word was in 
the beginning,' or eternal ; ' was God; 1 and 'was co-eter- 
nal with God ;' and that ' all things were made by him ;' 
he goes on to say, ' In him was life, and the life was the 
light of men. And the light shineth in darkness ; and 
the darkness comprehended it not.' He then informs 
us, that John the Baptist ' came to bear witness of the 
light ;' that ' he was not that light : but was sent to bear 
witness of that light :' then he adds, ' That was the true 
light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the 
world.' To all this he adds farther, the testimony of 
John the Baptist, the very witness which he bore con- 
cerning Christ as the light. ' No one,' said this har- 
binger of the Redeemer, who was sent for the very 
purpose of declaring his true character, ' No one hath 
seen God at any time ; the only begotten Son of God, 
who is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared 
him.' To declare the character and designs of God is 
plainly impossible, unless for him who knows these 
things intuitively, or for him to whom God is pleased to 
make them known. But no other person beside the 
Son and the Spirit knows the things of God intuitively. 
This we know certainly without inspiration ; but the 
Scriptures have determined the point, if it were other- 
wise uncertain. ' No one,' saith our Saviour, ' knoweth 
the Father but the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son 
will reveal him.' ' The things of God,' saith St Paul, 
' knoweth no one, but the Spirit of God : and the Spirit 
searcheth all things, even the deep things of God.' 
From all these passages it is, I apprehend, certain, that 
Christ is the sole author of revelation ; and that the 
Spirit has not, as the Spirit of inspiration, spoken of 
himself, but has received from Christ his mind or plea- 
sure, and declared it to the men whom he inspired. 
Accordingly, St Paul says, speaking of his own inspira- 
tion, and that of the other apostles, ' We have the mind 
of Christ.' It is therefore true to this day, that ' no 
one knoweth the Father but the Son, and those to 
whom the Son hath revealed him.' This knowledge 
thus revealed, was not revealed to Christ, but was pos- 
sessed by him, because he dwells in the bosom of the 
Father, and has dwelt there from eternity, ' being daily 
his delight, and rejoicing alway before him.' 

Should it be objected, that mankind know something 
of God by their reason, independently of revelation, and 
therefore possess a knowledge of God which is not de- 
rived from Christ : I answer, that with some qualifica- 
tions I admit the premises, but deny the consequence. 
The very reason of man was formed by Christ, as was 
man himself; as were also all those materials from 
which reason derives whatever knowledge of this na- 
ture it possesses. It has, I trust, been proved beyond 
reasonable debate, that Christ created, preserves, and 
governs all things, and therefore is the author of those 



works of creation and providence whence reason ob- 
tains all its knowledge of this subject. Of course, in 
this sense also, Christ is ' the light that lighteth every 
man that cometh into the world.' Thus all the know- 
ledge which exists of God is derived from Christ ; and 
since he is ' the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ;' 
and ' dwells in the bosom of the Father :' this know- 
ledge was his originally, intuitively, and eternally. I 
need not say, that these things cannot be true of any 
mind but the omniseient. 

(2.) Christ is the author of spiritual light to mankind. 

The communication of spiritual light is spoken of in 
the Scriptures as a work peculiar to God. 2 Cor. iv. 6, 
' For God, who commanded the light to shine out of 
darkness, hath shined into our hearts, to give us the 
light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face 
(or person) of Jesus Christ.' John vi. 45, ' And they 
shall all be taught of God.' And thus in many other 
places. But this office is also ascribed to Christ. 
Simeon says, Luke ii. 30, ' For mine eyes have seen 
thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face 
of all people : A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the 
glory of thy people Israel.' ' In him,' says St John, 
' was life, and the life was the light of men.' ' I,' said 
our Saviour, John viii. 12, 'am the light of the world ; 
he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but 
shall have the light of life.' Isa. xlix. 6, quoted Acts 
xiii. 47, 'I will also give thee for a light to the Gen- 
tiles, that thou mayest be my salvation to the ends of 
the earth.' In all these passages, it is manifest that 
spiritual or divine light is the light spoken of, and that 
it resides in Christ, as its source, and is by him com- 
municated to mankind. All this also is completely 
expressed by the prophet Malachi in a word ; when he 
calls Christ ' the Sun of righteousness ;' the orb, in 
which righteousness is originally inherent ; in which it 
dwells, and from which it emanates to mankind. In the 
same manner it is said by David, ' the Lord God is a sun.' 

2. The things spoken of Christ as the Saviour of the 
world, are consistent only on the supposition that he is 
the true God. 

Psalm lx. 16, ' I Jehovah am thy Saviour.' Hos. 
xiii. 4, ' I am Jehovah thy God ; thou shalt know no 
God but me ; for there is no Saviour beside me.' Isa. 
xliii. 11, 'I, even I, am Jehovah ; and beside me there 
is no Saviour ;' and thus in various other places in the 
Old Testament. 

The same thing is often declared in the New Testa- 
ment. 1 Tim. i. 1 , ' The commandment of God our 
Saviour :' and Tit. ii. 10, ' Adorn the doctrine of God 
our Saviour.' 

Yet in the same absolute sense Christ is declared to 
be the Saviour of mankind. ' Who is this,' saith the 
prophet Isaiah, ' that cometh from Edom, with dyed 
garments from Bozrah ; this, that is glorious in his 
apparel, travelling in the greatness of his strength ? I,' 
saith Christ, ' that speak in righteousness ; mighty to 
save.' John iv. 42, ' This is the Christ, the Saviour of 
the world.' Acts iv. 12, St Peter, speaking of Christ, 
saith, ' Neither is there salvation in,' or by means of, 
' any other ; for there is no other name under heaven 
given among men, whereby we must be saved.' And thus 
in very many other places. The importance of the work 
of saving mankind, and the glory derived from it to 
the divine character, are strongly exhibited by God in 
Isa. lxv. 17, 18, ' For behold I create new heavens and 



212 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[S 



ER. XXXVIII 



a new earth ; and the former shall not be remembered 
nor come into mind ; but be ye glad and rejoice for 
ever in that which I create ; for behold, I create Jeru- 
salem a rejoicing, and her people a joy.' In this pas- 
sage it is evident, that the new creation is, in the view 
of God, so much more glorious than the original one, 
that, compared with it, the original creation shall not 
be remembered. But the new creation is no other than 
' creating Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy ;' 
that is, renovating the souls of mankind, and thus mak- 
ing them holy, lovely, a rejoicing, or foundation of joy, 
i n the sight of God. This work then is, in the sight of 
God, a far more glorious work than the formation of 
the heavens and the earth. Such also it is in the eye 
of reason. One mind is of more importance than any 
number of worlds, inanimate and unconscious. The 
renovation of one mind to righteousness, and its rein- 
statement in the divine favour, is the production of 
eternal, and by us incomprehensible, worth and enjoy- 
ment in that mind. This work repeated in ' a multi- 
tude ' of minds ' which no man can number,' is the 
work which is styled the new creation. How immensely 
more glorious a work than the production of ever so 
many masses of lifeless matter ! 

When we consider the nature of this work, and the 
things involved in it, we cannot hesitate to admit the 
peculiar importance attached to it in the Scriptures. In 
this work are involved, the creation of a new heart in 
man ; — the communication of divine knowledge ; — the 
adoption of man into the divine family ; — a perpetual 
presence with the souls of all who are created anew ; — 
a continual communication of strength, patience, forti- 
tude, peace, consolation, and hope ; the preservation of 
the soul from the fatal influence of temptations, lust, and 
all other spiritual enemies ; the final justification of the 
soul at the judgment, and its establishment in the pos- 
session of immortal life ; together with what will be the 
subject of the next head of discourse, the accomplish- 
ment of such a propitiation, as may be the proper source 
of all these wonderful consequences. He who admits 
these things to be included in the work of saving man, 
must admit also that there can be no Saviour beside 
Jehovah. 

Should it be said, that all these things, except the 
last, are the work of the Holy Spirit, and that therefore 
they are here erroneously attributed to Christ ; I an- 
swer, that they are indeed the work of the Holy Spirit ; 
but, notwithstanding this, they are truly attributed to 
Christ, not only as he laid the foundation for them all, 
but as the Spirit acts not of himself, and only executes 
the pleasure of Christ under his commission. 

This work, then, of saving man, is in the Scriptures 
attributed to Christ in a manner so peculiar, that from 
it he derives his own appropriate name, Jesus Christ, 
the Anointed Saviour ; and is considered by Jehovah 
as being so much greater and more glorious than the 
work of creating the heavens and the earth, that in 
comparison with it, that work ' shall not be remembered, 
nor come into mind.' 

3. As the propitiation for sin, the Deity of Christ is 
the only ground of consistency in the scriptural exhibi- 
tions. 

As I expect hereafter to discuss Christ's atonement 
for sin, as one of the great parts of the Christian system, 
I shall here omit every thing concerning this subject 
which is not necessary to the doctrine just now declared. 



That Christ is in some sense ' a propitiation for the 
sins of the world,' cannot be denied, unless by a direct 
denial of the express words as well as the unquestion- 
able doctrines of the gospel. 1 John ii. 2, * And he is 
the propitiation for our sins : and not for ours only, but 
for the sins of the whole world.' 1 John iv. 10, " He 
loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for 
our sins.' See also Rom. iii. 25 ; Isa. liii. 10, &c. The 
text also is a direct declaration of this doctrine. ' God 
sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and 
of a sin-offering, or an offering for sin,' &c. 

By Christ being a propitiation for sin, it is here 
necessary to mean only that something, which being- 
done for the sinner, the sinner may be forgiven and re- 
stored ; but which not being done, he must be punished 
according to the sentence of the law by which he is con- 
demned. That so much as is here specified, is included 
in Christ's being the propitiation for the sins of man- 
kind, is unquestionably evident. 

(1.) From the name by which it is called in the 
Scriptures in many instances, viz. a,Trcikvrqo<;ts, trans- 
lated redemption. When a person was taken captive 
in war, and condemned to perpetual slavery or to death, 
a sum of money was not unfrequently paid and accepted 
for his ransom from these evils ; this sum was called 
'hvTQov ; and the redemption of the captive from death 
or slavery, was called xrro'hvT^aaii. The redemption of 
mankind from the slavery of sin, and the everlasting 
death to which the sinner was exposed by it, is called by 
the same name. The T^vrgov, or price of redemption, 
was paid, not by the captive, but by another person. 
The price of man's redemption, in like manner, was not 
paid by himself, but by Christ ; that is^ Christ accom- 
plished something, without which man would not have 
been redeemed from the bondage of death and sin. 

(2.) This truth is evident from Isa. liii. 10, ' Yet it 
pleased Jehovah to crush him with affliction. If his 
sou] shall make a propitiatory sacrifice, he shall see a 
seed which shall prolong their days ; and the gracious 
purpose of Jehovah shall prosper in his hands. Of the 
travail of his soul he shall see (the fruit) and be satisfied : 
by the knowledge of him shall my righteous servant 
justify many ; for the punishment of their iniquities he 
shall bear. Therefore, I will distribute to him the 
many for his portion ; and the mighty people shall he 
share for his spoil : because he poured out his soul unto 
death ; was numbered with the transgressors ; and he 
bare the sin of many ; and made intercession for the 
transgressors.'* 

In this passage it is clear, that in the covenant of 
redemption, here recited, Jehovah promised to Christ, 
' the seed which should prolong their days,' or be eter- 
nally blessed, a promise here repeated in many forms, 
on the condition that ' he made his soul a propitiatory 
sacrifice for sin.' It is therefore certain, that if he had 
not made this sacrifice, he would not have received this 
reward : or, in other words, mankind would not have 
been saved. 

(3.) The same truth is evident from Rom. iii. 25, 26, 
' Christ Jesus : whom God hath set forth to be a propiti- 
ation for sin, to declare his righteousness in the remis- 
sion of sins that are past ; that he might be just, and 
yet the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.' 

From this passage it is evident, that if God had not 

* Lowth. 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



213 



set forth Christ as a propitiation, his righteousness in 
the remission of sins that are past, would not have been 
declared ; and that he would not have been just in the 
act of justifying believers. In other words, if Christ 
had not become a propitiation, the sins of mankind 
could not have been remitted, nor themselves justified. 

In a former Discourse it has, I trust, been proved 
that, in the literal sense, ' by works of law no flesh can 
be justified before God ;' and that the future obedience 
and the repentance of the sinner are alike and wholly 
unavailing to this end. Independently of Christ's 
redemption, therefore, or independently of his being 
' the propitiation for the sins' of men, every sinner is 
condemned, lost, and without hope. The Scriptures in 
multiplied instances teach us that Christ became a pro- 
pitiation for sins, especially by his death. Isa. liii. 5, 
' He was wounded for our transgressions ; he was bruised 
for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was 
upon him.' Rom. v. 6, ' In due time Christ died for 
the ungodly.' 1 Cox*, xv. 3, ' Christ died for our sins, 
according to the Scriptures.' 2 Cor. v. L4, ' One died 
for all.' 1 Thess. v. 10, ' Who died for us, that we 
should live with him.' Col. i. 20, ' Having made peace 
through the blood of his cross.' 1 John i. 7, ' The blood 
of Christ cleanseth from all sin.' 1 Pet. i. 18, 19, 'Ye 
were not redeemed with corruptible things, but with the 
precious blood of Christ.' Rev. v. 9, ' Thou hast re- 
deemed us to God by thy blood.' Blore proofs of this 
point cannot be necessary. Let me now ask, if Christ 
be not in the strictest sense God, how is it possible that 
he should become in this or any other manner, a pro- 
pitiation for the sins of mankind? If Christ be merely 
a man, or in any other sense a mere creature, how is it 
possible that he should be able to perform any act 
which would not be absolutely necessary for his own 
justification before God ? The law, by which every 
creature is governed, requires him to ' love God with 
all the heai't, soul, strength, and understanding ;' or, in 
other words, to consecrate all his powers supremely and 
absolutely, so long as he exists, to the service of God. 
More than this he cannot do ; and if all this be not 
done, he is a sinner, and cannot be justified. How then 
can it be possible for him to perform any thing which 
can be accepted on the behalf of another ? It is impos- 
sible that any service should be accepted for another 
which is entirely due for one's self. It is impos- 
sible that the debt due from another should be cancelled 
by my payment of money due for a debt of my own. 
When 1 have paid my own debts, if I can offer more 
money, I may then satisfy the creditor for the debt of 
another. The obedience which the law requires of me 
as my obedience, will satisfy the demands of the law on 
me, and prove the means of my justification ; but can- 
not be transferred from me to another subject of the 
same law, so as to answer the demands of the law on 
him. The law demands all his obedience of him and 
all mine of me ; but mine only being rendered, the de- 
mands of the law are not, and cannot be, satisfied. 

Supererogatory service, or service not required by 
law, is absolutely necessary to the very existence of all 
vicarious interference. But no creature can possibly per- 
form supererogatory service ; because all that he can do 
is required of him by the law. Thus, 'exceeding broad,' 
in the scriptural language, ' is the commandment;' and 
thus it is impossible that any creature should become, 
in any sense, a propitiation for the sins of mankind. 



To avoid this immovable difficulty, Dr Priestley, 
and othei Socinians, have denied wholly the doctrine 
of Christ's atonement ; and in this denial have, at least 
in my view, acted in the only manner consistent with 
the main part of their scheme, viz. that Christ is a mere 
man. But in this denial they have, at the same time, 
contradicted the main doctrine in the Christian system, 
after that of the existence of God. According to the 
scheme of these men, Christ came into the world, or 
was born, merely to be a prophet and example of right- 
eousness, or a teacher of the will of God to mankind, 
and died only to bear witness to the truth of his pre- 
cepts. In the same manner Moses, and all the suc- 
ceeding prophets, came into the world to be teachers 
and examples of truth and righteousness ; and in the 
same manner, Peter and Paul, both the Jameses, and 
almost all the other apostles, together with Stephen, 
and a host of martyrs who followed him, bore witness, 
to the truth of the precepts which they taught, by vo- 
luntarily yielding themselves to death. All these per- 
sons taught the truth of God, and practised righteous- 
ness ; and a multitude of them sealed their testimony 
with their blood. The only difference, according to the 
Socinian scheme, between Christ and them is, that he 
was wiser and better than they. Paul, however, taught 
more of the gospel than Christ himself, and both Paul 
and Peter sealed the truth of their testimony on the 
cross. Of what consequence, then, was the death of 
Christ to mankind, any more than that of Zechariah, 
Jeremiah, James, Peter, or Paul ? Each of these men 
died as a witness to the truth. Christ, according to Dr 
Priestley, appeared in no other character in his death. 
All these men also taught the truth ; according to Dr 
Priestley, Christ did no more. Each of these men was 
an eminent example of righteousness : according to Dr 
Priestley, Christ was only a brighter example. With 
what meaning, then, can it be said, that ' God hath set 
forth Christ as a propitiation for the remission of sins ?' 
that Christ is said to be ' the propitiation for the sins of 
the world ?' that ' his soul' is said to make ' a propitia- 
tory sacrifice for sin ?' that ' he bare the sin of many ?' 
that we ' are justified and redeemed by his blood ?' that 
' by himself he purged our sins ?' that ' lie made peace 
through the blood of the cross ?' that ' he reconciled 
both Jews and Gentiles unto God in one body by the 
cross ?' that ' by his stripes we are healed ?' that ' the 
chastisement of our peace was laid upon him ? and that 
' we have redemption through his blood, even the for- 
giveness of sins ?' together with many other things of 
the same import ; so many as to constitute no small part 
of the Scriptures ? And why did Christ say, ' He came 
to give his life a ransom for many ?' and why did Paul 
say, ' Christ gave himself a ransom for all ?' Could 
these things be said of Moses, or Jeremiah, or Peter, or 
James, or Paul ? Are we justified by the grace of God 
through the redemption which is in Moses ? Did Paul 
make peace by the blood of his cross ? Was Peter a 
propitiation, an fooeapoc, the means of appeasing the 
anger of God, of reconciling him to us, and rendering 
him propitiatory to sinners ? 

Farther : In what sense was the death of Christ ne- 
cessary as a testimony to the truth of his precepts? 
Were not his miracles, and the unspotted excellency of 
his life, ample proofs of the sincerity of his declarations, 
and the reality of his mission from God? Are they 
not now appealed to by Dr Priestley, and most, if not 



Si4 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxviii. 



all other divines, as the chief proofs ? Is not his death 
rarely appealed to for this purpose ? And is it not ma- 
nifest from this fact, that it is a testimony plainly infe- 
rior to his life and miracles ? 

If, then, this was the end and amount of Christ's 
death, is it not evident, on the one hand, that the end 
was in a great measure useless, and very imperfectly 
accomplished ? and on the other, that the amount of 
Christ's death was no more than the amount of the 
death of Paul and Peter ? that they, as truly as Christ, 
were a propitiation for the sins of the world ? and that 
we are as truly justified by faith in them, as in him ; 
and by their blood, as by his ? 

I shall now proceed to show, 

III. That the Jews, according to the Unitarian doc- 
trine, are unjustly charged with guilt in putting Christ 
to death. 

The law of God, as given by Moses, required the 
blasphemer to be stoned. Christ, in his conversation 
with the Jews, recorded John v. declared himself to be 
' the Son of God.' By this phrase the Jews, as I men- 
tioned in a former Discourse, understood him to de- 
clare that himself was God, or equal with God. Their 
own construction they declaimed to him, ' For a good 
work we stone thee not, but because thou, being a man, 
makest thyself God,' John x. 33. St John, also, as I 
then observed, understood the phrase in the same man- 
ner. ' Therefore,' he says, ' the Jews sought the more 
to kill him, because he not only had broken the sab- 
bath, but said also that God was his Father, making him- 
self equal with God.' This is the apostle's own con- 
struction of Christ's averment, and is plainly alleged by 
him as being that of the Jews also. 

When Christ was brought before the Sanhedrim, af- 
ter several vain attempts to convict him of any crime, 
the high-priest ' adjured him,' that is, put him upon 
oath, ' to tell him whether he was the Christ, the Son 
of the blessed' God. In answer to this question, thus 
solemnly put, Christ said, ' I am ;' and, as a proof that 
he said this truly, added, ' And ye shall see the Son of 
Man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in 
the clouds of heaven.' In reply to this declaration, 
' the high-priest rent his clothes,' and declaring all 
farther testimony needless, pronounced him guilty of 
blasphemy for this saying ; in consequence of which the 
evangelist informs us, they all condemned him to death. 

Now, it is evident, that Christ was understood by the 
Jews to declare, that he was equal to God, and was 
God, by asserting himself to be the Son of God. Of 
this there cannot be a doubt, because it is asserted both 
by the Jews themselves, and by the evangelist. If then 
Christ was a man merely, he was for aught that I can 
see, truly a blasphemer. For, when he declared him- 
self to be God, or equal with God, he plainly declared 
God to be neither greater, wiser, nor better than him- 
self. But to assert in any form of words, that the infi- 
nite Jehovah is of the same character with a man, and 
possessed of no more greatness, excellency, or glory, 
than that which is human, would be acknowledged in 
any other case to be blasphemy, because it would be a 
denial of all the perfections of God, and an ascription 
to him of all the frailties of man. If this be not blas- 
phemy, what can be ? 

But if Christ was a blasphemer, he was justly put to 
death. The law, which he, as well as the Jews, acknow- 
ledged to have been given by God himself, required the 



blasphemer, to be stoned ; as a blasphemer, therefore, he 
was, accordingto the requisitions of a divine, and there- 
fore a just law, deservedly condemned to death. 

Thus, according to this scheme, the Jews, instead of 
being guilty in putting Christ to death, acted meritori- 
ously, for they only obeyed the divine law. 

But it will be said, Christ did not intend by this de- 
claration to assert that he was God, nor that he was 
equal with God. This indeed is said, and must be said, 
by the abettors of the Unitarian scheme. I answer, It 
is clear that the Jews thus understood him, and that he 
knew them thus to understand him. They had former- 
ly attempted to stone him for using the same language ; 
and had then told him in express terms the manner in 
which they construed the phrase. The Sanhedrim also 
sufficiently explained to him their own views of it by 
pronouncing it blasphemy. In consequence of this 
mode of understanding the phrase, he saw them now 
about to imbrue their hands in his blood. If it was a 
mistake on their part, he was bound to remove it. He 
was bound not to suffer his own character to be stained 
in their view with the crime of blasphemy. He was 
bound to use language as he knew it would be under- 
stood. He was bound not to lose his own life, nor suf- 
fer them to incur the guilt of taking it away, merely 
through a mistake of theirs. If, then, they are sup- 
posed in this case to have sinned at all, they sinned on- 
ly through a mistake which Christ himself voluntarily 
created, and voluntarily declined to remove. The sin, 
therefore, so far as I can see, lies, on this supposition, 
primarily at his door. What then shall we say of the 
solemn and awful charge brought against the Jews by 
St Peter? ' Him ye have taken, and by wicked hands 
have crucifie-, nnd slain.' What shall we say of the 
whole body of scriptural representations on this subject? 
What shall we say of the terrible destruction of their 
nation ; of their judicial blindness ; and of all the calami- 
ties which have befallen them, as monuments of the divine 
indignation, for more than seventeen hundred years ? 

IV. The prophets and apostles, according to the same 
doctrine, cannot be vindicated from leading mankind 
into the sin of idolatry. 

The prophets and apostles have in a great variety of 
places, called Christ God, The true God, The great 
God, The mighty God, Jehovah, and I am. They have 
declared him to be eternal, self-existent, incomprehen- 
sible, almighty, omnipresent, omniscient, and immuta- 
ble. They have attributed to him the creation, preser- 
vation, and government of all things ; and the acts of 
giving life,' forgiving sin, judging the world, and re- 
warding both the righteous and the wicked. They have 
ascribed to him the infinite relations of Creator, Pre- 
server, Possessor, Ruler, and final Cause of all things. 
Beyond this, they have on many occasions worshipped 
him themselves ; and have taught us that God requires 
him to be worshipped ; and that he is in fact worshipped 
by saints, and angels in earth and heaven. They have 
also exhibited Christ, when on earth, as challenging 
these things to himself, and as receiving them from 
others, without reprobation or censure. They have far- 
ther declared him to be the only Saviour of the world, 
a character evidently demanding infinite attributes, and 
according to their account, challenged by Jehovah as 
exclusively his own. 

Beyond all this, they have informed us that he was 
condemned to death for declaring, under the sanction 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



215 



of an oath, that he was the Son of God ; a phrase which 
he knew was understood by them to be no other than a 
declaration, that he was God. Yet, though knowing 
this, and though directly charged with blasphemy, al- 
though on two occasions they attempted to stone him, 
find on a third pronounced him guilty of death, instead 
of explaining, softening, or at all modifying the decla- 
ration, he proceeded directly, in two of the instances, 
to allege proofs that he used this declaration with exact 
truth and propriety ; proofs, which in themselves are a 
direct arrogation of the divine character. The Scrip- 
tures of truth they also declare to be his word ; and in- 
form us, that the Holy Ghost who inspired them, re- 
ceived them from him ; and that Christ himself, when 
promising them the gift of inspiration, personally told 
them this wonderful truth. In this account they have 
taught us, that the Scriptures, which they everywhere 
style ' the Word of God,' are no other than the law of 
Christ himself; partly uttered by his own mouth, and 
partly taught by the Holy Spirit, in conformity to his 
pleasure ; and accordingly in his own name and by his 
own authority explained, altered, and annulled by him 
as he thought proper ; and that the Holy Spirit, whom, 
as we shall see hereafter, they pronounce to be a divine 
person, was commissioned and sent by him into the 
world to execute his purposes ; an act of authority on 
the part of Christ, to which there is no parallel in the 
universe, except his own mission from the Father. Fi- 
nally, in the view which is given us of the heavenly sys- 
tem in the Revelation of St John, we find the same ex- 
alted character completely recognized. In that world 
we behold him sitting on the throne of infinite domin- 
ion, styled ' the throne of God, and the Lamb ;' un- 
folding, and declared by the heavenly host to be wor- 
thy to unfold, the book of God's counsels, which they 
also declare no being in the universe to be worthy or 
able to do ; being, together with the Father, the ever- 
lasting temple of heaven ; controlling all the affairs of 
this world, of heaven, and of hell ; the light and glory 
of heaven ; and the bestower of future and everlasting 
happiness. In all these wonderful characters he is also 
worshipped in that glorious world with the highest 
ascriptions which were ever made, or which can be 
made, to Jehovah. ' Worthy,' they cry, ' is the Lamb 
that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wis- 
dom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and bless- 
ing. Every creature,' says St John, ' which is in hea- 
ven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as 
are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I saying, 
Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto 
Him, that sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb, for 
ever and ever.' Of all these things it is to be remarked, 
that they are expressed on every occasion which admits 
them, and in every form of phraseology which lan- 
guage can easily be supposed to allow ; commence with 
the first chapter in the Bible, and terminate only with 
the last. 

Now let me ask, Whether all these things are not a 
complete exhibition of Christ, as the proper object of 
religious worship ? But the apostles have directly and 
fully declared all these things. If then Christ is not 
God, have they not clearly so represented him as to 
j persuade mankind that he is God, and that he is to be 
worshipped ? 

How is it possible that their readers, and especially 
the plain men who constitute ninety-nine hundredths 



of them ; how is it possible that any men, acknowledg- 
ing the apostles to have used language as other men 
use it, and so as to be understood by those for whom 
they wrote (an admission absolutely necessary to ex- 
culpate them from plain fraud), should distinguish be- 
tween a person thus described, and the being who alone 
is the proper object of worship ? What can their 
minds, what can any mind, add to this exhibition, to 
make such a being more great, awful, lovely, glorious, 
and godlike ? Do not these things include all which 
we can conceive to be included in infinite perfection ? 
Has any thing superior to these been ever published to 
mankind ? Has any thing been published in any other 
instance which can be compared with these ? 

But if Christ be not truly God, he cannot be wor- 
shipped without idolatry. He himself says, and recites 
it as the command of God, ' Thou shalt worship Jeho- 
vah thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.' Can in- 
spired men, then, writing a revelation, the great end of 
which was to inculcate the unity of God, the existence 
of but one God, and the supreme obligation incumbent 
on all men to worship him only, can such men have 
been directed by the Spirit of God so to write as they 
have actually written ? Could they, being Jews, with 
the Old Testament in their hands, have so written even 
of themselves, as naturally, nat to say necessarily, to 
lead all their followers into the sin of idolatry ? That 
they have so written, as naturally to produce this con- 
sequence, if Christ be not God, is unquestionable ; be- 
cause the great body of their followers have actually 
understood them to assert the Deity of Christ, and have 
actually worshipped him. The Scriptures, therefore, 
written for the professed purpose of preventing idolatry, 
have, according to the scheme of my opponents, been 
the direct cause of promoting and establishing it among 
almost all those who have believed them to be the word 
of God. Mr Belsham accordingly pronounces the sys- 
tem, of which the worship of Christ is a leading princi- 
ple, ' a pernicious system : a mischievous compound of 
impiety and idolatry.' Lest it should be supposed, how- 
ever, that those who adopt this worship have really been 
impious, let it be remarked, that Dr Priestley himself 
expressly says, ' he considers the principles of Calvin- 
ism as generally favourable to that leading virtue, de- 
votion ; even an habitual and animated devotion.' An- 
other writer,* also, no way favourable to these princi- 
ples, says in the British Encyclopedia, f ' If we consider 
the character of the Calvinists' ( whom he mentions to- 
gether with several others ), ' when compared with that 
of their antagonists, we shall find that they have ex- 
celled in no small degree in the practice of the most 
rigid and respectable virtues ; and have been the high- 
est honour of their own ages, and the best model for 
imitation to every age succeeding.' But Calvinists, to 
a man have been worshippers of Christ ; as have also 
been almost all other members of the church universal ; 
and to this idolatry, if it be such, the Scriptures have 
led them. Of course, the guilt of leading mankind in- 
to that gross sin is, on this scheme, chargeable to the 
prophets and apostles. But can the prophets and apos- 
tles have led mankind into the abominable sin of ido- 
latry ? Can the principles which lead to idolatry be fa- 
vourable to habitual and animated devotion ? Can the 
men who have excelled in the practice of the most rigid 



* Robert Forsythe, Esq. 



f Article Predestination. 



216 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



3ER. XXXIX. 



and respectable virtues, who have been the highest ho- 
nour to their own age, and the best models for imita- 
tion to succeeding ages, have been regularly guilty of 
this sin? Can the system which asserts or involves these 
things be truth ? 

Can all, or any of the things which I have asserted 
concerning Christ from the Scriptures, be true of a 
man : or of any created being ? Can a man, can an an- 
gel, be the first cause or last end, the Preserver, Pro- 
prietor, Possessor, and Ruler of all things ? Can a crea- 
ture be 'the brightness of the Father's glory, and the 
express image of his person ;' ' the Light of the world,' 
the ' propitiation for sin,' ' the Saviour ' of mankind, or 
the object of religious worship ? Can any religious 
man on a death-bed say, ' Gabriel, receive my spirit ?' 
or ' Lay not the sin of my murderers to their charge ?' 
Can Gabriel give life, raise the dead, or bestow immor- 
tal life ? Can he judge the world, reward the right- 
eous and the wicked, or be the glory, light, and temple 
of heaven ? What would be the impression, were a 
minister of the gospel to say, ' I baptize thee in the 
name of the Father, and of Gabriel, and of the Holy 
Ghost ?' or ' The grace of Gabriel, the love of God the 
Father, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with 
you all. Amen ?' Would not these things beyond 
measure shock the minds of any Christian assembly, as 
the most palpable blasphemy ? Was there ever a mi- 
nister, even an Arian or a Socinian, who could bring 
himself thus to speak in such an assembly ? Would not 
this be, not merely comparing or likening one of the 
angels to Jehovah, but placing him on the same level ? 
Yet these things are said of Christ. 

Why are they said of him, if his nature be like that 
of Gabriel ? Why are they seemingly said ? Was it 
not perfectly easy for the omniscient God to have said, 
if he chose to say it, that Christ was a mere man, or a 
mere creature ? and so to have said this, that it would 
not have been misunderstood even by the plainest man ? 
Did he not understand language sufficiently ? Has it 
not been said in such a manner as to be intelligible to 



all men, by Arius, Socinus, Zuicker, Price, Priestley, 
Belsham, and many others ? Did any man ever mis- 
trust that they have not said it P Was not Jehovah- 
more interested to say it, if it is true, than they were ? 
and so to say it, as to be easily, generally, and certainly 
understood ? Was he not more able ? Did he not fore- 
see all the doubts, difficulties, errors, misconstructions, 
and consequent sins and idolatries, if they have indeed 
been misconstructions and idolatries, arising from un- 
happy language used in the Scriptures ? Have not 
the prophets, who ' spake as they were moved by the 
Holy Ghost;' have not the apostles, who 'spake the 
things freely given to them of God, not in the words 
which man's wisdom taught, but which the Holy Ghost 
taught,' expressed the mind of God on this subject, and 
every other, in the very manner chosen by God him- 
self? Has not his infinite faithfulness and mercy then 
sufficiently guarded every honest mind against this er- 
roneous sin ? 

But if Christ be not the true God, the great body of 
Christians have in every age of the church wholly mis- 
understood the Scriptures concerning this most import- 
ant doctrine, and mistaken infinitely the real character 
of their Saviour. Of course, the Scriptures have been 
so written, as that the natural interpretation of them is 
a source of total and dreadful error ; even of that which 
they themselves denounce in terms of the highest re- 
probation, viz. idolatry. For the interpretation which 
has been given them by the great body of Christians, in 
every age and country in which they have existed, is 
beyond a controversy the natural interpretation. That 
men, who first make a philosophical system of religion, 
and then endeavour to reconcile the Scriptures to it, 
should understand them falsely, cannot be wondered at ; 
but that they should be falsely understood by the great 
body of mankind, who for their religion come to them 
only ; and yet the way of holiness be still a highway, in 
which wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err, is a 
position which is yet to be explained. 



SERMON XXXIX. 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST: OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



The Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise, that they are vain 1 Cor. iii. 20. 



In the eighteenth verse of this chapter, St Paul says, 
' Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you 
seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, 
that he may be wise. For the wisdom of this world is 
foolishness with God ; for it is written, He taketh the 
wise in their own craftiness.' 

These words, together with the text, are paraphrased 
by Do:!dridge in the following manner : " I know there 
are those among you, whose pride and self-conceit may 
lead them to despise this admonition, especially as com- 
ing from me ; but ' let no man deceive himself ' with 
vain speculations of his own worth and abilities. If any 
one of you ' seem to be wise in this world,' if he value 
himself on what is commonly called wisdom among 



Jews or Gentiles ; ' let him become a fool, that he may 
be wise ' indeed. Let him humbly acknowledge his 
own natural ignorance and folly ; and embrace that 
gospel which the wisdom of the world proudly and 
vainly derides as foolishness, if he desire to approve 
himself really and substantially wise, and to reap at last 
the honours and rewards of those who are truly so in 
the sight of God. ' For ' all ' the boasted wisdom of 
this world is foolishness with God ;' who with one glance 
sees through all its vanity ; as it is written Job v. 13., 
' He entangleth the wise in their own' crafty 'artifice;' 
often ruining them by those designs which they had form- 
ed with the utmost efforts of human policy, and were 
most intent upon executing. And again it is said, else- 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



217 



where, Psalm xciv. 11, ' The Lord knoweth the thoughts 
of the wise, that 'they are vain.' He sees how they in- 
snare themselves in their own subtleties ; and, when 
they think themselves most sagacious, are only amused 
with their own sophistry and deceit.' 

This paraphrase expresses exactly my own views con- 
cerning these declarations of St Paul ; declarations 
which appear to me to be continually and abundantly 
verified by experience. No man is in the way to true 
wisdom who does not first become, in the apostle's sense, 
' a fool;' that is, who has not a just and affecting con- 
sciousness of his own ignorance and weakness, his utter 
inability to devise a system of religion, or to amend 
that which God has taught ; and who is not altogether 
willing to submit his own opinions to the dictates of in- 
spiration. 

Concerning the text it will be only necessary to ob- 
serve that the word hcthoytcrfiws, translated ' thoughts,' 
is properly rendered reasonings ; and that the word, 
translated ' the wise,' is no(pau ; denoting the learned 
men of Greece, and ultimately of other countries, most 
usually called philosophers. ' The reasonings ' of these 
men, as the apostle proves from the Scriptures of the 
Old Testament, are in the sight of God ' vain :' or ut- 
terly incapable of accomplishing the end to which they 
were then chiefly directed ; riz. the formation and esta- 
blishment of a sound theological system. 

What was true of these men in ancient times is 
equally true of men of the same sort in every age. 
Modern wise men are no more able 'to perform this 
work than ancient ones. Hence, the proposition in the 
text is written in the absolute or universal form ; and 
extends this character to the reasonings of all men em- 
ployed either in making systems of theology, or in 
amending that which is revealed by God. 

Of the truth of this declaration experience has fur- 
nished the most abundant evidence. The great body of 
such systems, including all which have been originally 
devised by man, and which have existed long enough 
to be thoroughly examined, have been successively ex- 
ploded ; and as objects of belief, forgotten. Those 
which have been devised for the purpose of amending 
the scriptural system, have been generally of the same 
frail and perishing character. Some of them, however, 
under the wing of that divine authority, which by their 
abettors was supposed to shelter them, and under the 
garb of sacredness which was lent them by their inven- 
tors, have lasted longer, and been more frequently re- 
vived. New forms have in the latter case been given to 
them, new arguments suggested in their behalf, and the 
splendour of new and respectable names has been em- 
ployed to recommend them to mankind. After all, their 
existence and their influence have been generally limit- 
ed by bounds comparatively narrow. 

From the nature of the subject the same truth is com- 
pletely evident. Theology is the science of the will of 
God concerning the duty and destination of man. What 
the will of God is concerning these subjects cannot pos- 
sibly be-known, unless he is pleased to. disclose it. That it 
is disclosed by him in the works of creation and provi- 
dence in a very imperfect degree, and?that it cannot be 
discovered by man beyond that degree, must be admitted 
by everyone who would make even a plausible pretension 
to good sense or candour. All that remains undiscover- 
ed in this way must be unknown, unless -revealed by 
the good pleasure of God. When thus revealed it can 



never be safely added to, diminished, nor otherwise in 
any manner altered, by man. To him, whatever God is 
pleased to withhold must be unknown. By him, whatever 
God is pleased to reveal must be unalterable, either as 
to form or substance ; for no authority less than infinite 
can change that which infinite authority has been pleased 
to establish. As, therefore, the scriptural system of 
i theology could not have been invented by man, so nei- 
ther can it possibly be amended by man. In the strong, 
but accurately just, language of St Paul on this subject, 
' Let God be ' acknowledged to be ' true ;' but let 
' every man,' who denies or opposes what he has re- 
vealed, be accounted ' a liar.' Or in the still stronger 
language of the same apostle, ' though an angel from 
heaven preach any other gospel, let him be anathema.' 

Among the various denominations of men, denoted 
in the text by ' the wise,' whose ' reasonings are vain,' 
are included, so far as I can discern, the Arians and So- 
cinians ; or, as both sometimes choose to term them- 
selves, Unitarians. I feel myself obliged to warn my 
audience, that this name, however, contains in itself an 
error, and appears to have been formed with a design 
to deceive. It was professedly assumed for the purpose 
of challenging to those who assumed it the exclusive 
character, among Christians, of believing in the unity 
of God ; and of denying particularly, that Trinitarians 
entertain this belief; whereas Trinitarians believe in 
the unity of God as entirely and absolutely as their op- 
posers. That every Trinitarian asserts this of himself, 
every Unitarian, possessing a very moderate share of 
information, knows : and he knows also, that the charge 
of admitting more gods than one cannot be fastened 
upon the Trinitarian, except by consequences profess- 
edly derived from his doctrine, which he utterly dis- 
claims. To prove that such consequences do indeed 
follow from it, is, if it can be done, altogether fair and 
unobjectionable ; but to charge him with admitting 
them, while he utterly disclaims them, is unworthy of a 
disputant assuming the character of a Christian. 

For the assertion which I have made above, concern- 
ing the Unitarians generally, I am bound to give my 
reasons. This I intend to do without disguise, or 
softening ; but at the same time with moderation and 
candour. My observations I shall distribute under two 
heads : Answers to the objections of the Unitarians 
against the doctrine of the Trinity : and objections to 
the doctrine of Unitarians, and to their conduct in ma- 
naging the controversy. It will not be supposed, that 
under either of these heads very numerous or very mi- 
nutcarticles can find a place in such a system of Dis- 
courses. All that can be attempted is, to exhibit a sum- 
mary view of such particulars as are plainly of serious 
importance. 

In the present Discourse, it is my design to answer 
the principal objections of Unitarians against the doc- 
trine of the Trinity. Of these the first, and as I con- 
ceive the fundamental one, on which their chief reliance 
is placed, is, That the doctrine of the Trinity, or of 
three Persons in one God, is self-contradictory. 

This objection, therefore, merits a particular answer. 

Those who make this objection to the public, express 
themselves in such language as the following : 

' The Father, according- to the Trinitarian doctrine, 

is God ; the Son is God ; and the Holy Ghost is 

God. Here, are three, each of whom is God. Three 

cannot be one, three units cannot be one unit.' Were 

2e 



218 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. xxxix. 



this objection made professedly, as it is actually, against 
the inconsistency of tritheism with the unity of God, it 
would be valid and unanswerable. Equally valid would 
it be against the Trinitarians, if they admitted the exist- 
ence of three Gods, or if their doctrine involved this as 
a consequence. But the former of these is not true, and 
the latter has not been, and, it is presumed, cannot be 
shown. Until it shall be shown, every Trinitarian must 
necessarily feel that this objection is altogether inappli- 
cable to his own case, and although intended against his 
faith, is really aimed against another and very distant 
object. Until this be shown, this objection will, I 
apprehend, be completely avoided in the following 
manner : 

1. The admission of three infinitely perfect Beings 
does not at all imply the existence of more Gods than 
one. 

This proposition may, perhaps, startle such persons 
on both sides of the question as have not turned their 
attention to the subject ; but can, I apprehend, be never- 
theless shown to be true. It is clearly certain that the 
nature, the attributes, the views, the volitions, and the 
agency of three TBeings infinitely perfect must be exactly 
the same. They would alike be self-existent, eternal, om- 
niscient, omnipotent, and possessed of the same bound- 
less moral excellence. Of course, they would think ex- 
actly the same things, choose the same things, and do 
the same things. There would, therefore, be a perfect 
oneness of character and conduct in the three ; and to 
the universe of creatures, they would sustain but one and 
the same relation, and be absolutely but one Creator, 
Preserver, Benefactor, Ruler, and final cause. In other 
words, they would be absolutely One God. This ra- 
dical objection, therefore is, even in this sense, of no 
validity. 

2. The doctrine of the Trinity does not involve the 
existence of three infinite Beings : and therefore this 
objection does not affect it. 

The scriptural account of Jehovah, as received by 
every Trinitarian, is, that he is one perfect existence, 
underived and unlimited ; and that this one perfect 
existence is in the Scriptures declared to be the Father, 
the Son, and the Holy Ghost. These, in the usual 
language of Trinitarians, are styled Persons, because, 
in the Scriptures, the three personal pronouns, I, thou, 
and he, are, on every proper occasion, applied to them. 
As this is done by the Father and the Son, speaking to 
each other, and of the Holy Ghost, and by the Holy 
Ghost, speaking of the Father and the Son, we are per- 
fectly assured that this language is in the strictest sense 
proper. Still, no Trinitarian supposes that the word 
person conveys an adequate idea of the thing here in- 
tended ; much less that, when it is applied to God, it 
denotes the same thing as when applied to created 
beings. As the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are dis- 
tinguished, some terms generally expressing this distinc- 
tion seem necessary to those who would mark it, when 
speaking of the three together. This term, therefore, 
warranted in the manner above-mentioned, has been 
chosen by Trinitarians, as answering this purpose, so far 
as it can be answered by human language. 

If I am asked, as I probably shall be, what is the 
exact meaning of the word person in this case ; I an- 
swer, that I do not know. Here the Unitarian usually 
triumphs over his antagonist. But the triumph is with- 
out foundation or reason. If I ask, in return, What is 



the human soul or the human body ? He is obliged to 
answer, that he does not know. If he says, that the 
soul is organized matter, endowed with the powers 
of thinking and acting ; I ask again, What is that or- 
ganization, and what is that matter ? To these ques- 
tions he is utterly unable to furnish an answer. 

Should he ask again, to what purpose is the admis- 
sion of the term, if its signification is unknown? I answer, 
to what purpose is the admission of the word matter, it 
its signification is unknown ? I farther answer, that 
the term in dispute serves to convey briefly and conveni- 
ently the things intended by the doctrine, viz. that the 
Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Ghost is 
God : that these are three in one sense, and one in 
another. The sense in which they are three and yet 
one, we do not and cannot understand. Still we under- 
stand tbe fact ; and on this fact depends the truth and 
meaning of the whole scriptural system. If Christ be 
God, he is also a Saviour ; if not, there is no intelligible 
sense in which he can sustain this title, or the character 
which it denotes. 

In addition to this, he is asserted in the Scriptures to 
be God, in every form of expression and implication, 
from the beginning to the end, as plainly as language 
can admit ; and so fully and variously that, if we deny 
these assertions their propcv force, by denying that he 
is God, we must, by the same mode of construction, 
deny any thing and every thing which the Scriptures 
contain. If the declarations, *. In the beginning was the 
Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was 
God,' and ' Christ, who is over all things, God blessed for 
ever,' do not prove Christ to be God, the declaration, ' In 
the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,' 
does not prove that there was a creation, or that the Crea- 
tor is God. The declaration, ' All things were made by 
him, and without him was not any thing made which is 
made,' is as full a proof that Christ is the Creator, as that 
just quoted from Genesis is that the Creator is God. An 
fid mission or denial of the one ought therefore, -if we 
would treat the several parts of the Bible alike, and pre- 
serve any consistency of construction, to be accom- 
panied by a similar admission or denial of the other. 
Here, then, is a reason for acknowledging Christ to be 
God, of the highest kind : viz. that God has declared 
this truth in the most explicit manner. 

The mysteriousness of the truth thus declared, fur- 
nishes not even a shadow of reason for either denial or 
doubt. Th£ God can be one in one sense, and three 
in another, it unquestionable. Whatever that sense is, 
if the declaration be true, and one which God has 
thought it proper to make in the Scriptures, and one 
therefore to which he has required our belief, it is, of 
course, a declaration incalculably important to mankind, 
and ' worthy of all acceptation.' 

The futility and emptiness of this fundamental objec- 
tion of Unitarians, as applied to the doctrine of the 
Trinity, is susceptible of an absolute and easy demon- 
stration, notwithstanding the objection itself claims the 
character of intuitive certainty. It is intuitively cer- 
tain, or, in other language, self-evident, that no propo- 
sition can be seen to be either true or false, unless the 
mind possess the ideas out of which it is formed, so far 
as to discern whether they agree or disagree. The 
proposition asserted by Trinitarians, and denied by 
Unitarians, is, that God is tri-personal. The ideas 
intended by the words God (here denoting the infinite 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



219 






existence), and tri-personal, are not, and cannot be 
possessed by any man. Neither Trinitarians nor Uni- 
tarians therefore can, by any possible effort of the 
understanding, discern whether this proposition be true 
or false ; or whether the ideas denoted by the words 
God and tri-personal, agree or disagree. Until this can 
be done, it is perfectly nugatory, either to assert or 
deny this proposition, as an object of intellectual dis- 
cernment or philosophical inquiry. Where the mind 
has not ideas, it cannot compare them ; where it cannot 
compare them, it cannot discern their agreement or 
disagreement ; and of course it can form out of them 
no proposition, whose truth or falsehood it can at all 
perceive. Thus, this boasted objection is so far from 
being conclusive, or even formidable, that it is wholly 
without force or application. 

After all that has been said, it may still be asked, 
Why, if this proposition be thus unintelligible, do 
Trinitarians adopt it as an essential part of their creed ? 
1 answer, Because God has declared it. Should it be 
asked, Of what use is a proposition, thus unintelligible ? 
I answer, Of inestimable use: and this answer I explain 
in the following manner. The unintelligibleness of this 
doctrine lies in the nature of the thing which.it declares, 
and not in the fact declared. The nature of the thing 
declared is absolutely unintelligible ; but the fact is, in 
a certain degree, understood without difficulty. What 
God is, as one or as three in one, is perfectly undis- 
cernible by us. Of the existence thus described we have 
no conception. But the assertions, that he is one, and 
that he is three in one, are easily comprehended. The 
propositions, that, the Father is God, that the Son is 
God, that the Holy Ghost is God, and that these three 
are one God, are equally intelligible with the proposi- 
tion, that there is one God. On these propositions, 
understood as facts, and received on the credit of the 
divine witness, and not as discerned by mental specula- 
tion, is dependent the whole system of Christianity. 
The importance of the doctrine is therefore supreme. 

The utmost amount of all that can be said against the 
doctrine of the Trinity is, that it is mysterious, or inex- 
plicable. A mystery and a mystery as to its nature 
wholly inexplicable, it is cheerfully acknowledged to be 
by every Trinitarian ; but no Trinitarian will on that 
account admit, that it ought to be less an object of his 
belief. Were the faith or even the knowledge of man 
usually conversant about objects which are not myste- 
rious, mysteriousness might, with a better face, be 
objected against the doctrine of the Trinity. But mys- 
tery envelopes almost all the objects of both. We believe, 
nay, we know the existence of one God ; and are able 
to prove him self-existent, omnipresent, omniscient, 
almighty, unchangeable, and eternal. But no more 
absolute mysteries exist, than in the being, nature, and 
attributes of God. The soul of man, the body of man, 
a vegetable, an atom, are all subjects filled with mys- 
teries, and about them all a child may ask questions 
which no philosopher can answer. That God, there- 
fore, should in his existence involve many mysteries 
inexplicable by us, is so far from violating or stumbling 
a rational faith that it ought to be presumed. The con- 
trary doctrine would be still more mysterious, and far 
more shock a rational mind. 

' As to the doctrine of the Trinity,' says a writer * of 

* Skfllton. Deism Revealed, Dialogue vi. 



distinguished abilities and eloquence, ' it is even more 
amazing than that of the incarnation : yet, prodigious 
and amazing as it is, such is the incomprehensible 
nature of God, that I believe it will be extremely diffi- 
cult to prove from thence, that it cannot possibly be 
true. The point seems to be above the reach of reason, 
and too wide for the grasp of human understanding. 
However, I have often observed, in thinking of the 
eternity and immensity of God ; of his remaining from 
eternity to the production of the first creature, without 
a world to govern, or a single being to manifest his 
goodness to ; of the motives that determined him to call 
his creatures into being ; why they operated when they 
did, and not before ; of his raising up intelligent beings 
whose wickedness and misery he foresaw ; of the 
state in which his relative attributes, justice, bounty, 
and mercy, remained through an immense space of 
duration, before he had produced any creatures to 
exercise them towards ; in thinking, I say, of these 
unfathomable matters, and of his raising so many 
myriads of spirits and such prodigious masses of matter, 
out of nothing ; I am lost and astonished, as much 
as in the contemplation of the Trinity. There is 
but a small distance in the scale of being between a mito 
and me ; although that which is food to me is a world 
to him, we mess, notwithstanding, on the same cheese, 
breathe the same air, and are generated much in the 
same manner ; yet how incomprehensible must my 
nature and actions be to him! He can take in but a 
small part of me with his eye at once ; and it would be 
the work of his life to make the tour of my arm ; I can 
eat up his world, immense as it seems to him, at a few 
meals : he, poor reptile ! cannot tell but there may be 
a thousand distinct beings, or persons, such as mites can 
conceive, in so great a being. By this comparison 1 
find myself vastly capacious and comprehensive, and 
begin to swell still bigger with pride and high thoughts ; 
but the moment I lift up my mind to God, between 
whom and me there is an infinite distance, then I my- 
self become a mite, or something infinitely less ; I shrink 
almost into nothing. I can follow him but one or two 
steps in his lowest and plainest works, till all becomes 
mystery and matter of amazement to me. How, then, 
shall I comprehend himself? How shall I understand 
his nature, or account for his actions? In these, he 
plans for a boundless scheme of things, whereas I can 
see but an inch before me. In that, he contains what 
is infinitely more inconceivable than all the wonders of 
his creation put together ; and I am plunged in aston- 
ishment and blindness, when I attempt to stretch my 
wretched inch of line along the immensity of his nature. 
Were my body so large that I could sweep all the fixed 
stars visible from this world in a clear night, and grasp 
them in the hollow of my hand, and were my soul ca- 
pacious in proportion to so vast a body, I should, not- 
withstanding, be infinitely too narrow-minded to con- 
ceive his wisdom when he forms a fly ; and how then 
should I think of conceiving of himself? No, this is the 
highestof all impossibilities. His very lowest work checks 
and represses my vain contemplations, and holds them 
down at an infinite distance from him. When we think 
of God in this light, we. can easily conceive it possible, 
that there may be a trinity of persons in his nature. 

II. It is asserted by Unitarians, that the doctrine of 
the Trinity is anti-scriptural. 

It has undoubtedly been observed, that in this Dis- 



29.0 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xxxix. 



course I have considered objections against the Deity of 
Christ and the Trinity as being commensurate. The 
reason is, that, so far as my knowledge extends, those 
who deny one of these doctrines deny also the other. 
Although it is not strictly true, therefore, that every ob- 
jection against the Trinity must of course be an objec- 
tion against the Deity of Christ ; yet, as this is the ulti- 
mate aim of almost all such objections actually made, I 
have not thought any distinction concerning them ne- 
cessary in this Discourse. 

As this objection is designed to be extensive, and is 
capable of being indefinitely diversified, it will not be 
possible for me to take notice of all the forms in which 
it may appear. It will be my intention, however, to 
dwell upon those particular applications of it on which 
the authors of the objection seem to have laid the great- 
est stress. 

The general import of this objection is, that Christ is 
exhibited in the Scriptures as inferior to the Father. 
All the alleged exhibitions of this nature may be advan- 
tageously ranged under two heads : those made by him- 
self; and those made by the prophets and apostles. 

An answer to the principal of these will, it is believed, 
be an answer to the rest. 

1. Christ, as the Unitarians assert, exhibits himself 
as inferior to the Father, and therefore declares in un- 
equivocal language, that he is not truly God. Particular- 
ly, (1.) He declares that he is not omnipotent. 

John v. 19, ' Then Jesus answered, and said unto 
them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, the Son can do no- 
thing of himself.' And again, in the 30th verse, ' I can 
of mine own self do nothing.' And again, John viii. 
28, ' Then said Jesus unto them, When ye have lifted 
up the Son of Man, then shall ye know that I am he, 
and that I do nothing of myself ; but as my Father hath 
taught me, I speak these things.' 

It will not, I presume, be pretended, that these words, 
in eitlver of the passages, are used in the strict and abso- 
lute sense. That Christ could literally ' do nothing of 
himself,' will not be asserted in the sense, that he had no 
power at all, and could not'act to any purpose whatever. 
Whoever Christ was, he doubtless possessed some degree 
of inherent power, or power which was his own ; and by 
it could do, at least, some such things as are done by men 
generally. What then is intended ? Undoubtedly, 
either that Christ could do nothing, compared with what 
the Father can do; or^that Christ could do nothing, 
except what was directed by the Father, according to 
the commission given to him by the Father, to act in the 
mediatorialcharacter. 

That the latter is the true interpretation is, in my 
view, unanswerably evident from the following consi- 
derations : — 

[1.] The subject of a comparison between the power of 
Christ and that of the Father, is not even alluded to in 
any preceding part of the chapter, either by himself or 
by the Jews. 

The only debate between Christ and the Jews was 
concerning the rectitude or lawfulness of his conduct. 
As the Jews were about to kill him for having acted un- 
lawfully, both in healing a man on the sabbath-day, and 
in saying that God was his Father ; it is incredible (be- 
cause it is imputing to him a gross absurdity), that 
Christ should here, instead of replying to the-accusation 
i>f the Jews, and justifying his conduct as lawful, enter 
on a comparison between his ability and that of the 



Father. This would have been a total desertion of the 
important subject in controversy, and could not have 
been of the least use either for the purpose of justifying 
himself, or of repressing the violence of the Jews. On 
the contrary, it would have been the assumption of a 
subject totally foreign, totally unconnected with the case 
in hand, without any thing to lead to it, incapable ot 
being understood by those to whom it was addressed, 
and a species of conduct which, so far as I can see, 
would have been irreconcilable with common sense. 

[2.] This interpretation is refuted, so far as the ob- 
jection is concerned, by the discourse of which it is a 
part. 

The whole drift of this discourse is to show the ex- 
tent of that authority which Christ possessed as the Me- 
diator. In displaying this authority, he also displays, 
necessarily, the power which he possesses. In chap. v. 
1 9, from which the first of the objected declarations is 
taken, is this remarkable assertion : ' What things so- 
ever he,' that is, the Father, ' doeth, these also doeth 
the Son likewise.' It is presumed that not even a Uni- 
tarian will imagine, that in a verse in which this decla- 
ration is contained, Christ could intend, by any phrase- 
ology whatever, to exhibit a limitation of his own power. 

With this complete refutation of the meaning now in 
question in our hands, it can scarce be necessary to ob- 
serve, that in many subsequent parts of this discourse 
of Christ, it is also overthrown in the same complete 
manner. 

This interpretation being thus shown to be false, the 
other, the only remaining one, might be fairly assumed 
as the true interpretation. At the same time, it may 
be easily evinced to be the true one by other consi- 
derations. 

[1.] It is perfectly applicable to the case specified. 

That the proposition containing it expresses what is 
true, viz. that Christ, as the Mediator, could do nothing 
of himself; that is, that while acting under a commis- 
sion from his Father, he could do nothing of his own 
authority, but must do all things by the authority and 
agreeably to the commission which he had received, 
will, I suppose, be admitted by every man. But this 
proposition is not more clearly true, than it is applica- 
ble to the case in hand. If Christ, in those things of 
which he was accused by the Jews, acted by the autho- 
rity and agreeably to the commission which he had 
received from the Father, then plainly, that which he 
did was right. Of course, the objections and the ani- 
mosities of the Jews were without cause, and wholly 
reprehensible. In this sense the answer of Christ was 
perfectly pertinent, and the only valid answer which 
could be given. 

[2.] That this is the true meaning is evident from 
John viii. 28, (the last of the passages quoted above). 
' Then said Jesus unto them, When ye have lifted up 
the Son of man, then shall ye know that I am he, and 
that I do nothing of myself; but as my Father hath 
taught me I speak these things.' In this passage Christ 
informs the Jews that, after they had lifted him up on 
the cross, they should know that he was the Messiah, 
and that he did nothing of himself : not that he did no- 
thing by his own power ; but nothing by his own autho- 
rity. The former having nothing to do with the subject ; 
the latter being perfectly applicable to it. 

Therefore, he adds, ' As my Father hath taught me,' 
or, as we say in modern English, According to the in- 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



221 



stvtictions which I have received from my Father, ' I 
speak these things.' It will hardly be questioned that 
Christ here speaks of his authority only, and not at all 
of his power. 

[3.] We find the same language, used in the same 
manner, in various other passages of Scripture. In 
Gen. xix. 22, Christ himself, acting in the same media- 
torial character, says to Lot, beseeching him to permit 
himself and his family to escape to Zoar, ' Haste thee, 
escape thither ; for I cannot do any thing till thou be 
come thither.' It will not be pretended that, so far as 
his power only was concerned, Christ could not as easily 
have begun the work of destroying the cities of the 
plain before Lot had escaped, as afterward. But as it 
was a part of the divine determination to preserve Lot 
and his family, so the authority of Christ did not in this 
case extend to any thing, nor permit him to do any 
thing, which involved the destruction of Lot. 

Numb. xxii. 18, Balaam says, ' If Balak would give 
me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot go be- 
yond the word of the Lord my God, to do less or more.' 
This declaration of Balaam, I consider as expressing 
fully and completely the very thing which in the ob- 
jected passages Christ expressed elliptically. And 
again, chap. xxiv. 12,13,' And Balaam said unto Balak, 
Spake I not also to thy messengers which thou sentest 
unto me, saying, If Balak would give me his house full 
of silver and gold, I cannot go beyond the commandment 
of the Lord, to do either good or bad of mine own mind; 
but what the Lord saith, that will I speak?' 

I shall only add to these observations the obvious 
one, that persons acting under a commission now use 
similar language, in similar circumstances. 

Should any one question whether Christ acted under 
a commission, he himself has answered the question in 
his intercessory prayers, John xvii. 4, ' I have glorified 
thee on the earth ; I have finished the work which thou 
gavest me to do.' 

From these observations it is, if I am not deceived, 
clear, that the declarations of Christ here objected to, 
do not in any sense refer to his power, but only to his 
authority as mediator ; and are, therefore, utterly irre- 
levant to the purpose for which they are alleged. 

(2.) The Unitarians object, that Christ exhibits him- 
self as inferior to the Father in knowledge. 

The passage quoted to prove this assertion is espe- 
cially, Mark iii. 31, 'But of that day and that hour 
knoweth no man, no, not the angels which are in hea- 
ven, neither the Son, but the Father.' 

Here it is said, Christ confesses himself to be ignorant 
of the day and hour specified. 
On this objection I observe, 

[1.] That the subject of which Christ is here declared 
to be ignorant, is a subject which demanded no greater 
extent of knowledge, or rather which demanded know- 
ledge in a less extent, than many subjects disclosed by 
him in the same prophecy. The subject is the time of 
the destruction of Jerusalem. In this very prophecy, 
as well as in various others, he had uttered many things 
which appear to demand as great a measure of pre- 
science as this can be supposed to have done. Such 
were, the arising of false Christs and false prophets ; 
the preaching of the gospel through the world ; the 
earthquakes, famines, and pestilences ; the fearful sights 
and great signs which should precede the destruction of 
Jerusalem ; the hatred and treachery of parents and 
others to his disciples and the protraction of the ruinous 



state of Jerusalem until the times of the Gentiles should 
be fulfilled. The foreknowledge of the particular period 
of its destruction was, certainly, no very material addi- 
tion to the foreknowledge of these things ; and would 
imply no very material enlargement of the mind by 
which they were foreknown. Several of the prophets, 
it is to be remembered, were furnished with a foreknow- 
ledge of dates, not differing from this in their impor- 
tance : thus Isaiah foreknew the date of the destruction 
of Ephraim ; Jeremiah, that of the Babylonish captivity ; 
and Daniel, that of the death of Christ ; and no reason 
can be imagined why the foreknowledge of this parti- 
cular date should be withholden from Christ, even if we 
admit that he was a mere man, when so many other 
things relating to the same event, of so much more im- 
portance, were revealed to him. 

There is, therefore, no small reason to believe, that 
the Greek word, oih, has here the signification of yva- 
qifa, according to the comment of Dr Macknight, and 
denotes, not to know but to cause to know : a significa- 
tion which it sometimes has, as he has sufficiently shown : 
particularly in 1 Cor. ii. 2, ' For I determined to know 
nothing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him cruci- 
fied ;' that is, I determined to make known nothing 
among you, &c. If this sense of the word be admitted, 
the meaning of the passage will be, Of that day no one 
causeth men to know, but the Father : that is, when in 
his providence he shall bring the event to pass. In 
other words, the time of the destruction of Jerusalem 
shall not be disclosed by prophecy, but shall be made 
known only by the providence of God, bringing it to 
pass. I need not say that was literally the fact. 

[2.] Christ himself informs us, that no one knows the 
Son but the Father, and that no man knows the Father 
but the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son shall reveal 
him.* 

In this declaration Christ asserts, that he possesses an 
exclusive knowledge of the Father, in which no being- 
whatever shares with him ; a knowledge totally distinct 
from that which is acquired by revelation, and therefore 
immediate and underived. 

He also declares, John v. 20, that ' the Father showeth 
him all things, that himself doeth ;' that he ' searcheth 
the reins and the heart,' Rev. ii. 23 ; and that he ' is 
with his disciples alway, to the end of the world,' Matt, 
xxviii. 20, and therefore, omnipresent; Peter also says 
to him, John xxi. 17, ' Lord, thou knowest all things :' 
an ascription which, if not true, Christ could not have 
received without the grossest impiety ; and which he yet 
did receive, because he did not reject nor reprove it. 

But he, of whom these things are said, certainly fore- 
knew the time of the destruction of Jerusalem. If, then, 
the objected text denotes that Christ did not know that 
time, the declaration cannot be true, except by being 
made concerning Christ considered in a totally different 
character and sense from those in which the same book 
teaches us that He ' knows the Father,' and ' knows all 
things.' It is, therefore, not a shift, or fetch, or evasion, 
in the Trinitarians to assert, that this passage, if thus un- 
derstood, is spoken of Christ in his human nature only, 
and not in the nature exhibited in the passages with 
which it has been compared. On the contrary, it is a 
deduction from the Scriptures, irresistibly flowing froni 
what they say, and the only means by which they can be 
either consistent or true. 

* Matt. xi. 27. 



222 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sza xi 



(3.) It is objected by the Unitarians, that Christ has 
denied himself to be originally and supremely good. 

The passage chosen to support this objection is the an- 
swer of Christ to the young ruler, Matt. xix. 17, ' Why 
callest thou me good ? There is none good but one : that 
is God.' Here Christ is supposed to disclaim original 
and supreme goodness, as belonging to himself, and to 
distinguish between his own goodness and that of God. 

What the real reason was for which Christ gave this 
answer, I shall not here examine. If Christ is not God, 
then he certainly would disclaim, and ought to disclaim, 
this character. If he is, then this assertion does not 
at all declare that he is not possessed of this goodness. 
The decision of this question will, therefore, determine 
the true application of this answer. 

It has heretofore been proved in these Discourses, that 
Christ was the person who proclaimed on Mount Sinai 
his own name to Moses. This name he declared to be, 
' the Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long- 
suffering, slow to anger, abundant in goodness and truth.' 
It will not be contested, that the person who made this 
proclamation was good in the original or absolute sense. 
Until this person is proved not to have been Christ, the 
objection founded on this text is a mere begging of the 
question. 

But it is farther to be remembered, that Christ was 
also a man. According to the doctrines of the Trinita- 
rians, therefore, as entirely as to that of their opposers, 
Christ used this declaration in the very sense in which 
they allege it, with the most perfect propriety. 

(4.) Christ, as the Unitarians allege, exhibits his in- 
feriority to the Father by praying to him. 

How, if it be admitted, as Trinitarians universally ad- 
mit, that he was a man, could he with propriety do 
otherwise ? He was placed under the same law, and re- 
quired, generally, to perform the same duties demanded 
of other men. 

(5.) Christ declares himself to be inferior to the Father 
in express terms : ', My Father is greater than I ;' and, 
* My Father is greater than all.' 

These declarations are perfectly consistent with the 
doctrine of the Trinity, in two ways. First, As Christ 
was a man ; Secondly, As in the character of mediator, 
he acted under a commission from the Father. He who 
acts under a commission from another is, while thus acting, 
inferior to him from whom he received the commission. 

But it is farther objected, that Christ is exhibited as 
inferior to the Father by the prophets and apostles. 

It will be unnecessary, under this head, to mention 
more than a single instance. I shall select that instance, 
which seems to be the favourite one among the Unita- 
rians. It is contained in the following words, taken from 
the 24th and 28th verses of 1 Cor. xv. ' Then cometh the 
end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to 



God, even the Father ;' and, ' When all things shall be 
subdued unto him, then shall the Son also himself be 
subjected unto him that put all things under him, that 
God may be all in all.' 

To comprehend the apostle's meaning in these de- 
clarations, it is necessary to remember, that Christ, as 
sustaining the office of Mediator, received from the 
Father a kingdom, according to the Scriptures ; and that 
when his mediatorial office ceases, because the purposes 
of it are accomplished, that kingdom, as we should 
naturally expect, is exhibited in the Scriptures as ceas- 
ing also ; there being no end for which it should be any 
longer retained. Christ will, therefore, deliver it up to 
the Father when, at the consummation of all things, he 
' presents' to him f the church, as a glorious church, with- 
out spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing ;' and makes his 
final triumphant entry into the heavens. 

Concerning the latter article, here objected, that ' the 
Son shall then be subject to the Father,' it can scarcely 
be proper that I should attempt to determine the exact 
import. It is perfectly evident, however, that this must 
be true of the human nature of Christ. It is also evi- 
dent, that the act of rendering up the kingdom which he 
had received, is an act of subjection to the Father : nor 
does the passage demand any other interpretation. 

That these declarations do not intend what the ob- 
jectors allege, we certainly know. ' For unto the Son' 
the Father saith (Heh. i. 8.) ' Thy throne, O God ! is 
for ever and ever.' * His dominion (says Daniel) is an 
everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away ; and 
his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed,' ' He 
shall reign (said Gabriel to Mary) over the house of 
Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there shall be no 
end.' ' The throne of God and the Lamb, is, as we are 
informed by St John, the throne of eternal dominion in 
the heavens ; out of which ' proceeds the river of the 
water of life,' or the endless felicity and glory of all the 
happy inhabitants. To God and the Lamb also, are 
equally addressed those sublime ascriptions of praise 
which constitute the peculiar and everlasting worship of 
saints and angels. In this superior sense, therefore, the 
kingdom of Christ will literally endure for ever. 

It ought here to be added, that the same apostle, who 
here says, that the Father put all things under Christ, 
informs us in the same paragraph, that Christ himself 
' put all things under his feet :' and elsewhere, that 
Christ ' is able to subdue all things unto himself,' and 
that 'he is head over all things.' Phil. iii. 21 ; Eph. i. 22. 
How plain is it that he, ' who is able to subdue all 
things unto himself,' is able to do any thing ? that he, 
' who puts all things under his own feet,' does it by his 
own agency ; and that he, who is now ' head over all 
things,' is of course qualified to be 'head over all 
things' for ever. 



SERMON XL. 

DIVINITY OF CHRIST.— OBJECTIONS TO THE DOCTRINE OF UNITARIANS. 



The Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise, that they are vain. — 1 Cob. iii. 20. 

In the preceding Discourse from these words, after I ed in devising and establishing a scheme of theology, or 
observing that the reasonings of mankind, when employ- attempting to amend that which is taught by God, are 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



223 



vain ; I mentioned that, in my own view, the Arians 
and Socinians were fairly included within this declara- 
tion of Scripture. For this assertion I considered 
myself bound to give my reasons, and proposed to do 
it under two heads : 

I. Answers to their objections against the doctrine 
of the Trinity ; and, 

II. Objections to the doctrines which they hold con- 
cerning Christ, and their conduct in the management 
of the controversy. The former of these was the subject 
of the preceding Discourse ; the first part of the latter 
shall furnish the materials of the present. 

To the doctrines of the Unitarians, I make the fol- 
lowing objections ; — 

I. The Arians hold, that Christ is a super-angelic 
being, so much greater than all other creatures, as to 
be styled a God ; and to perform the various divine 
offices ascribed to him in the Scriptures, by delegated 
power and authority. 

To my own mind, this doctrine is utterly inconsistent 
both with the Scriptures and reason. 

The only argument which, so far as I know, is derived 
directly from the Scriptures to support this opinion, is, 
that angels are sometimes called Aleim, and that magis- 
trates have once this name given to them. That neither 
of these facts will warrant the doctrine in question, will, 
I trust, be evident from the following reasons : 

1. Angels and magistrates are called by this name 
only in the aggregate, Gods ; no angel or magistrate 
being ever called, God. It is well known to my audi- 
ence, that the same name is also given to the idols of 
the heathen ; to animals, vegetables, the souls of departed 
men, or demons, and to all the other objects of heathen 
worship. The term Gods, is here evidently used in a 
figurative sense ; natural and obvious, because the beings 
to whom it is applied, sustained, or were supposed to 
sustain, some attribute or character resembling those 
which belong to the true God. Thus God says to 
Moses (Exod. vii. 1), ' See, I have made thee a god to 
Pharaoh ;' that is, I have given thee authority over him, 
and armed thee with power to control and punish him. 
In the same manner magistrates are called lords, and 
kings, because they rule with subordinate power and 
authority. 

But the term God, in the absolute, is never given to 
any created being, unless Christ can be proved to be a 
creature : a thing which, it is apprehended, cannot be 
done. To him, however, it is applied in many instances, 
without any qualification, or any notice whatever that it 
is not applied in the highest sense. At the same time it 
is, when applied to him, connected with other objects 
attributable only to the Deity. 

Thus in Rom. ix. 5, when Christ is said by the apostle 
to be God, He is also said to be ' over all things ' and 
' blessed for ever.' Thus when St John informs us that 
the ' Word was God,' he informs us also, that the 
1 Word was in the beginning,' or eternal ; ' was in the 
beginning with God ' or co-eternal with God ; and that 
' all things were made by him,' or that he was the Crea- 
tor of all things. The attribution, therefore, of these 
things to Christ, when he is called God, viz. that he 
exists from eternity; is co-eternal with God, or the 
Father ; and is the Creator and ruler of all things ; 
marks in the most definite as well as decisive manner, 
the meaning of the word God, when applied to him ; 
and proves that it is applied in the highest sense. 



Nothing parallel to this, or distantly resembling it, is 
found in any application of this term, to any other being, 
except God. 

2. Christ is called by all the other names of God, 
except one, viz. the Father. 

It has been shown in a former Discourse, that Christ 
is called I the true God,' ' the great God,' ' the mighty 
God,' ' Jehovah,' &c. The application of these names 
to Christ, is clear evidence that, when he is called God, 
this appellation is given to him in the same sense in 
which it is given to the Father ; to whom and the Holy 
Spirit, exclusively, these other names are also given. 

3. The attributes and actions, universally, of God are 
ascribed to Christ. It is plain then, that the Scriptures, 
which give this name to Christ, connect with it all the 
other appellations, together with all the attributes and 
actions which make up the scriptural character of God. 
In all these respects, the application of the term Gods 
to angels and magistrates differs totally, and, I appre- 
hend, infinitely from that of God to Christ. The ap- 
plication of the term Gods to angels and magistrates, 
therefore, furnishes not the least reason to believe that 
Christ is called God in the sense alleged, or that Christ 
is a delegated God. 

Having removed the only scriptural argument on 
which I suppose any serious reliance to be placed, as a 
proof that Christ is a delegated God, I proceed to 
observe, that this scheme is utterly inconsistent with the 
things which are said of him in the Scriptures. It is 
utterly inconsistent with the ascription to him of the 
names, attributes, and actions which have been just now 
mentioned. Particularly it is inconsistent with the 
declarations, that he ' made all things,' and that ' he 
upholds all things by the word of his power.' In the 
account given us by St John and St Paul of the creation 
of all things by Christ, both apostles use phraseology 
which, with an exactness scarcely paralleled, denotes an 
absolute universality. ' By him,' says St Paul, '■ were 
all things created that are in heaven and that are in 
earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, 
or dominions, or principalities, or powers ; all things 
were created by him, and for him.' ' All things' 
says St John, ' were made by him ; and without 
him, was not one thing made, which hath been made.' 
If these two passages do not denote an absolute 
universality, language cannot express it. Every 
possible as well as actual thing is either visible or 
invisible. Every actual thing which is either visible or 
invisible, it is here expressly said, Christ created. 
{ Without him,' it is expressly said, ' was not one thing 
made, which hath been made.' Unless therefore some- 
thing has been created that is neither ' visible nor in- 
visible ;' unless there is something existing in the crea- 
tion, ' which has ' not ' been made ;' there is nothing 
which was not created by Christ. 

The interpretation of these passages by the Unita- 
rians, which makes them mean no more than that Christ 
published the gospel and constituted the church, is a 
violation of common sense and common decency. Let 
us try the same mode of construction with another pas- 
sage, to which it must be acknowledged to be equally 
applicable. In the passage quoted from St Paul, it is 
said, that ' Christ created all things that are in heaven, 
and that are in earth.' 'Ibis the Unitarians say, means 
no more than that Christ published the gospel, and con- 
stituted the Church. In the first verse in Genesis it is 



224 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser, x: 



said, ' In the beginning God created the heavens and 
the earth.' This, I say, and upon their plan of con- 
struction am certainly warranted to say it, means no 
more than that in the beginning God published the 
gospel and constituted the church. Ought not any man 
to be deeply ashamed of the prejudice, and strongly to 
censure the confidence, which has led him to use such 
licentious freedom with language in any case ; especial- 
ly with ' words which were taught, not by man's wis- 
dom, but by the Holy Ghost ?' 

Dr Price, and other Arians, attempt to evade the 
force of these and the like passages, by introducing a 
distinction between formation and creation. In this, 
however, they must be acknowledged to be unhappy. 
The words used by St John are eyei/iro, and yiyovzy ; 
the proper English of which is existed. Tivofiut, of 
which they are derivatives, signifies also to be born, to 
spring up, to be brouglit into being, and to be caused 
to exist. No word, therefore, more comprehensive or 
more appropriate to the object in view can be found, 
either in the Greek, or, so far as I can see, in any other 
language. The word used by St Paul is ex.Tt<j0y, from 
nri^a ; the appropriate meaning of which, as you well 
know, is to create. As, therefore, the act of creating 
all things in the most absolute sense is, in the most ex- 
press and unequivocal language, ascribed to Christ by 
these apostles, by what authority or with what decency 
can it be denied by any man ? 

The work of creating all things Christ performed by 
his command. All things, also, he upholds by the same 
word of his power. If these acts, and this manner of 
performing them, are not proofs of infinite power, such 
proofs have never existed. It is to be remarked, that 
the apostle asserts directly, that Christ f upholds all 
things by the word of his own power ; ra pn^ari rris 
"hv'jHjAiaz civrov. This act, therefore, is not performed 
by delegated power ; and neither of these acts could 
possibly be performed by any being, except one, whose 
power is without limitation. 

Among the numerous other things ascribed to Christ, 
which are utterly inconsistent with the supposition of his 
being a delegated God, I shall mention only two ; as 
the mention of more would demand a longer time than 
can now be devoted to this part of the subject. The 
first is, that divine worship was rendered to him by 
inspired persons on earth, and is also rendered to him 
in heaven. This, it is presumed, has been proved be- 
yond controversy. Stephen prayed to him. Paul 
prayed to him ; and the whole Christian Church was, at 
its commencement, distinguished by the appellation of 
those who invoked the name of Christ in prayer. The 
anthems of praise in the heavens, sung by saints and 
angels, ascribe to him, both separately and jointly with 
the Father, that peculiar glory and honour which is 
expressive of the highest worship of the heavenly inha- 
bitants. But Christ himself says, quoting Deut. vi. 13, 
and x. 20, ' Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and 
him only shalt thou serve.' No creature, therefore, can 
be lawfully worshipped ; but Christ is lawfully worship- 
ped ; for he is worshipped by apostles, angels, and glo- 
rified saints. 

The second and last thing of this nature is, that 
Christ is immutable. ' Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, 
to-day, and for ever.' If Christ were only the exalted 
creature, the super-angelic being, the delegated God, 
whom the Arians declare him to be, he would of all 



virtuous beings be the most changeable ; because, with 
his superior faculties and advantages, he would advance 
more rapidly in knowledge, and virtue, and in power 
also ; for the increase of knowledge is in itself the in- 
crease of power. Such a being cannot possibly, there- 
fore, be ' the Jesus Christ, who is the same yesterday, 
to-day, and for ever.' At the same time it is further to 
be remarked, that a wonderful instance of change is as- 
serted of Christ, if he be this super-angelic being, in 
the Scriptures themselves. St Luke declares, that when 
he was twelve years old, ' he increased in wisdom and 
stature, and in favour with God and man.' According 
to the Arians, this super-angelic being, the greatest of 
all created minds, brought into existence antecedently 
to every other creature, was united to the body of an 
infant, and born of the Virgin Mary, and thus consti- 
tuted the person named Jesus Christ in the Scriptures. 
This infant differed so little from other infants as to in- 
telligence, that the first time he was regarded as extra- 
ordinary, appears plainly to have been the time when he 
conversed with the Jewish doctors, in the temple, as re- 
corded in the second chapter of St Luke. At this time 
he was observed to increase in wisdom, so as to increase 
in favour with mankind. He also actually increased in 
wisdom, and actually increased in favour with God. 
He therefore changed, not only really, but obviously. 
If then, we admit that Christ was this super-angelic 
being, we must also admit that he was not the Christ, 
who was f the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' 
But we cannot admit Christ to be this being. From 
infancy to twelve years of age, he had unceasingly 
changed also. What, then, was his mind when he was 
born ; or when he had arrived at one, or two years of 
age ? Doubtless, as much inferior to what it was at 
twelve years of age, as other infants are to what they 
become at the same period. But how evident is it, that 
such an infantine mind could not be a super-angelic 
mind. The change, it is to be remembered, is declared 
by the evangelist to be real, and not merely apparent. 
And it is presumed no Arian will admit, that his infant- 
ine character was merely assumed and hypocritical. 
Arians will undoubtedly agree, that he was then equally 
sincere, as ever afterward. But a super-angelic mind 
must have lost all its peculiar powers and characteristics 
to have become such a mind as that of Christ in his in- 
fancy, or his childhood. Such a mind, originally formed 
with these sublime faculties, existing in a singular prox- 
imity to Jehovah, and expanded and exalted by his pe- 
culiar advantages for improving in knowledge and vir- 
tue, throughout four thousand years, must have risen to 
so transcendent a height of intellectual and moral 
attainments as, if it were not entirely changed in its 
whole character, must have excited the attention, the 
amazement, and probably, if it had not forbidden it, the 
worship of every spectator. At the same time, such 
powers and attainments must have been so utterly in- 
comprehensible by mankind, that, however rapidly they 
had increased, the change could never have been per- 
ceptible by such eyes as theirs. It is therefore certain, 
that, if the Christ, born in Bethlehem, was this super- 
angelic being, he ceased to be super-angelic, when 
united to the body of an infant ; and differed in no 
other respects from the minds of other infants, except 
that he was perfectly holy, and possessed a superior 
susceptibility of wisdom. In other words, he was 
changed into a human being, perfect indeed, as such. 



DIVINITY OP CHRIST. 



225 



but still a human being ; and shorn wholly of his super- 
angelic greatness. If Arians will put these things toge- 
ther, it is believed, that themselves will acknowledge 
mysteries, of an inexplicable kind, to be contained in 
this part of their system. 

Nor is this idea of a delegated God a whit more con- 
sistent with reason. Nothing is more repugnant to rea- 
son, than that a finite being should have made the uni- 
verse ; should uphold it ; should possess it ; should go- 
vern it ; should judge and reward its intelligent inhabi- 
tants ; should forgive their sins ; should be the source of 
life ; should communicate endless life ; and should be 
the ultimate end for which they and all things else were 
created. Every one of these things is not only utterly 
aside from the dictates of reason on this subject, a mys- 
tery utterly inexplicable ; but is directly repugnant to 
common sense. Nothing is more strongly realized by 
reason, than that ' He who built all things is ' very 
' God ;' that he who made the universe can alone up- 
hold, possess, or govern it ; or be the ultimate end for 
which it was created ; or do all or any of the things just 
now recited. If this being be not God, in the absolute 
sense, reason has no knowledge and no evidence that 
there is a God. 

Accordingly, Dr Priestley has, if I mistake not, ob- 
served, and justly, that no doctrine is more preposte- 
rous than the doctrine that Christ created the world, 
and that yet he is not God. Still the Scriptures assert 
in terms as comprehensive, as precise, as appropriate, 
and as unambiguous, as human language can furnish, 
that Christ ' created every ' individual ' thing that hath 
been made.' Yet, in spite of this language, chosen by 
God himself to express his views on the subject, Dr 
Priestley asserts, that Christ is not God ! The manner 
in which he satisfies himself concerning this declaration 
will he examined hereafter. 

II. If these things are preposterously and irrecon- 
cilably asserted concerning a super-angelic being — a 
delegated God, what shall we say concerning their com- 
patibility with the Socinian doctrine, that Christ is a 
mere man? If the fact had not already taken place, 
would it not be absolutely incredible, that any sober 
man living should believe such assertions as these ? Let 
me., however, before I make them, instead of the name 
of a man substitute that of Gabriel ; a being, in holi- 
ness, wisdom, and power, originally superior to any 
man ; and in a still higher degree superior by the im- 
provements made in them all through the four thousand 
years which preceded the work of redemption. This I 
do, that the repetition of the name of a man may not 
shock the ears of my audience, while I am making a 
simple and perfectly equitable statement, in that very 
form in which it must be made by every conscientious 
man, before he can feel himself warranted to receive it. 
1 In the beginning was' Gabriel ; ' and' Gabriel ' was 
with God ; and ' Gabriel ' was God. The same was in 
the beginning with God. By him were all things made ; 
and without him was not one thing made, which hath 
been made. And ' Gabriel ' became flesh, and dwelt 
among us (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the 
only-begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth.'* 
' For by ' Gabriel ' were all things created, that are in 
heaven and that are in earth ; visible and invisible. All 
things were created by him, and for him. And by him 

* Joliu i. 1—3, 14, 



all things consist ;' f ' And he is head over all things 
unto his church.' J ' Of whom, as concerning the flesh,' 
Gabriel ' came, who is over all things, God blessed for 
ever.' § Gabriel, ' who, being in the form of God, 
thought it no robbery to be equal with God : but made 
himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form 
of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men. 
And, being found in fashion as a man, he became obe- 
dient unto death, even the death of the cross. Where- 
fore, God hath highly exalted him, and given him a 
name, which is above every name ; that at the name of 
Gabriel ' every knee should bow, of things in heaven, 
and things in earth, and things under the earth ; and 
that every tongue should confess, that he is Lord, to the 
glory of God the Father.'|| ' Hearken unto me, O Ja- 
cob my servant ; and Israel whom I have called. I am 
he : I am the first ; and I am the last. Mine hand also 
hath laid the foundation of the earth ; and my right 
hand hath spanned the heavens ; I call unto them; they 
stand up together. Come ye near unto me ; hear ye this : 
I have not spoken in secret from the beginning. From 
the time that it was, there I am. And now the Lord Je- 
hovah and his Spirit hath sent me.' TJ ' God, who at sun- 
dry times, and in divers manners, spake in time past, 
unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days 
spoken unto us by ' Gabriel ; ' who being the bright- 
ness of his glory, and the express image of his person, 
and upholding all things by the word of his power.'** 
' The throne of God and ' Gabriel.f f ' And ' Gabriel 
' hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written , 
King of kings, and Lord of lords.' $$ ' Every crea- 
ture which is in heaven, and in earth, and under the 
earth, and in the sea, heard I saying, Blessing, and ho- 
nour, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth on 
the throne, and unto ' Gabriel, ' for ever and ever.' §§ 
Is there a person present who is not shocked with 
these declarations ? Would not the insertion of them 
in the sacred canon stumble, irrecoverably, every sober 
man who now believes it to be the word of God ? Is it 
possible for the mind to ascribe the things declared in 
them to any being less than infinite? Is not this fa- 
voured angel infinitely too humble in his nature and 
station to claim and receive them ? Who could bring 
himself to pray to Gabriel for the forgiveness of his 
enemies •, for the acceptance of his soul, when expir- 
ing- ; || || or for the removal of his distresses ; or for any 
tiling ? Who could be baptized in his name ; 5HI or re- 
ceive a blessing from him united with the Father and 
the Holy Ghost ? * But if these things are monstrous 
when applied to Gabriel, one of the highest created in- 
telligences, how must they appear when applied to a 
man, one of the lowest ? How would tkey appear, for 
example, were we to substitute the name of Moses, or 
the name of Paul, for that of Gabriel ? Is it not plain 
that the incongruity would be so excessive as to appear 
to have been written, not in serious earnest, but in 
blasphemous sport, with a direct design to entail im- 
piety and contempt upon the book in which they were 
found ? And would they not, instead of being read with 
sobriety and reverence, fill a light mind with ludicrous 
emotions, and a serious mind with horror ? Yet such, 
so far as I can see, is substantially the very alteration 
which must be made, according to the Socinian doc- 



+ Col. i. 16, 17. 
II Phil. ii. 6— 11 
+t Rev. xxi'- 1,3. 
||,| Acts vii. 59, 60. 



t Eph. i. 22. 
11 Iaa. xlviii. 12, 13, 16. 
JJ Rev. xix. 16. 
HU Mat. xxviii. 19. 
2 E 



$ Rom. ix. 5. 
** Heb. i. 1,3. 
M Rev. v. 13. 
* 2 Cor. xiii. il. 



226 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SlER. XL. 



trine, concerning Christ. It is true, that Socinians re- 
gard Christ as a wiser and better man than Moses or 
Paul, but in no other respect do they suppose him to 
differ from either. 

III. I object to the doctrine of the Unitarians, that 
it has compelled them to renounce, successively many 
other important doctrines of the gospel, beside that 
of the Trinity. 

The Deity of Christ must be acknowledged by all 
men, if it be real, to affect materially every thing which 
is said of him in the Scriptures. The difference be- 
tween his character, according to this scheme, and ac- 
cording to the scheme which makes him a creature, is 
infinite. Every thing, therefore, which is recorded of 
him, and consequently every view which is formed of 
him, must be exceedingly diverse in the mind of a Tri 
nitarian and the mind of a Unitarian. In the view of 
a Trinitarian, he is Jehovah, the Alpha and Omega, 
the first cause and the last end of all things. In that of 
an Arian , he is a being infinitely different ; a creature 
somewhat higher than the angels, brought into being 
somewhat before them ; and in that of a Socinian still 
different from this ; a man, born about eighteen hun- 
dred years since in Judea ; somewhat better than Mo- 
ses, Isaiah, or Paul. Now nothing^is more evident 
than that every thing belonging to the first of these be- 
ings, — his existence, actions, and attributes, together 
with the relations which he sustains to creatures, must 
be infinitely different from those which belong to either 
of the others. Those who adopt one of these opinions, 
naturally and necessarily fall into very different systems 
of thought concerning Christ ; concerning the station 
which he holds in the universe, and the part which he 
acts in the work of redemption ; and concerning many 
highly important doctrines of the Christian faith. Ac- 
cordingly, the whole scheme of Christianity adopted by 
Trinitarians is widely different from those adopted by 
Arians and Socinians. That this is true is well known 
to all who are conversant with the schemes of doctrine 
embraced, severally, by these classes of men, and is 
abundantly confessed and boasted by the Unitarians 
themselves. Some very important doctrines, constitut- 
ing and illustrating this difference, I shall now mention. 
If the doctrines of the Trinitarians are really contained 
in the Scriptures, if they are clearly and abundantly 
declared, and if they are accordant only with the divi- 
nity of Christ, then it will follow, by unavoidable con- 
sequence, that the Unitarians have been compelled to 
renounce them, in consequence of having renounced the 
divinity of Christ. 

If, at the same time, the doctrines thus renounced are 
of high importance to the Christian system, and those 
which distinguish it from all philosophical systems of 
theology, then it will appear, that the renunciation of 
these doctrines is an error of dangerous influence, and 
deeply to be regretted ; and, as it grows necessarily out 
of the renunciation of the divinity of Christ, that that is an 
error also, of the same unhappy nature. Of these doctrines, 

The first which I shall mention is the doctrine of hu- 
man depravity. 

This doctrine, it is believed, has been fully evinced 
in these Discourses to be a doctrine of the Scriptures. 
If it has not, it must have arisen either from the weak- 
ness or the inattention of the preacher ; for no truth is 
more clearly declared in any book, than this doctrine in 
the Scriptures ; and none is more amply supported by 



the evidence of fact. In the Scriptures we are taught, 
in the most unequivocal language that ' all men have 
sinned and come short of the glory of God ;' that ' all 
are concluded under sin ;' that ' all are by nature chil- 
dren of wrath,' being ' children of disobedience ;' that 
' all are shapen in iniquity, and conceived in sin.' 
These declarations, to which the whole history of man, 
gives the fullest attestation ; and to which there is not 
even one solitary contradiction in fact, certainly stand 
with Unitarians for nothing, or for nothing like what 
the words themselves customarily mean. In their view, 
we are not by nature the children of wrath, as not being 
children of disobedience ; we are not shapen in ini- 
quity, nor conceived in sin ; we are not concluded, or 
shut up together, under sin ; and every imagination of 
our hearts, as they believe, is not evil from our youth. 

2. The impossibility of justification by our own 
righteousness, is another of these doctrines. 

To justify is to declare a being, placed under a law, 
to be just or righteous ; or, in other words, to have 
done that which the law required. Mankind are placed 
as subjects under the law of God. They have not done 
what the law required, and therefore cannot with truth, 
be declared to have done it ; or, in other words, they 
cannot be justified. Accordingly, St Paul, after having 
proved at length that all men, both Jews and Gentiles, 
are sinners, says, ' Therefore, by deeds of law, there 
shall no flesh be justified in his sight.' And again, ' If 
there had been a law, which could have given life, ve- 
rily, righteousness should have come by law ; but, if 
righteousness come by law, then Christ died in vain.' 
But the Unitarians, in a vast multitude of instances, 
(for it is not true of them all,) utterly deny this doc- 
trine, and hold that we are justified by our own repent- 
ance and obedience, both of which, they teach, are 
accepted for their own sake. God, therefore, is exhi- 
bited by them, as justifying us in direct opposition to 
the express language of his law : ' Cursed is every one 
that continueth not in all things written in the book of 
the law, to do them.' ' He that doeth these things shall 
live by them ; but the soul that sinneth shall die.' In 
direct contradiction to these declarations of God him- 
self, they hold that the soul which sinneth shall not die ; 
and that he is not cursed who does not continue in all 
things written in the law, to do them ; while he who 
doeth not these things, shall yet, according to their 
scheme, live. Thus, although God has declared, ' that 
heaven and earth shall pass away, sooner than one jot 
or tittle of the law shall fail ;' their doctrine teaches us, 
that the whole law, so far as its penalty is concerned, 
shall fail with respect to every person who repents. 
Not even an entire, unmingled repentance, is demand- 
ed ; nor a pure, uncontaminated, future obedience. 
Both are professedly left imperfect. All the former 
sins are imperfectly repented of; and all the future 
obedience is mixed with sin. On the ground of this 
repentance and this obedience, God is expected to jus- 
tify man, still placed under a legal dispensation. 

3. Another doctrine of the same nature is the doc- 
trine of Christ's atonement. 

The Unitarians, to whom I referred under the last 
head, as not holding the doctrines opposed to it, are 
those who admit the doctrine of Christ's atonement. 
This I suppose to be true of some of the Socinians, and 
some of the Arians. Some of the Socinians hold, that 
' the fulness of the Godhead dwells,' and will through 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



^£7 



eternity dwell, ' in Christ, bodily.' What is supposed by 
them to be the proper import of this declaration, I know 
not that they have explained, and therefore may proba- 
bly be unable to divine. So far as I can conjecture their 
intention, I should believe, with Dr Price, that they 
really make Christ God, and therefore may not unna- 
turally suppose that he accomplished an expiation 
for the sins of men. If this conjecture be just, they 
harmonize substantially with Praxeas, because, as they 
deny a distinction of persons in the Godhead, they must 
suppose the Father, by a mysterious union, to have 
dwelt in the man Christ Jesus ; and thus influencing 
and directing all his conduct, to have accomplished, 
through him, an atonement for himself; a doctrine on 
account of which Praxeas and his followers were called 
Patripassia'ns, as believing that the Father himself suf- 
fered. Some of the Arians also have acknowledged 
that Christ made atonement for the sins of men. In 
what manner this was done, or can be done, by a crea- 
ture, a subject of law and government, all whose obe- 
dience is due to the utmost extent of his powers and 
circumstances, and through every moment of his exis- 
tence, for himself, and for his own justification, I know 
not that they have attempted to explain. I rather sup- 
pose that, though professed enemies to mystery, they 
choose to leave this as a mystery which allows of no in- 
vestigation. How an atonement can be made by such 
a being, and how it can be accepted by God, in accord- 
ance with the doctrines taught in the Scriptures, I con- 
fess myself unable to discern. Still it is but just to 
observe, that an atonement is believed by a number of 
both Socinians and Arians, to have been made by 
Christ. Dr Priestley, and most, if not all the modern 
Socinians, and many of the Arians, though I am not 
able to say how many, utterly deny, so far as my know- 
ledge extends, any atonement at all ; and thus take 
away from the Christian system what the great body of 
the church has, in every age, esteemed the capital doc- 
trine in the scheme of redemption, and from mankind 
every rational hope of escape from future punishment. 
The only encouraging declaration to sinners, exclusive 
of those which are founded on it, which I can find in 
the gospel, is this : that ' Christ has redeemed us from 
under the curse of the law, by being made a curse for 
us.' Accordingly, this declaration, repeated in very 
numerous forms, is everywhere insisted on in the gospel, 
as the commanding theme, and as the only consolation 
to apostate men. If the doctrine contained in this de- 
claration be taken out of the gospel, mankind are left 
wholly under the dominion of law, and must necessarily 
suffer its penalty. 

In my own view, Dr Priestley, and those who accord 
with him in denying an atonement, are more consistent 
with themselves, or with the other parts of their system, 
than the rest of the Unitarians. He who denies the 
Deity of Christ, appears to me to cut off" the possibility 
of any vicarious interference in the behalf of sinners. 
At the same time, the atonement of Christ is so plainly, 
so frequently, and so unequivocally asserted in the 
Scriptures, and the whole system of divine dispensa- 
tions is made to depend upon it so extensively and es- 
sentially, that to deny it appears to me to be the same 
thing as to deny the Scriptures themselves. So neces- 
sary also, and so consolatory, is the doctrine of an 
atonement for sin, to such beings as we are, as well as 
no abundantly asserted in the Scriptures, that I can 



scarcely suppose any man willingly to deny it, unless 
compelled by something entirely different from the 
Scriptures themselves, and from the nature of the doc- 
trine. One error infers another. The error of denying 
the Deity of Christ has, I apprehend, compelled those 
who have adopted it to deny also all the doctrines which 
have been here mentioned, and particularly the atone- 
ment, notwithstanding they were opposed in this denial 
by so many express declarations of the sacred volume. 

4. The doctrine of justification by faith in Christ, is 
also of the same nature. 

As mankind cannot be justified by their own righte- 
ousness, it is absolutely necessary, if they are justified 
at all, that they should be justified by the righteousness 
of another. Accordingly, the Scriptures assert, in the 
most direct and abundant manner, that we are ' justified 
by ' mere ' grace,' or favour, on account of the righte- 
ousness of Christ, through that faith in him, in the 
exercise of which we give up ourselves to him, to be his 
here and for ever. As this doctrine is not only asserted 
in very many instances, and in the most express man- 
ner, but is also repeatedly proved in form, especially in 
the epistles to the Romans and the Galatians, it would 
seem incredible that it should be denied by any man 
who believed in divine revelation. Still it is abundantly 
denied by Unitarians. Nor do they only deny the 
doctrine generally, but all the particulars also of which 
it is made up. Beside rejecting the atonement of 
Christ, and the justification supposed to be accomplished 
by means of it, and the influence which faith is supposed 
to have in securing such justification to us, they deny, 
also, the very nature ofthe faith to which this influence 
is ascribed. The faith of the gospel is an affection of 
the heart, being no other than trust, or confidence. 
' With the heart,' says St Paul, ' man believeth unto 
righteousness. ' In direct opposition to this and many 
other passages of the Scriptures, the Unitarians, gene- 
rally at least, consider faith as a mere assent of the under- 
standing to probable evidence ; the same which is called 
a speculative or historical faith. By this opinion 
they strip faith of the moral nature everywhere attri- 
buted to it in the gospel. ' Abraham believed God, and 
it was counted to him for righteousness.' But surely no 
exercise of the understanding was ever counted for 
righteousness to any man, or can possess any moral 
nature whatever. ' Thou believest, that there is one 
God,' says St James ; ' thou doest well. The devils also 
believe, and tremble.' Certainly, that affection of the 
mind, of which devils are the subjects, cannot possess 
moral excellence. ' Without faith it is impossible to 
please God.' But surely the faith which pleases God 
must be essentially different from the faith of devils. 

5. Another doctrine of the same nature, is the rege- 
neration of the human soul by the Spirit of God. 

That, ' without holiness,' or moral excellence, ' no 
man shall see the Lord,' is, I think, the irresistible dic- 
tate of reason, as well as the express declaration of the 
Scriptures : for it cannot be supposed, that the infinitely 
holy God can be pleased with creatures who are wholly 
destitute of such excellence, and who, being wholly sin- 
ful, have nothing in them which he can approve, or with 
which he can be pleased. That ' in us, that is, in our 
flesh,' or original nature, ' dwelleth no good thing ;' no 
holiness, no moral excellence, is, as you well know, a 
declaration contained in the Scriptures. From these 
two doctrines thus declared, arises indispensably the ne- 






2,<6n 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. 



cessity of such a change in our character, as will make 
us the subjects of holiness. This change is in the Scrip- 
tures termed regeneration, being born again, being 
created anew ; becoming new creatures, being renewed ; 
and is expressed by other similar phraseology, and de- 
clared to be indispensable to our entrance into the di- 
vine kingdom. ' Except a man be born again,' said our 
Saviour to Nicodemus, ' he cannot see the kingdom of 
God.' The production of this change is in the Scrip- 
tures ascribed, as his peculiar work, to the Spirit of 
God. ' Except a man,' says our Saviour again, ' Ex- 
cept a man be born of water, and of the Spirit, he 
cannot enter into the kingdom of God ;' that is, except 
a man have his mind purified by the Spirit of God, as 
the body is purified by water, he cannot enter into the 
kingdom of God. ' Not by works of righteousness 
which we have done,' says St Paul, ' but according to 
his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regenera- 
tion, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.' Accordingly, 
those persons who experience this change of character, 
are said to be ' born, not of blood, nor of the will of 
the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God :' that is, 
they derived this change of character, not from their 
parents, nor from their own efforts, nor from the efforts 
of any man, but from God. 

But this change the Unitarians deny, and the agency 
of the Holy Spirit in effectuating it in the mind of man. 
Nay, they deny the existence of the Holy Spirit as a 
person, or agent. As a substitute for regeneration they 
declare mankind to become better in a gradual manner, 
by their own will or efforts, and the efforts or will of 
their fellow men, to such a degree, that God will accept 
them. In this manner they make the immense splen- 
dour of apparatus for our redemption and sanctification, 
and all the magnificent exhibitions of Christ and the 
Holy Spirit, terminate in this ; that Christ came to de- 
clare divine truth to mankind, and to prove it to be 
divine truth ; and that men, assenting to it with the un- 
derstanding, change themselves by the ordinary efforts 
of a sinful mind, into such a character as is denoted in 
the Scriptures by being born again, and created anew. 
Such, it would seem, was not however the opinion of 
St Paul when lie said, ' The natural man receiveth not 
the things of the Spirit ; for they are foolishness unto 
him ; neither can he know them ; for they are spiritu- 
ally discerned. 

The present occasion will not permit me particularly 
to follow this subject any farther. It will be sufficient 
to mention, summarily, several other doctrines which 
have been denied by Dr Priestley and his followers. 

Our Saviour says, ' A spirit hath not flesh and bones, 
as ye see me have.' Dr Priestley, on the contrary, in- 
forms us, that the human spirit is constituted only of 
organized matter ; that is, of flesh and bones. St Paul 
tells us, that when he is ' absent from the body,' he shall 
be ' present with the Lord.' Dr Priestley holds, that 
Paul was nothing but body ; and therefore could not be 
absent from the body, unless the body could be absent 
from itself. When the body dies, the soul, according 
to Dr Priestley, terminates both its operations and its 
being, until the resurrection, then to be created again ; 
and therefore is not, and cannot be, present with the 
Lord until after that period. The Scriptures assert the 
existence of angels of various orders, both good and evil ; 
and delineate their character, stations, actions, and en- 
joyments. Dr Priestley utterly denies, and even ridi- 



cules, the doctrine, that evil angels exist ; and labours 
very hard to disprove the existence of good angels. 1 
do not remember that he expressly denies it, and am 
not in posession of the volume in which his opinions 
on this subject are expressed, but he says all that is 
short of such an explicit denial, and plainly indicates 
that he does not believe them to exist. 

Beyond all this, he denies the plenary inspiration 
of the apostles ; and declares, that we are to acknow- 
ledge them inspired only when they say they are in- 
spired ; and this, he says, we are to do because the 
apostles were honest men, and are to be believed in 
this, and all their other declarations. Dr Priestley says 
expressly, that he does not consider the books of Scrip- 
ture as inspired, but as authentic records of the dispen- 
sations of God to mankind, with every particular of 
which we cannot be too well acquainted. The writers 
of the books of Scripture, he says, were men, and there- 
fore fallible. But all that we have to do with them is in 
the character of historians, and witnesses of what they 
heard and saw : like all other historians, they were 
liable to mistakes. ' Neither I,' says he to Dr Price, 
' nor, I presume, yourself, believe implicitly every thing 
which is advanced by any writer in the Old or New 
Testament. I believe them,' that is, the writers, ' to 
have been men, and therefore fallible.' And again : 
' That the books of Scripture were written by particular 
divine inspiration, is a thing to which the writers them- 
selves make no pretensions. It is a notion destitute of 
all proof, and that has done great injury to the evidence 
of Christianity.' The reasonings of the divine writers, 
he declares, we are fully at liberty to judge of, as we 
are those of other men. Accordingly, he asserts St 
Paul in a particular instance to have reasoned fallaci- 
ously ; and maintains, that Christ was both fallible and 
peccable. Other English Socinians unite with Dr 
Priestley in these sentiments ; while Socinians of other 
nations proceed so far as to treat the writers themselves, 
and their books, with marked contempt. In these 
several things there is plainly an utter denial that the 
Scriptures are a revelation from God. To all these 
opinions Dr Priestley was once directly opposed ; for 
he was once a Trinitarian and a Calvinist. The infe- 
rence seems, therefore, to be necessary, that he was led 
to them all by his denial of the Deity of Christ. A 
similar transformation appears to have been undergone 
by many other Socinians, and something very like it 
by no small number of Arians. The observation of Mr 
Wilberforce, therefore, seems to be but too well found- 
ed, when he says, ' In the course which Ave lately traced 
from nominal orthodoxy to absolute infidelity, Unitari- 
anisni is, indeed, a sort of half-way house, if the ex- 
pression may be pardoned : a stage on the journey, 
where sometimes a person, indeed, finally stops ; but 
where, not unfrequently, he only pauses for a while, and 
then pursues his progress.' 

IV. The last objection which Ishallmake at the pre- 
sent time against the doctrine of the Unitarians, is its 
immoral influence. 

Mr Belsham says, ' Rational Christians are often re- 
presented as indifferent to practical religion.' Dr 
Priestley says, ' A great number of the Unitarians of 
the present age are only men of good sense, and with- 
out much practical religion ; and there is a greater 
apparent conformity to the world in them than is obser- 
vable in others.' He also says, that he hopes they 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



229 



have more of a real principle of religion tlinn they 
seem to have. He farther allows, that Unitarians are 
peculiarly wanting in zeal for religion. 

At the same time, Dr Priestley acknowledges that 
Calvinists have less apparent conformity to the world ; 
and that they seem to have more of a real principle of 
religion than Socinians. He also acknowledges, that 
those who, from a principle of religion, ascribe more 
to God and less to man than other persons, are men of 
the greatest elevation of piety. Mr Wilberforce de- 
clares it to be an unquestionable fact, that Unitarians 
are not, in general, distinguished for superior purity of 
life ; and that Unitarianism seems to be resorted to by 
those who seek a refuge from the strictness of the prac- 
tical precepts contained in the Bible. 

That the representations are just, I consider as 
completely proved by the Rev. A. Fuller, in his Letters ; 
and no less completely the immoral tendency of the 
Socinian system. 

It is also a well known truth, that Unitarian churches 
are in general moderately frequented on the sabbath ; 



that the sermons of their preachers are generally cold, 
especially on the peculiar duties of religion ; that they 
have never formed or united with others in forming 
missions for the propagation of the gospel among the 
heathens and Mohammedans, nor distinguished them- 
selves by any discernible earnestness in the cause of 
practical Christianity. On the contrary, their own de- 
clarations, too numerous to be here recited, teach us 
abundantly that, in the view of a great part of them, 
almost all the seriousness, fervour, and self-denial, that 
deep sense of sin, and that prayerful, watchful, and 
strenuous opposition to temptation, which their oppo- 
nents esteem indispensable to salvation, are mere enthu- 
siasm, superstition, or melancholy. Christianity with 
them seems to be an easy, pleasant kind of religion, 
unincumbered by any peculiar restraints, admitting 
without difficulty of what are usually called the pleasures 
and amusements of the world, and only confining them 
within the bounds of delicacy and politeness. Can this, 
let me ask, be taking up the cross, denying ourselves, 
and following after Christ ? 



SERMON XLI. 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST:— OBJECTIONS TO THE MODE IN WHICH THE UNITARIANS 

CONDUCT THE CONTROVERSY. 



The Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise, that they are vain 1 Cor. iii. 20. 



In my last discourse I proposed several objections 
against the doctrine of the Unitarians. I shall now al- 
lege some objections against their conduct in the ma- 
nagement of the controversy. 

Before I proceed to the execution of this design, I 
shall premise the following general doctrines concerning 
the Scriptures : — 

That the Old and New Testaments were revealed to 
the several writers of them by the Spirit of God. 

That, although the several writers were left to use 
their own characteristical style, or manner of writing, 
yet they have always written such ' words as the Holy 
Ghost taught,' and ' not such as are taught by the wis- 
dom of man.' 

That these Scriptures contain ' all things pertaining 
to life and to godliness.' 

That they were written for the use of mankind, the 
learned and unlearned alike ; and therefore were writ- 
ten in the usual language of men, with the usual signi- 
fication of that language, as being that only which such 
men can understand. 

That, therefore, they express true ideas of God, of 
Christ, of human nature, of human duty, and of the 
way of salvation, in such a manner that unlearned men, 
as are ninety-nine hundredths of those for whom they 
were written, can, and, if sincerely disposed, will under- 
stand them, so far as is necessary to enable them to per- 
form their duty, and obtain their salvation. 

Every one of these doctrines I believe not only to be 
strictly true, but capable of the most satisfactory proof; 
and proof of which I feel myself satisfactorily possessed. 
Occasional remarks I shall make on this subject in the 



present discourse ; but a fuller discussion of it must be 
left to a future time. I have mentioned these doctrines 
here, because they are in my view just, important, and 
necessary to enable those who hear me to understand 
the real import of the following observations. 

1. The Unitarians, to a great extent, have interpreted 
the Scriptures according to preconceived opinions of 
their own, and not according to the obvious meaning of 
the passages themselves. 

That I may not be thought to charge this upon the 
Unitarians without ground, I will recite some of the opi- 
nions which they themselves have expressed concerning 
the Scriptures. You may remember that in my last 
discourse I mentioned that Dr Priestley pronounces 
Christ to be fallible, the Scriptures not to be written by 
particular inspiration, and the writers to make no pre- 
tensions to such inspiration. The contrary notion, also, 
he asserts to be destitute of all proof, and to have done 
great injury to the evidence of Christianity. He de- 
clares the writers of the New Testament to have impro- 
perly quoted some texts from the Old, and to have 
been sometimes misled by Jewish prejudices. Anothei 
Unitarian writer says, ' It is not the nature and desigr 
of the Scriptures to decide upon speculative, controverted 
questions, even in religion and morality ; not to solve 
the doubts, but rather to make us obey the dictates of 
our consciences.' Mr Belsham says, ' The Bereans are 
commended for not taking the word even of an apostle ; 
and pleads this as an example for us. Steinbart, a 
foreign Unitarian, speaking of the narrations in the 
New Testament, says, ' These narrations, true or false, 
are only suited to ignorant, uncultivated minds.' Semler 



230 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xli. 



another, says, that ' Peter speaks according to the con- 
ception of the Jews, when he says, Prophecy came not 
in old time by the will of man ; but holy men of God 
spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost ;' and 
adds, that ' the prophets may have delivered the offspring 
f their own brains as divine revelation.' Concerning 
the reasoning of the apostles, Dr Priestley says, ' We are 
to judge of it, as of that of other men, by a due consi- 
deration of the propositions they advance, and the argu- 
ments they allege.' That men who entertain such views 
concerning the Scriptures will not, and, according to 
their own opinions, ought not to receive the declarations 
of the Scriptures in any other manner than that in 
which they receive the declarations contained in every 
other book, is obvious to the least consideration. If 
the Scriptures were not written, and the writers do not 
pretend that they wrote, by particular divine inspiration, 
then they certainly stand on the same footing with all 
other books ; and the writers are undoubtedly to be re- 
garded, as Dr Priestley says, merely in the character of 
historians and witnesses. 

If Christ and the apostles were fallible men, and St 
Paul has actually reasoned fallaciously, then, undoubted- 
ly, their reasonings and all their doctrines are to be ex- 
amined in the same manner as those of other men. If 
the Scriptures were not designed to settle speculative 
opinions or doctrines even in morality and l-eligion, then 
it is plain, that they must be settled, if settled at all, by 
some other tribunal ; and there is no other tribunal, but 
our own reason. If the doubts of conscience were not 
intended to be solved by the Scriptures, then, certainly, 
the mind must solve them, so far as it can, for itself. 
These gentlemen have, therefore, prescribed a rule for 
themselves, which'every man may certainly know before- 
hand, even without reading their works, they could not 
fail to follow : for no man ever believed the Scriptures 
not to be an infallible rule of direction in these things, 
who did not also make his own reason his directory ; 
unless he, indeed, implicitly submitted to the dictates of 
his fellow men. In truth it would be difficult to find a 
man who does not distinctly perceive that there is no 
other directory. 

Accordingly, every reader of Unitarian books must 
have observed, that the writers evidently refer the in- 
terpretation of the Scriptures to their own pre-conceived 
opinions, or the previous decisions of their own reason. 
That is, they form their system of theology, and then 
make use of the Scriptures to support or countenance it. 
Wherever they find passages whose obvious meaning 
will countenance their own opinions, they make the 
most of them, by admitting this meaning. Wherever 
the obvious meaning, that is, the meaning derived from 
the language, according to customary use, or according 
to the tenor of the discourse of which it is a part, will 
not countenance their opinions, they contrive for it some 
other meaning which will better suit those opinions. 

That the Unitarians have actually conducted the con- 
troversy in this manner, can be made abundantly evi- 
dent by an appeal to their writings. One strong proof 
of this conduct is found in the Arian notion, that Christ 
is a delegated God. The present occasion will permit 
me to exhibit but one, out of several modes, in which 
the truth of this declaration may be evinced. Christ is 
undeniably many times asserted in the Scriptures to be 
God. These assertions are as unqualified and absolute 
as those in which the Father is declared to be God. 



They are also accompanied with a great variety of de- 
clarations, in which are ascribed to him, without any 
qualification, all the attributes, actions, and relations, 
attributable to God, exclusively of those which belong 
to the Father as such ; and are also followed by the very 
same worship, unconditionally required, and actually 
rendered to him by inspired men, and by the host of 
heaven. Now, from all these assertions I will withdraw 
the name of Christ, and substitute that of the Father. 
Let me ask, Would any of the Arians have ever thought 
of denying that the name of God, in any one of these 
passages, did not mean the true and real God, but only 
a God by delegation ? To this question there can be no 
answer but a negative. Whence, then, do they refuse to 
acknowledge the same passages to mean the same thing, 
as they now stand ? Plainly for this undeniable reason, 
that they have beforehand determined that God is not, 
and cannot be tri-personal, or triune. In this determi- 
nation, however, they are unhappy, as being unwarrant- 
ed, not only by the Scriptures, but also by that very 
reason to which they make so confident an appeal ; for 
nothing is more opposed to both, than that a finite, de- 
pendent being can have these things ascribed to him 
with truth. 

On the same grounds do the Socinians declare Christ 
to be a mere man ; not because he is not abundantly de- 
clared to be God in the Scriptures, but because they 
pre-determine by their reason, that a person cannot ex- 
ist by the union of God with man ; and that God cannot 
be triune. Let any man read their comments on the 
Scriptures relative to Christ, and he will see this to be 
abundantly shown by the nature of the comments, and 
the words in which they are uttered. 

I have observed that the Arians are unhappy in 
choosing this position as the basis of their distinguishing 
doctrine ; because it is unwarranted either by reason or 
revelation. Both they, and the Socinians, are unhappy 
on other accounts. They know net, and cannot know 
by any dictates of reason, that God is not triune. The 
nature and manner of his existence, so far as this sub- 
ject is concerned, lie wholly beyond their reach, and be- 
yond that of all other men. We cannot even begin to 
form ideas concerning them. It is, therefore, idle and 
fruitless to form propositions about them ; still more idle 
to reason and conclude ; and still more idle to make 
such conclusions the basis of our faith in a case of such 
magnitude. All that we know, or can know, is just that, 
and that only, which God has been pleased immediately 
to reveal. 

The same observations are, with the same force, appli- 
cable to the doctrine of the union of the divine and hu- 
man nature in the person of Christ. Of this subject we 
literally know nothing, beside what is revealed. 

That a mere man, also, can have these names, attri- 
butes, actions, and relations, and this worship ascribed 
to him with truth, is not only unaccordant with reason, 
but common sobriety, or decency. A few more in- 
stances of this nature, which, because I have not the 
means of multiplying examples, nor time for such a 
purpose, I shall select wholly from Dr Priestley's Notes 
on the Books of Scripture. 

In his notes on the first chapter of John, Dr Priest- 
ley informs us that the word Aoyo;, which, you know, 
is translated ' the Word,' is nothing more than the power 
of God, by which all things were made ; and therefore, 
he says, it was no distinct, inferior principle, but God 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



231 



himself. On this explanation I shall make but one ge- 
neral remark, viz. that this is the only known instance 
in which an attribute of God, either in sacred or profane 
writings, has been asserted to be God. If St John, 
therefore, had this meaning, he has used language to ex- 
press it which was probably never used by any other 
human being.* Having premised this remark, I shall 
proceed to examine the soundness of the explanation by 
the most unobjectionable of all methods ; viz. the sub- 
stitution of the explanation for the thing explained ; 
Power and God, for the Word, or Aoyo; ; as being the 
two things, which the term Aoyo; is successively, de- 
clared to denote. This experiment, to which no Soci- 
nian can object, shall be first made with power. ' In 
the beginning was the power of God, and this power 
was with God, and this power was God. The same was 
in the beginning with God. All things were made by 
it, and without it was not any thing made, that was 
made. In it was life, and the life was the light of men. 
And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness 
comprehended it not. It was in the world, and the 
world was made by it, and the world knew it not It 
came unto its own, and its own received it not. But as 
many as received it, to them gave it power to become 
the sons of God ; even to them that believe on its name. 
And the power was made flesh and dwelt among us (and 
we beheld its glory, the glory as of the only begotten of 
the Father), full of grace and truth. John bare witness 
of it, and cried, saying, This was it of which I spake : 
It that cometh after me is preferred before me, for it was 
before me. And of its fulness have we all received, and 
grace for grace. For the law was given by Moses, but 
grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.' 

Dr Priestley says, the power was God ; St John says, 
it ' was made flesh and dwelt among us, full of- .grace 
and truth.' According to his comment, therefore, God 
became flesh, and dwelt among us. According to his 
comment also, this power was Christ ; for he says, it 
' dwelt among us, full of grace and truth :' but St John 
immediately subjoins, ' Grace and truth came ' (that is, 
into this world) ' by Jesus Christ.' Therefore, Jesus 
Christ is God. 

This passage, formed in the very manner prescribed 
by Dr Priestley himself in his explanation, certainly 
can need no comment from me. I shall only say, that 
if there is a Socinian in the world who can make the 
parts of it, taken together, mean any intelligible thing, 
I think I may safely yield him the point in controversy. 

Let us now make the trial with the other term, God. 
' In the beginning was God, and God was with God 
and God was God.' Two verses more will suffice. 
' And God was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we 
beheld his glory (the glory as of the only-begotten of 
the Father), full of grace and truth. No one hath seen 
God at any time, but the only-begotten Son, who is in 
the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him.' 

Once more, let us try the same experiment with the 
super-angelic being of the Arians. ' In the beginning 
was ' a super-angelic creature ' named the Word, ' and ' 
this super-angelic creature ' was with God, and ' this 
super-angelic creature was God. The same was in the 
beginning with God. All things were made by ' this 
super-angelic creature, ' and without him was not any 
thing made that was made.' I presume, I need proceed 

* 1 John iv. 1G. to be hereafter explained. 



no farther. That interpretation of a passage can need 
nothing added to it which makes God himself say, thai 
a creature was in the beginning with God, and was God : 
and that although he was himself created or made, yet 
he made every thing that was made ; and of course mad e 
himself. I had designed to subjoin two or three more 
specimens, but the time will not permit me to recite 
them. That which I have recited, will serve to show to 
what lengths the interpretation of the Scriptures, accord- 
ing to our preconceived opinions, will lead men of su- 
perior learning and abilities. At the reading of this 
only, how can we avoid exclaiming, ' Who is this, that 
darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge ?' 

On this plan of interpretation at large, I ask, Can it 
in any respect consist with what the Scriptures say of 
themselves? The prophet Isaiah (chap. viii. 29.) says, 
' To the law, and to the testimony : if they speak not 
according to this word, it is because there is no light in 
them.' 

' All Scripture,' says St Paul, ' is given by inspiration 
of God ; and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for 
correction, and for instruction in righteousness ; that the 
man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto 
every good work.' ' No prophecy,' says St Peter, ' is 
of private interpretation : for never at any time, was 
prophecy brought by the will of man ; but the holy men 
of God spake, being moved by the Holy Ghost.' * ' We,' 
says St Paul, speaking of himself, and. his fellow apos- 
tles, ' have the mind of Christ.' And again, ' For God, 
who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath 
shined in our hearts, to give us the light of the know- 
ledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. 
And again, ' I certify you, brethren, that the gospel 
which was preached of me, was not after man; for I 
neither received it of man, neither was I taught it, but 
by the revelation of Jesus Christ.' 

In perfect harmony with these and the like declarations, 
Bloses, the first of the inspired writers, says, ' Ye shall 
not add unto the word which I command you ; neither 
shall ye diminish aught from it.' St John, the last of 
them, says at the close of his writings, ' For I testify 
unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy 
of this book, if any man shall add unto these things, 
God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in 
this book. And, if any man shall take away from the 
words of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out 
of the book of life.' From these passages it is evident, 
that the character which the Scriptures attribute to 
themselves, is altogether opposite to that which has been 
mentioned in the former part of this Discourse, as given 
to them by the Unitarian writers : that they are, in fact, 
' revealed by God, by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost ;' 
that no man, therefore, can ' add to them, or diminish 
aught from them,' without exposing himself to the 
' plagues ' which they denounce, and to the loss of ' his 
part in the book of life.' ' If we speak not according to 
them ,' it is declared that ' there is no light in us.' In 
our interpretation of them we are directed in the most 
solemn manner to receive the things which they declare. 
' Let God be true,' says the apostle, ' but every man a 
liar,' ' See,' says Agur, * that thou add not to his words, 
lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar.' ' If we,' 
says St Paul, ' or an angel from heaven, preach any other 
gospel, than that which we have preached, let him be ac- 

» Macknight. ' 



232 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xli. 



cursed.' Who, with these solemn commands and awful 
denunciations before him, can think for a moment of re- 
jecting the obvious meaning of the Scriptures, and sub- 
stituting a meaning not contained in the words, but con- 
trived by himself? 

Nor are these gentlemen less unfortunate in another 
important particular. The Scriptures were written for 
mankind at large. Of these, ninety-nine hundredths, 
to say the least, are plain, uninformed men, incapable of 
understanding language in any other manner than the 
known, customary one. If, then, the obvious meaning 
is not the true one, they are absolutely unable ever to 
find the true one ; and so far the Scriptures were writ- 
ten in vain. But it cannot be supposed that God would 
do any thing in vain ; and still less that he would disre- 
gard the salvation and the souls of ninety-nine hun- 
dredths of his creatures, when publishing his word ; and 
cause it to be so written that this great number could 
not, if ever so sincerely disposed, possibly find out its 
meaning, nor of course the way to eternal life ; while, at 
the same time, he made provision for the remaining one 
hundredth. It will not, I suppose, be pretended that 
the soul of a learned man is of more value in the sight 
of God than that of an unlearned man. But if the 
meaning of the Scriptures is to be discovered, not by the 
words, but by a contrived accordance with pre-conceived 
philosophical opinions, no unlearned man can find out 
this meaning at all. 

But the Scriptures themselves have decided this point. 
In Prov. viii. 8, 9, Christ says, ' All the words of my 
mouth are in righteousness ; there is nothing froward or 
perverse in them. They are all plain to him that 
understandeth ' (that is, to him that hath understand- 
ing ; or, in other words, to him that departeth from 
evil) ; ' and right to them that find knowledge.' In John 
vii. 16,17, the same glorious person says , ' My doctrine ' 
(that is, the scheme of doctrine which I teach) ' is not 
mine, but his that sent me. If any man will do his will, 
he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God. 
Now it will not be pretended, that plain men do not de- 
part from evil as truly and as often, in proportion to 
their number, as learned men. Of course, it must be 
confessed, that plain men find a plain meaning in the 
words of Christ, or of the Scriptures. It will be ac- 
knowledged, that unlearned men, in many instances at 
least, ' do the will of God ;' and therefore, unless Christ 
has erred in this point, ' know of his doctrine, whether 
it is of God.' 

One more passage will be amply sufficient to cut off 
even cavilling on this point. The prophet Isaiah (chap, 
xxxv, 8,) says, ' An highway shall be there, and it shall 
be called the way of holiness; and the wayfaring men, 
though fools, shall not err therein.' It will hardly be 
necessary to observe, that this ' highway,' this ' way of 
holiness,' is no other than the gospel. But it is evi- 
dently impossible that plain men should ever find the 
meaning attached by Unitarians to the numerous pas- 
sages which speak of Christ as God. No such man 
would ever mistrust that a super-angelic creature was 
' called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the 
Father of the everlasting age, the Prince of Peace;' 
that ' of the increase of his government and peace there 
should be no end,' Isa. ix. 6 : that ' his goings forth 
were from of old, from everlasting ;' or, as in the origi- 
nal, ' from the days of eternity :' or that this creature 
' was in the beginning with God, and was God -.' that 



' all things were made by him, and that without him 
was not any thing made that was made :' or that ' he 
was over all things, God blessed for evermore.' No 
such man would ever have thought of reading, ' In the 
beginning was divine power, and this power was with 
God, and this power was God. That it was in the 
world ; that the world was made by it ; and the world 
knew it not. That as many as received it, to them gave 
it power to become the sons of God, even to them that 
believe on its name. That this power became flesh, and 
dwelt among us (and we beheld its glory, the glory as 
of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and 
truth. John bare witness of it, and cried, saying, This 
was it of which I spake. It that cometh after me is 
preferred before me, for it was before me.' No plain 
man would ever have thought of reading, ' In the begin- 
ning was God, and God was with God, and God was 
God.' 

Should it be said, in opposition to the observations 
which I have made concerning the intelligibleness of 
the Scriptures, that my antagonists will grant that the 
Scriptures are thus plain, in points of essential impor- 
tance to our duty and salvation ; but need not be sup- 
posed to be so in mere speculative opinions ; I answer, 
that no doctrine is of more importance, whether specula- 
tive or practical, than that which teaches the character 
of Christ, except that which teaches the existence and 
perfections of God. If Christ be a creature, all the 
worship, and all other regard rendered to him as the 
Creator, is unquestionably mere idolatry ; the sin which, 
of all sins, is the most strongly threatened and reproved 
in the Scriptures. If Christ is God, then a denial that 
he is God is all that is meant by impiety. It is a denial 
of his primary and essential character ; of the attributes 
which, in this character, belong to him ; of the relations 
which he sustains to the universe, and will for ever 
sustain ; of the actions which he has performed, and will 
perform throughout eternity; and of the essential 'glory, 
which he had with the Father before ever the world 
was.' Man is a being, made up of an animal body and 
a rational mind. Should I deny that a particular per- 
son possessed a rational mind, would it not be justly 
said that I denied him to be a man, and refused to ac- 
knowledge his primary and most essential character? 
If Christ is God-man, and I deny him to be God, do I 
not at least as entirely deny his primary and most essen- 
tial character. In other words, do I not plainly ' deny 
the Lord that bought me ?' It is evidently impossible 
for him who makes this denial to render to Christ those 
regards, that confidence, love, reverence, and obedience, 
which a man, who believed Christ to be God, would feel 
himself indispensably bound to render. Indeed, were 
it possible, he would necessarily, and in the very act of 
rendering them, condemn himself as guilty of idolatry. 
On the other hand, he who believes Christ to be God, 
cannot refuse to render them, without condemning him- 
self as guilty, and without being actually guilty, of the 
plainest and grossest impiety, because he withholds from 
the true God the homage and obedience due to his 
character. The Unitarians censure the system of the 
Trinitarians as being idolatrous, and them as being 
idolaters. If the Unitarian scheme is true, the censure 
is just. We, on the other hand, and with equal justice, 
if our scheme is true, declare them to be guilty of direct 
and gross impiety ; because they worship not * the 
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost ;' the Jehovah of 



DIVINITY OF CHRIST. 



233 



the Scriptures ; the Jehovah Aleim, ' who is one Jeho- 
vah ;' but another and very different God. 

The admission of the Deity of Christ, therefore, if he 
be really God, is a fundamental doctrine of Christianity, 
mistakes about which are altogether dangerous and 
dreadful. This is plainly felt to be the case by the 
plain people even among the Socinians. For Mrs Bar- 
bauld informs us, that although the errors of the Trini- 
tarians ' are losing ground among thinking people, yet 
there is in that class (among the Socinians,) who are 
called serious Christians, a sort of leaning towards them ; 
an idea that they are, if not true, at least good to be 
believed ; and that a salutary error is better than a 
dangerous truth.' 

Can it then be believed, that God can have directed 
the Scriptures to be so written that the true meaning of 
them, in a case of this fundamental importance, — a case 
in which mankind are in so imminent danger of becom- 
ing either impious or idolatrous, — is so obscure as to 
make plain men utterly unable to find it out, however 
honestly disposed ? and that the great body of religious 
men should, in all ages of the church, have totally and 
infinitely mistaken their real intention ? Can that 
mode of interpretation, which leads, of course, to this 
conclusion, be the true one ? 

II. The Unitarians reject the doctrine, that Christ 
is God, and the obvious meaning of all those passages 
which teach it, because the doctrine is mysterious. 

This I object to as a totally irrational ground of such 
rejection. There are two reasons which will effectually 
prove this irrationality. 

1. All mankind readily admit, and if they believe 
any thing, must every moment admit, mysteries as the 
objects of their faith. This world is made up of atoms. 
What are they ? Dr Priestley informs us that they are 
' centres of attraction and repulsion.' This definition, 
translated out of Latin-English into Saxon-English, is, 
that ' atoms are centres of drawing to, and driving from ;' 
a definition which, I believe, it would puzzle Dr Priest- 
ley himself to unriddle, and at least as applicable to 
points of space as to atoms. They are also defined to 
be ' solid extended somethings.' What is the something 
thus solid and extended ? Here our inquiries are 
stopped, and an atom is found to be an absolute mys- 
tery. The world is made up of atoms. What binds 
them together, so as to constitute a world ? Attraction, 
it is answered. What is attraction ? To this there is 
no answer. The world, then, on which we tread, in 
which we live, and about which we think we have ex- 
tensive knowledge, is wholly formed out of particles 
absolutely mysterious, bound together by a power equal- 
ly mysterious. 

These atoms constitute vegetables. What is a vege- 
table ? ' An organized body,' it is answered ; ' the sub- 
ject of vegetable life.' What is vegetable life? To 
this question there is no satisfactory answei - . In the 
same manner are we conducted to a speedy end in all 
our inquiries concerning the mineral, vegetable, and 
rational worlds. 

Mystery meets us at every step, and lies at the bot- 
tom of the whole. The power by which this Discourse 
was thought, or written, or spoken, defies all human in- 
vestigation. 

If mysteries, then, are found everywhere in the works 
of God, can it. be supposed that they are not found in 
the character and being of the same God? There is 



nothing more mysterious, more absolutely inexplicable, 
in the doctrine of the Trinity, than in the p;,wer by 
which, and the manner in which, mind acts upon matter. 

2. The Unitarians themselves, though professedly re- 
jecting mysteries, admit them into their creed without 
number. That a creature created all things, upholds all 
things, possesses all things, rules all things, and is the 
final cause of their existence ; that a creature should be 
' the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ;' that he 
should be the final judge and rewarder of the just and 
the unjust ; that he should sit on the throne of the 
heavens, and l-eceive the prayers of inspired men in this 
world, and the everlasting praises of the heavenly host 
in the world to come ; or that God, if these things are 
not so, should have caused or permitted them to be writ- 
ten in his word — are, to say the least, mysteries as entire 
and as inexplicable as any which have ever entered the 
thoughts of man. It ill becomes those, who admit these 
things, therefore, to reject any thing merely on account 
of its being mysterious. 

III. The Unitarians lake an unwarrantable license 
with the language of the Scriptures. 

I know not that I can express my own views of this 
subject, within the same compass, better than in the fol- 
lowing words of a respectable writer, which are part of 
some Observations concerning Dr Priestley's Notes on 
the Scriptures : — ' It is a leading and determined pur- 
pose of Dr Priestley's Notes to serve the cause of what 
is arrogantly termed Unitarianism ; and he has cer- 
tainly kept this purpose in view. To say the least, he 
is a zealous and resolute advocate. His maxim seems 
to have been, to maintain his cause at all events. Sel- 
dom is lie at a loss for a gloss or an evasion, in aiming 
at the accomplishment of his object. If he meets with 
a passage whose indubitable reading, and whose obvious 
plain meaning, are such as every unbiased man would 
pronounce favourable to the Deity and atonement of 
Christ, the Doctor is ready with ample stores of meta- 
phorical, enigmatical, and idiomatical forms of interpre- 
tation ; and stubborn must be that text which will not 
bend under one or other of his modes of treatment. In 
some cases, a various reading, though none of the best, 
is called in to his assistance. Should this aid fail, some 
learned critic or other is at hand with a conjectured al- 
teration. Or, if none of these means appear advisable, 
the philosophical commentator has in reserve a kind of 
logical alkali, which will at least neutralize a pungent 
passage ; for example, the sage observation, ' About the 
interpretation of it critics differ much.' 

' And lastly, in very desperate instances, a method is 
resorted to, the most simple and comprehensive imagin- 
able ; and that is, to say nothing at all about them !' 

One of the modes in which the Unitarians take un- 
warrantable license with the language of the Scriptures, 
is to pronounce passages to be interpolated, which are 
abundantly evidenced by manuscripts, ancient versions, 
and quotations in writings of the fathers, to be genuine 
parts of the Scriptures. 

Another is, to declare, without warrant, words and 
phrases to be wanting ; and then to supply them ; where 
they are supplied by no authority but their own. Thus 
Grotius and Dr Clark supply the word wra in that re- 
markable text, Rom. ix. 5 ; and then translate it, ' Of 
whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came, who is over 
all, God ' be ' blessed for evermore.' 

This, it will be observed, does not aid them at 
2 a 



234 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser XL 



all, because he ' who is over all things,' is, of course, 
God. 

Another mode is, to annex a meaning to some parti- 
cular word or phrase, which suits their own purpose, but 
which is entirely aside from all customary use. Thus 
Pierce interprets ovk 0.^11 a,<y^,ov yyr\au.To ro eii/eii laa, ®t&> ; 
* He thought it no robbery to be equal- with God ;' to 
mean, He was not eager, nor tenacious, to retain that 
likeness to God : a translation which no criticism can 
justify, or satisfactorily explain. 

Another mode of the same nature is, to suggest the 
conjectural opinion of some other critic, or some learned 
friend ; which is introduced with so much gravity, as 
to give a kind of weight and speciousness to the pecu- 
liar interpretation proposed. Thus Dr Priestley,* 
commenting on John xiv. 2, ' In my Father's house are 
many mansions ;' says, ' Perhaps, with a learned friend 
of mine, we may understand the mansions in his Father's 
house, of which Jesus here speaks, to signify, not places 
of rest and happiness in heaven, but stations of trust 
and usefulness upon earth ; such as he was then about 
to quit,' &c. Here the house of God is made to mean 
earth, and mansions, stations ; and Christ, of course, 
was going away to prepare a place for his apostles here, 
where he and they then were ; and was to come again, 
to receive them in the place whither he himself was 
going, that ' they might be with him ' there, by continu- 
ing here. 

Another mode of the same nature is, an unbounded 
license in making the scriptural language figurative. 

That the language of the Scriptures is to a great ex- 
tent, and in a high degree, figurative, is unquestionably 
true. But certainly there are limits to this character, 
not only in scriptural, but all other language. It must, 
I think, be admitted, that we are to consider the lan- 
guage of the Scriptures especially, and of all other good 
writings generally, as figurative, only in accordance 
with the following rules : 

(1.) That the figure be agreeable to the state of the 
mind of him who uses it ; that is, to his views and feel- 
ings. 

(2.) That it be founded on some analogy or relation 
to the subject. 

(3.) That it accord with the discourse, so far as to 
make sense. 

(4.) That in the Scriptures it violate no doctrine de- 
clared, at least by the writer. 

(5.) That it be so obvious, as not to demand inven- 
tion or contrivance in the reader. 

(6.) That it be explicable according to the opinions, 
or other circumstances of those for whom it was written, 
so as to be capable of being understood by them. 

(7.) That it suit the occasion and other circumstances 
of the discourse. 

But how, according to these or any other rules of con- 
struing language, are we to interpret the declaration, 
' For by him were created all things, that are in heaven 
and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they 
be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers,' 
to mean that Christ published the gospel and con- 
stituted the Christian church ? Is it the same thing to 
publish the gospel, as to create ? Is it the same thing to 
constitute the church, as to create ? Are the gospel and 
the church ' all things that are in heaven and that are in 

* Eclectic Review, No. ii. Vol. "• 



earth ?' Are they ' all things visible and invisible ?' Who 
are the ' thrones,' the ' dominions,' the ' principalities,' 
and the ' powers ?' Are they bishops, elders, and deacons : 
the only officers ever supposed to belong to the church ? 

The Holy Ghost is by Unitarians denied to be a per- 
son, and is commonly asserted to be no other than the 
power of God : the name Spirit being, in their view, 
always figurative. According to what rules of construc- 
tion are we, on this plan, to interpret the following 
passages ; in which I shall substitute the word power for 
Ghost, or Spirit ; always intending by it, however, the 
divine power. 

' All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven 
unto men ; but the blasphemy against the Holy ' Power 
' shall not be forgiven unto men.' Matt. xii. 13. ' Bap- 
tizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
and of the Holy ' Power. Matt, xxviii. 19. ' Why has 
Satan filled thy heart, to lie unto the Holy ' Power 1 
Acts v. 3. ' God anointed Jesus with the Holy ' Power 
' and with power.' Acts x. 33. Rom. xv. 13, ' That ye 
may abound in hope through the power of the Holy ' 
Power. Rom. xv. 19, ' Through mighty signs, and 
wonders, by the power of the ' Power '■ of God.' ' In 
demonstration of the' Power, ' and of power.' Johnxvi. 
1 3, * Howbeit, when he, the ' Power ' of truth has come, 
he will guide you into all truth ; for he shall not speak 
of himself ; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he 
speak,' &c. &c. 

More instances cannot, I think, be necessary to elu- 
cidate this part of the subject. 

The last mode which I shall mention, a mode adopted 
when a passage is too stubborn to bend to any of the pre- 
ceding, is, to leave it with such an observation as this : 
' Critics are very much divided about the meaning of 
this passage :' insinuating to the reader, that the passage 
is so obscure and perplexed, that he is to despair of any 
explanation. 

In this manner, it seems to me, the Scriptures must 
soon become such as the prophet Isaiah declared they 
would become to the Jews, at a certain future period. 
' The vision of all,' says that prophet, chap. xxix. 1 ] , 
' is become unto you as the words of a book that is 
sealed ; which men deliver to one that is learned, say- 
ing, Read this, I pray thee ; and he saith, I cannot, for 
it is sealed ; and the book is delivered to him that is not 
learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee ; and he saith, 
I am not learned.' 

IV. I object to the Unitarians direct unfairness in 
their conduct towards Trinitarians. 

The unfairness here intended respects two parti- 
culars. 

1. They treat the Trinitarians as if they were Tri- 
theists, or held the existence of three Gods. 

This they do in several methods, particularly, the 
name Unitarian, as I formerly observed, is designed to 
denote that they, among Christians, exclusively hold the 
existence of one God. The very name itself, therefore, 
is intended to declare, that Trinitarians hold the exist- 
ence of more Gods than one. An imputation which, 
they well know, every Trinitarian rejects with abhor- 
rence. 

Again : In arguing with Trinitarians, they customarily 
undertake to prove that the Scriptures, in a great variety 
of passages, assert that there is but one God : as if this 
were the very point, or at least one point, in debate be- 
tween them and Trinitarians. Accordingly, when they 



INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 



S>35 



have proved this point, which a child can easily do, they 
commonly triumph, and appear to consider the dispute ' 
as ended, and their antagonists overthrown. In this 
way they insinuate to their readers that Trinitarians hold 
the existence of more Gods than one ; and that all their 
arguments are intended to support this doctrine. 
Whereas every Unitarian perfectly well knows, that 
the unity of God is as entirely and as professedly 
holden by Trinitarians as himself; that none of their 
arguments are directed against it ; and that this point 
has never been, and never can be, in debate between 
him and them. That the doctrine of the Trinity involves 
or infers the existence of more Gods than one, every 
Unitarian has a right to prove, and may with perfect 
fairness prove, if he can. But to insinuate, that Trini- 
tarians believe the existence of more Gods than one, and 
to treat them as if they thus believed, when it is perfect- 
ly well known that every Trinitarian disclaims such be- 
lief with indignation, is conduct which, in my view, ad- 
mits of no justification. 

2. The Unitarians customarily undertake to prove 
that Christ is a man ; and thence triumph also, as if 
they had refuted the doctrine of their opposers. Now 
it is well known to every Unitarian, that the Trinita- 
rians with one voice acknowledge Christ to be a man ; 
and that this point, therefore, is not in controversy be- 
tween him and them. 

It is wholly disingenuous, therefore, to insinuate that 
it is in debate, or to attempt to make it a part of the 
controversy, when they know that Trinitarians as uni- 
formly hold it as themselves. Of these facts, however, 
they usually take not the least notice, but appear to con- 
sider both points as the principal topics in debate. Such 
conduct in their antagonists the Unitarians would cen- 
sure with severity. 

I shall conclude this discussion with two observations. 

The first is, that the Unitarians are extensively dis- 
agreed concerning the person of Christ. The Arians 
consider him as a super-angelic being : The Socinians 
partly as a man, ' in whom dwelt all the fulness of the 
Godhead bodily ;' and partly as a man, differing from 
other men only by being wiser and better : The Sabel- 
lians, as God manifested in one manner : The Patripas- 
sians, as the Father living and suffering in the man Jesus 
Christ. Some of the Unitarians hold, that he created 



the universe ; some that he made an atonement for sin ; 
some that he ought to be worshipped ; and some deny 
all these doctrines. This difference is derived from two 
sources ; one is, that their reason or philosophy dictates 
nothing concerning Christ in which they can harmonize. 
The other is, that the Scriptures in no very satisfactory 
manner support either of their opinions. But it ought 
to be observed, that this very difference is of such a 
nature as strongly to indicate that the Scriptures exhibit 
Christ as God. 

The second observation is, that Unitarianism has an 
evident tendency to infidelity. 

This is strongly evident in the manner in which the 
Unitarians speak of the Scriptures, the insufficiency 
which they attribute to them for settling religious doc- 
trines, and the superior sufficiency which they attribute 
to reason. It is evident, also, in the laxity of their ideas 
concerning what genuine religion is ; their want of ven- 
eration for the sabbath ; their want of attendance on 
the public worship of God ; and their devotion to the 
pleasures and amusements of life. 

Dr Priestley acknowledges, that ' the Unitarian 
societies do not flourish : that their members have but 
a slight attachment to them, and easily desert them,' 

Voltaire also says, ' that down to his own time only 
a very small number of those called Unitarians had held 
any religious meetings.' 

Dr Priestley also says, that ' many Unitarians have 
become more indifferent to religion in general, than 
they were before ; and to all the modes and doctrines of 
religion.' Concerning himself, he says, ' that he was 
once a Calvinist, and that of the straitest sect ; then a 
high Arian ; next a low Arian ; then a Socinian ; and 
in a little time a Socinian of the lowest kind, in which 
Jesus Christ is considered as a mere man, the son of 
Joseph and Mary, and naturally as fallible and peccable 
as Moses, or any other prophet.' He also says, ' he does 
not know when his creed will be fixed.' This I consi- 
der as the true progress, nature, and tendency, of Uni- 
tarianism. The end of this progress in most men is 
easily foreseen. Let him, therefore, who finds himself 
inclined to think favourably of these opinions, consider 
well before he embraces them, what will probably be the 
final termination of his religious system. 



SERMON XLII. 



INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 



God sending Ids own Son in the likeness of sinful fleslu — Rom. viii. 3. 



I have, in several preceding Discourses, endeavoured 
to settle the meaning of the phrase, ' God's own Son,' 
used in this passage of the Scriptures. This was in- 
dispensably necessary at the opening of all the observa- 
tions intended to be made concerning the doctrines of 
the Christian system. As these doctrines are truths, 
partly unfolding to us the character and conduct of this 
wonderful Person, and partly disclosing to us the con- 



sequences of his interference in the behalf of mankind ; 
as his character, in a greater or less degree, affects 
every doctrine of what is appropriately called the Chris- 
tian religion ; and as those who set out with different 
views of his character, proceed farther and farther 
asunder, so as to form in the end entirely different 
systems of religious doctrine ; it became indispensable 
that this great point should, as far as possible, be fixed 



236 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



f Ser. X1H. 



at the beginning. If the attempt to do this has been 
successful, in the degree which I have hoped, it will 
contribute not a little to settle on a firm foundation 
most of the doctrines which remain to be investigated. 
My own views concerning them it will at least contribute 
to explain. 

In this passage we are informed, that ' God sent his 
Son in the likeness of sinful flesh.' The meaning of 
this phrase (' the likeness of sinful flesh ') will be obvi- 
ous from similar phrases in Phil. ii. 7,8,' He was made,' 
or, as it is in the original, ' He existed in the likeness 
of men ; and being found in fashion as a man.' In the 
first of these phrases, the original word, ofioiapxri^ is 
the same with that translated ' likeness,' in the text. In 
the second, it is n%i\^a,Ti, a term of a kindred significa- 
tion, denoting form or fashion. In the passage in 
Philippians, the phrases, ' He existed in the likeness of 
men,' and ' He was found in fashion as a man,' denote, 
that he was a real man. In the text, the phrase, ' the 
likeness of sinful flesh,' denotes, that he was sent in real 
flesh ; here figuratively called sinful, because it is in all 
other instances, except that of Christ, the flesh, or body, 
of sinful beings. 

The doctrine contained in this passage, is, therefore, 
the following : — 

That Christ, when he appeared in the world was a 
real man. 

This doctrine, like that of the Deity of Christ, has 
been extensively disputed. 

The heretics generally, who embraced the Gnostic 
philosophy, denied Christ to have been a man. Some in- 
dividuals and some classes held, that he was clothed in a 
body of air ; that he suffered only in appearance ; and 
that Judas Iscariot suffered in his stead. 

To all these and the like doctrines, they were led by 
philosophizing on this subject. It is a just observation 
of Lardner, that ' heretics were, in the general, men of 
a curious and inquisitive turn of mind, and greatly in- 
dulged this disposition, which led them to speculate on 
many points of doctrine concerning which the Scrip- 
tures had afforded little or no light. When the Scrip- 
tures were in some cases inconsistent with their notions, 
they were for making them yield to their philosophical 
opinions. Thus the simplicity of truth was banished, 
and endless divisions arose.' Tertullian also says, that 
' heresies are derived from philosophy ; and that secu- 
lar wisdom is a rash (or fool-hardy) interpreter of the 
divine nature and disposition.' 

These observations are, with equal force and justice, 
applicable to heresies of modern days, and those of the 
ancients ; and few of either will be found to have arisen 
from any other source, beside a philosophy too proud 
or too knowing to submit implicitly to the testimony of 
God. 

There are two modes of conduct with respect to 
religion, in which the mind may be justly said to act 
rationally. One is, to determine antecedently to our 
knowledge of revelation, as well as we can, what is re- 
ligious truth, by our reason ; the other, to find out and 
embrace, when we have become acquainted with revela- 
tion, what it declares to be religious truth. In the for- 
mer of these situations reason is our only guide. In 
the latter, its only business is to discover whether the 
professed revelation is a real one ; and after this point 
is settled affirmatively, to discover and receive whatever 
it declares. God has now become our guide ; and as 



he can neither deceive nor be deceived, our duty is to 
receive his testimony implicitly. Had this plain and 
equitable rule been uniformly followed, Christianity 
would never have been thus distorted, nor the church 
rent asunder by such lamentable divisions. 

The reason why the Bocetas, one class of the ancient 
Unitarians, denied Christ to be a man, was the general 
principle of the Gnostics ; that moral evil has its seat in 
matter. Hence they held that the human soul, which 
they believed to have been originally pure, derived its 
contamination solely from its union with the body. It 
was no unnatural consequence for those who embraced 
-this doctrine to adopt the impossibility of a union be- 
tween God and the human body ; since such a union 
was, of course, supposed to be capable of contaminating 
even the divine purity. 

Their philosophy, therefore, seems necessarily to have 
led them into the conclusion, that Christ, whom they 
believed to be God, was never united to a human body. 
In the same manner has the philosophy of other sects led 
them also to embrace doctrines directly opposed to the 
express declarations of the Scriptures. 

That Christ was a man, in the absolute sense, is easily 
made evident by many kinds of proof, and by almost 
numberless passages of Scripture. 

1. He is called a man, and the Son of Man, in a 
very great multitude of instances. 

The number of instances in which he has this latter 
appellation is no less than seventy-one. In sixty-seven 
of these instances it is given to him by himself, once by 
Daniel, once by St Stephen, and twice by St John in 
the Revelation. In giving this appellation to himself, 
it will I suppose be acknowledged, that he disclosed his 
real character, and was what he calls himself, the Son of 
Man. 

When he is styled a man, also, he is described with 
just such characteristics, those excepted which involve er- 
ror or sin, as belong to other men. He is exhibited as 
meek, lowly, and dutiful to his parents ; as hungry, 
thirsty, and weary ; as sustained and refreshed by food, 
drink, and sleep ; as the subject of natural affection ; as 
weeping with tenderness and sorrow ; as the subject of 
temptations, infirmities, and afflictions; and, generally, 
as having all the innocent characteristics which belong 
to our nature. 

2. The history of his birth, life, and death, is unan- 
swerable proof that Christ was a man. 

Christ was born, lived, and died essentially in the 
same manner as other men. He ' increased in wisdom ' 
as well a3 ' in stature :' wrought with his hands, ate, 
drank, slept, suffered on the cross, gave up the ghost, 
and was buried, in the same manner as other men. 

3. This point is argued at large and proved by St 
Paul, in the second chapter of the Epistle to the He- 
brews. 

In the passage containing this argument are the fol- 
lowing declarations : ' Forasmuch, then, as the children 
are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself took 
part of the same ;' and, ' Wherefore in all things it 
behoved him to be made like unto his brethren.' 

The proofs which I have alleged will, it is presumed, 
be considered as abundantly sufficient. That Christ had 
a human body cannot be questioned. It is equally 
unquestionable, that to increase in wisdom, to be 
tempted, to be sorrowful, to be dutiful to human pa- 
rents, together with other things of a similar nature, are 



INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 



237 



attributable neitber to God nor to the human body, but 
are appropriate characteristics of the human soul. 
Christ, therefore, had a human soul as well as a human 
body, and was in the absolute sense, a man. 

But he was not a man only. 

This also is evident from numerous scriptural declara- 
tions. St Paul says, Philip, ii. 5, he who was in the 
form of God, and thought it no robbery to be equal with 
God, nevertheless made himself of no reputation (ex.ii/aa:, 
emptied himself, or divested himself , of this form of God, 
the glory and greatness which lie before possessed) ; 
and, i taking upon himself the form of a servant, was 
born (or existed) in the likeness of men.' It is not my 
intention in quoting this passage, to insist on the Deity 
of Christ, so unequivocally declared in it ; but only to 
observe, that he who was thus a man was, antecedently 
to his appearance in this human character, a person en- 
tirely distinct from what he was as a man. 

Antecedently to his ' being born in the likeness of 
men,' he existed, and existed in ' the form of God, 
and thought it no robbery to be equal with God. 
Nevertheless (sxvrov enlace), he emptied himself.' He 
existed, therefore, previously to his appearance as a 
man, and 'emptied himself voluntarily, when he (volun- 
tarily, also) ' took upon himself the form of a servant, 
and was born in the likeness of men.' In other words, 
the person, here spoken of as ' being in the form of God, 
became incarnate. This person, I have attempted to 
show, was divine ; and no other than the Word, or Son 
of God. 

The great objection to the doctrine of the incarnation 
of Christ is an objection of philosophy only, and in my 
view a very unphilosophical objection. ' It is a doctrine,' 
say the objectors, ' wholly mysterious and inexplicable.' 

After what was urged in the preceding Discourse on 
the subject of mysteries, very little can be thought 
necessary to be added here. Let it however be observ- 
ed, that the truth of the objection is cheerfully acknow- 
ledged by me ; and, so far as I know, by all who hold 
this doctrine. At the same time, it is an objection 
without force ; and is idly urged, to say the least, by 
Unitarians. When the Arians will explain how their 
super-angelic being became the infant, and ultimately 
the man, Jesus Christ, and did, and suffered, and ac- 
complished the things asserted of Christ ; when the So- 
cinians will explain how he was created by the Holy 
Ghost, was born of Joseph and Mary ; how organized 
matter thinks ; how he who begun to exist at his birth, 
existed antecedently ' in the form of God ;' ' emptied 
himself;' and was then ' born in the likeness of men ;' 
and when both, or either, of them will explain how the 
things said in the Scriptures concerning Christ, are 
true, and at the same time consistent with their respec- 
tive schemes ; or how God could say them, if they were 
not true ; I think I may venture upon an attempt to 
explain the mystery of the incarnation. Until we know 
the nature of the divine existence, and the nature of the 
human soul, we shall never be able to determine how 
far God may unite himself with such a soul, or whether 
such a union is impossible. 

On this and every other question concerning the na- 
ture of the divine existence, and of the existence of 
finite minds, we cannot even begin to form ideas, but 
must be indebted, for whatever facts we either know or 
believe, to the testimony of God. 

For aught that we are able to determine, a finite mind 



may be so far united to the infinite mind, as that all the 
views, affections, purposes, ends, and agency of both, 
which are not discordant in their very nature, may ex- 
actly coincide ; and, independently of their character 
as finite or infinite, constitute but a single character and 
a single agency. But, as I have before said, for all our 
just conceptions on this subject, we are and must be 
indebted, to the testimony of God only ; and beyond 
this testimony, as well as without it, we literally know 
nothing. 

This testimony, as it relates to the doctrine under 
consideration, is in my view complete. That Christ is 
truly and essentially God, has, if I mistake not, been 
sufficiently evinced ; and also that he appeared in this 
world a man in the absolute and perfect sense. This 
account of his character will be advantageously eluci- 
dated by a summary comparison of the representations 
made of him in both these characters. 






As God it is said : 

That he is God, the true 
God, the mighty God, the 
great God, Jehovah, I am, 
and Emmanuel, &c. That 
his goings forth were from 
of old, from everlasting ; 
that he was in the begin- 
ning ; set up from everlast- 
ing, or ever the earth was, 
&c. That he was in the 
beginning with God ; re- 
joicing alway before him ; 
present, when he prepared 
the heavens, and laid the 
foundations of the earth ; 
and possessed of glory with 
him before ever the world 
was. With reference to his 
greatness as God united to 
man, it is said, that Gabriel 
predicted his birth, an an- 
gel declared to the shep- 
herds of Bethlehem that he 
was born, and a choir of 
the heavenly host sung to- 
gether his natal hymn. 

That he is the same yes- 
terday, to-day, and for 



That all things are his ; 
that he upholds them by 
the word of his power, and 
that they were made for 
him, and by him. 

That he is Lord of all 
things, of angels, princi- 
palities, and powers ; and 
will subdue, and is able to 
subdue, all things unto 
himself, and put all opposi- 



As man it is said : 

That he was an infant, a 
child, a man, a carpenter, 
the son of Joseph and Mary, 
and the brother, or cousin- 
german, of James and Jo- 
ses. That he was born in 
the reign of Herod the 
Great, and of the Roman 
emperor Augustus Cajsar. 
That he was born in Ju- 
dea ; in Bethlehem, the 
city of David; in the sta- 
ble of an inn ; and was 
cradled in a manger. That 
he was refused a place in 
the inn, forgotten in the 
stable, and unfurnished 
even with the ordinary 
comforts provided for the 
children of peasants. 



That he grew while a 
child really and percepti- 
bly, in wisdom and stature, 
and in favour with God 
and man, and therefore 
changed day by day, and 
that through bis life. 

That he had not where 
to lay his head, and was 
sustained, without any pro- 
perty of his own, by the 
bounty of his disciples, and, 
at times, of others. 

That he was subject to 
the Jewish and Roman 
governments, paid tribute, 
and performed all the usual 
duties of a child to his pa- 
rents, and of a subject to 



238 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



tion under his feet : and 
that his throne and domin- 
ion are for ever and ever. 

That he was originally 
rich in the possession of all 
things ; arid the continual 
delight of his Father in the 
heavens ; where the angels 
unceasingly worshipped 
him. 

That at the close of this 
world, he will come in the 
clouds of heaven with 
power and great glory, and 
with all his holy angels ; 
will summon the dead from 
their graves; will gather all 
nations before the throne 
of his glory ; will judge 
both angels and men ac- 
cording to their works ; 
will punish the wicked with 
an everlasting destruction 
from the glory of his 
power : will conduct the 
righteous into heaven ; and 
will cause them to live, and 
reign, with him for ever 
and ever. 

Finally, in his divine 
character, it is said, that 
he was in the form of God, 
and thought it no robbery 
to be equal with God. 



his ruler ; and was exposed 
to the direct assaults and 
temptations of the devil. 

That, for our sakes, he 
became poor, afflicted, de- 
spised,and rejected of men ; 
a man of sorrows and ac- 
quaintedwith grief; lightly 
esteemed, hated, and per- 
secuted. 

That he was betrayed 
by Judas ; seized by the 
Roman soldiers ; brought 
before the Sanhedrim ; 
judged, and condemned to 
death ; again brought be- 
fore Pilate, judged, and 
condemned ; buffeted, 

crowned with thorns,mock- 
ed, spit upon, scourged, 
nailed to the cross, and 
carried to the tomb. 



But that-having emptied 
himself, and taken upon 
him the form of a servant, 
he was born in the likeness 
of men ; and being found 
in fashion as a man, he 
became obedient unto 
death, even the death of 
the cross. 



At the close of this wonderful career he was raised 
from the dead. He himself informs us, that ' he laid 
down his own life, voluntarily, and that no one was 
' able to take it out of his hands.' He also informs us, 
that ' he himself took it up again.' Accordingly, he 
rose from the grave on the third day, and after con- 
versing familiarly with his disciples ' concerning the 
things pertaining to the kingdom of God,' forty days, 
he ascended to heaven in a cloud of glory, attended by 
the heavenly host ; entered the world of glory in tri- 
umph, and ' sat down on the right hand of the majesty 
on high ;' or as it is elsewhere expressed, ' This man, 
after he had offered one sacrifice for sins, sat down for 
ever on the right hand of God.' ' At his name,' hence- 
forth, ' every knee ' is required to ' bow, of things in 
heaven, and things in earth, and things under the 
earth ; and every tongue to confess, that he is the Lord,' 
or sovereign of all things, ' to the glory of God the 
Father.' The throne of infinite dominion is accordingly, 
and appropriately, styled ' the throne of God and the 
Lamb.' Before this throne, ' the four living ones cry, 
Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, who wast, and 
who art, and who art to come. The four-and-twenty 
elders cast their crowns at his feet, and say, Thou art 
worthy, O Lord ! to receive glory, and honour, and 
power, for thou hast created all things, and for thy 
pleasure they are and were created. And the multi- 



tude of angels round about the throne, and the living 
ones, and the elders, say with a loud voice, Worthy is 
the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, 
and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and 
blessing : and every creature, which is in heaven, on the 
earth, under the earth, and in the sea, is heard, saying, 
Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto 
him that sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb for 
ever and ever.' To this divine ascription, the four liv- 
ing ones subjoin their solemn ' Amen.' 

On this comparative view of the wonderful subject 
under consideration, I make the following remarks : — 

1. It is evident to the least consideration, that the 
things which are here said of Christ are exceedingly 
unlike each other. 

So unlike are they, that if we suppose two beings to 
be the subjects of holiness, their characters cannot be 
more different from each other than the things which 
are here declared concerning Christ. 

Let any man attempt to describe two, the most distant 
characters of two, the most distant holy beings, and he 
will find himself unable to place them farther asunder 
than these two characters of Christ are placed : therefore, 

2. These two characters cannot be given to any being 
possessed of a simple nature. 

That they are truly said will not be here called in 
question. If we suppose the person of whom they are 
said to be only God, we shall be obliged either to say, 
with the Sabellians, that Christ was no other than God 
manifesting himself in one particular form ; or, with the 
Patripassians, that the Father lived here, suffered, and 
died, as a man ; or, with the Docetse, that Christ was 
God only ; that his appearance as a man was an illu- 
sion ; that he had a visionary body, and suffered only 
in appearance and pretence ; while Judas Iscariot, or 
some other culprit, was crucified in his stead. 

It is plainly impossible, that the same simple being 
should be ' set up from everlasting, ' be the ' Alpha and 
Omega, the beginning and the ending,' and yet ' be 
born in Judea in the reign of Herod the Great ;' be 
' the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever,' and yet ' in- 
crease in wisdom, and in favour with God and man ;' 
' create all things, visible and invisible,' and yet ' be 
made of a woman ;' be the lawgiver to the universe, and 
yet ' be made under the law ;' ' uphold all things by the 
word of his power,' and yet be a petitioner for the daily 
supplies of his wants, and the protection of his person ; 
possess all things, and yet ' have not where to lay his 
head ;' ' know all things,' and yet not know, as, if we 
adopt the common interpretation, we must suppose he 
did not know, the time of the destruction of Jerusalem ; 
be the final judge and rewarder of the quick and the 
dead, and yet be tried, condemned, and executed by 
men ; and be ' in the form of God,' and justly ' think 
it no robbery to be equal with God,' and yet ' be a 
servant,' a man, and a frail and dying man. 

But all these things, and innumerable others, substan- 
tially of the same nature in both respects, are declared 
concerning Christ. All also are declared by God himself. 
They are therefore true, and true in the natural, obvious 
sense. Of course, they are ' worthy of all acceptation.' 

It follows then that Christ is, notwithstanding the 
sneers of Unitarians, God and man. In the language 
of the Scriptures, ' The Word became flesh, and dwelt 
among us.' Yet, humble as were the station and cir- 
cumstances in which he appeared, ' we ' are able still to 



INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 



239 



' behold his ' glory, the glory as of the only begotten of 
the Father. 

3. There are three important facts recorded con- 
cerning Christ, in which he differs wholly from all 
created beings, and which merit the attentive considera- 
tion of every serious man. 

(1.) He always taught in his own name, even when 
altering and annulling the acknowledged word of God. 

Christ came to change the Mosaic system into the 
Christian ; and accordingly substituted the latter for 
the former. In every part of this employment lie 
taught in his own name. The preceding prophets had 
uniformly introduced their instructions with ' Thus 
sailh the Lord ;' — ' Thus saith Jehovah.' Christ, imme- 
diately after addressing his consolations to his disciples 
by way of preface, introduces his sermon on the mount 
in the following manner : ' Think not that I am come 
to destroy the law or the prophets ;' that is, the system 
of religion in the Old Testament ; 'lam not come to 
destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you.' &c. 
This phraseology he repeats everywhere throughout this 
sermon, and throughout the gospel. Not once does he 
say, ' Thus saith the Lord,' during his ministry, nor 
teach with any authority except his own, Now it is evi- 
dent, that the authority which he actually assumed was 
equal in his view, and in the view of the Scriptures, to 
that which sanctioned the declarations of the Old Testa- 
ment, because he changes and annuls both the doc- 
trines and the precepts of the Old Testament at his 
pleasure. 

In the same manner, when he appeared unto St Paul 
in the way to Damascus, after informing Paul that he 
was ' Jesus whom he persecuted,' he commissioned him 
to preach the gospel to the Gentiles, and sent him as his 
apostle to them, by his own authority, without appeal- 
ing to any other. 

As, therefore, the authority assumed in these cases is 
equivalent to that by which the Old Testament was re- 
vealed, he who rightfully assumed it was God. 

The same authority, also, Christ assumed and exhi- 
bited, generally, when he wrought miracles ; and he 
never makes mention of any other. 

(2.) The apostles uniformly appeal to the authority 
of Christ in their preaching and miracles. 

' In the name of Jesus Christ,' says St Peter to the 
impotent man, ' rise up and walk.' 

' By what power,' said the Sanhedrim to Peter and 
his companions, ' or by what name, have you done 
this ?' that is, healed the impotent man. ' Be it known 
unto you all,' answered the apostle, ' and to all the peo- 
ple of Israel, that by the name of Jesus Christ of Na- 
zareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the 
dead, even by him doth this man stand here before you 
whole.' ' iEneas,' said Peter, ' Jesus Christ maketh you 
whole.' ' All authority,' says our Saviour, ' is delivered 
to me in heaven and in earth. As my Father hath 
sent me, so I send you.' 

Under this commission the apostles preached and 
acted, and in multiplied instances have declared to us 
that it was the authority of God. 

A single declaration of this sort will suffice for them 
all. Mark xvi. 20, ' And they went forth, and preached 
everywhere, the Lord working with them, and confirm- 
ing the word with signs following. Amen.' 

(3.) In the Revelation of St John, it is to be ob- 
served, Christ receives the praises of the heavenly host 



both simply and in conjunction with the Father, but 
never unites in them. 

Neither Christ nor the Holy Spirit is ever called up- 
on to perform the great duty of all creatures — to praise 
God, or to pray to him. Both these duties Christ per- 
formed as a man, when here on earth, but he is never 
exhibited as performing the duty of praise in heaven. 
All other virtuous beings are exhibited as making this 
their constant worship, and a prime part of their duty. 
But amid all their ascriptions of praise to God, Christ 
is nowhere exhibited as uniting with them in this duty, 
in itself so delightful to a virtuous mind, and so natu- 
rally and obviously obligatory on every rational being. 
The whole multitude of saints and angels, with the four 
living ones at their head, join without exception in the 
heavenly song, ' Blessing, and honour, and glory, and 
power, be unto him that sitteth on the throne.' But the 
only part ever attributed to Christ, is to be united in 
receiving the ascription together with ' him that sitteth 
on the throne ;' for the ascription is made ' to him that 
sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and 
ever .' * 

I have now finished the observations which I in- 
tended to make concerning this interesting subject, and 
exhibited what appears to me to be the true meaning of 
the remarkable phraseology in the text, ' God sending 
his own Son, in the likeness of sinful flesh ;' and of 
other similar passages found in the Scriptures ; such as, 
' The Word was made flesh ;' ' the seed of David ac- 
cording to the flesh ;' ' of whom, as concerning the flesh, 
Christ came ;' ' Christ is come in the flesh,' &c. 

I shall now conclude the Discourse with the following 



1. This doctrine teaches us, in the strongest manner, 
the condescension of Christ. 

In this light it is considered by St Paul, in that me- 
morable passage, Phil. ii. 5, &c. ' Let this mind be in 
you, which was also in Christ Jesus : who, being in the 
form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with 
God ; but made himself of no reputation, and took 
upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the 
likeness of men.' 

No subject presents to us so wonderful an example of 
condescension as the incarnation of Christ ; nor could 
any fact fill our minds with the same astonishment, were 
it not that we have been accustomed to hear it repeated 
from the cradle, and, like the state of the weather, ren- 
dered an object of perpetual familiarity ; a thing almost 
of course, in the ordinary current of our thoughts by 
unceasing inculcation. 

From these causes we pass it without serious attention, 
and, even when we dwell upon it, scarcely realize its 
nature. The impressions which it makes on the mind, 
resemble those made on the eye of such as have been 
long accustomed to them, by a delightful landscape, a 
stupendous cataract, or a mountain which loses its sum- 
mit in the clouds. At the view of these a stranger is 
fixed in exquisite delight, and has all his thoughts en- 
grossed and his emotions absorbed by the wonderful 
scene. No language will, in his view, serve to describe, 
and no picture to image, on the one hand, the beauty, or 
on the other, the sublimity, of these illustrious objects. 
To do them justice in his representations, and to spread 

• Rev. v. 13. 



240 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SBR. XLIt. 



fairly before others the views, formed of them by his 
own mind, he will labour in thought, select and refuse, 
alternately, the language which oners itself, and will at 
last sit down discouraged, without a hope of being able 
to render his conceptions visible to other eyes, or to do 
any thing like justice to what was so magnificent in the 
view of his own. Those, in the meantime, who have 
long lived in the neighbourhood of the same objects, will 
in many, though not indeed in all instances, survey them 
without emotion, and even, without attention ; apparently 
as insensible to their beauty and grandeur as the horses 
which they ride, or the oxen which they drive. 

Such seem but too commonly to be the views formed 
by most men concerning the incarnation of Christ, and 
such the insensibility with which it is but too generally 
regarded. Even Christians, like their predecessors 
mentioned in the Gospel, are, in innumerable instances, 
' fools ' in this respect, ' and slow of heart to believe,' or 
even to realize. 

But let us, for a moment at least, lay aside these ob- 
tuse views, these ' eyes ' which ' are dull of seeing,' these 
' hearts' too ' gross to understand.' Let us shake off the 
torpor which benumbs our frame, and rouse ourselves to 
perception and feeling. Let us regard this wonderful 
subject with common justice, and common candour. 

The glorious Person, who in the Scriptures is desig- 
nated by the appellation, o Aoyoj rov Qeov, or the Word 
of God, ' in the beginning created the heavens and the 
earth ;' and said, ' Let there be light, and there was 
light ;' ' Let there be a firmament, and there was a fir- 
mament.' His hand also lighted up the flame of the sun, 
and kindled the stars. He ' upholds ' the universe ' by 
the word of his power :' and preserves order and regu- 
larity throughout all the parts of this amazing system. 

In the heavens he shines with inexpressible splendour. 
On the earth he lives and works, provides and sustains, 
and satisfies the wants of every living thing. Through- 
out immensity he quickens -into life, action, and enjoy- 
ment the innumerable multitudes of intelligent beings. 
The universe which he made, he also governs. The 
worlds of which it is composed, he rolls through the 
infinite expanse with an almighty and unwearied hand, 
and preserves them in their respective places and mo- 
tions with an unerring harmony. From the vast store- 
house of his bounty, he feeds and clothes the endless 
millions whom his hand has made, and from the riches 
of his own unchangeable mind, informs the innumerable 
host of intelligent creatures with ever improving virtue, 
dignity, and glory. To all these he allots the respective 
parts which they are qualified to act in the boundless 
system of good which his wisdom contrived, and his 
power has begun to execute ; furnishes them with the 
means of being useful in his eternal kingdom ; and thus 
prepares them to be amiable and excellent in his sight, 
and instruments of perpetually increasing good to each 
other. 

At the head of this great kingdom he ' sits upon a 
throne high and lifted up,' ' far exalted above all 
heavens ;' surveys, with an intuitive view, and with di- 
vine complacency, the amazing work which his voice 
has called into being, and beholds it increasing without 
intermission in happiness, wisdom, and virtue, and ad- 
vancing, with a regular progress, towards consummate 
glory and perfection. 

Although ' he is not worshipped, as though he needed 
any thing, seeing he giveth unto all life, and breath, 



and all things ;' yet before him angels bow and veil 
their faces. ' The four living ones rest not day nor 
night, crying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, 
who wast, and who art, and who art to come.' And the 
whole multitude of the heavenly host, ' the number of 
whom is ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands 
of thousands,' unite in the everlasting song, ' Blessing, 
and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him that 
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever 
and ever.' 

From this stupendous height of greatness and enjoy- 
ment, this divine Person, passing all the bounds between 
God and man, between the infinite mind, and lifeless 
matter, united himself to ' man, who is but a worm ;' 
assumed to himself a human soul and a human body, 
and in a manner incomprehensible by us, and not im- 
probably by all other creatures, became thenceforth God- 
man, inseparably united in one most wonderful and 
mysterious Person. 

Cf this singular act, the end was not less glorious than 
the act itself was amazing. It was to save a race of 
rebellious creatures, whom he needed not, from misery 
and ruin ; of creatures, whom with a word he could have 
returned to their original nothing, and whose places 
with another word he could have filled with equal or 
greater numbers, at his pleasure ; all obedient, faithful, 
and happy. I shall not, however, dwell on this subject 
at the present time. Occasions still more appropriate 
will hereafter bring it up to view. The single point on 
which I would now insist, is the infinite condescension 
of Christ. 

This glorious person ' humbles himself to behold the 
things which are done under the sun.' How much more 
when he came from his ' high and holy place' to dwell 
beneath that sun, and take up his residence on his foot- 
stool ! All this, however, he was pleased to do. ' He 
emptied himself, took upon himself the form of a servant, 
and was born in fehe likeness of men.' 

What were the views which angels formed of this new 
and astonishing event ? Easily may we imagine, that all 
heaven was lost in wonder, and buried in silence, to be- 
hold this transition from infinite glory to supreme 
humiliation, from the throne of the universe to a tene- 
ment of clay. How instinctively ought we, uniting with 
angels in the same views and the same emotions, to be- 
hold, wonder, and adore ! 

2. What a pattern of condescension is here set before 
us for our imitation. St Paul makes this practical use 
of the doctrine under consideration. ' Let the same 
mind be in you,' says he to the Philippians, ' which was 
also in Christ.' 

Condescension is here enforced on the race of man 
with an authority and example literally infinite. The 
divine wisdom dictated the condescension of Christ, 
and the divine goodness carried it into execution. In 
it we see the manner in which the infinite mind is 
pleased to act, and which boundless excellence approves 
and loves. This, then, is a character and conduct to 
which we are urged by the highest of all considerations, 
the approbation and example of God. Would we, then, 
be like God ; would we be ' perfect as he is perfect ;' 
would we obtain his approbation ; would we inherit the 
blessings which he confers on those who are approved 
by him ; would we become really excellent and lovely ; 
we shall ' give all diligence,' that ' the same mind may 
be in us which was also in Christ.' We shall ' conde- 



COVENANT OF REDEMPTION. 



241 



t>«:end to men of low degree ;' be ' meek and lowly of 
heart :' be satisfied with humble stations, offices, and 
employments ; and feel that no human interest is be- 
neath our notice, and no human business unfit for us to 
perform, when we are called to perform it, and when 
others by the performance can be relieved, disposed to 
virtue, or made happy. 

But how different is the usual conduct and the pre- 
vailing character of man ! All men sigh to be rich, 
and none are contented with humble circumstances. 
All men pant to be great, and none are satisfied with a 
lowly condition. The rich despise the poor, the great 
trample on the small. When we become rich, we sigh 
for additional riches. When we become great, we toil, 
and watch, and weary ourselves through life, to become 
greater. All beneath us in these mere accidents, we 
overlook, contemn, insult, and style the dirt and scum 
of the earth. 

Christ, on the contrary, became, voluntarily, not on- 
ly a man, but a poor man, a lowly man, the son of a 
carpenter, humble in his station, without place, or 
power, or wealth, and perfectly satisfied to be without 
them all. His friends, his disciples, bis apostles, were 
selected from the poor and lowly ; and he alleged it as 



one unanswerable proof of his Messiahsitip, that by him 
' the poor had the gospel preached unto them.' This 
was the character of him whom angels worship, and 
whom the universe obeys. 

Christ descended to these lowly men, and to these 
humble circumstances, from the throne of the heavens. 
Shall not we, then, be willing to let ourselves down 
from the side, or even the summit of our ant-hill, to 
visit our fellow emmets at the bottom ? How small the 
descent at the utmost ! How silly, how base, how con- 
tradictory to common-sense, the pride which refuses to 
make it! 

Often, very often, the men whom we despite as great- 
ly beneath us, are better, wiser, and more excellent in 
the sight of God than ourselves. Always we are odious 
to him, and contemptible in the eye of reason, for this 
very pride. Let every proud man then feel, that for 
this very character which he so fondly cherishes, he is 
hateful in the sight of God, and justly contemptible in 
that of men ; that the character which he despises is the 
very character in which Christ chose to appear ; and 
that the men whom he treats, with abuse and insolence, 
are of that very class out of which Christ selected his 
friends and apostles. 



SERMON XLIII 

COVENANT OF REDEMPTION. 



When thou shall make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the 
pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied , 
by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many ; for he shall bear their iniquities. Therefore wilt 
I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong ; because he hath poured 
out his soul unto death .- and he was numbered with the transgressors ; and he bare the sin of many, and 
made intercession for the transgressors. — Isa. liii. 10 — 12. 

If his soul shall make a propitiatory sacrifice, he shall see a seed, which shall prolong their days ; and the 
gracious purpose of Jehovah shall prosper in his hands. Of the travail of his soul he shall see (the fruit) 
and be satisfied : by the knowledge of him shall my servant justify many ; for the punishment of their iniquities 
he shall bear. Therefore will J distribute to him the many for his portion ; and the mighty people shall he share 
for his spoil : because he poured out his soul unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors ; and he bare 
the sin of many ; and made intercession for the transgressors. — Lowth. 



In the first chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians, St 
Paul declares, that ' God hath chosen us in Christ, be- 
fore the foundation of the world ; having predestinated 
us to the adoption of children, by Jesus Christ, to him- 
self ; according to the good pleasure of his will : to the 
praise of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made 
us accepted in the Beloved.' 

The manner in which this transaction took place, 
and in which the purposes of it were accomplished, is 
recorded in the text. The Person who speaks in the 
text is unquestionably God the Father ; as is evident 
from the fact, that he calls Christ in the 11th verse ' my 
servant.' The context, as you well know, is an eminent 
and remai-kable prophecy concerning the birth, life, 
and sufferings of Christ ; and has been acknowledged 
as such, so far as my information extends, by both the 
Jewish and Christian churches universally, in every age 
since it was written. Almost the whole of it is occupied 



by an account of his humiliation and sufferings, de- 
scribed with such a degree of minuteness and exactness, 
as to wear the appearance rather of a history than of 
prophecy. 

In the text, a covenant is made on the part of the 
speaker, with the Person of whom he speaks ; or, on the 
part of God the Father with the Son. In the tenth 
verse, the first of the text, it is proposed, conditionally, 
in the following terms : ' When thou shalt make his 
soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed ; he shall 
prolong his days ; and the pleasure of the Lord shall 
prosper in his hand.' In the translation of Bishop 
Lowth, which differs from the common one only by be- 
ing more correct and explicit, it is, ' If his soul shall 
make a propitiatory sacrifice, he shall see a seed, which 
shall prolong their days ; and the gracious purpose of 
Jehovah shall prosper in his hands.' 'lhe difference 
lies, principally, in the second clause, ' He shall see a 

2 H 



242 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xliii. 



seed which shall prolong their days.' It could not, I 
think, with propriety be promised, as a reward to 
Christ for his sufferings, that, in any sense he should 
prolong his own days ; but, with the most perfect pro- 
priety that he should see a seed which, in a sense here- 
after to be explained, should prolong their days. The 
days of him, who 'is the same yesterday, to-day, and 
forever;' 'the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning 
and the ending, could not in any sense be prolonged in 
consequence of his sufferings, or of any other possible 
event The word his, supplied by the translators, is 
supplied erroneously : since in the present translation 
it presents a meaning which plainly cannot be admitted. 
The justice of these remarks will be farther evident 
from the repetition of the same covenant in the 1 1 th 
verse : ' He shall see of the travail of his soul ;' that is, 
as explained by Lowth, ' Of the travail of his soul he 
shall see the fruit, and be satisfied ; ' By his knowledge,' 
or, as Lowth more correctly renders it, ' By the know- 
ledge of him shall my servant justify many.' The jus- 
tification of the many, here spoken of, connected with 
its consequences, is the very reward promised in the 
preceding verse, in the words, ' He shall see a seed, 
which shall prolong their days :' and here the reward 
promised is no other than the justification, and conse- 
quent eternal life, of those who should become interested 
in his death. 

Still farther is this interpretation evinced to be just, 
by the repetition of the promise in the twelfth verse, or 
third of the text ; ' Therefore I will divide him a por- 
tion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with 
the strong ; because he hath poured out his soul unto 
death ;' or, as more happily rendered by Bishop Lowth, 
' Therefore I will distribute to him the many for his 
portion ; and the mighty people shall he share for his 
spoil, because he poured out his soul unto death.' It is 
not true that Christ has a portion divided to him with 
the great, or a spoil divided to him with the strong. 
' He trode the wine-press alone, and of the people there 
was none with him.' Nor is there any one to share 
with him the reward of his sufferings ; but he was alone 
in the sufferings and the reward alike. Accordingly, 
in the Septuagint this passage is rendered, ' For this 
cause shall he receive many for his inheritance, and 
shall share spoils of the strong.' 

Finally: The same thing is abundantly evinced in 
Psal. lxxxix. where also the same covenant is recorded. 
' Once have I sworn by my holiness, that I will not lie 
unto David. His seed shall endure for ever, and his 
throne as the sun before me.' And again : ' His seed 
also will I make to endure for ever, and his throne as 
the days of heaven.' It is to be observed, that in all these 
passages the reward promised to Christ consists in giv- 
ing persons to him, as ' seed,' ' the many,' ' the mighty 
people.' These are undoubtedly no other than * the 
general assembly and church of the first-born ;' styled 
elsewhere ' the children of God ;' ' little children ;' 
' sons and daughters.' They are his own people, 
those in whom he has a peculiar property ; persons jus- 
tified in this manner have become ' his portion,' ' his 
spoil,' ' his seed.' The reward of his sufferings here 
promised is to consist of these. 

It is not, however, to consist in the persons only, but 
in their circumstances also. It is not promised, merely 
that they shall be given to him as a possession, but 
that they shall be given to him in a peculiar manner ; 



attended with one circumstance, at least, which in the 
eye of the Promiser was considered as materially im- 
portant to the nature of the gift. ' He shall see a seed, 
which shall prolong their days ;' or, as in the corre- 
sponding passage, ' shall endure for ever.' The mean- 
ing of this phraseology is to be sought in the use of it 
in parallel passages, found in the Scriptures. In Psal. 
xv. David inquires, ' Lord, who shall abide in thy ta- 
bernacle ? who shall dwell in thy holy hill ?' and imme- 
diately answers, ' He that walketh uprightly, and work- 
eth righteousness.' In Psal. xlix. 12, he says of the 
wicked, that, ' being in honour, they abide not, but are 
like the beasts that perish.' In Psal. cxxv. 1, he says, 
' They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, 
which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever.' In 
John xv. 10, our Saviour saith to his disciples, ' If ye 
keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love, 
even as I have kept my Father's commandments, and 
abide in his love.' In 1 John ii. 17, it is said, ' And 
the world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he 
that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.' In Psal. 
cii. 28, it is said, ' The children of thy servants shall con- 
tinue, and their seed shall be established before thee.' 

We are now prepared to settle the meaning of the 
phrase under consideration. ' To prolong their days, 
' to endure for ever,' is to ' abide in the tabernacle of 
God,' ' in his holy hill,' ' in the heavens :' ' to abide in 
the love of Christ, as he abides in his Father's love, for 
ever :• to abide, when ' the world has passed away, and 
the lust thereof:' ' to be established before God,' or in 
his presence. In a word, it is to dwell for ever in hea- 
ven, amid the enjoyments of a happy immortality. 
This is what the Scriptures consider as abiding, endur- 
ing, and being established, whenever this language is 
applied to men. ' In opposition to this, the wicked are 
said to be cut off, and to perish, to be as the grass, to 
be destroyed, to be no more ; and ' their candle,' is said 
to go out. This part of the promise, then, is no other 
than that the seed of Christ shall enjoy a blessed 
eternity. 

In the passages quoted from Psal lxxxix. an addi- 
tional promise is made in the same covenant. It is 
there said, that ' his seed shall endure for ever, and his 
throne,' that is, his dominion over them particularly, 
' as the days of heaven.' The same thing is also cove- 
nanted, in different phraseology, in Isa. ix. 6, 7, ' For 
unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given ; and the 
government shall be upon his shoulder : and his name 
shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, 
the Father of the everlasting age, and the Prince of 
peace. And of the increase of his government and 
peace there shall be no end.' Here we are taught, that 
' of the increase of the government ' of Christ, that is, 
of its splendour and glory, ' and of the peace,' or pros- 
perity of his subjects accomplished by it, ' there shall 
be no end :' in other words, that the glory of his go- 
vernment, and the happiness of his church, shall increase 
for ever. 

The condition on his part, to which these rewards are 
promised, is, that ' he shall make his soul an offering 
for sin,' or a propitiatory sacrifice. Another- condi- 
tion is also specified, as the procuring cause of the re- 
ward, in the last verse ; and therefore was undoubtedly 
included, although not expressed, in the two former 
verses ; this is, that ' he made intercession for the trans- 
gressors. 



COVENANT OF REDEMPTION. 



243 



In this passage, then, we have the suhstance of the 
mediation of Christ drawn out in the essential particu- 
lars : his humiliation, atonement, and intercession. The 
reward, also, that is, the great object which was his in- 
ducement to undertake this mediation, is distinctly ex- 
pressed : viz. that ' he should see a seed, which should 
prolong their days,'' and that ; the gracious purpose of 
Jehovah should prosper in his hands.' This, in the 
Epistle to the Hebrews, is by St Paul styled ' the joy 
set before him ;' that is, set before him in this promise, 
or covenant ; for which, he informs us, ' Christ-endured 
the cross, and despised the shame.' 

In the text also we are taught the means by which 
on their part, mankind become his seed, expressed in the 
following declaration : ' By the knowledge of him shall 
my servant justify many.' By the knowledge of Christ 
here we are unquestionably to understand, that know- 
ledge of God the Father, and Jesus Christ, whom he 
hath sent, which in John xvii. 3, he declares to be ' life 
eternal ;' and which in the 8th verse he speaks of as 
being the same with evangelical faith. ' They have 
known surely , that I have come out from thee ; and they 
have believed that thou didst send me.' By this faith, 
as you well know, we are abundantly declared in the 
Scriptures to be justified. The declaration of Paul to 
Peter, when, at Antioch, ' he separated himself from the 
Gentiles, through fear of them that were of the circum- 
cision, and was therefore to be blamed,' may stand in 
the place of all other passages, on this point. ' ^Ve, who 
are Jews, and not sinners of the Gentiles, knowing that 
a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the 
faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus 
Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, 
and not by the works of the law ; for by the works of 
the law no flesh shall be justified.' The faith of the 
gospel is, therefore, the knowledge by which, it is said in 
the text, Christ ' shall justify many.' The reason why 
it is called knowledge here and elsewhere is, that it in- 
volves views so just, extensive, and firmly established 
concerning this glorious Person ; whereas, in the same 
mind no such views existed, antecedently to the exercise 
of this faith. For Christ, like every other spiritual ob- 
ject, can only be ' spiritually discerned.' 

All these things, also, are exhibited to us in the form 
of a covenant. To this covenant, as to every other, 
there are two parties ; God, who promises ; and his Ser- 
vant, who was to justify many. A condition is specified, 
to which is annexed a promise of reward. The condi- 
tion is, that Christ should ' make his soul an offering 
foi sin,' and ' make intercession for the transgressors ;' 
or, in other words, execute the whole office of a priest 
for mankind. The reward is, that he should ' receive 
the many for his portion,' and that they should ' prolong 
their days,' or endure for ever. It is remarkable, thatthis 
covenant on the part of God the Father, like that made 
with Noah, and that made with Abraham, and various 
others recorded in the Scriptures, is in Psalm lxxxix. ex- 
hibited as a promissory oath. ' Once have I sworn by 
my holiness, that I will not lie unto David : his seed 
shall endure for ever, and his throne as long as the sun.' 

I have dwelt minutely on the explanation of this pas- 
sage of Scripture, because I have not seen it discussed 
in this manner, or with a reference to what is the main 
subject of it ; and because I believed that a minute ex- 
amination was necessary to a distinct and satisfactory 
knowledge of what is contained in it. 



If this explanation be admitted, the text contains the 
following 



That God the Father entered into a covenant with 
Christ, in which he promised him, on condition that he 
should' become a propitiation and intercessor for sinners, 
as a reward of his labours and sufferings, the future 
possession of a church,, which under his government 
should be glorious and happy for ever. 

Concerning this covenant, usually called the Covenant 
of Redemption, I make the following observations : — . 

1. This covenant was made from eternity. 

In the first chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians, 
St Paul, speaking of himself and his fellow Christians, 
says, ' Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in 
heavenly places in (or through) Christ, according as he 
hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the 
world, that we should be holy and without blame before 
him in love ; having predestinated us unto the adoption 
of cjiildren, by Jesus Christ, to himself, according to the 
good pleasure of his will. In this passage St Paul 
teaches us, that God blesses his church, or Christians, 
with all spiritual blessings ; or, as in the original, ' with 
every spiritual blessing ; through Christ, according as he 
hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the 
world :' and that he has ' predestinated us,' particularly 
' unto the adoption of children unto himself,' through 
Christ also. 

This choice of his church, then, this ' predestination 
of it to the adoption of'children through Christ,' exist- 
ed ' before the foundation of the world.' But this choice, 
this ' predestination of the church to the adoption of 
children, unto himself through Christ,' is the very same 
thing which, in another form, is declared in the text. 
The covenant mentioned in the text was therefore a 
transaction existing before the foundation of the world ; 
or, as this phraseology uniformly means in the Scrip- 
tures, from eternity. 

The text itself was written seven hundred years be- 
fore Christ. It will not be supposed, that the transac- 
tion recorded in it was then first admitted into the 
counsels of God; or that he, ' with whom is no variable- 
ness, nor shadow of turning,' changed his mind in the 
days of Isaiah concerning this mighty object. If any 
person should be at a loss concerning this fact, let him 
remember that this covenant contains the very same 
promises which were made to David, Abraham, and our 
first parents ; to all of whom the same wonderful trans- 
action was, in terms less explicit, disclosed. The trans- 
action itself, and the objects which it involved, were 
unquestionably the most important parts of the provi- 
dence of God towards this world. It cannot, therefore, 
be believed, that it was left unprovided for when the 
system was originally formed. Undoubtedly it was the 
object which was chiefly in view in the providence of 
God, and was an original part of the system. Accord- 
ingly, St Peter says concerning Christ, that ' he was fore- 
ordained before the foundation of the world ;' St John 
calls him, ' the Lamb slain from the foundation of the 
world ;' and Christ himself, at the day of judgment, 
styles the state of glory and happiness, destined for the 
righteous, ' the kingdom prepared from the foundation 
of the world.' ' Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of 



244 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xliii. 



the world.' But this kingdom, and the church which 
inherits it, is the very subject of the covenant contained 
in the text. 

2. This covenant was the basis, on which was found- 
ed the whole system of providential dispensations to- 
wards the church. 

Out of this covenant arose the mediation of Christ ; 
his incarnation, life, preaching, miracles, humiliation, 
sufferings, and glorification. Out of this covenant arose 
the mission of the Spirit of grace, who came into the 
world to execute the purposes of Christ's redemption. 
Out of this covenant arose the Gospel, or the Scriptures 
of the Old and New Testament, which that Spirit taught 
to the prophets and apostles, and which communicates to 
us all the knowledge which we possess of the will of God 
concerning the salvation of mankind. Out of this cove- 
nant arise the renovation and purification of the human 
soul ; the light, comfort, peace, hope, and joy which it 
receives in the present world, and in the end, its admis- 
sion into the heavens. Finally, out of this covenant will 
arise the glory, peace, and happiness which will be found 
in that pure and exalted world by the whole ' assembly 
of the first-born.' All these, and all things pertaining 
to them, result obviously from the wonderful transaction 
recorded in the text. 

3. The church, thus promised to Christ as the reward 
of his mediation, is formed of a great multitude of man- 
kind. 

It- will not be necessary for me to inquire at the- pre- 
sent time, either in what manner this multitude will be 
gathered, or of whom it will be composed. It is suffi- 
cient for the present purpose, that the assertion which I 
have made is expressly contained in the text. ' By the 
knowledge of him shall my servant justify many.' ' I 
will distribute the many to him for his portion, and the 
mighty people,' that is, a great multitude, ' shall he 
share for his spoil.' Accordingly, St John informs us, 
that he saw in the heavens ' a great multitude, which 
no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and 
people, and tongues, standing before the throne, and 
before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in 
their hands ; crying with a loud voice, and saying, Sal- 
vation to our God, who sitteth on the throne, and unto 
the Lamb. 

4. In this covenant a reward was promised to 
Christ, sufficiently great to induce him to undergo all 
the humiliation and sufferings of his mediatorial 
character. 

This we know by the fact. In accordance with this 
covenant he actually assumed this character, and volun- 
tarily underwent all its sufferings. But, were we at a 
loss concerning this subject otherwise, we are directly 
assured by St Paul, that Christ ' for the joy set before 
him, endured the cross, and despised the shame. ' What 
the joy of Christ was, he himself has, I apprehend, ex- 
pressly declared to us in the 8th chapter of Proverbs. 
His words are, ' When he appointed the foundations of 
the earth, then was I by him, as one brought up with 
him ; I was daily his delight, rejoicing alway before 
him ; rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth, and 
my delights were with the sons of men :' that is, with 
his church, the glorious reward, which was promised to 
him from the beginning. 

From these summary observations, concerning the 
Covenant of Redemption, I derive, by way of inference, 
the following 



1. The salvation of the church of God, that is, of 
all righteous men, was an original part of the system 
of God's providence towards the inhabitants of' this 
world. 

If the observations made in the progress of this Dis- 
course are just, then it follows, by irresistible conse- 
quence, that the salvation of the righteous, or of all who 
will be ultimately saved, was contemplated and resolved 
on by God from the beginning, or from everlasting. It 
was, also, made the subject of a solemn covenant between 
the Father and the Son. It was not, therefore, in any 
sense, a thing which grew out of a contingency accord- 
ing to the scheme of Dr Price and others; a remedy 
provided for evils unforeseen ; a thing grafted upon the 
fall of man, which they consider as an accident, spring- 
ing out of that liberty of contingency which they sup- 
pose indispensable to the free volitions of a moral being. 
St Paul teaches us, that God the Father ' created all 
things by Jesus Christ ; to the intent, that now unto 
principalities and powers in heavenly places might be 
known by the church the manifold wisdom of God : ac- 
cording to the eternal purpose, which he purposed in 
Christ Jesus our Lord.' Here it is declared to be a 
part of the eternal purpose of God in Jesus Christ, to 
create all things by him, to the intent that principalities 
and powers might know, by means of the church, that 
is, by means of his dispensation to the church, ' the 
manifold wisdom of Goi' Of course, the existence of the 
church was an essential part of this eternal purpose. 
Of course, also, the existence of the church was fore- 
known and resolved on, as a part of this purpose. Its 
existence, therefore, was in no sense contingent, in no 
sense accidental, in no sense dependent on any thing 
by which it could be prevented. In accordance with 
this declaration, St Paul says, 2 Tim. i. 9, ' Who hath 
saved us, and called us with a holy calling, not accord- 
ing to our works, but according to his own purpose and 
grace, which was given us before the world began.' In 
this passage Christians are said to be ' saved according 
to the purpose and grace of God, given to them,' in the 
strong figurative language of the apostle, ' before the 
world began ;' that is, in simpler language, resolved on, 
established for them, given in the counsels of God, so 
as to be indefeasible by any subsequent event Thus in 
this passage, explained in the corresponding one of 
Titus i. 2, ' In hope of eternal life, which God, that 
cannot lie, promised before the world began.' Here 
the grace and salvation, said in the passage last quoted 
to be given, is called ' eternal life,' and is declared to 
be ' promised before the world began.' The existence 
of the church, the eternal life of its members, and the 
grace by which that life is attained, were all ' promised 
before the world began,' promised, I apprehend, in the 
covenant which we have been contemplating ; and, plain- 
ly, an essential part of the providential system relating 
immediately to the inhabitants of this world. 

2. The salvation of the righteous is certain. 

If the salvation of the righteous was an original and 
essential part of the providential system ; if it was con- 
templated, purposed, and resolved on ; if it was pro- 
mised to Christ, as the reward of his labours and suf- 
ferings ; if it was the condition on the part of the 
Father in a covenant with the Son ; then it is perfectly 
evident that it cannot fail ; but will certainly be at:- 



COVENANT OF REDEMPTION. 



245 



complished. The language of God on this subject is, 
' My counsel shall stand, and I will do all my pleasure.' 

As the salvation of the church is thus certain, the 
salvation of every righteous man is for the same reason 
equally certain. Every righteous man is a part of the 
church ; one of the many thus promised to Christ in the 
covenant of redemption, and assured of the certain at- 
tainment of eternal life by the unchangeable promise of 
God. Let no such man indulge a moment's apprehen- 
sion that he shall be forgotten of God, either in this life, 
or in death, or at the resurrection, or at the judgment, 
or at the final entrance of the church into heaven. He 
who has given ' a cup of cold water to a disciple in the 
name of a disciple ;' he who has consecrated ' two 
mites' to the service of God ; he who has willingly be- 
friended the least of Christ's brethren, is absolutely 
certain of his reward. 

3. We are taught by this doctrine, that the mediation 
of Christ furnishes a complete foundation for our ac- 
ceptance with God. 

The mediation of Christ was the condition of our ac- 
ceptance, which God himself proposed, and proceeding 
from his own good pleasure. It was, therefore, origi- 
nally and absolutely pleasing to him. He is ' the same 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' It will, of course, be 
always and equally pleasing. We are not, therefore, 
left to the necessity of debating, or even inquiring, 
whether the satisfaction of Christ is sufficient for all 
men ; that is, whether there is a quantum of merit, ma- 
thematically estimated, on which every man may rely, 
because it is so great, as to rise to any definite or sup- 
posed limit. Independently of all discussions of this 
nature, every man is assured that, if he is interested in 
this covenant by becoming one of ' the seed,' or follow- 
ers of Christ, by possessing that ' knowledge' or faith 
which is the condition of justification ; he will certainly 
also be accepted of God, as being one of those whom 
this promise included. 

The number and the greatness of the sins committed 
by any man, and the degree of guilt which he has ac- 
cumulated, however discouraging or overwhelming it 
may prove in the hour of deep contrition, ought in no- 
wise to persuade the penitent to doubt even for a 
moment, of the sufficiency of Christ, as an expiation for 
him. One sin only is mentioned in the Scriptures as 
admitting of no atonement ; viz., ' blasphemy against the 
Holy Ghost.' Others are, indeed, exhibited as peculi- 
arly dangerous : because, acquiring peculiar strength by 
habit, they conduct men, with few exceptions, to final 
impenitence and immovable hardness of heart. But 
none of these is declared to be in itself beyond the reach 
of forgiveness. For the sin against the Holy Ghost re- 
pentance never existed. He, therefore, who has good 
reason to believe that he is the subject of faith in the 
Redeemer, and repentance towards God, has equal 
reason to believe that his sins are blotted out, and his 
soul accepted through the atonement of Christ, sufficient 
for him, and for all others who are like him. 

With the same confidence may the anxious, trembling 
sinner rely on the same righteousness as the ground of 
•liis own future acceptance with God. The language of 
God on this subject is ' Him that cometh unto me,' that 
is, in this manner, ' will I in no wise cast out.' The sole 
concern of every sinner ought, therefore, to be the at- 
tainment of this evangelical character ; the very thing 
which js intended by coming to God ; and not curious 



inquiries, nor anxious doubts, concerning a point so 
easily settled in this manner, and so clearly decided by 
the Scriptures. 

4. The salvation of the church is here shown to be 
an object of inestimable greatness and importance. 

It has I trust been proved, that this event was a pri- 
mary part of the providential system of God towards 
mankind, and the subject of a solemn covenant between 
the Father and the Son in the ages of eternity. For 
the accomplishment of it, as one primary object, this 
world was created, and a mysterious and most wonderful 
system of providence carried into execution. For the 
accomplishment of it the Son of God condescended to 
be born, to lead a life of humiliation and suffering, 
to die on the cross, and to be buried in the tomb. 
For the accomplishment of it he rose again from the 
dead on the third day, ascended into heaven, ' sat down 
on the right hand of the Majesty on high,' and makes an 
unceasing and effectual intercession. For the same end 
the Spirit of truth came into the world on a divine and 
benevolent mission, and here renews and purifies the 
souls of men, and conducts them to the heavenly world. 
For the same end the world itself will be consumed with 
fire, the visible ' heavens pass away with a great noise,' 
' they that are in their graves hear the voice of the Son 
of God, and come forth;' the 'judgment' be 'set,' 
angels and men be tried, and sentenced to their respec- 
tive rewards ; ' new heavens and a new earth be created, 
wherein righteousness shall dwell for ever :' while, at 
the same time ' the ransomed of the Lord shall return, 
and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy upon 
their heads : they shall obtain joy and gladness, and 
sorrow and sighing shall flee away.' 

Each of these things declares, in a forcible manner, 
the importance of this mighty object in the sight of God. 
In his providence the means are never greater, more 
numerous, or more splendid, than the nature of the 
end will amply justify. The means whjch I have re- 
cited, are the most magnificent and awful events of 
which we have any knowledge. The greatness of the 
end is proportional. Accordingly, St Paul, in a most 
sublime exhibition of this subject, in the eighth chapter 
of the Epistle to the Romans, declares, that ' the earnest 
expectation of the creature ' (in the Greek, creation) 
' waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God:' and 
that ' the whole creation groaneth and travaileth together 
in pain,' with this divine and most wonderful birth. 

If then, the salvation of the church holds this high 
place in the divine estimation, it ought unquestionably 
to hold the same place in ours. By each of us it ought 
to be regarded as an event of incomprehensible magni- 
tude, of transcendent glory, and of an importance suffi- 
cient to reward, with propriety, the labours and suffer- 
ings of the Son of God. 

Of proportional importance is the salvation of each of 
the individuals of which this assembly of the righteous 
is composed. Lord Shaftesbury has decided, that no 
conduct in which future good to one's self is the motive 
of action, can be virtuous. Proofs of the soundness of 
this decision his lordship has not however furnished, 
and plainly was not able to furnish ; for it is a decision 
contradicting alike the voice of common sense, and the 
voice of God. God, by commanding us to ' flee from 
the wrath to come,' and to ' lay hold on eternal life,' 
has assured us of the rectitude of this conduct. In the 
observations contained in this Discourse, we have seen 



246 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbh. xliv. 



ample reason for this command ; and ample proof of the 
rectitude of the conduct which it requires. If the sal- 
vation of the church was so great and glorious a thing 
in the sight of God, the salvation of each individual 
which it contains is proportionally important ; a thing 
in itself great and good, incomprehensibly great and 
good, deserving our supreme attention, most anxious 
labours, and most fervent prayers. The attainment of 
it, in every instance, is pleasing to our Creator; makes 
man lovely in his sight ; and diffuses a peculiar joy over 



that happy world, where all the virtuous are assembled 
together. Let every one of us, therefore, ' with all 
humility of mind,' with ' strong crying and many tears,' 
begin and carry on this prime business of life unse- 
duced by sophistry, un warped by temptation, unbroken 
by discouragement ; and * by a patient continuance in 
all well-doing seek ' so faithfully ' for glory, honour, 
and immortality,' as to obtain in the end ' everlasting- 
life.' 



SERMON XLIV. 

CHRIST A PROPHET HIS PERSONAL PREACHING. 



And he said unto them, What things? And they said unto him, Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a 
Prophet, mighty in deed and word, before God and all the people Luke xxiv. 1 9. 



In the preceding Discourse I considered, at some length, 
the Covenant of Redemption. In the terms of this 
covenant, I observed, was contained the substance of 
Christ's employment, as the Mediator between God 
and man, and the reward which he was to receive in 
this character. By the substance of his employment, I 
intend the things which he did and suffered, alike, 
while, in the execution of the mediatorial office. These 
things naturally follow the Covenant of Redemption, in 
a system of theology, and therefore naturally demand 
our next examination. 

In the Scriptures, Christ is frequently spoken of as 
the Prophet, Priest, and King, of mankind. This dis- 
tribution of his mediatorial character into three great 
and distinguishing parts is, undoubtedly, the most pro- 
per which can be made ; and is amply authorized by the 
Spirit of God. It will, therefore, be followed in these 
Discourses. 

The first, and at the same time the most remarkable, 
designation of the Redeemer as a Prophet, is found in 
the 18th chapter of Deuteronomy. In the 15th verse, 
Moses says to the Israelites : ' The Lord thy God will 
raise up unto thee a prophet from the midst of thee, of 
thy brethren, like unto me ; unto him ye shall hearken.' 
This promise, we learn from the verses immediately 
following, was given to the Israelites, in answer to their 
petition, at the foot of Mount Horeb : ' Let us not hear 
again the voice of the Lord our God, neither let us see 
this great fire any more, that we die not.' In answer to 
this petition, the Lord said unto Moses : ' They have 
well spoken that which they have spoken. I will raise 
them up a prophet from among their brethren, like unto 
thee ; and will put my words in his mouth ; and he 
shall speak unto them all that I shall command him. 
And it shall come to pass, that whosoever will not 
hearken unto my words, which he shall speak in my 
name, I will require it of him.' 

In this very remarkable prediction we are taught, 

(1.) That a Prophet should, at some subsequent pe- 
riod, be raised up in the Jewish church, and of that 
nation, who should be like unto Moses : that is, one who 
like Moses, introduced a new dispensation, to stand in 



the place cf the Mosaic ; as that, at the time of this 
prophecy, was introduced into the place of the patriar- 
chal dispensation. In the last chapter of Deuteronomy 
written, not improbably by several hands, and closed 
perhaps by Ezra, it is said, ' There arose not a prophet 
since in Israel, like unto Moses.' If this was really 
written by Ezra, it is a direct testimony, that the Pro- 
phet marked out in this prediction, did not arise until 
after the captivity. In John i. 19 — 21, we are in- 
formed, that the Jews, to wit, the Sanhedrim, to whom 
belonged the right of inquiring into the authority and 
commissions of prophets, sent a solemn delegation to 
John the Baptist, to demand of him an account of his 
character. They first asked him, particularly, ' Art 
thou Elias?' and, upon his answering in the negative, 
asked him again, ' Art thou that Prophet ?' — 6 nQocpnTy;, 
The Prophet, by way of eminence. In John vi. 14, the 
five thousand Jews whom Christ fed with five loaves 
and two fishes, under the strong impression of that won- 
derful miracle, said, concerning Christ, ' This is of a 
truth that Prophet, that should come into the world.' 
In John vii. 40, we are told, that the multitude of the 
Jews in the temple, after hearing the discourses of 
Christ recorded in this chapter, said, ' Of a truth, this 
is the Prophet.' 

The first of these passages assures us that, in the 
judgment of the Sanhedrim, the Prophet foretold by 
Moses, who was to be ' like unto him,' had not arisen 
when John the Baptist began to preach ; and the two 
last assure us of the same fact, according to the judg- 
ment of the people at large. Of course, it is fairly pre- 
sumed to have been the belief of every succeeding age. 
The two last passages also teach us, that Christ appeared 
in a character so like that of the expected Prophet, as 
to be repeatedly acknowledged in this character by the 
Jewish people. 

(2.) This Prophet was to appear with a divine com- 
mission, as an inspired teacher from God : ' I will put 
my words in his mouth, and he shall speak unto them 
all that I command him.' 

(3.) His appearance was to be such, as not to alarm 
or terrify the people of the Jews 1 . 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



247 



This is evident from the fact, that he was promised 
in answer to a petition of 'that people, in which they re- 
quested that they might no more hear the awful voice of 
God, nor see the fire by which Mount Sinai was sur- 
rounded. God, approving of the request, answers, that 
he will ' raise them up a Prophet from the midst of 
them ;' one who should be of ' their brethren ;' one, of 
course, who was to be like themselves ; a man conversing 
with them, as friend with friend ; who should ' not cry, 
nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the 
streets ;'* but who should be anointed by the Spirit of 
the Lord to preach good tidings to the meek ; and to 
proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,'f with the 
' still, small voice' of wisdom, truth, and righteous- 
ness. 

From these- things it is evident, that no other prophet 
sustained all these characteristics but Christ, even his 
' enemies themselves being the judges.' That Christ 
sustains them all is unanswerably certain ; particularly, 
that he wrought ' mighty signs and wonders,' and that ' he 
was known of God face to face.' St Peter, in his sermon 
to the Jews, Acts iii. has, by directly applying this pro- 
phecy to Christ, assured us, that he was the prophet 
intended, and therefore precluded the necessity of any 
farther inquiry. 

In the text, the same character is attributed to him 
by Cleophas, as he himself decisively informs us, by 
adding, in a following verse, ' We trusted, that it had 
been he who should have redeemed Israel.' At the 
same time, the text furnishes us with a summary ac- 
count of the manner in which the Redeemer discharged 
his prophetical office, by declaring, that he ' was a pro- 
phet mighty in deed and word, before God and all the 
people.' To discuss this subject is the design of the 
following discourse. 

Prophecy may naturally be divided into two parts : 
The communication of the will of God to mankind, con- 
cerning their duty and salvation ; and the prediction of 
future events. 

The power by which both these were done was no 
other than inspiration ; for man is as unable to divine 
the will of God, as to foresee future events. Both these 
parts of the prophetical character of Christ sustained in 
the most perfect degree ; but the revelation of the will 
of God to mankind, the original, and far the most im- 
portant part of the business of a prophet, and that which 
isalike pointed out in the text, and in the prediction of 
. Moses, is the characteristic of the Redeemer especially 
intended to be, at this time, the subject of consideration. 

In Newton's Dissertations on the Prophecies may be 
found an ample illustration of the nature and extent of 
Christ's predictions. 

!The prophetical instruction or preaching of Christ, is 
J in the Scriptures, distributed into that which he com- 
I municated in his own person, and that which he com- 
municated by his apostles. The former of these shall be 
first considered. 

In an examination of the personal preaching of Christ, 
the following things demand our attention. 

I. The necessity of his execiding the office of a 
preacher. 

II. The things which he taught. 

III. The manner in which he taught. And, 

IV. The consequence of his preaching. 



I. / shall consider the necessity of Christ's assuming 
the office of a preacher. 

It is obvious to every man, that Christ might have ap- 
peared in the world in the humble character in which 
he actually appeared ; have wrought the miracles re- 
corded of him ; suffered the death of the cross: and, 
generally, have done every thing recorded of him, either 
as an act, or a suffering; and then, instead of teaching 
mankind the way of life and salvation with his own 
mouth, might have taught it to his apostles by the in- 
spiration of the Holy Ghost, and commissioned them to 
publish it to mankind. 

This course, however, he did not pursue. On the 
contrary, he has chosen to teach it extensively in his 
own person. For this conduct of his there were, doubt- 
less, very substantial reasons. Some of them were pro- 
bably withholden from mankind. Others are discerni- 
ble with sufficient clearness. Even these are not, in- 
deed, very often called up to view, and by most men are 
probably unknown and unthought of. Yet, so far as they 
can be known, they are capable of being highly useful, 
and means of no small satisfaction to a serious mind. 
Among them the following, may, I think, be mentioned, 
as possessing a real and sufficiently obvious importance. 

1. Christ may be fairly believed to have assumed the 
office of a preacher (or that branch of the prophetical 
office which I have specified as the subject of discourse,) 
that the gospel might appear plainly and undeniably to 
be his. 

Christ is, and from everlasting was designed to be, 
the great and visible agent in all things pertaining to 
the present world. In Col. i. 14, &c. we have the fol- 
lowing account of his character: 'In whom we have 
redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of 
sins. Who is the image of the invisible God; the first- 
born of every creature. For by him were all things 
created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visi- 
ble and invisible, whether they be thrones, or domin- 
ions, or principalities, or powers : all things were cre- 
ated by him, and for him. And he is before all things ; 
and by him all things consist. And he is the head of 
the body, the church : who is the beginning, the first- 
born from the dead ; that in all things he might have 
the pre-eminence. For it pleased the Father, that in 
him should all fulness dwell.' In this passage Christ is 
declared to be the ' image,' or manifest representative, 
of the invisible God ; and the ' first-born,' or head, of 
the whole creation ; the Creator of all things, existing 
before all things ; the Upholder of all things ; and the 
' first-born from the dead ;' a character which he is said 
to hold, ' that in all things he might have the pre-emi- 
nence ;' because, as the apostle adds, it was well-pleas- 
ing * to the Father, that in him all fulness should dweli. 
Now, it is evident, that it was a necessary as well as 
proper part of this great design, not only that he should 
be the author of the gospel, but that this fact should be 
completely proved, and perfectly known. The publi- 
cation of the gospel to mankind is evidently one of the 
chief dispensations of divine providence in the present 
world. As, therefore, it was the ' good pleasure of the 
Father, that in all things he should have the pre-emi- 
nence,' so it was peculiarly proper, that he should be 
pre-eminent in a thing so important and glorious as the 
publication of the gospel. 






* Isa. xlii. 2. 



t Isa. lxi. 2. 



El/SOXY, 



248 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. xliv. 



St James, in the ivth chapter and 10th verse of his 
Epistle, informs us, that in the church of God ' there is 
one lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy,' that 
is, Christ. Christ, then, being the only lawgiver in his 
church, it seems to be indispensable, that the gospel, 
which contains his laws, should be seen to be his ; that 
all who read it may know his pleasure with certainty, 
and never be left to doubt whether any given doctrine 
or precept was given by him, or was derived from the 
comments of others. The difference between these two 
cases cannot, I suppose, need any explanation. 

But if Christ, instead of preaching the gospel in per- 
son, had left it to be published by the apostles only, the 
question, whether it was his gospel, would have been 
instantly raised up against its acceptance by mankind. 
Infidels would have boldly denied it to be his ; and 
Christians would have been perplexed, not only con- 
cerning their proper answer to this denial, but also 
concerning their own faith and duty. Even now, Uni- 
tarians, as well as infidels, hold out a distinction be- 
tween the gospel, — that is, as they intend, the personal 
instructions of Christ, — and the epistles, which they 
consider as the mere comments of Christ's followers. 
Thus Lord Bolingbroke declares the system of religion, 
both natural and revealed, to be excellent, and plainly 
taught, as it was taught by Christ, and recorded by his 
evangelists : ' a complete system to all the purposes of 
religion.' * Nay, he speaks of it directly as revealed by 
God himself, f ' Christianity, genuine Christianity,' 
he says again, ' is contained in the gospel : it is the 
word of God. 'J At the same time Lord Bolingbroke 
declares, that St Paul has preached another gospel ; 
and that the New Testament contains two Gospels. In 
the same manner Mr Chubb declares, that St Paul 
preached another Gospel, which was contradictory to 
that of Christ. Unitarians also are plainly unwilling 
to allow the same respect and confidence to be due to 
the apostolic writings, which they appear to consider as 
due to the words of Christ ; and, like the infidels above- 
mentioned, admit that the gospels possess a higher char- 
acter than the epistles. 

To what a length this scheme of thought would have 
been carried, had Christ never preached at all, and 
how far the character of the New Testament, as an un- 
doubted revelation, would have been acknowledged, if 
the doctrines and precepts which it contains had been 
declared by the apostles only, it is difficult to divine. 
From the nature of the subject, the facts just recited, 
and others like them, it may be easily believed, that 
the character of the New Testament, as inspired, would 
have been seriously affected ; and with respect to mul- 
titudes, who now admit it unconditionally, overthrown ; 
and that the character of Christ, as the lawgiver of the 
church, would have been obscured. In some instances 
it would have been doubted, and in others denied; and 
his great pre-eminence in this important particular would, 
to a great extent, have been unseen and unregarded. 

2. It was necessary that Christ should preach the 
gospel, that he might sanction its doctrines, precepts, and 
ordinances, with his own authority. 

The doctrines, precepts, and ordinances of the gos- 
pel, are rules of the faith, practice, and worship, of all 
to whom it is made known. Whenever a rule of this 
nature is published to any man, the great question nat- 

* Leland, vol. ii. p. 163, 151. t lb. P- 169. } Ibid. 



urally asked by him is always, ' By what authority am 
I required to conform to this rule?' In matters ot 
conscience, even an ignorant man knows that no being 
except God has any right to prescribe to him rules ot 
obedience. When God prescribes to him, the prescrip- 
tion is a law ; when man prescribes to him, it is only 
advice : but between law and advice the difference, in 
this case, is infinite. 

Christ, as lias been remarked, is the only and the 
rightful lawgiver to the church. Had he not declared 
the gospel in his own person, the question whether it 
was his gospel, would have arisen, not only against its 
claims to be a revelation, but also against its authority, 
and consequent obligation. The authority of the apos- 
tles, as men, is certainly less than that of Christ, as a 
man ; for he was a wiser and better man than they. 

According to every scheme of Christianity, even ac- 
cording to that of the Socinians, the authority of the 
gospel terminates in Christ, as the original publisher of 
it to mankind ; and in this view is of more import, and 
higher obligation, than if it had terminated in the apos- 
tles. The apostles might, indeed, have been admitted 
as upright and unexceptionable witnesses of facts, and 
full credit might have been given to their testimony. 
But when they prescribed rules of faith and practice, 
their authority would easily have been questioned, for 
in this case they would have needed not only an unex- 
ceptionable character, but a divine commission. Had 
the apostles told us (as, if Christ had not personally 
preached the gospel, they must have told us) only, that 
Christ was born, lived, and died at such a time, and in 
such a manner ; it is not easy to conceive how they 
would have proved satisfactorily to mankind their re- 
ception of such a commission from him. The mind 
would instinctively, fondly, and anxiously have asked, 
' whether this distinguished person did not, while in the 
world, teach those around him the superior wisdom 
which he possessed ; if he did not, why he did not ; 
if he did, why his instructions were not recorded.' 

The absolute want of an answer to these questions, 
would, I think, have left this subject in a state of obscurity, 
not only distressing, but perplexing and dangerous. 

Of this obscurity infidels would not have failed to 
avail themselves, as they now do, of every seeming 
difficulty and disadvantage under which they suppose 
Christianity to labour. They would have asked tri- 
umphantly, ' How does it appear that these doctrines, 
precepts, or ordinances, are Christ's, and not merely 
the dictates of his followers ? In many instances we ac- 
knowledge them to be true doctrines, sound and useful 
precepts, and harmless ordinances, such as may be be- 
lieved, and obeyed, reasonably enough ; but where is 
the proof, that they were intended to be laws of faith 
and conduct, binding the consciences of men ? If this 
had been their character, would not Christ, the source 
of this system, have declared it, during his residence on 
earth ? The fact, that he did not, to say the least, ren- 
ders the point doubtful ; and, of course, releases man- 
kind from any obligation to obey.' 

What infidels would thus have boldly advanced, So- 
cinians would probably have readily admitted ; and 
multitudes of cold and timid believers would, as proba- 
bly, have followed in their train. In this manner, the 
whole system might have assumed a new face, and the 
whole church a different character. 

All these things would, also, have acquired peculiar 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



249 



strength and consistency, from the fact, that the apos- 
tles attribute the gospel wholly to Christ, as being ori- 
ginally and exclusively his. ' Where,' it would be 
asked, ' is the proof of this great fact ! No record is 
left of the instructions of Christ himself, to indicate his 
pleasure. This certainly is strange, and, if it was 
really his will that we should obey these precepts and 
receive these doctrines, unaccountable. In a case of 
such importance, he cannot be believed to have left 
us in any doubt, much less in so serious a perplexity. 
His absolute silence, therefore, in a matter of this mag- 
nitude, furnishes no small reason to believe, that he in- 
tended and required no conformity or obedience, of this 
nature, on our part.' 

From these objections, and others like them, the 
church and those individually and successively of whom 
in every period it was to be formed, would undoubtedly 
have experienced many difficulties and perplexities in 
the way of their faith and obedience. Nor would the 
powerful arguments, derived from the lives and the mi- 
racles of the apostles, be able to remove these difficul- 
ties. In spite of these arguments, difficulties even now 
exist, sufficiently perplexing to stumble the weak, and 
: i) snare the unguarded. It is hardly necessary to add, 
that by the supposed silence of Christ all these would 
be mightily enhanced. 

The gospel is probably reverenced by those, who re- 
verence it at all, in a degree generally proportioned to 
their views concerning its author. Trinitarians regard 
it with the highest veneration ; Arians with a less de- 
gree ; and Socinians, particularly the followers of Br 
Priestley, with the least. Even these, however, regard 
Christ with more respect than they render to the apos- 
tles. Had the gospel been preached by the apostles 
only there is reason to fear that, by every one of these 
classes of men, it would have been regarded with a still 
lower degree of veneration. To believe its doctrines, 
to obey its precepts, and to celebrate its ordinances, 
would have been felt to be a duty less powerfully in- 
cumbent on mankind, less obligatory, and less necessary 
to the attainment of salvation. 

It ought here to be remarked, that the Scriptures 
themselves furnish a solid foundation for this distinc- 
tion. St Paul, Heb. ii. 1 — 3, saysj ' Therefore ' (that 
is, on account of the exalted character of Christ, dis- 
played in the preceding chapter), ' we ought to give 
the more earnest heed to the things which we have 
heard, lest at any time we should let them slip. For if 
the word spoken by angels was steadfast, and every 
transgression and disobedience received a just recom- 
pense of reward ; how shall we escape, if we neglect so 
great salvation ; which at the first began to be spoken 
by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by those that 
heard him ? In the preceding chapter, the apostle had 
proved the entire and infinite superiority of Christ to 
angels. From this character of the Saviour he derives 
the inference just read ; viz. the utterhopelessness of 
escape to such as neglect the salvation, which He pub- 
lished with his own mouth. The justice of the inference 
he proves by the fact , that even those who disobeyed 
the word spoken by angels were uniformly and equi- 
tably punished. Those, therefore, he says, cannot pos- 
sibly escape punishment, who neglect the word spoken by 
Christ, a person so much greater and better than angels. 
Again, chap. x. 28, 29, he says, ' He that despised 
Moses's law died without mercy. Of how much sorer 



punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, 
who hath trodden underfoot the Son of God?' In both 
these instances the apostle evidently considers the guilt 
of disobeying Christ as greater than that of disobeying 
other publishers of the word of God ; and of course at- 
tributes to Christ, as a preacher of the gospel, an autho- 
rity superior to that of any other person. These very 
passages, had they been written, as substantially they 
might have been, would perhaps have been quoted 
against the apostles themselves, if Christ had not 
preached the gospel in person. 

3. It was necessary that Christ should preach the 
gospel, that he might appear in the world as a preacher 
of truth and righteousness. 

The importance of Christ's assumption of this cha- 
racter will be evident from the following particulars : 

(I.) The importance of the character itself. 

No intellectual character is so great or so iiripor- 
tant as this. The highest wisdom and authority are 
here united, and exhibited with unrivalled lustre. The 
subjects unfolded are the most interesting in the uni- 
verse ; the character, pleasure, and works of God ; the 
nature and destiny of man ; the nature of holiness and 
sin ; the laws by which our duty is prescribed and re- 
gulated ; the means by which eternal life is obtained ; 
the termination of this earthly system ; and the intro- 
duction of another, wholly new, immortal, and divine. 

In the assumption of this character, Christ became the 
lawgiver and teacher of a world, and indeed of the uni- 
verse ; unfolded all the wisdom and all the holiness 
attainable by' mankind, throughout endless duration; 
and disclosed the perfect attributes, and immeasurable 
glories of Jehovah. Angeis, in his instructions saw 
what all the splendours of the heavenly system had 
never illuminated ; and found a wisdom displayed on 
the footstool of the Creator, which their own exalted 
world, notwithstanding the perfection with which it is 
arrayed, had never ushered into light. In this charac- 
ter, then, it was suitable to the glory of Christ that he 
should have the pre-eminence. 

(2.) The lustre which it shed upon his life. 

Christ is the only teacher ever found in this world, 
whose life exactly and perfectly accorded with his in- 
structions. No object is so edifying as this accordance. 
The perfect holiness of the Redeemer would have been 
less clearly seen, and less deeply felt, if we could not 
have compared his actions with the perfect rules of life 
uttered by his own mouth. This truth needs no other 
evidence, except the continual appeal to the fact, made 
by all Christians in their conversation and writings ; 
an appeal showing more forcibly than arguments can 
do, the strong impressions made by this fact on their 
minds. The peculiar excellence and dignity of Christ 
is here seen with the highest advantage, as being seen 
in the strongest light, and seen alone. 

(3.) The proof which is furnished, that all his pre- 
cepts are capable of being obeyed, with a situable dispo- 
sition, by a human being. 

Christ was a man, as well as God ; differing from 
other men only in wisdom and excellence. In this 
character he perfectly observed every precept which he 
uttered, so far as it was applicable to himself. In this 
manner he taught, unanswerably, that other teachers, 
and all other men, would do the same, if they possessed, 
and so far as they possessed, the same disposition. The 
precepts, therefore, are reasonable in themselves, and 



250 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser xLir. 



all the difficulty found by us in obeying- them, arises 
from our disinclination. Had Christ left the gospel to 
be preached by the apostles only, this trait in his char- 
acter would, at the best, have been dimly seen, and 
feebly regarded. 

(4.) The example which he has furnished to all fu- 
ture preachers of the gospel. 

The example of Christ in this respect is perfect. A 
particular display of its excellences will, however, be 
more advantageously made hereafter. Suffice it now 
to observe, that it was an example indispensably neces- 
sary for men in every period of time, and peculiarly at 
the time when it was furnished. The gospel then began 
to be preached ; and the manner in which it ought to 
be preached, all future preachers needed to know for 
their direction ; the gentleness, meekness, candour, 
patience, clearness, simplicity, firmness, boldness, and 
unwavering integrity which every preacher ought to 
display, which Christ alone has perfectly displayed, but 
which thousands of preachers have exhibited in far 
higher degrees than they would ever have reached, if 
they had not been presented with this glorious example 
to direct and animate them in this great duty. 

The examples of this nature, actually existing at that 
time in the world, where such as tended only to mislead 
and corrupt those who followed them. The pride of 
both Jewish and heathen teachers, the dissoluteness of 
their lives, their covetousness, their sickly love of hu- 
man applause 1 , the blind devotion of the former to the 
silly and immoral traditions of the elders, and the the- 
oretical spirit, the sophistry, and the empty declamation 
of the latter, rendered a new example, free from all 
these deplorable defects, indispensable to all future 
teachers who wished to benefit their fellow men. 

4. It was necessary that Christ should preach the 
gospel, in order to the authoritative abolition of the pe- 
culiarities of the Mosaic system. 

These peculiarities are called by St Peter, Acts xv. 
10, ' a yoke which neither our fathers, nor we ' (that is, 
the Jews) ' were able to bear.' For the Gentiles at 
large it would have been not only an insupportable yoke, 
but a system of rights and duties with which their accord- 
ance would, in many cases, have been impossible. Still 
all these were sanctioned by an authority confessedly 
divine. Equal authority was necessary to abrogate 
them. Yet this abrogation was absolutely necessary to 
the success of the gospel. The authority of the apostles 
would not, I think, in this case, have been submitted to 
by the Jews, nor easily have been placed in their esti- 
mation above, nor in an even balance with that of Moses, 
but would probably have been classed with that of the 
prophets who succeeded Moses, and who were universal- 
ly and justly considered as possessing an authority in- 
ferior to his. 

The Jews were taught to expect the only material 
change which would ever exist in the Mosaic system 
from that Prophet, ' whom the Lord their God was to 
raise up to them, like unto Moses.' This prophet, not 
one of the apostles could claim to be. Not one of them, 
therefore, could arrogate to himself the authority by 
which that system was to be changed. This belonged 
exclusively to Christ, the prophet thus foretold ; the 
prophet from whom the Scriptures themselves taught 
the Jews to expect material alterations in their religion. 

Had Christ, then, been silent on this subject, it is not 
easy, to conceive how the Jews could have been per- 



suaded that the system was to be changed at all ; nor 
if they had not been persuaded, how the Gentiles could 
either have realized or maintained this important fact. 

5. It was necessary, that Christ should preach the 
gospel, to furnish an opportunity of faith and conversion 
to the Jews, who lived at that time. 

Although Christ, as a preacher, was less successful 
than his apostles, yet we learn from the Scriptures, that 
several hundreds, and, if I mistake not, that in all pro- 
bability, thousands believed his word. The importance 
of this event needs no explanation, so far as the salva- 
tion of these believers only is considered. ' But there is 
•another point of view in which this subject demands an 
explanation at the present time. The persons converted 
by the preaching of Christ, were themselves the only 
preachers of the gospel whom at his ascension he left 
behind him in the world. From his preaching they 
derived their own conversion, and their qualifications 
for the business of converting others. 'I he existence of 
these preachers, since all Christians become converts by 
means of the truths contained in the gospel, was abso- 
lutely necessary to the conversion of their fellow men ; 
and the preaching of Christ was equally necessary to 
the conversion of themselves. 

When we remember, that in the number of the preach- 
ers of the gospel, the apostles are included, the import- 
ance of this article will appear in its proper light. To 
them the whole Christian world, throughout the past, 
present, and future ages of time, confessedly owes its re- 
demption from spiritual darkness, and its introduction 
' into the marvellous light ' of Christ's kingdom. 

But it is only indebted to them in the immediate sense. 
Ultimately, this immense blessing is owing to the preach- 
ing of the Redeemer himself. The importance of his 
preaching, therefore, may be fairly estimated from the 
greatness of the blessing. 

6. It was necessary that Christ should preach the 
gospel, for the purpose of furnishing important evidence 
of its divine origin. 

Interesting evidence of the divine origin of the gospel 
is derived from the fact, that it was preached by Christ ; 
and that in two ways. 

(1.) It cannot be rationally supposed, that a mere 
man, educated as he was, without any advantages beside 
those enjoyed by the poor people of the Jewish nation 
generally, could have devised the gospel by the strength 
of his own mind. 

The Jews asked, with the utmost good sense, this 
question concerning our Saviour : ' How knoweth this 
man letters, having never learned ?' John vii. 1 5. The 
only rational answer to this inquiry is, that what they 
meant by letters, viz. the wisdom which he taught, he re- 
ceived immediately from God. It is plainly impossible, 
that he should have devised this wisdom, had he been 
ever so advantageously educated, either from the frivol- 
ous and superstitious doctrines of his countrymen, or 
from the vain, gross, erring, and self-contradictory phi- 
losophy of the heathen. Scarcely any thing can be 
imagined more unlike the gospel of Christ, than the in- 
structions given by both these classes of men. But 
Christ was not thus educated. On the contrary, he was 
in the proper sense an unlearned man. That which he 
taught sprang up, therefore, originally in his own mind. 
But no other such mind ever appeared in this world. 
Nor was such wisdom ever taught here by any man, 
whether learned or unlearned. That it should be taught 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



251 



by a man unlearned, as he was, from the mere force of 
his own mind, is a far more improbable counteraction of 
those laws, which regulate and limit the nature of man, 
than a revelation from God can be, of any suppos.ible 
laws of nature. 

(2.) Christ proved the gospel to be from God by his 
life and miracles. 

Christ asserted his doctrine to be derived immediate- 
ly from God. To prove the truth of this assertion, he 
wrought a multitude of wonderful miracles, and appeal- 
ed to them as decisive evidence that it was true. A mi- 
racle can be wrought by none but God ; for no other 
being can suspend or counteract that infinite power, 
which is unceasingly employed in bringing events to 
pass, according to those which are called the laws of 
nature. But God cannot work a miracle to support a 
falsehood ; for this would be no other than a declaration 
that the falsehood was true. The miracles of Christ, 
therefore, were an unquestionable proof that his gospel 
is a revelation from God. 

The holiness of his life is another proof of the divine 
origin of the gospel ; a proof not less solid, although, 
perhaps, less frequently allowed its full force. No mi- 
racle is a more palpable contradiction to the laws which 
respect the nature of man in this world, than the perfect 
holiness of Christ. At the same time, this character for- 
bids, as absurd and contemptible, the supposition, that 
he was capable of uttering a known falsehood. 

But Christ declared that his gospel was from God. 
Coming from such a person, the assertion cannot with- 
out perfect irrationality, be called in question. 

Had not these proofs of the divine origin of the gos- 
pel been furnished by Christ, the evidence on this sub- 
ject would undoubtedly stand on very different ground, 



and want not a little of its present F f rength and com- 
pleteness. 

7. It was necessary that Christ should preach the 
gospel, in order to the fulfilment of numerous prophe- 
cies, which foretold this part of his character. 

One of these, contained in Isa. lxi. and applied by 
Christ to himself, Luke iv. 18, 19, may stand in the 
place of others. ' The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, be- 
cause he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the 
poor ; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to 
pi-each deliverance to the captives, and recovering of 
sight to the blind ; to set at liberty them that are 
bruised ; to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.' 

The predictions of the Scriptures were not written 
merely that they might be fulfilled ; but when they were 
written, it became indispensable that they should be 
fulfilled. The prophetical character of Christ was pre- 
dicted, because it was an event determined on by in- 
finite wisdom, because of its own intrinsic importance 
and utility to the universe, and because the prediction 
itself also was in many respects useful and important. 
After it was once written, those who hear me will, with- 
out the aid of an explanation, discern with a glance, 
that its fulfilment became indispensable. 

For all these reasons, and some others, which we can 
comprehend, and undoubtedly for others which lie be- 
yond our reach, it was necessary, that Christ should as- 
sume and execute the office of a preacher of the gospel. 
It is hoped that this attempt to elucidate a subject, so in- 
teresting in itself, of such magnitude in the scheme of 
redemption, and yet so rarely an object of investigation, 
or even of attention, will not be unedifying to those per- 
sons who regard the mediation of Christ with reverence 
and complacency. 



SERMON XLV. 



CHRIST A PROPHET HIS PERSONAL PREACHING THE THINGS WHICH HE TAUGHT. 



The officers answered, Never man spake like this man John vii. 46. 



In my last Discourse, I proposed to consider the cha- 
racter of Christ as a prophet, or, as the great preacher 
of truth and righteousness, under the following heads : — 

I. The necessity of his preaching the gospel : 

II. The tilings which he taught : 

III. The manner of his preaching : and, 

IV. The consequence of his preaching. 

The first of these subjects I discussed at that time, I 
shall now proceed to an examination of 

II. The things which he taught. 

In the context we are informed, that the Sanhedrim 
sent officers to take Christ, as he was preaching in the 
temple, and bring him before them. When they re- 
turned without him, they were asked by the Sanhedrim, 
why they had not brought him. They answered in the 
words of the text, ' Never man spake like this man:' 
that is, The things which he said, and the manner in 
which he said them, were such as never before were ex- 
hibited by any human being. 

These words were uttered by Jews, his enemies; by 



officers and dependants of the Sanhedrim, his most bit- 
ter enemies ; by those officers when commissioned to 
seize him for trial, and punishment ; by those officers, 
therefore, when under the strongest motives to take 
him, as being exposed to danger and punishment, if 
they did not take him ; and, finally, are uttered, as con- 
taining the only reason why they did not take him. 
All these facts teach us, that the thing which Christ, 
spoke by and the manner in which he spoke them, were 
singularly excellent and impressive ; so excellent and 
impressive, as to induce these Jews to allege it, as the 
only reason why they had not performed their official 
duty. It is not easy to conceive how a more convincing 
testimony could have been given to the unrivalled ex- 
cellency of Christ's preaching. Particularly will this 
appear, if we remember, that the doctrines and precepts 
of Christ violated all the pi-ejudices of the human heart, 
especially of Jews : and that there was nothing in his 
maimer of the kind which is usually called popular, or 
calculated to catch, for the moment, the applause of his- 



252 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xlv. 



audience, and produce a favourable bias towards the 
speaker. In the consideration of this and the following 
heads, we shall have opportunity to examine, in some 
measure how far the things recorded of Christ will 
warrant us to entertain the same opinion. 

Among other things taught by Christ, I shall mention, 
1. The abolition of the peculiarities of the Mosaic 
system. 

The Mosaic system consisted of three great parts ; the 
moral, the judicial or political, and the ceremonial. All 
the peculiarities of this system belong to the two last ; 
the first being in its own nature applicable to mankind 
generally, in all circumstances. That these peculiarities 
were one day to be abolished was often indicated by the 
prophets of the Old Testament, from the days of Moses 
down to those of Malachi. This seems to be sufficiently 
indicated by our Saviour himself, in his discourse to 
the disciples going to Emmaus. Luke xxiv. 25, &c. 
' Then he said unto them, fools, and slow of heart to 
believe all that the prophets have spoken. Ought not 
Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into 
his glory? And, beginning at Moses and all the pro- 
phets, he expounded unto them, in all the Scriptures, 
the things concerning himself.' The things concern- 
ing Christ are here asserted to have been spoken by 
Moses and all the prophets : viz. his life, death, and 
exaltation. But with these, we know, was interwoven 
a change in the Mosaic system; a change, therefore, 
more or less exhibited by Moses, and by all the suc- 
ceeding prophets; by some of them expressly, by others 
only in hint, allusioa, or inference. 

St Paul, who informs us, that Christ hath ' blotted 
out this hand-writing of ordinances, which was against 
us, and contrary to us ; taken it out of the way, and 
nailed it to his cross ;' who declares, that ' Christ hath 
made both ' (Jews and Gentiles) ' one ; and broken 
down the middle wall of partition ; abolished in his 
tlesh the enmity between them, even the law of com- 
mandments, contained in ordinances,' argues this fact 
also at length, as declared by the prophet Jeremiah. 
' For,' saith he, ' if that first covenant had been faultless, 
then should no place have been sought for the second. 
But finding fault, he saith, Behold the days come, saith 
the Lord, when I will complete a new covenant with the 
house of Israel and the house of Judah, &c. By saying 
A new covenant, he hath made the former old. Now 
that which decayeth, and waxeth old, is ready to 
vanish.'* See Jer. xxxi. 31, &c. Heb. viii. 7, &c 

The Mosaic system, therefore, was originally designed 
in part (viz. that part of it, which consisted of ' the 
commandments contained in ordinances' ) to be abo- 
lished at some future period. It was also to be abo- 
lished, when the new covenant was to be completed ; 
the covenant originally published to Abraham, but com- 
pleted under the Christian dispensation. 

That it was to be abolished by Christ, is indicated in 
the prophecy concerning him, dwelt on so largely in 
the preceding Discourse. ' I will raise up unto them a 
Prophet like unto thee ;' that is, a Prophet who, like 
thee, shall bring into the Church a new dispensation, 
and change whatever needs alteration in the old, even 
as thou hast done with respect to the patriarchal dispen- 
sation. 

The same truth is also abundantly declared by pre- 

' Mai-knight. 



ceding prophets, especially Isaiah, who describes at 
large the very changes actually made by Christ in this 
dispensation almost as distinctly as the apostles ; at least 
in several particulars. 

Christ published this abolition of the peculiarities of 
the Mosaic system. 

(1.) By teaching that the Gentiles, as well as the 
Jews, were henceforth to be the people of God. 

' And I,' saith he, ' if I be lifted up, will draw all mer. 
unto me.' John xii. 32. Again : ' And other sheep I 
have, which are not of this fold ; them also must I bring, 
and they shall hear my voice ; and there shall be one 
fold and one Shepherd.' 

The Jews under the dispensation of Moses, were the 
only people of God. All others who became members 
of the church, became such by being proselyted to the 
Jewish religion, and obeying the Jewish laws through- 
out ; in other words, by becoming Jews, in every thing 
except blood. But Christ here declares, that the Gen- 
tiles, as such, shall become members of his church, and 
belong to his fold ; hear and follow him, and thus con- 
stitute a part of the people of God. 

(2.) By teaching the uselessness of external rites. 

Christ exhibited in many ways the emptiness of ex- 
ternal rites ; particularly by declaring, that ' meats and 
washings,' and other things of the like nature, neither 
purified on the one hand, nor, on the other, defiled the 
man ; and universally by showing, that internal purity 
and integrity constituted the only object of the divine 
approbation, and the only title to the kingdom of God. 

(3.) By instituting a new ministry in the church. 

This he did by commissioning the apostles, and all 
other ministers, Matt, xxviii. 1 8, &c. to ' go into all the 
world, preaching the gospel, and discipling all nations, 
and baptizing them in (or into) the name of the Father, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' In this com- 
mission he invested a new set of men in the place of 
Jewish priests and Levites, with all the authority and 
offices of ministers in the future church of God. The 
Jewish ministry was, therefore, henceforth done away. 

(4.) By substituting baptism and the Lord's Supper for 
the Jewish sacraments of circumcision and the passover. 

Christ made baptism the initiatory ordinance of the 
Christian church, and the Lord's Supper the confirma- 
tory one. Circumcision, therefore, and the passover, 
ceased of course. Besides, the death of Christ, the an- 
titype of the passover, having taken place, the passover 
which typified it ceased of course. 

(5.) By substituting a new, simple, and spiritual wor- 
ship for the ceremonial worship of the Jews. 

In his discourse with the Samaritan woman, Christ 
said, ' Thehour cometh, and now is, when the true wor- 
shippers shall worship the Father, in spirit and in truth ; 
for the Father seekelh such to worship him. Cod is a 
Spirit ; and they that worship him, must worship him in 
spirit and in truth.' 

In the parable of the sower also, he declares, that 
they who ' received the seed in good ground, are such 
as receive the word in an honest and good heart ;' and 
that these only are either fruitful or accepted. 

(6.) By teaching that God was to be worshipped ac- 
ceptably, wherever he was sincerely worshipped, and not 
in the temple at Jerusalem only. 

In the above-mentioned conversation with the Sama- 
ritan woman, Christ said, ' Woman, believe me, tlte 
hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



253 



nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father.' He also, 
as you well know, predicted the destruction of Jerusa- 
lem, the temple, and its services ; declaring that ' not 
one stone ' of the temple ' should be left upon another, 
which should not be thrown down;' that 'Jerusalem 
should be trodden down of the Gentiles, until the times 
of the Gentiles should be fulfilled ;' and that ' all these 
things should come to pass ' during the continuance of 
the then existing generation. In the meantime, he de- 
clared to his disciples, that ' wherever two or three of 
them should be met together in his name, there he 
would be in the midst of them.' 

It needs no proof, that in these declarations he ' caused 
the sacrifice and the oblation to cease,' and put a final 
end to the peculiarities of the Mosaic system. 

2. Christ taught the same system of religion which 
was taught by Moses. 

The system of religion taught in the Old and New 
Testament is one and the same. This Christ has him- 
self sufficiently declared in his sermon on the Mount. 
One of the first declarations in it is this : ' Think not I 
am come to destroy the law and the prophets ; I am not 
come to destroy, but to fulfill.' 

The system of natural religion taught in the Scrip- 
tures is one and unchangeable. ' Sooner shall heaven 
and earth pass away than one jot or one tittle of the 
law ' on which it is founded, and by which the duties 
of it are required. As the law is unchangeable, so the 
duties which it requires are unchangeable also. The 
relations on which this law is founded, and whence 
these duties arise, are eternal and immutable. Of 
course, the law itself, the duties which it requires, and 
the conditions of acceptance and rejection, together 
with all the truths or doctrines which, in natural reli- 
gion, or the religion founded on mere law, are the 
proper, obligatory objects of faith, must for ever be 
the same. Accordingly, our Saviour, when the lawyer 
asked him, ' Which is the first and great commandment 
of the law ?' declared, after reciting the two great com- 
mands, that ' on these two hang all the law and the pro- 
phets,' or the system of religion contained in the Old 
Testament At the same time, he recited these com- 
mands as being those on which was also suspended his 
own religion, which were still in full force, and the 
foundation of all virtue or moral excellence. 

Nor is the Christian system substantially different in 
the New Testament from what it is in the Old. By the 
Christian system, I intend the system of doctrines and 
duties, by means of which apostate creatures are re- 
stored to obedience and favour. ' The gospel,' says St 
Paul, ' was preached to Abraham.' It was also dis- 
closed to our first parents. ' Christ,' says St Peter, 
' preached ' (that is, by the voice of Noah) ' to the spi- 
rits in prison :' viz. the rebellious world, imprisoned un- 
der the divine sentence, during one hundred and twen- 
ty years preceding the deluge. ' Your father Abra- 
ham,' says our Saviour to the Jews, ' rejoiced to see my 
day ; and he saw it, and was glad,' ' All these,' says 
St Paul, speaking of the Old Testament witnesses, from 
Abel to Daniel and his companions, ' died in faith ;' 
that is, the faith of the gospel. ' Now, therefore,' says 
J,he same apostle again to the Ephesian Christians, ' ye 
are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citi- 
zens with the saints, and of the household of God : and 
are built upon the foundation of the apostles and pro- 
phets ; Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner- 



stone.' It would be useless to recite more passages to 
this purpose, although many more might easily be re- 
cited. These prove in the most decisive manner, that 
there is one system of religion only taught in the Old 
and New Testament ; one law, on which the whole is 
ultimately founded ; one system of doctrines and duties 
of what is called natural religion ; one system of doc- 
trines and duties of the Christian system, appropriately 
so called : that the gospel was preached not only to 
Abraham, but to the Jewish and patriarchal churches in 
every age : that good men have always died in the faith 
of the gospel ; that the foundation of the prophets and 
apostles is the same ; and that of both, Jesus Christ is 
the chief corner-stone. 

3. Christ taught all the fundamental doctrines of this 
system. 

By the fundamental doctrines of the Christian sys- 
tem, I intend those which are necessary to be believed 
and obeyed in order to the attainment of salvation. 
Such, for example, are the existence and perfections of 
the one God ; the law of God ; its righteous and reason- 
able character ; the rebellion, apostasy, and corruption 
of man ; the impossibility of justification by the works 
of the law ; Christ's own divine character as the Son of 
God, and the Saviour of men ; justification by faith in 
him; the nature and necessity of regeneration, faith, 
repentance, and holiness of heart and life ; a future 
state ; a judgment ; and recompense of reward to the 
righteous and the wicked, beyond the grave. 

I will not say, that the belief of every one of these is 
indispensable to salvation, but they are all essential 
parts of one system ; and within this list is found what- 
ever is thus necessary to be believed. That Christ 
taught all these things will not, I suppose, be questioned 
by any man who admits that they are at all taught in 
the Scriptures. 

4. Christ taught the religion of the Scriptures more 
plainly and perfectly than those who went before him. 

In a former Discourse, I considered the character of 
the Redeemer as the light of the world ; and observed, 
that he is exhibited in the Scriptures as the source of 
all knowledge, natural, revealed, and spiritual, concern- 
ing moral subjects. Agreeably to this general charac- 
ter, he appeared with peculiar splendour as the great 
luminary of the world while executing the office of a 
preacher of truth and righteousness. Every subject 
which he discussed, he illustrated, and every duty en- 
joined by him, he inculcated with a force, distinct- 
ness, and impression, utterly unrivaled by any preced- 
ing instructor. 

Particularly, he explained the nature and extent of 
the divine law far more perfectly than Moses and the 
prophets. Of this truth his Sermon on the Mount 
is the most illustrious instance of which we are able to 
form a conception. In this wonderful discourse he in- 
verted some, and subverted others, of the Jewish opin- 
ions, established a long time before he commenced his 
ministry, concerning thesubstanceoflheMosaic religious 
system ; explained the extent and comprehensiveness 
of the law ; and taught the wonderfully various, minute, 
and exact manner in which its precepts are applicable 
to the moral concerns of mankind. David had formerly 
said, while addressing himself to the Most High, ' Thy 
commandment is exceeding broad.' But Christ firsL 
unfolded the extension of the divine law to every 
thought and affection, as well as to every word and a«> 



254 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xlv. 



tion, of mankind. At the same time, he exhibited the 
nature of genuine obedience in a light new and altoge- 
ther nobler than had before been imagined ; present- 
ing to the eyes of mankind this obedience, otherwise 
termed holiness or virtue, as more expanded, more 
dignified, more refined, and formed for a destination 
superior to what was found in the instructions given by 
the wisest men under the Mosaic dispensation. What- 
ever was limited, and merely Jewish, he took away ; 
cleansing the intellect from every film which had be- 
dimmed or narrowed its views ; and releasing the heart 
from every clog which had checked the progress of its 
affections. The soul, therefore, freed in this manner 
from its former corporeal encumbrances, was prepared 
by his instructions to ' renew its strength, to mount up 
with wings as an eagle, to run ' in the Christian course, 
' and not be weary, to walk and not faint.' 

In the same perfect manner, and to a considerable 
extent in this very discourse, as well as more fully in 
his discourses at large, he explained the gospel to man- 
kind. The scheme of salvation to apostates through a 
Redeemer was very imperfectly taught by Moses, and 
was left in no small degree of obscurity even by David 
and Isaiah. It was reserved for Christ, by whom ' came 
grace and truth,' to make the ' way of holiness a high- 
way, in which wayfaring men, though fools,' were by 
no necessity compelled to ' err.' So fully, so distinctly, 
so completely has Christ pointed out the way to eternal 
life, that we often see heathens, savages, slaves, and 
even little children, as well as unlettered men in Chris- 
tian countries, entering into it, and walking safely on- 
ward to the end. 

Among the things which Christ has thus clearly 
explained to mankind, I have selected the following : — 

(1.) He taught mankind, that the heart is the seat of 
nil virtue and vice ; or, in scriptural language, of holi- 
ness and sin. 

Matt. xv. 16, ' Jesus said to his disciples, Are ye also 
yet without understanding ? Do not ye yet understand, 
that whatsoever entereth in at the mouth goeth into the 
belly, and is cast out into the draught. But those 
things which proceed out of the mouth, come forth from 
the heart, and they defile the man. For out of the 
heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, forni- 
cations, thefts, false witness, blasphemies. These are 
the things which defile a man ; but to eat with unwash- 
en hands defileth not a man.' And again, Maith. xii. 
34, ' He said to the Pharisees, generation of vipers! 
how can ye, being evil, speak good things ; for out of 
the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A 
good man, out of the good treasure of the heart, bring- 
eth forth good things ; and an evil man, out of the evil 
treasure, bringeth forth evil things.' 

By declaring, that the heart was the only seat of 
good and evil, Christ taught us several lessons of great 
importance to our safety and well-being. 

[1.] He taught us particularly how to distinguish 
with accuracy between moral good and evil. 

So long as men supposed moral good and evil to lie 
either wholly or partially in their external actions, it 
was impossible that they should make this distinction 
with any degree of accuracy ; for the very same exter- 
nal actions, so entirely the same as to be distinguished 
by no human eye, proceed from principles directly op- 
posite, and are intended to promote directly opposite 
ends. In the actions themselves, therefore,, there is no 



difference ; and, of course, no foundation for any dis- 
tinction in their moral character. But when the good 
and evil are referred to the heart, the intention, the 
accordance with different motives, we cannot fail, unless 
through an unnecessary, and therefore criminal, negli- 
gence, to discern whether we form good or bad inten- 
tions, and whether we accord with good or evil motives. 
In this manner our duty, and our disobedience also, 
are in ordinary cases, to say the least, made plain and 
obvious ; and we are saved from that perplexity and 
suspense, whose only influence it is to delay, bewilder, 
and distress the mind. 

[2.] In this manner, also, Christ has taught us where 
our principal safety lies ; viz. in carefully watching 
our thoughts. 

David, in those golden precepts recited by Solomon 
in the fourth chapter of Proverbs, had, long before our 
Saviour's incarnation, said, ' Keep thy heart with all 
diligence ; for out of it are the issues of life.' But this 
precept seems to have been imperfectly understood, 
and little insisted on, and its importance imperfectly 
realized, by those who preceded the Redeemer. He, 
on the contrary, by showing that the heart was the only 
seat of good and evil, and teaching that the nature of 
the streams was derived solely from the fountain, 
taught also, in a manner which could not be misappre- 
hended, that the supreme duty and interest of man lay 
in guarding the fountain itself from every impurity. As 
all good and all evil commence here, to watch the stale 
of the thoughts and affections becomes a duty of im- 
measurable importance. Proportionally important is 
the lesson by which this duty is taught and enjoined. 

[3.] In the same manner, also, Christ taught the emp- 
tiness of external and ceremonial performances. 

Many of the Jews, and all the heathen, placed the 
whole of their religion in such performances. Christ 
struck at the root of this fruitful stem of falsehood ; a 
production not unnaturally cherished by the splendid 
ceremonies of the Mosaic ritual. 

Although the religion of the heart was actually 
taught, and taught with great force and propriety, in 
the Mosaic system ; yet the splendour of the worship 
which it enjoined, and the strong impressions made on 
the imagination by the nature and multitude of its 
rites, easily drew off the attention of gross and careless 
minds from the thing typified to the type, from spiritual 
worship and real duty to a mere external observance. 

For several ages before Christ appeared, the Jews, 
and among them the teachers of their law, had leaned 
more and more towards an unqualified approbation of 
mere external rites, and a general substitution of mere 
external conduct for the duties enjoined by religion. 
To the opinions of these men Christ, on many occa- 
sions, opposed himself in form, and with irresistible ef- 
ficacy. Whatever stress may be laid upon them by 
others, it is impossible for his disciples to regard them 
as being virtuous, even in the remotest sense ; or as be- 
ing of any moral use, except as occasional aids and 
means of virtue. 

(2.) Christ taught mankind, that virtue consists solely 
in loving God with all the heart, and our neighbour as 
ourselves. 

' On these two commands,' said he to the scribe, 
' hang all the law and the prophets.' Out of these com- 
mands arise all the precepts taught by Moses and the 
prophets : precepts which hare no other nature nor end 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



255 



but to explain and enjoin the universal law of God. 
He who keeps these, therefore, keeps them all. Of 
course, he is the subject of that obedience which God 
has required ; of moral excellence, of real amiableness 
in the sight of his Maker. 

The distinction between virtue and vice, exhibited 
under the first head, as so successfully made by the doc- 
trine there specified, was here completed. When vir- 
tue is made to consist wholly in love, and love itself is 
at the same time so exactly defined, all the facility is 
given which can be desired, for the purpose of discrimi- 
nating between virtue and sin. 

(3.) Christ taught, that the meek and lowly virtues, as 
they are called, or, in other words, exercises of virtue, 
are superior in their excellency to any others. 

Mankind have universally admired magnanimity, 
active courage, contempt of danger and death, and other 
exercises of a bold and vigorous spirit. Nay, so 
greatly have they admired them, not only as to regard 
with a forgiving eye those who have exhibited them, 
even in the midst of crimes and excesses, but to yield to 
them, when guilty of every enormity, their universal 
and unqualified applause. I do not deny, that these 
may be, indications and exercises of virtue. There are 
undoubtedly occasions, on which we are required to be 
' strong, and of a good courage ;' and, when we assume 
this character from a sense of duty, and for just and 
benevolent purposes, we are really, and may be, emi- 
nently virtuous. 

On the other hand, the meek and lowly exercises of 
this spirit ; such as meekness, humility, patience, sub- 
mission, gentleness, placability, moderation, and for- 
giveness, although perhaps by most persons allowed to be 
virtuous, are yet by almost all unadmired and unesteemed. 
Still, our Saviour has unquestionably exhibited these, 
both in his instructions and in his example, as wholly 
superior to the others. He descants on them oftener ; 
he dwells on them more ; lie presents them more fre- 
quently to us in his life ; or rather, his whole life is an 
uninterrupted exhibition of them. He plainly attaches 
to them a higher importance, as they are in themselves ; 
and he makes them more essential to the character of a 
Christian, and to the attainment of salvation. This, it 
must be acknowledged, is a current of instruction run- 
ning directly counter to that of poets, historians, and 
philosophers, in all ages, and to the general course of 
human feelings relating to this subject. It cannot but 
be useful to examine for a moment, how far this conduct 
of the Redeemer accords with the decisions of experience 
and common sense. 

It is evident, beyond a debate, that the meek and 
lowly virtues have in themselves no tendency to produce 
any part of those miseries with which mankind have 
afflicted each other. If we were bumble, we should 
never become the authors of those evils which have re- 
gularly sprung from pride. If we were meek, we 
should not impatiently feel injuries, nor give pain in 
those numerous instances in which it is created by 
wrath. If we were gentle, we should not do injuries to 
others. If we were forgiving, we should not revenge 
them on others. If we were moderate, we should 
prevent the evil effects which always spring from un- 
governed passions, particularly from envy, wrath, and 
the passion for pleasure. If we were placable, we 
should cut off" the mass of calamities which is found in 
alienation of heart, unrelenting aversion, and irrecon- 



cilable estrangement of affection ; and instate in its 
place that serene and sell-approved enjoyment which 
springs from the cordial reconcilement of minds, pre- 
viously the seats of real though imperfect good-will. 
If we were patient, we should neither murmur at God, 
nor at each other, and should at the same time lessen 
half the evils which we felt, by a quiet submission to the 
hand of our Creator. Who does not see that, if these 
virtues had their full and proper influence on human 
hearts and human affairs, man would assume a new 
character, and the world a new face ? Who does not 
see, that a great part of the guilt and misery now' suf- 
fered would vanish, and that in its place would be 
found peace and happiness, transcending all easy esti- 
mation ? 

Equally evident is it also from experience, that those 
in whom these virtues presided, have never in fact pro- 
duced these miseries. Often have they been among 
the principal sufferers, but never numbered among the 
actors of this tragedy. As this position cannot, and 
will not be denied, to insist on it any farther would be 
useless. 

On the other hand, to that characteristic of man, 
which is styled heroism, have been owing a great part, 
and that usually the most dreadful part, of human suf- 
ferings. Active courage has, in every age, filled the 
world with tumult, contention, and bloodshed ; de- 
stroyed the labours and enjoyments, the peace and 
hopes of men : overturned temples, consumed cities 
with fire, and converted kingdoms into deserts. All 
these are causes of misery only. At the same time, it 
has rarely done good except by accident ; and, however 
admired and applauded by the silly mind of man, has 
undoubtedly been one of the chief curses which God has 
permitted to visit this unhappy world. 

I have already said, that I do not deny these exer- 
cises of heroism to be capable, in certain circumstances, 
of being virtuous, and even eminently virtuous. Still 
it ought to be remarked, that if the other class of vir- 
tues were to have their proper influence on mankind, 
these would not exist, because there would be no occa- 
sion for them. Were no injuries done, there could be 
no occasion for resisting them, and, of course, no de- 
mand for active courage. The exercises of this spirit 
therefore are, at the most, of a secondary importance, 
and can be called forth only by preceding crimes. The 
meek and lowly virtues are, on the other hand, original 
and essential ingredients of happiness in every world, 
are indispensable to all private and public enjoyment, 
and are, therefore, of primary and inestimable value. 
The preference given by our Saviour to these virtues, is, 
of course, a proof of real and divine wisdom. 

(4.) Christ in the same complete manner taught the 
way in which fallen beings may again become virtuous 
and happy. 

He explained his own character as the propitiation 
for sin, and the Saviour of sinners ; the willingness of 
God to pardon, justify, and accept them on account of 
his righteousness, through faith in him, accompanied by 
repentance, and followed by holiness of heart and life. 
He taught mankind, that their character by nature is 
sinful and odious to God, and that their own obedience 
can never be accepted as an expiation for their sin, or 
a ground of their justification ; that, unless they are 
born again of the Spirit of God, and possess a new and 
spiritual character, they cannot see the kingdom of 



250 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



God ; and that in acquiring this character they become 
his disciples indeed, and prove themselves to be such by 
' doing- whatsoever he hath commanded.' All these 
things, united, constitute that character, which being- 
assumed, those who before were apostates return to God, 
and to their obedience of his will ; and may evangeli- 
cally claim, through his promise, a title to eternal life. 

(5.) Christ established his church in a new form, ap- 
pointed in it new ministers, constituted a new discipline, 
and directed anew the peculiar duties of both its officers 
and members. 

The church under the Mosaic dispensation was pro- 
perly a national one ; consisting, with the exception of 
such as became proselytes, and thus in a sense Israel- 
ites, of those only, and of all those, who were descended 
from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Christ constituted 
the church of the spiritual children of Abraham, who 
were ' Jews inwardly,' though not ' according to the 
flesh ;' and 'whose praise is not of man, but of God.' 
Instead of the priests, who were ministers of the Jew- 
ish church, he appointed ministers of the gospel to be 
officers in the Christian church. Its discipline, also, 
ceased to be the severe and dreadful system of proceed- 
ings enjoined under the Mosaic dispensation, and be- 
came a course of advice, reproof, and, in cases of irre- 
claimable obstinacy, a solemn separation from the offen- 
der ; all administered with the most prudent care, the 
tenderest good-will, and the most exemplary modera- 
tion. The peculiar duties of Christians towards each 
other were summarily directed by the new command- 
ment ; which, to the common benevolence required by 
the moral law towards all men, superadds brotherly love, 
or the exercise of complacency towards the evangelical 
character of their fellow Christians. The peculiar duties 



of ministers, as enjoined by Christ, are generally to pre- 
side over the worship and discipline of the church, to 
preach the gospel, to dispense, and, together with their 
fellow Christians whose duty it is also, to receive, the 
sacraments of the New Testament. 

(6.) Christ taught also the great doctrines concerning 
a future state of being. 

These are the separate existence of the soul after 
death, the resurrection from the dead, the final judgment, 
the misery of the wicked, and the happiness of the right- 
eous, throughout eternity. Concerning these great sub- 
jects, the heathen only formed conjectures, supported 
by very imperfect arguments. The Jewish Scriptures 
also, although really containing these doctrines in sub- 
stance, exhibited them in dim and distant view. ' Life 
and immortality were brought to light,' that is, were 
clearly shown and fully proved, ' by Christ ' alone. To 
him the world is indebted for its certain knowledge and 
extensive views of things beyond the grave ; things in 
comparison with which all that exists in the present life 
is ' nothing, less than nothing, and vanity.' 

From this summary view of the instructions of Christ, 
it is evident, that he has taught every thing necessary 
for the knowledge of our duty, the attainment of holi- 
ness, and the best conduct of a virtuous life ; has esta- 
blished his church on a new and happier foundation ; 
instituted a simpler and purer worship : suited its whole 
economy to the circumstances of all nations ; prepared 
it to extend easily and happily throughout the world ; 
furnished mankind with the best means of obtaining 
salvation ; and engaged them by the most cogent mo- 
tives, placed before their eyes, to seek effectually a 
glorious and blessed immortality. 



SERMON XLVL 

CHRIST A PROPHET THE MANNER OF HIS PREACHING. 



Never man spake like this man John vii. 46. 



Ik my last Discourse, I considered the second division 
of the proposed examination of Christ's prophetical 
character, viz. the things which he taught. 1 shall now 
proceed to consider, 

III. The manner of his preaching. 

Concerning this subject I observe, that Christ preached, 

1. With perfect plainness and simplicity. 

By the plainness of Christ's preaching, I intend 
generally, that he preached in such a manner as to be 
easily understood by all who were willing to under- 
stand him. 

Particularly, he used the plain, common language of 
mankind ; and, on no occasion, the technical language 
customarily used by men of science, and extensively 
used at that period by all the votaries of the fashionable 
philosophy. That he has never used this language will 
undoubtedly be admitted by those who read his instruc- 
tions, there being not even a solitary instance of it in 
all his discourses. 



That Christ acted with entire wisdom in this parti- 
cular, is manifest from many considerations. The com- 
mon language of men is the only language which men, 
generally, can understand. If Christ had used any 
other language, particularly technical language, scarcely 
one of a hundred of those who heard him, or of those 
who read his discourses, would have been able to know 
what he meant. To all these the book containing his 
instructions would have been 'a sealed book ;' and al- 
most every man who read it would have been obliged to 
say, I cannot understarid it, for ' I am unlearned.' 

Nor would technical language have been of much 
real use to learned men. In natural and mathematical 
science this language has, I acknowledge, been employed 
with success, and that to a considerable extent. But 
in moral science, which involves all the instructions of 
Christ, the same thing cannot be said without many 
abatements. The subjects of moral science are, gene- 
rally, less distinctly and definitely conceived of, than 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



257 



those of natural, particularly of mathematical science ; 
and on this account, and because we have no sensible, 
exact standard, to which we may refer them, the terms 
of moral science are, to a great extent, used at first in- 
definitely, and are afterward rendered still more inde- 
finite by the looseness and imperfection of thinking in 
succeeding writers. 

At the same time, moral subjects are so important, 
so deeply interest the feelings, and awaken so many 
biases and prejudices, that where our discernment, left 
to itself, might enable us to fasten on definite ideas, and 
to choose proper terms to express them, our biases still 
lead us into error, and prevent us partly from perceiving 
the true import of the language used by others, and 
partly from an unwillingness to accord with it, when 
perceived. 

From these causes, and others like them, the techni- 
cal language of moral science has generally been loose 
and indefinite, to a greater degree than the common 
language of men ; and such must have been the lan- 
guage used by our Saviour, if he had adopted the 
technical language of his time. This language also, 
originally difficult to be understood, would have been 
rendered still more obscure by every attempt to translate 
it into the languages of other nations. Terms of this 
kind have often no customary use which can be appealed 
to, to fix their signification ; and, being used only by 
some individual author, or in a peculiar sense by that 
author, it must be left to criticism, and often to conjec- 
ture, to determine their meaning. When used by seve- 
ral authors, they are commonly used with some variation 
of sense, either light or serious. In this case, their 
signification becomes more doubtful, and the discourses 
in which they are found more perplexed. If I mistake 
not, no terms in ancient authors are so doubtful as those 
appropriated to philosophy ; many of which seem to 
have their meaning scarcely settled even at the present 
time. With these sources of doubt before them, trans- 
lators would have been extremely perplexed, and would 
have perplexed their readers still more by their own 
terms, chosen, often erroneously, to express the doubt- 
ful meaning of their originals. But the language used 
by our Saviour, was suited to all men ; the best language 
for philosophers themselves, the only language for other 
men. All men can understand it better than any other ; 
most men can understand no other. 

The plainness of our Saviour's manner is conspicu- 
ous, also, in the obvious nature of his allusions and 
illustrations. These were all derived from objects fa- 
miliar to the apprehensions of mankind at large, accord- 
ing to the rule of eloquence in this respect laid down 
by Cicero. Every reader of our Saviour's discourses 
must have observed this fact. The ' city set on a hill ;' 
' the salt of the earth :' ' the candle, which is not to be 
set under a bushel, but on a candlestick ;' ' the vine and 
the branches;' 'the shepherd and the sheep;' are instan- 
ces which cannot be forgotten. These, and others of the 
like nature, are the happiest of all allusions, and the best 
of all illustrations. They are natural, but forcible ; every 
where offering themselves, and every where beautiful ; 
familiar, but possessed of sufficient dignity ; and attended 
always with this high recommendation, that they are 
easily understood by men in every situation of life. 

The plainness of our Saviour's manner is remarkably 
evident, also, in his parables. Instruction appears to 
have been communicated in allegorical discourses gen- 



erally resembling these, from the earliest ages. But no 
instructor ever formed them so happily as Christ. The 
subjects alluded to are chosen with supreme felicity, and 
the allusions are conducted with the utmost skill and 
success. The allegorical part of the story is always just 
and impressive, commonly beautiful, not unfrequently 
sublime, and in several instances eminently pathetic. 
The meaning which it is intended to convey is at the same 
time definite, clear, and obvious. The parable, instead of 
shading the thought, illumines it, and instead of leaving 
the reader in doubt, contributes not a little to the satis- 
faction of his inquiries. When we consider the perplex- 
ed enigmatical manner in which both Jewish and Gentile 
teachers, at that time, conveyed many of their most im- 
portant instructions, we shall, on the one hand see this 
characteristic of our Saviour's discourses in a stronger 
light, and, on the other, shall be led to admire suitably 
the wisdom with which in this respect he taught mankind. 
Nearly allied to the plainness of our Saviour's in- 
structions is their simplicity. By simplicity, in this case, 
I mean that general characteristic of discourse, in which 
both the thoughts and words appear to have been adopted 
without the effort of selecting, and merely because they 
offered themselves ; and to follow each other in the order 
in which they offered themselves, without conti-ivance, 
and in the manner most remote from either study or af- 
fectation. Of this important characteristic, as critics 
universally agree, the ancient writers furnish more nu- 
merous and more perfect examples than the moderns. 
Among ancient writers, those who penned the Scriptures 
hold, by general acknowledgment, also, the first place. 
But amid these, as well as all other instructors of man- 
kind, Christ as a pattern of perfect simplicity stands un- 
rivalled. His discourses, though fraught with doctrines 
of the most profound and wonderful wisdom, and senti- 
ments of the highest sublimity and beauty, appear still, 
as if neither the words nor the thoughts were the result 
of the least study, but sprang up spontaneously in his 
mind, and flowed from his tongue in a sense instinc- 
tively, in a manner strongly resembling that of children. 
The impression made by the manner in which they are 
delivered, is, that they are the result of mere unadul- 
terated nature, prompting the speaker with an unresisted 
impulse, as if he knew how to speak in no other man- 
ner. The effect of this manner of discoursing is un- 
doubtedly in an eminent degree happy, whatever may be 
the subject or the drift of the discourse. When this is 
didactic, simplicity gives the teacher the most desirable 
aspect of artlessness, candour and sincerity. When it is 
historical, beside presenting the speaker as invested with 
these important characteristics, it lends the utmost beauty 
and impressiveness to his narration. When it is sublime or 
pathetic, it presents the objects which excite these emo- 
tions in the strongest light, and excites the emotions them- 
selves in the highest degree which is possible. As ex- 
amples, illustrating in the most perfect manner the truth 
of all these observations, I allege particularly, Christ's 
Sermon on the Mount ; his Parabolic Sermon, recorded 
Matt. xiii. several of his discourses with the Jews, re- 
corded by St John; those addressed to his disciples com- 
mencing with the xivth chapter ; his intercessory prayer, 
in the xviith of that evangelist ; the Lord's Prayer ; the 
parables of the Prodigal Son, the Rich Man and Laza- 
rus, and the good Samaritan ; and the discourses con- 
cerning the destruction of Jerusalem, and the final judg- 
ment, in the xxivth and xxvth of Matthew. The para- 
2k. 



258 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser xlvi. 



ble of tli e Prodigal Son, particularly, may be alleged as 
the first example of beautiful and pathetic simplicity 
which has been ever given to mankind ; as without a ri- 
val, and without a second. 

2. Christ exhibited, in his manner of instructing, the 
most perfect modesty and delicacy. 

Both Jewish and heathen teachers, before the time of 
Christ, were remarkable for pride, vanity, and of course 
for boasting. Pharisaical and stoical pride have been 
proverbial for near two thousand years. The Grecian 
philosophers exhibited to the world their true character, 
in this respect, by calling themselves oo<pot, or wise men. 
Those of the East assumed denominations equally arro- 
gant and contemptible. The pride and vanity which 
they exhibited in this manner, they manifested also in 
every other form, and on every convenient occasion. 
Like a disagreeable odour, this unbecoming character 
eludes every attempt to conceal it, and forces itself upon 
the mind, wherever the writer becomes the subject of his 
own thoughts. 

In direct and perfect opposition to them all, Christ, 
though teaching with a wisdom and greatness of charac- 
ter altogether unrivalled, has not suffered, I need not 
say a proud or vain thought, but even the most distant 
appearance of such a thought, to escape from his lips. 
Though more frequently than any other teacher com- 
pelled, by the nature of his mediatorial office, the tenor 
of his discourses, and the disputes in which he was en- 
gaged with the Jews, to become the subject of his instruc- 
tions to them ; and although doing and saying that 
which, far mere than any thing ever done or said, must 
awaken the conviction of personal greatness and superi- 
ority, yet he has never, even in the most remote hint or 
allusion, intimated a single indulgence of either pride 
or vanity in his own mind. No resemblance of boasting- 
can be found in all his discourses. Himself, as an ob- 
ject of admiration or applause, is for ever out of sight 
and out of remembrance. 

Delicacy is the kindred, the ally of modesty, and an 
attribute of instruction as well as an excellency of 
character which appears to have been very imperfectly 
known to the teachers, both Jewish and heathen, who 
lived at or before the time of our Saviour. From them 
all he is perfectly distinguished by the most complete 
exhibition of this excellence. Not a sentiment, not a 
word, has fallen from his lips which can give pain, in 
this respect, to a mind of the most finished refinement 
and virtue ; not a word, not a sentiment, fitted to 
awaken one improper thought, or to allure in the least 
degree to any unbecoming action. 

3. Christ taught with entire boldness and integrity. 

These highly honourable characteristics of our Sa- 
viour's instruction are every where visible, and, so far 
as I know, universally acknowledged. Particularly are 
they conspicuous in his open, intrepid attacks on the 
Pharisees and Sadducees ; the men who at that time 
held the whole power of the Jewish government, and 
the whole influence over the Jewish nation. These 
sects also were the leaders of that nation in all their 
bigotry, their miserable superstition, and their deplor- 
able devotion to a mere outside morality and worship. 
They corrupted them in their moral and religious prin- 
ciples, and introduced a sensual, loose, and nearly 
atheistical system of doctrine and practice. To these 
men Christ, with no defence but his own wisdom, 
innocence, and purity, opposed himself with uniformity, 



vigour, and immovable firmness ; exposing the unsound- 
ness of their wretched doctrines, the futility of their 
arguments, the hypocrisy of their professions, and the 
enormous turpitude of their lives. All this he did with 
such clearness of evidence, and such pungency of re- 
proof, that they themselves often shrunk from the de- 
tection, and trembled for the very existence of their 
principles and their power. 

At the same time, and in the same manner, he 
reproved and exposed all the popular prejudices of his 
country. Gentle, modest, and humble beyond example, 
he united with this character an unyielding fixedness of 
principle and deportment, and a perfect destitution of 
that love of popularity, and that desire of applause, 
which are such prominent traits in the character of 
most of those who have attempted the instruction of 
mankind. There is not in his instructions a single 
instance of the least concession to any religious, civil, 
or personal prejudice of his countrymen. On the con- 
trary, he treated them all openly, uniformly, and alike. 
Even their favourite doctrine, that they were, and were 
ever to be, the peculiar people of God, together with all 
the mischievous consequences which they derived from 
it, he resisted on many occasions, and in many forms ; 
declaring that they were not, in the true and scriptural 
sense, the children of Abraham ; and showing them, 
that their natural descent from this patriarch would not, 
by itself, be of the least advantage to them, while the 
abuse of their privileges would only increase their guilt, 
and enhance their final condemnation. 

Nor was Christ less direct and sincere in reproving 
his friends. In them, notwithstanding all the gentle- 
ness and tenderness with which he taught them, he 
allowed no variation from truth or duty ; and re- 
proved them on every occasion for their prejudices, 
bigotry, unbelief, contentions, faults, and follies of 
every kind. Exact truth and unwarping holiness 
appear evidently to have been the objects which he 
made the standard of all his instructions, as well as of his 
life. No tenderness, friendship, or gentleness of dis- 
position, no fear of the populace or the powerful, pre- 
vented him from reaching the standard on every occa- 
sion ; no zeal transported him beyond it. He, and he 
alone, among those who have taught mankind, knew 
how to make all the affections of man perfectly accord- 
dant with truth and duty, and perfectly subservient to 
the establishment of them in the world. 

4. Christ taught mankind with an authority peculiar 
to himself. 

This characteristic of Christ's teaching was twofold. 

(1.) The authority derived from the weight of his 
precepts, and the manner in which they were inculcated. 

This I take to be especially what is intended by St 
Matthew in the following passage; 'And it came to 
pass, when Jesus had ended these sayings' (that is, the 
sayings contained in his sermon on the mount), ' the 
people were astonished at his doctrine ; for he taught 
them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.' 
In the authority of this kind, Christ far excelled every 
other instructor. No precepts are so important as his, 
no manner of teaching is so dignified and so command- 
ing. When we remember that he appeared as a poor 
man, without friends or influence, without power or 
splendour ; that he proposed a new system of religion 
and morals ; that he attacked, in many respects, the for- 
mer system, the bigotry with which it was regarded, the 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



259 



prejudices of the multitude, and the enormous wicked- 
ness of the great ; when we farther remember, that in 
the minds of many, he overset them all, and in the 
minds of many more, shook them to their foundations : 
we cannot hesitate to acknowledge, with the Jewish 
officers, that, in this particular, ' Never man spake like 
this man.' 

(2.) Christ taught mankind with a single official 
authority. 

This is conspicuous in two things. 

[1.] He uttered neither opinions nor advice. 

All the dictates of Christ's teaching are of the kind 
which the Greeks call dogmas, that is, positions peremp- 
torily asserted, without any doubt expressed, any waver- 
ing, any uncertainty, any suggestion of the possibility 
of error. Every doctrine is exhibited as an absolute 
law of faith, and every precept as a positive rule of 
practice. Every thing which he uttered carries with it 
evidently the assurance, that his doctrines are true and 
certain, that his precepts are just and reasonable, and 
that himself is invested with full authority to prescribe 
both, as obligatory- rules of faith and practice. 

[2.] Christ taught in his own name, and without 
appealing to any authority but his own. 

This fact was mentioned in a former discourse ; but 
it will be proper briefly to consider it, also, at the pre- 
sent time. All the prophets of the Old Testament pre- 
faced their instructions with ' Thus saith the Lord.' 
Christ commenced his ministry with explaining, alter- 
ing, and annulling many things said by them under this 
authority, and acknowledged by him to be thus said. 
His own instructions, however, he never prefaced in this 
manner, but merely said, ' I say unto you ;' or, on 
6olemn occasions, ' Amen ; Verily, I say unto you.' 
The authority here assumed by him was such, as to 
warrant him in repealing that which had been spoken 
by prophets in the name and by the authority of God, 
and was, therefore, an authority equal to that under 
which these prophets had spoken. 

In this exercise of authority Christ stands alone, 
being wholly distinguished from all other teachers both 
sacred and profane. The apostles, it will be remem- 
bered, taught only in the name of Christ. 

5. Christ taught with uniform and singular patience, 
gentleness, and kindness. 

I have grouped these excellencies of our Saviour's 
manner of teaching, as I have several of those already 
mentioned, on account of the intimate relation which 
they bear to each other. 

To dwell on this subject with minuteness cannot be 
necessary. All readers of the gospel know how often 
Christ bore with the dulness, prejudices, and unbelief, 
of his disciples; how often he reiterated the same in- 
structions ; how patiently he removed their prejudices ; 
how frequently he had occasion to pronounce them ' of 
little faith ;' and how universally, and how often with- 
out reproving them, he bore with their numerous infir- 
mities. There is not an instance in his life of an im- 
patient petulant word ; not a single expression of the 
kind whicli we term passionate ; not an occasion on 
which he lost, in the least degree, that absolute self- 
control, by which he was elevated above all the children 
of Adam. When the ambitious sons of Zebedee, through 
their more ambitious mother, asked of him the privilege 
of ' sitting, the one on his right hand, and the other on 
his left;' he calmly replied, ' It is not mine to give.' 



When the body of his disciples ' strove, which of them 
should be greatest, he took a little child and set him in 
the midst of them; and when he had taken him in his 
arms, he said unto them, Whosoever shall receive one 
of such children in my name, receiveth me ; and who- 
soever shall receive me, receiveth not me, but him that 
sent me.' When Peter denied him in so shameful and 
bitter a manner, the only reproof which he gave him is 
recorded in these words, ' and the Lord turned, and 
looked upon Peter.' Over Jerusalem, the seat of so 
much guilt, the scene of the messages and of the slaugh- 
ter of so many prophets, and speedily about to be the 
scene of his own sufferings, he wept with inexpressible 
tenderness, and said, ' How often would I have gathered 
thy children, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her 
wings ; but ye would not !' 

6. Christ taught by his example. 

It is a proverbial observation, that example is far 
more instructive than precept ; an observation verified 
by the experience of mankind every day and in every 
place. ISio precepts are, indeed, seriously influential 
on the mind of the pupil, unless they are believed to 
have some good degree of influence upon the life of his 
instructor. On the contrary, where the instructor is 
supposed to speak with sincerity, and from the heart, 
and to be himself governed in his conduct by the very 
principles which he recommends to others, very plain 
instructions have commonly very great power. Exam- 
ple, therefore, may be safely pronounced to be the best 
of all instructions, and the only mode of consummating 
the instruction of the voice. 

In this kind of teaching Christ stands alone. The 
prophets and apostles are here left out of comparison, 
and out of sight. As for the heathen philosophers, their 
example was a mere contrast to their instructions, I mean, 
to such parts of it as were just and commendable. What 
they taught of this nature, they refuted in the daily con- 
ductof their lives. But Christ's life was a perfect practi- 
cal comment on all that he taught, and a perfect illustra- 
tion of the nature and efficacy of his precepts. Hence 
his instructions have been unrivalled in their influence 
on mankind, and have produced effects to which there 
has been in the history of the world no parallel. 

I have here mentioned several primary characteristics 
of the manner in which Christ taught mankind. To form 
a more complete estimate of its excellence, it will how- 
ever be necessary to consider what he did not do, as 
well as what he did. The superlative wisdom of the 
Redeemer was manifested as truly in what he avoided, 
as in what he accomplished. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. That he utterly declined togratifv the mere crio- 
sity of men. 

Many questions were proposed to him by the Jews , oi 
such a nature as to demand answers which could only 
gratify curiosity. Several more of the same kind, were 
addressed to him by his disciples. To all these he de- 
clined the answers which were solicited. There are, 
also, very many subjects concerning which curiosity has 
ever been awake, and which not only are intimately 
connected with the scriptural system of religion, but are 
mentioned by Christ in many forms, and in some par- 
ticulars extensively discussed. But such parts of these 
subjects as excite mere curiosity, he has invariably left 
in silence ; and never tempted nor satisfied at all this 
roving, restless propensity. Over all subjects of this. 



260 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xlvt. 



kind, lie has drawn the curtain of absolute concealment, 
and hidden them entirely from human eyes. 

Among these subjects, it will be sufficient to mention 
one. The circumstances which attend a future state of 
happiness awaken, perhaps, as extensively and natural- 
ly, the wishes of the mind to be minutely informed, as 
any thing belonging to the destiny of man. On this 
immense subject Christ has, however, taught nothing 
except what we plainly needed to know, and has with- 
held every thing else from our investigation. Others 
have often indulged a' wandering fancy, and, in the 
wildest excursions concerning a future state, have at- 
tempted to explore the regions of future being, as tra- 
vellers search distant countries in the present world. 
But Christ has chosen barely to inform us of the exist- 
ence and general nature of these regions, — things which 
we are deeply interested to know, — and left these out- 
lines to be filled up by our own actual experience, when 
we shall have become possessed of that happy state of 
being. When we remember how many uncertainties 
would have arisen out of such a disclosure, had it been 
made ; how many questions of difficult solution, or in- 
capable of being solved ; and, in a word, how greatly 
and how often the mind would have been perplexed 
concerning subjects unconnected with its real good, we 
cannot hesitate to acknowledge the perfect wisdom ma- 
nifested in this concealment 

2. Christ taught without sophistry. 

The integrity displayed in the reasonings of our Sa- 
viour, is equally exact and perfect with that exhibited 
in his declarations of facts. In the age in which he 
lived, both the Jewish and heathen teachers were dis- 
tinguished for false reasoning, as a species of art. The 
doctrines which they taught needed this defence. Ac- 
cordingly, we find it employed by them on almost every 
occasion. Many specimens of the subtleties of the 
Sadducees and Pharisees are recited to us in the New 
Testament, particularly in the Gospels. Quibbles, 
paradoxes, and fetches, were the custom of the time, and 
were shamelessly employed to defend every favourite 
opinion, and attack every adversary. But false reason- 
ing is as real a violation of integrity as false declara- 
tions, is often as mischievous, and is always a proof of 
gross depravity, or gross inattention to our duty. 
Christ, therefore, the perfect pattern in this as in all 
other conduct, has alleged no argument but a real one, 
has given no argument any more force than it really 
possesses, and has expressed no more confidence in any 
argument than he really felt. The glorious contrast 
which he exhibited, in the exact simplicity and sincerity 
with which he reasoned on every occasion, to the subtle- 
ty and sophistry of all with whom he reasoned, and of 
a vast multitude of other teachers, is a pattern for all 
succeeding reasoners, which, if universally followed, 
would free the world from a great part of its doubts and 
errors, and the deplorable guilt and misery by which 
they are followed. 

3. Christ has authorised no intolerance. 

It is well known, that the Jews, who were distinguished 
for their spiritual pride and bigotry, and who regarded 
other nations with an almost absolute intolerance, were 
never more strongly marked by these characteristics 
than at the time when our Saviour appeared. Even 
the apostles were not exempt from a share of this cha- 
racter. ' Master,' said John, ' we saw one casting out 
devils in thy name, and we forbade him, because he fol- 



loweth not with us. And Jesus said unto him, Forbid 
him not ; for he that is not against us is for us.' Again, 
John and James, moved with indignation against the 
inhabitants of a Samaritan village, because they de- 
clined to receive their Master, said to him, ' Lord, wilt 
thou that we command fire to come down from heaven, 
and consume them, as Elias did? But he turned, and 
rebuked them, and said, Ye know not what manner of 
spirit ye are of. For the Son of man is not come to 
destroy men's lives, but to save them.' So intolerant 
was the spirit even of the beloved disciple, and so be- 
nevolent, it ought to be added, was that of Christ. 

In this nation, and at this period, was Christ born 
an educated. But instead of imbibing, countenancing, 
or warranting intolerance and bigotry, he taught, in all 
instances, their odiousness and guilt, and enjoined, with 
respect to every subject and person, the most absolute 
moderation, liberality, and candour ; not, indeed, the 
fashionable liberality of licentious men in modern 
times, a professed indifference to truth and holiness, 
but a benevolent and catholic spirit towards every man, 
and a candid and just one towards every argument and 
opinion. Distinctions of nations, sect, or party, as 
such, were to him nothing ; distinctions of truth and 
falsehood, right and wrong, were to him every thing. 
According to this scheme he framed both his instruc- 
tions and h's life. 

4. Christ taught without enthusiasm. 

All the language and all the sentiments of our Sa- 
viour, were the language and sentiments of a person 
perfectly satisfied of the goodness of the cause which he 
had espoused, immovably attached to it, and earnestly 
engaged to promote it among mankind. Still, this ear- 
nestness, this fixedness of character, differed greatly 
from that of most persons who have undertaken the re- 
formation of their fellow men. In our own, as in all 
preceding ages, those who have assumed the charade* 
of reformers almost of course make a parade of their 
piety, and a merit of their peculiar devotion to the 
cause in which they have embarked, and aim at gaining 
proselytes by a nice scrupulosity concerning things 
commonly esteemed innocent, animosity against those 
whose opinions they censure, and impassioned addresses 
to such as listen to their instructions. Christ was the 
opposite of all these. Little things always in his in- 
structions appeared little. Harmless things he regarded 
as harmless. Great and important things only has he 
taught us to regard as great and important. In his life 
there was no ostentation of any thing. He ' came eat- 
ing and drinking' like other men, and in his -human 
nature and appearance differed from them in nothing 
but superior wisdom and purity of character. In his 
discourses every thing is serious, solemn, and earnest ; 
but every thing, at the same time, is uttered with mode- 
ration, without passion, without declamation. 

No discourses in the world are more distant from fa- 
natical declamation, and no character is more unlike 
that of an enthusiast, than the discourses and character 
of Christ. A spirit of serenity, of self-possession, of 
impassionate sweetness, of principled excellence, reigns 
throughout all his instructions and throughout all his 
life, of which elsewhere there is no example. 

5. Our Saviour sought in his instructions for no ap- 
plause. 

In this characteristic also he was equally singulis 
and perfect. The love of applause is the most univer- 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



261 



sal, and probably the most seductive, of all human pas- 
sions, particularly in minds raised by intelligence above 
the common level. So seductive is it, that Cicero pro- 
nounced it to be true virtue. But of this passion not a 
single trace appears in the whole history of Christ. The 
good or ill opinion, the applause or censure, of his fel- 
low men, whether friends or enemies, seem as if they 
had not been thought of by him, and as if no capacity 
of being influenced by them had been an original attri- 
bute of his mind. With a magnetic constancy, his 
thoughts and discourses were pointed ahvay to truth 



and rectitude ; and the world had no power of produc- 
ing in them a momentary variation. 

Such was the manner in which Christ taught man- 
kind : a manner all his own ; copied from none who 
preceded him, and imperfectly imitated by the best and 
wisest of those who came after him ; a manner perfectly 
suited to the supreme excellence of his character, to the 
divine commission which he bore, to the illustrious sys- 
tem of truth which he taught, to the glorious errand on 
which he was sent, and to the perfect nature of that Be- 
ing whose representative he was to the children of men. 



SERMON XLVII. 

CHRIST A PROPHET CONSEQUENCES OF HIS PREACHING. 



And the officers answered, saying, Never man spake like this man. — John vii. 46. 



In the three preceding Discourses, I have considered 
the prophetical character of Christ, under these three 
heads: 1. The necessity of his assuming the office 
of a prophet ; 2. The things which he taught ; and, 
3. The manner in which he taught them. 

I shall now proceed to the consideration of the fourth 
head originally proposed concerning this subject, viz. 
The consequences of his preaching ; and, after a brief 
examination of these, shall conclude my observations on 
the personal preaching of Christ with a few remarks. 

The preaching of Christ produced, 

1. A general astonishment in those who heard him. 

' And it came to pass,' says St Matthew, that ' when 
Jesus had ended all these sayings, the people were asto- 
nished at his doctrine ; for he taught them as one having 
authority, and not as the scribes.' Two things are here 
mentioned as causes of the astonishment occasioned by 
Christ's sermon on the mount: the things which he taught, 
and the manner of teaching. ' The people were asto- 
nished at his doctrine ; for he taught them as one having 
authority, and not as the scribes.' It cannot be thought 
strange, that a scheme of doctrines so new, so solemn, so 
simple, so pure, so amply fraught with inherent evi- 
dence of its truth, and in all these respects so opposite 
to that which they were accustomed to hear from their 
own teachers, should produce an unusual degree of won- 
der .in the minds of this people. Nor is it any more 
strange, that such a manner of teaching as that employed 
by Christ should have its share in producing this effect, 
and enhance the surprise occasioned by his instructions. 
We, who hear these instructions from the cradle, to 
whom they are presented weekly from the desk, and 
daily by the Bible, cannot easily conceive the degree in 
which they could not fail to impress the minds of men 
when they were first published in the world. They 
were then new and strange, and, both in the matter and 
the manner, were in a great measure singular. They 
were employed on the most important of all subjects, 
the sin and holiness, the ruin and recovery of mankind. 
They professed to contain and communicate the will of 
<iod concerning these 'subjects, and of course to be a 
message from heaven. 

At the same time, they censured, both implicitly and 



explicitly, most of the doctrines taught by the Pharisees 
and Sadducees, most of their precepts, and the general 
tenor of their lives. The doctrines they showed to be 
false ; the precepts unsound and immoral ; and the con- 
duct of those who taught them, to be unworthy of the 
profession which they made, and contrary to the Scrip- 
tures which, in pretence at least, they believed. These 
men, either alternately or conjointly, had for a long 
period held an entire and commanding influence over 
the Jewish nation. Highly venerated for their wisdom, 
and in many instances for their apparent sanctity, their 
countrymen scarcely called in question their claims to 
this influence, or to the character on which it was 
founded. But, when Christ entered on his ministry, he 
stripped off the mask by which they had been so long 
concealed, and left both their folly and their wickedness 
naked to every eye. The system which they had so 
long taught without opposition he showed, irresistibly, 
to be a strange compound of truths derived from the 
Scriptures, of falsehood and weakness, of superstitious 
scrupulosity and fanatical zeal, professedly drawn from 
the traditions of the elders, and of gross immorality 
and glaring hypocrisy, generated by their own minds. 
Their pretended sanctity both of doctrine and deport- 
ment, he proved to be a mere veil, assumed to conceal 
their enormous avarice and ambition, pride and cruelty. 
As the means of future acceptance with God, he showed 
that they could never avail, and that, therefore, they 
could only delude and destroy their credulous disciples. 
That such instructions as these, delivered by a person 
whose whole life was a direct contrast to that of those 
whom he thus censured and refuted, who evidently ap- 
peared to be under the influence of no selfish passion 
and no sinister motive, whose precepts required and 
whose conduct exemplified piety and benevolence with- 
out a mixture ; delivered too in a manner so clear, so 
direct, and solemn, so universally convincing and im- 
pressive, should astonish all who heard them, cannot be 
thought strange even by us. Such was, indeed, their 
effect ; and to such a degree, as to induce those who 
heard them to pronounce the teacher on different oc- 
casions, 'a prophet,' 'a great prophet,' ' the prophet 
foretold by Moses, ' and ' the Messiah. ' When we is- 



262 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[S 



ER. XLVH 



member, that this teacher appeared in the character and 
circumstances of a Jewish peasant, without a name, 
without education, without friends, we cannot hut per- 
ceive that the effect of his teaching was, in this respect, 
very great. 

2. The preaching of Christ produced great opposition 
both to himself and to his doctrines. 

I have already recited many cases of this opposition. 
There were many more ; but all of them may with 
propriety be reduced under these general heads. The 
novelty and excellency of his doctrines, the strictness 
and purity of his precepts, his birth, his character, the 
justice and pungency of his reproofs, the disappoint- 
ment of the expectations of the Jews concerning the 
glory and splendour of his Messiahship, and the fears 
of the Pharisees and Sadducees that he would destroy 
their influence and power. All these things thwarted 
some selfish passion of his hearers, and many of them 
thwarted every such passion. It is not therefore to be 
wondered at, that they should oppose one who taught 
and lived so as uniformly to reprove them for their 
whole moral character and daily conduct. 

This opposition commenced almost with his ministry, 
and was carried on to its termination. It was however 
carried on with different degrees of vehemence by the 
different classes of Jews. The great, that is, the Phari- 
sees and Sadducees, hated Christ with far more uni- 
formity and rancour than the common people. The 
reasons are obvious. He exposed their systems of doc- 
trine and modes of teaching, refuted their arguments, 
reproved their abominable conduct, displayed to the 
people at large their folly and wickedness, and threat- 
ened them with the total ruin of their reputation and 
authority. These were offences not to be forgiven by 
proud, bigotted, unprincipled, and malignant men. 
They were not, in fact, forgiven. Throughout his 
whole public life they exercised the most furious re- 
sentment against him, and hesitated not to adopt every 
measure to compass his destruction. All that sagacity 
could devise, or art execute, was employed to ensnare 
and entrap the Redeemer in his words and actions. 
When these measures failed, as they always did, resort 
was had to violence and power. These at length suc- 
ceeded, and the most perfect human malignity was final- 
ly gratified by seeing the Saviour nailed to the cross. 

The people at large regarded him with far less bitter- 
ness than their leaders. It is several times mentioned, 
that the efforts of the Sadducees and Pharisees to de- 
stroy Christ were prevented of success by their fear of 
the people. It is frequently testified in substance, that 
' the common people heard him gladly.' It is also evi- 
dent, that, had not appeals been made to their doubts, 
fears, and prejudices, with great art and perseverance, 
and on many occasions, their attachment both to him 
and his doctrines would have risen still higher, and 
much more nearly accorded with their interest and 
duty. On a number of occasions, however, they in- 
dulged the most violent animosity against him. Al- 
most at the commencement of his preaching, the inha- 
bitants of Nazareth attempted to put him to a violent 
death, by forcing him down the precipice of the hill 
on which their city was built. Several times afterward 
their countrymen endeavoured to stone him, and in the 
end united, at the instigation of their rulers, in ac- 
complishing his death, with a fury approximating to 
madness. 



3. The preaching of Christ produced the conversion 
of a considerable number of his hearers. 

The number of those who were converted by the 
preaching of Christ cannot be estimated with any ex- 
actness. The eleven apostles, the seventy, the more 
than five hundred brethren, to whom at one time Christ 
appeared in Galilee after his resurrection, are numbers 
mentioned in the Scriptures. The last not improbably 
included the two first. To these, we ought, I think, to 
add a considerable number more, since it is often said, 
that ' some of the people,' and ' many of the people, 
believed on him.' No reason occurs to me why we 
should not, generally at least, consider the faith here 
spoken of as evangelical. If this be admitted, the num- 
ber of converts made by the preaching of Christ must 
have greatly exceeded the largest number specified in 
the gospel. 

Still it is, I suppose, generally believed, that the suc- 
cess with which Christ preached the gospel was small, 
compared with that of the apostles, and compared with 
that which we should naturally expect to follow preach- 
ing of such singular excellence ; especially when the 
perfection of his life, and the glory of his miracles are 
connected with the nature of his preaching. The suc- 
cess, however, was upon the whole such as to enable the 
gospel to take effectual root in this sinful world, and to 
provide the means of supplying preachers throughout all 
succeeding ages, and of spreading the gospel, within a 
moderate period, over a great part of the earth. 

I have now finished the observations which I proposed 
to make concerning the personal preaching of Christ ; 
and shall conclude this discourse with a few Remarks, 
naturally flowing from the considerations suggested on 
this subject. 

1. These considerations call up to our view, in an in- 
teresting manner, the glory and excellency of Christ as 
a teacher. 

From the things which have been said in these Dis- 
courses, it is, if I mistake not, clearly manifest, that 
both the matter and manner of Christ's preaching were 
singularly important and excellent. The errand on 
which he came into the world was the greatest which 
ever entered into the conception of rational beings, or 
which was ever proposed in the providence of God. 
Of this vast and sublime purpose, the preaching of the 
gospel was a primary and indispensable part. To this 
part he appeared perfectly equal. The will of God the 
Father concerning the duty and salvation of men, he 
entirely understood ; and, together with it, the charac- 
ter, the sins, errors, ignorance, and wants of those to 
whom he was sent; their hatred of truth, their opposi- 
tion to their duty, and their reluctance to be saved. 
The same perfect acquaintance he also possessed with 
the nature and import of the preceding revelation : its 
types, prophecies, and precepts, the false glosses made 
on its various contents by the teachers who went be- 
fore him, and the miserable prejudices imbibed by those 
whom he taught. These errors he detected and expos- 
ed ; these sins he powerfully reproved ; and the truth 
and duty opposed to them he enjoined with a force and 
evidence wholly irresistible. In this manner he taught 
the way of life with such clearness, that ' he who ran 
might read,' and that ' wayfaring men, though fools,' 
could ' not ' necessarily ' err therein.' 

At the same time, he adorned these instructions with 
a candour, frankness, gentleness, and sweetness of de- 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



263 



meanour, with a sincerity, boldness, and energy of cha- 
racter, immensely honourable to himself, and supremely 
great and lovely in the view of every just and discerning 
mind. Over all, his daily example as a moral being, 
cast a glorious lustre, at once transcendently beautiful 
in itself, and illuminating in the strongest manner the 
nature and excellence of all that he said. 

If Christ had not come into the world, if he had not 
preached the gospel, what would now have been the con- 
dition of mankind ? The Mosaic system, of necessity 
confined almost entirely to the Jewish nation, had, be^ 
fore the advent of our Saviour, degenerated chiefly into 
a mere mass of externals. The moral part of this sys- 
tem was in a great measure neglected or forgotten ; the 
ceremonial had almost wholly occupied its place. 

Even this, also, had lost its proper designation and 
influence. The sacrifices, instead of being regarded as 
mere symbols of that real and great atonement ' which 
taketh away the sins of the world,' and to typify which 
they were originally instituted, seem to have been at 
this time considered as expiations in themselves. The 
ablutions, which were intended only to direct the eye 
to the cleansing of the soul by the blood of Christ, and 
the affusion of the Spirit of grace, appear to have lost 
their typical character, and to have been exalted by a 
gross imagination into means of washing away the 
stains of the soul, and making it pure in the sight of 
God. The oblation of incense was apparently supposed 
by the suppliant to ascend with his prayers to the hea- 
vens, and to accompany them with a sweet odour to the 
throne of God. To ' wear long clothing,' to ' make 
broad their phylacteries,' to ' pray in the corners of the 
streets,' to ' fast twice a week,' to ' bow down the head 
like a bulrush,' to ' sit in sackcloth and ashes,' and to 
' tithe mint, annise, and cummin,' were considered as 
the price paid for heaven ; the price with which salva- 
tion might assuredly be purchased. In the mean time, 
piety to God, 'justice, judgment, and mercy' towards 
men, and that government of our passions and appe- 
tites, without which neither can exist, were kept out of 
sight, and out of remembrance. Pride and avarice, 
cruelty and lust, reigned without control and without 
opposition. Scarce an effort seems to have been made, 
or even thought of, to check the tide of declension. 
The progress was rapid and unimpeded, till the measure 
of iniquity became full. About forty years after the 
crucifixion, the crimes of the Jewish nation, according 
to the testimony of Josephus, himself a Jew, rose to 
such a height, as to forbid the longer continuance of any 
civilized state or social union among this people. Fu- 
rious animosity, unexampled pollution, civil war raging 
witii singular violence, unparalleled treachery, and 
murder without bounds, then became the prominent and 
almost the only features of the Jewish character. The 
rest of the world was absolutely overspread with poly- 
theism, and all the debasement and all the miseries to 
which it so frequently gives birth. 

Had not Christ, then, come into the world, and 
preached the gospel to mankind, the Jews would, per- 
haps, have been, substantially, what, since the destruction 
of their nation, they have been in fact ; reprobates, out- 
casts from God, possessing hearts ' harder than the 
nether millstone ;' impervious to truth, impenetrable by 
argument, shorn from the side of virtue, vagabonds in 
the moral as well as in the natural world, roaming now 
in quest of gain or prey to satisfy immediate lust, now 



wandering in a benighted wilderness, through every 
bypath, to find eternal life, and mistaking the glimmer- 
ings of every ignis fatuus by which they are misled for 
the light of heaven. 

We, in the mean time, together with all the present 
offspring of the Gentile world, should have been prostrat- 
ing ourselves before calves and crocodiles, dogs and cats, 
an image of brass, or the stock of a tree. Instead of 
the churches which, on a thousand hills, now stand open 
for the worship of Jehovah, we should with the heathen 
of the old world, have consecrated to a multitude of 
brutal gods the dark groves, and still darker caves of our 
mountains, or erected, with immense expense and suffer- 
ing, splendid temples to the honour of thieves, strumpets, 
and murderers, or for the habitation of blocks and sta- 
tues. Instead of the hymns which here daily ascend 
to heaven, perfumed with the incense of redemption, our 
ears would have been stunned with the outcries of the 
priests of Baal , or the yells of the priestesses of Bacchus. 
Instead of the communion table, which now holds out 
the bread of life, and invites us to eat and live, altars 
would here have smoked with the offerings of pollution, 
or streamed with the blood of human victims. Instead 
of listening to the invitations to renounce iniquity, to 
believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and to lay hold on a 
glorious immortality given by God himself, and an- 
nounced weekly from this desk, the youths who are 
before me might, in some instances at least, have been 
trembling beneath the frown of a Druid, prepared to 
plunge his knife into their bosoms, as an offering to the 
gods of superstition : no uncommon fate of bright and 
promising young men in ancient times, throughout 
that island from which our ancestors emigrated to this 
country. 

From all these evils, and from that perfect dissolution 
of the moral character of which they are either the 
cause or the substance, Christ has delivered those who 
receive and obey his instructions. The darkness, in 
which men ' groped, and stumbled, and fell,' in the pur- 
suit of eternal life, he has scattered by the sunshine of 
the gospel. The objects of our faith and the rules of 
our duty he has written in living colours. To ignorant, 
sorrowful, and despairing man, despairing of future en- 
joyment and future being, he has proclaimed the ' glad 
tidings ' of life eternal. To rebels and enemies he has 
' published ' everlasting ' peace.' To Zion he has an- 
nounced that the God who reigns over heaven and earth 
is her God. ' How beautiful on the mountains are the 
feet ' of this divine messenger, descending from the re- 
gions of immortality to proclaim ' grace, mercy, and 
peace,' to this ruined world ! 

2. Christ as a preacher is a perfect pattern to every 
minister of the gospel. 

That he is such a pattern in the substance of his 
preaching is a truth, which can need no comment. 
Every minister, whatever may be his opinions in other 
respects, will admit, unconditionally, that what Christ 
has said is the guide and the substance of all which he 
is to say. Nor are many words necessary to show, that 
he is a pattern equally perfect, and equally obligatory, 
as to his manner. It is not here intended, that the 
characteristical manner of Christ, by which he was dis- 
tinguished from every other preacher, is demanded of 
any minister of the gospel. In this respect, Christ can- 
not be copied by any man. The style in which the in- 
habitants of the East spoke their discourses, differs 



264 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[£ 



materially from that which lias been adopted in Europe 
and this country, and each is suited to the taste of the 
respective inhabitants. The characteristical style of 
each individual, also differs usually from that of other 
individuals, and that of each will ever be the best for 
himself, and that which he will most advantageously 
employ in discoursing with his fellow men. The man- 
ner of Christ, in this respect, is not here intentionally 
required of any preacher. It is wholly peculiar to him, 
and inimitable by others. At the same time, although 
every preacher may learn the best lessons from the 
plainness and simplicity with which the Redeemer taught, 
and is bound ever to keep him in view, as in this respect 
the proper object of a general imitation, yet it ought 
also to be observed, that no preacher is warranted to 
assume the authority with which Christ taught, enjoined, 
and reproved, or the peremptoriness with which he 
threatened and promised. These are characteristics 
peculiar to himself, which nothing but direct inspiration 
will authorize any man seriously to imitate, and which, 
accordingly, no Christian, except the apostles, has ven- 
tured to assume. 

The spirit discovered by the Redeemer in his manner 
of instruction is the object which it is designed here to 
urge upon preachers of the gospel for their imitation ; 
particularly the candour, patience, gentleness, and ten- 
derness, displayed by him on every proper occasion. 
These are characteristics which cannot fail to adorn 
every discourse addressed by a preacher of the gospel 
to his fellow men. If a preacher has any sense of his 
own guilt, dangers, wants, hopes, or blessings, he can- 
not fail to feel, in a corresponding manner, those of 
others. If he have just views of the worth of his own 
soul, and the importance of his own salvation, he cannot 
but tenderly regard the souls and the salvation of others. 
If he comprehend at all his own infirmities, and the un- 
ceasing need which he has of tenderness and patience 
from his fellow men, — if he remember at all how per- 
suasive and efficacious, candour and gentleness have 
heretofore been, in influencing his own mind, he cannot 
but discern the importance of exercising them towards 
his flock. 

Nor is it less indispensable that the preacher should 
possess and exhibit the same openness, boldness, and 
integrity. The possession of these things is absolutely 
necessary, in order to the appearance of them in his 
discourses and in his life. All counterfeits will at the 
best be suspicious, and chiefly fail of their intended ef- 
fect after a little period. But a full conviction of the 
preacher's unmingled integrity, which, if it exist, can 
scarcely fail of being distinctly perceived, will more 
powerfully persuade his hearers than all the arts of 
reasoning and eloquence attainable by the human mind. 
At the same time, this characteristic will aim at doing 
them good in ten thousand ways unthought of by the 
insincere preacher. Beyond this, it will accomplish 
the good, where all skill and contrivance will fail. To 
an honest, open, undaunted preacher, thoroughly be- 
lieved to be such, all men will listen who will listen at 
all. By such a preacher all men will be moved, who, 
in the same circumstances, will be moved at all. His 
discourses will, of course, appear to be delivered in 
earnest; not, perhaps, with animation or eloquence, 
properly so called : with respect to these, his constitu- 
tional character may be unfavorable, and his habits, 
unhappy ; but with seriousness, solemnity, and the ap- 



pearance of a realizing conviction that he is uttering 
the message of God. Such a message, so uttered, can 
scarcely fail of making some useful impression on the 
mind. If not, it will be because the mind is not in a 
state fitted to receive useful impressions. 

3. The preaching of Christ is a forcible reproof to 
ministers. 

Ministers, if we may judge from the sermons which 
they publish, are, in some instances at least, guilty of 
sophistry. Every preacher, who indulges himself in 
this mode of reasoning, has failed to propose or to 
remember Christ as his pattern, and, whenever he 
solemnly reviews this part of his conduct, must feel him- 
self powerfully reproved by the open, sincere, and ex- 
act argumentation of his Redeemer, his fair and candid 
statements of the opinions of his adversaries, and his 
solid answers to their cavils. 

Ministers, at times, are petulant, angry, and conten- 
tious, not for truth, but for victory. Let him who in- 
dulges any part of this spirit look to the example of his 
Saviour, and be ashamed of his neglect to ' walk as 
Christ also walked.' Let him lay aside the spirit of a 
disputant and a champion, and assume that of a disciple 
of his glorious Lord. 

Not a small number of preachers, in one country and 
another, affect a strongly impassioned, fervid, and en- 
thusiastic manner of writing and uttering their dis- 
courses. Their language is always intended to be vehe- 
ment, bold, and highly figurative, their tones loud and 
violent, and their gestures accordant with both. No 
part of this character can be found in the preaching of 
Christ. Not the most distant resemblance to enthu- 
siasm can be found in any thing which he said, or in the 
manner in which it was said ; not an attempt to ap- 
pear impassioned, not an effort to display what is 
customarily called eloquence. When the subjects which 
he canvassed inspired warmth, prompted imagination, 
and led to the adoption of figurative language, he in- 
dulged them, just as mere nature led. But he never 
summoned them to his assistance as a part of his scheme ; 
nor, what is more to the present purpose, did he ever 
form the scheme with an intention to give himself op- 
portunity of calling in these auxiliaries to his discourse. 
A temperate manner, solemn indeed, and plainly earnest, 
far distant from that cold and uninterested mode some- 
times seen in the desk, but still temperate on all ordi- 
nary occasions, and raised only on extraordinary ones, 
was the characteristical manner of the Redeemer. His 
voice was pre-eminently the ' still, small voice ' of truth 
and piety, and he did ' not strive, nor lift up, nor cause 
it to be heard in the streets.' 

How different this pattern from the efforts of sepa- 
ratical preachers, and indeed of many others, in our 
own times ! There is no small reason to fear that by 
many men of modern days, Christ, if now on earth, 
would be thought a very imperfect example of the best 
mode of preaching. 

Ministers, in some instances, employ their discourses, 
in minute, wire-drawn disquisitions. Such disquisitions 
can rarely be necessary in the desk, and wherever they 
are not necessary they are mischievous. No example 
of this nature can be found in the preaching of the 
Redeemer. The minds of hearers are lost in such dis- 
quisitions, their feelings blunted, and the truth and 
duty recommended are forgotten in the labour of fol- 
owing the ingenious discussion of the preacher. 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



265 



The timidity of ministers is also forcibly reproved by 
that undaunted firmness which Christ displayed in the 
midst of his bitter enemies, men from whom he could 
expect nothing but hatred and violence. It is to be 
always remembered, that there are occasions on which 
some subjects cannot be urged with any hope of success, 
and only with a prospect of disadvantage. It will 
therefore not only be justifiable, but commendable, to 
withhold the communication of certain truths, and the 
injunction of certain duties, in peculiar seasons, because 
those who should hear ' cannot ' (in the language of 
Christ) ' bear them now.' But the preacher is bound 
to withhold them only because he is fairly convinced, 
that the communication will do evil, and not good. 
Even here great caution is to be used, lest the preacher's 
own timidity, and not the performance of his duty, be 
the governing motive. In all cases where this duty 
does not forbid (and these instances are, of course, few,) 
he is bound to speak the truth boldly and plainly, whe- 
ther ' they will hear, or whether they will forbear.' Let 
every timid preacher, who ' shuns to declare the whole 
counsel of God,' under the influence of his timidity, fix 
his eyes on the example of his Saviour, and he will see 
himself most aft'ectingly reproved, and most solemnly 



reminded that the ' if ar of man ' only ' bringeth a 
snare.' 

The love of applause may be said to be instinctive in 
the mind of man, and has, of course, a seat in that of 
preachers, as well as of other men. Against this seduc- 
tive passion, always ready to operate, and operating 
almost of course with an unhappy influence, every 
preacher will find the strongest guard in the example 
of the Redeemer. No instance can be produced, in 
which this passion appeared in him. To teach truth, 
and enforce duty on his hearers, was plainly the whole 
end proposed by him in all his instructions. Such 
ought to be the only end aimed at in the discourses or 
every minister of the gospel. 

Finally : All persons who assemble to hear the gos- 
pel are here taught the manner in which they are bound 
to receive the truth. They are bound to receive it in 
its purity and simplicity, just as it was taught by Christ. 
They are bound to hear it with a reverential, ready, 
and obedient mind, as the law of life, and the only 
means of salvation. The Jews, who would not thus re- 
ceive it, perished. Those who at the present time will 
not receive it in this manner, will unless they assume a 
new character, perish also. 



SERMON XLVIII. 

CHRIST A PROPHET PREACHING OF THE APOSTLES. 



And he saith unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel unto every creature. He that be- 
lieveth, and is baptized, shall be saved ; but he that believeth not shall be damned. And they went forth , 
and preached everywhere ; the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen. 
— -Mark xvi. 15, 16, 20. 



In a former Discourse I proposed to consider the pro- 
phetical character of Christ, as displayed in his personal 
preaching, and in his preaching by his apostles. The 
former of these subjects I have accordingly considered 
at large ; the latter I shall now examine with some at- 
tention. In the text we are presented, among other 
things, with a commission given to his apostles, and 
others, to ' go into all the world, and preach the gospel 
to every creature ;' and with an account of the fact, 
that under this commission ' they went forth, and 
preached everywhere.' Their preaching, therefore, was 
a business of mere delegation, and a mere performance 
of a duty enjoined by Christ. In other words, Christ 
preached the gospel by their instrumentality. 

In the consideration of this subject, it will be proper 
to show, 

I. The fact, that the apostles actually preached the 
gospel of Christ ; or were inspired. 

II. The necessity of their preaching the gospel. 

III. The things which they preached : and, 

IV. The consequences of their preaching. 
I. / shall endeavour to show, that the apostles ac- 
tually preached the gospel of Christ ; or were inspired. 

Many Unitarians, who have admitted that Christ him- 
self was inspired, have nevertheless, both questioned 
and denied the inspiration of his apostles. As this is a 



subject of vast importance in the Christian scheme, it 
cannot but be necessary in a system of theology to settle, 
as far as may be, just opinions concerning this subject. 
I shall, therefore, consider it at some length. It will be 
remembered, here, that we are not at issue with infidels. 
The persons with whom we contend, however unfavour- 
able to the Scriptures their opinions on this or any 
other subject may seem, are yet professed believers in 
divine revelation. We are, therefore, at full liberty to 
bring whatever arguments we please from the Scriptures 
themselves. Nay, the Scriptures are in the present case 
peculiarly proper sources of evidence, sources to which 
our antagonists can make no objection. When Dr 
Priestley denies what he calls the particular inspiration 
of the several books of the Bible, he alleges, as his war- 
rant for this denial, that they do not pretend to any such 
inspiration. Whether this doctrine is true, I shall now 
proceed to examine. 

1. The commission and the fact recorded in the text, 
prove that the apostles were inspired. 

In the text, the apostles are commissioned to preach 
the gospel, or ' good news ' of salvation. In other words 
they were commissioned to declare the terms on which 
God will forgive sin, and restore sinners to his favour 
and blessing. These terms it was impossible for them 
to know, except by means of immediate revelation to 
2 u 



266 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xlviii. 



themselves, or information from a person to whom they 
were revealed. The gospel, it is agreed by all who be- 
lieve it, discloses the will of God concerning this subject. 
But this will cannot be known, except by direct com- 
munication from God. The knowledge of it, therefore, 
must terminate, of course, in ultimate revelation. If, 
then, it was not revealed immediately to the apostles, it 
was communicated to them verbally by Christ. But no 
power of human memory could enable them to retain 
such a mass of communications, for any length of time, 
much less for such a length of time as intervened be- 
tween their reception of them, and the publication of 
those writings in which they were conveyed to the world. 
If we consider the numerous events in the life of Christ 
which they have recorded, and still more the numerous 
discourses which they have professed to recount, we 
must either admit, that these records are very im- 
perfectly true, because necessarily not exact, or that the 
apostles had such supernatural assistance as to make 
them exact, and in this manner true. This assistance 
can be no other than inspiration. The gospel of St 
Matthew, was written according to the earliest calcula- 
tion, eight years after the death of Christ ; that of Mark, 
and that of Luke, about the year 64, more than twenty 
years after the death of Christ ; and that of John, to 
say the least, at a much later period. Nothing can be 
more evident, than that these writers could not, for such 
a length of time, retain, by the mere natural force of 
memory, the things which they have recorded. Par- 
ticularly is this impossibility manifest with respect to 
the numerous discourses recorded by St John, of which 
in so great a proportion his gospel consists ; discourses, 
differing from all others ever known in the present 
world, strongly characteristical, and therefore fairly pre- 
sumed to be genuine ; discourses, raised up by events 
distinctly recorded, and perfectly suited to those events, 
composed of questions and answers, arguments and ob- 
jections, so minutely specified as to wear the appearance 
of having been taken down on the spot and at the mo- 
ment with uncommon skill and felicity. He who be- 
lieves that St John could have remembered these things 
in his old age, by the mere natural force of memory, 
certainly can find no difficulty in admitting any pro- 
position because it asserts something miraculous ; for no 
miracle involves a more absolute counteraction of the 
known laws of nature than that which is involved in this 
supposition. Instead of being thus tenaciously retained 
at the end of so many years, it is scarcely credible that 
they could have been remembered in the same manner 
for one day. 

But if the evangelist when professedly recording these 
discourses did not record them exactly, they did not 
record them truly. If Christ did not say the very 
things which they have asserted, their assertions are so 
far false, and they cannot sustain even the character 
which Dr Priestley concedes to them, of deserving the 
confidence of mankind as witnesses, for their testimony 
plainly cannot be true. 

Beyond this, we know beforehand, that it is untrue ; 
for, according to this scheme, it is not possible that it 
should be true. The utmost that can be said of it, ac- 
cording to this scheme, is, that it may be a well meant, 
but must be a loose, general, and unsatisfactory account 
in many, and those often important, particulars. Neces- 
sarily untrue, and every where, unless in some few pro- 
minent particulars, necessarily uncertain. 



But can it be supposed, that Christ directed the 
apostles to preach the gospel in this manner ? Can he 
be supposed to have directed them to preach it at all, 
if they were necessitated to preach it in this manner 
only ? Can he, who came to publish the will of God to 
mankind concerning this immensely important subject, 
have left it to be chiefly published, under his authority, 
by the mere force of human memory, and mixed with 
human frailties and human opinions ; and thus, neces- 
sarily, to have become a mass of truth and falsehood, 
so blended, that those who read their writings or heard 
their discourses could never be able to separate the 
falsehood from the truth ? Does any human legislature 
suffer its own laws to be published in such a manner ? 
Was Christ possessed of less wisdom, or less integrity, 
or less benevolence, than human legislators ? Did God 
give him a commission thus to act ? Or did he fail to 
discharge the duties of the commission which he really 
received ? 

Farther ; the evangelists have left all their declara- 
tions, in the form of unqualified peremptory assertions. 
If, then, the assertions are not true, the authors of 
them are false witnesses concerning Christ. They have 
boldly and roundly declared that to have been said and 
done, which they did not know to have been said or 
done. This is no other than direct dishonesty, such as 
nothing can justify or palliate. He who directly asserts 
that for truth, which he does not know or believe him- 
self to know to be true, is a liar. The apostles, there- 
fore, instead of deserving credit as witnesses, must in 
this case be branded as liars, even with regard to the 
facts, in relating which, Dr Priestley assures us, they 
are wholly to be trusted. To deserve credit in this, 
and to discharge the duties even of common honesty 
they ought to have told us, originally, that the facts 
and conversations which they were about to relate, were 
recorded by them in as faithful, and exact a manner as 
was in their power ; but that, as they wrote from mere 
memory, they could give only qualified assertions, of 
which, although as correct as they could make them, 
they could not, however, be certain. In this case they 
would have discharged their duty, and deserved credit. 
Their writings would have then claimed the title of a 
revelation just as much as any other piece of honest 
biography, and no more. But the writers would have 
acted the part of honest men. 

2. This doctrine is evident from a part of the same 
commission recorded by St John. 

' Then said Jesus unto them, Peace be unto you. As 
my Father had sent me, even so send I you. And when 
he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto 
them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whose soever sins 
ye remit, they are remitted unto them ; and whose so- 
ever sins ye retain, they are retained.' John xx. 
21 — 23. In this passage of Scripture. Christ tells his 
disciples, that he gives them generally the same mis- 
sion which the Father had given him ; so that they 
were now to stand in his place, as ambassadors from 
God to this sinful world. That they might be qualified 
to dischargcthe duties of this mission, he gave, or, as I 
conceive it ought to be understood, he promised, them 
the Holy Ghost ; even as he had been ' anointed with 
the Holy Ghost, and with power,' to qualify him for the 
duties of the same mission. 

That the reception of the Holy Ghost was indispen- 
sable to their entrance on their mission is evident from 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



267 



Luke xxiv. 49, where Christ, referring to this mission, 
says, ' Behold I send the promise of my Father upon 
you. But tarry ye in Jerusalem, until you be endued 
with power from on high.' And, again, from Acts i. 4, 
where St Luke informs us, that ' being assembled toge- 
ther with them, he commanded them, that they should 
not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of 
the Father, which, saith he, ye have heard of me.' 
That the Holy Ghost was ' the promise of the Father,' 
or the object here promised, will not, I suppose, be 
questioned. If it should be, the point is unanswerably 
proved by the fact, that the apostles waited in Jerusa- 
lem, with scrupulous obedience to this command, and 
did not begin to preach the gospel at all, till on the 
day of Pentecost, they actually received the Holy Ghost 
in the wonderful manner described at the beginning of 
the following chapter. On this occasion they became 
in the strict sense inspired ; as I shall have opportunity 
to evince in the sequel. 

In the last verse of this quotation, Christ declares to 
them, ' Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted 
to them ; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are re- 
tained ;' that is, Ye shall prescribe and publish the 
terms on which the sins of the whole human race shall 
be remitted or retained. Now let me ask any sober 
man, whether he can possibly believe that God placed 
this stupendous and amazing power in the hands of 
these men, and left them to exercise it merely accord- 
ing to the dictates of their own discretion, and the 
strength of their own memory ? Was their understand- 
ing, or the understanding of any created being, suffi- 
cient to enable them to prescribe and publish the terms, 
obedience to which should be followed by the forgive- 
ness of sin, and disobedience to which should prevent 
sin from being forgiven ? Our Saviour declares, ex- 
pressly, in this passage, that whose soever sins they re- 
mitted God would remit; and whose soever sins they 
retained, God would retain. In other words, the very 
terms which they should prescribe, as the proper foun- 
dations for the remission or retention of sin, would be 
the terms according to which God would remit or re- 
tain them. That this was intended in the most absolute, 
unqualified sense to be fulfilled, is rendered certain by 
the second verse of 'the text. ' He that believeth, and 
is baptized, shall be saved ; but he that believeth not 
shall be damned.' Here our Saviour declares, that he 
who cordially believes the gospel preached by the apos- 
tles, shall have eternal life ; and that he who does not 
thus believe this gospel, shall not have eternal life. It 
will be remembered, that the apostles alone published 
the gospel to mankind. The gospel, as published by 
them, therefore, is that which is the object of belief 
here referred to by Christ; for by this gospel only do 
we become acquainted with the character, mission, doc- 
trines, precepts, or even the existence of a Saviour. 
Of course, the only belief of which Christ can be sup- 
posed to speak in this passage, is the belief of the Gospel 
which they ha\e published. 

On the belief of this gospel, then, Christ has made 
the salvation of the whole human race absolutely to de- 
pend ; that is, so far as it should be published to them. 
Can it be supposed, that the infinitely wise and just 
God, who is perfectly acquainted with the weakness of 
the human mind, who perfectly knows that many, very 
many, errors exist of course in the best and wisest men, 
who perfectly knew that very many errors must in this 



very case be published by these men, if left to them* 
selves, and that any number, even one, of those errors 
would prove fatal, not to one only, but to hundreds and 
thousands, and millions, nay, to the whole body of the 
human race, unless he himself should ultimately forgive 
sin on terms not his own ; and not accordant with the 
dictates of his own wisdom and righteousness — can it 
be supposed that the infinitely wise and just God com- 
mitted to these frail and erring beings the incompre- 
hensibly important business of publishing from their 
own judgment and memory, the terms on which the 
sins of that and every succeeding age should be forgiven 
or retained? Can he have said, that after they had 
published such terms as to themselves appeared the 
proper ones, ' he who believed them should be saved, 
and he who believed them not should be damned ?' 

To this conclusion, however, the scheme of those 
with whom I am contending irresistibly conducts us ; 
for the only alternative is, that Christ has here uttered 
an untruth. If those who believe the apostles in this 
case, will not be saved, and those who believe not, will 
not be damned ; if the sins which they remit, in the 
gospel published by them, will not be remitted by God, 
and the sins which they retain, will not be retained by 
him ; then Christ has here declared an absolute false- 
hood, in the most solemn and important of all cases. 
Of course, he may be fairly presumed to deceive in 
every other case, and cannot deserve the confidence of 
mankind in any thing. This conclusion, together with 
the doctrine on which it is founded, is, I suppose, too 
horrid to be admitted by any man who does not regard 
the Scriptures with absolute contempt. 

3. The same truth is evident from the promise given 
to the apostles by our Saviour in his last discourses, of 
the descent of the Holy Ghost upon them. 

The several parts of this promise, so far as they refer 
particularly to the point in question, are contained in 
the following passages : — 

' But the Comforter, who is the Holy Ghost, whom 
the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all 
things, and bring all things to your remembrance, what- 
soever I have said unto you.' John xiv. 26. 

' But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send 
unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, who 
proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me. And 
ye also shall bear witness, because ye have been with 
me from the beginning.' John xv. 26, 27. 

' Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth is come, he 
shall guide you into all the truth ; and he shall show 
you things to come. He shall glorify me ; for he shall 
receive of mine, and shall show it unto you.' John xvi. 
13, 14. 

In this promise are included the following things : 

(1.) That the Spirit would certainly come to the 
apostles after the ascension of Christ. 

(2.) That he would testify to them concerning Christ : 
' He shall testify of me.' 

(3.) That this testimony would be accompanied by 
the coincident testimony of the apostles : ' And ye also 
shall bear witness,' &c. 

(4.) That the Spirit of truth should receive from 
Christ that which was his; viz. his truth, pleasure, 
or gospel, and should declare it to the apostles : *He 
shall receive of mine, (of the tilings which are mine, 
Greek,) ' and shall declare it unto you.' 

(5.) Thathe should glorify Christ in this communication. 



268 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser xlviii. 



(6.) That he should ' show ' to the apostles ' things to 
come,' or future things, or, in other words, should en- 
due them with the gift of prophecy. 

(7.) That he should ' guide the apostles into all ' (the, 
Greek) ' truth ;' that is, into all evangelical truth, the 
truth, by way of eminence. 

(8.) That he should teach them all things ; that is, all 
things which they needed to be taught originally, or 
which Christ had not already taught them : ' He shall 
teach you all things.' 

(9.) That he should bring up to the full view of their 
memory the things which Christ had taught them : 
' And shall bring all things to your remembrance, 
whatsoever I have said unto you.' 

It will be evident to the slightest attention, that the 
things here promised, contain whatever is involved in 
the plenary inspiration of the apostles. The testimony 
given by them, was a testimony concerning Christ. It 
glorified Christ in the highest manner conceivable. All 
the parts of it were exhibited by them, as parts of 
Christ's own gospel ; and, united together, they are 
declared by them often to be the gospel of Christ. 

This testimony contains, also, a wonderful exhibition 
of their remembrance of the things which Christ said, 
and did ; such as must plainly be impossible, unless 
they had been divinely assisted. Farther, it contains 
all the truth : that is, all evangelical truth, or the whole 
will of God concerning the salvation of men. Finally, 
it contains many wonderful predictions concerning fu- 
ture things, of which many have been already fulfilled 
in a marvellous manner. 

Concerning all these things, except one, there can- 
not be even a debate ; and that one is, that the apostles 
were guided by the Holy Spirit into all evangelical 
truth. On this 1 shall have occasion to say more here- 
after. At present I shall confine my remarks to the 
promise itself. Concerning this I observe, that it 
either was fulfilled, or it was not fulfilled. If it was 
fulfilled, then the apostles wrote and preached the gos- 
pel under the plenary inspiration of the Holy Ghost ; 
because the promise assures them of such inspiration in 
the amplest terms conceivable. If it was not fulfilled, 
then Christ was a false prophet ; because he promised 
that which he did not fulfill. 

4. The same truth is evident from the testimony of 
the apostles themselves. 

Dr Priestley, in his Letters to the Philosophers and 
Politicians of France, makes the following observation : 
' That the books of Scripture were written by particu- 
lar divine inspiration, is a thing to which the writers 
themselves make no pretensions.' I have often been 
astonished at this declaration, especially as coming 
from a minister of the gospel. Whether there be any 
foundation for it or not, will farther appear. 

(1.) They testify, that the Holy Ghost descended on 
them, in the same manner and with the same effects 
which Christ had promised. 

This testimony is thus summarily given : On the 
day of Pentecost, while the apostles and their com- 
panions were together, waiting for the promise of the 
Father, or the descent of the Holy Ghost, ' a sound 
came from heaven, as of a rushing, mighty wind ; and 
it filled the room where they were sitting. And there 
appeared unto them cloven tongues, as of fire, and sat 
upon each of them ; and they were all filled with the 
Holy Ghost, and they began to speak with other 



tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.' The 
things which they spoke are testified by those who 
heard them, in these words : ' We do hear them speak 
in our tongues the wonderful works of God.' In this 
story we have a direct account of the descent of the 
Holy Ghost upon the apostles and their companions, 
exactly according to the promise of Christ. We are 
informed, that the Holy Ghost became to them the 
Spirit of inspiration, endowing them with the super- 
natural power of ' speaking with tongues,' or languages 
which they had never learned, and of ' speaking ' in 
those languages ' the wonderful works of God.' Ac- 
cordingly, we find St Peter, on this very occasion, 
addressing the assembly, whom this wonderful miracle 
had called together, ' with a new spirit,' with views of 
the mission of Christ altogether new, and with an 
equally extraordinary knowledge of the Jewish Scrip- 
tures. Nothing was more unlike his former character 
in all respects, except that he was before, as well as 
now, a good man. Before, he had spoken and acted 
' as a child :' he had now become ' a man, and put 
away childish things.' 

Besides, we find him and the other apostles immedi- 
ately afterward employed, not only in preaching in the 
same manner, but also in performing wonderful miracles, 
to prove that what they preached was the truth of God. 

(2.) They testify directly, that the gospel which they 
preached was revealed to them by God. 

A few proofs of this nature, out of a great multitude 
which can be directly alleged from the New Testament, 
are all which the time will allow me to recite. ' In 
the gospel,' says St Paul, ' the righteousness of God is 
revealed from faith to faith.' ' The gospel is the power 
of God to salvation,' Rom. i. 16, 17. Can either of 
these things be possibly said with truth concerning 
mere uninspired opinions ? ' We speak the wisdom of 
God in a mystery, even the hidden wisdom, which God 
ordained before the world unto our glory. Eye hath 
not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the 
heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for 
them that love him. But God hath revealed them un- 
to us by his Spirit. Now we have received, not the 
spirit which is of the world, but the Spirit which is of 
God, that we might know the things which are freely 
given us of God. Which things also we speak, not in 
the words which man's wisdom teacheth, but which the 
Holy Ghost teacheth ; comparing spiritual things with 
spiritual.' Or, as the last phrase is rendered by Dr 
Macknight, explaining spiritual things in spiritual 
words. In this passage, the things contained in the 
gospel are directly asserted to be revealed to the apos- 
tles by the Spirit of God ; to be ' the wisdom, even the 
hidden wisdom,' of God ; and to be ' freely given unto 
them of God.' It is also asserted, that they had re- 
ceived the Spirit of God for this very end, viz. that 
they might ' know these things.' Finally, it is de- 
clared, that Paul and his companions spoke these 
things to others, not in the words devised by human 
wisdom, but in words directly taught by the Holy 
Ghost : and that they thus explained spiritual things in 
words which were also spiritual ; or, if the common 
translation be preferred, ' comparing the spiritual 
things ' thus revealed, with other ' spiritual ' things re- 
vealed in the Old Testament. 

Again ; ' Let a man so account of us, as of the mi- 
nisters of Christ, and stewards of the mysteries of God," 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



269 



I Cor. iii. 1. £ Ministers of Christ,' here denote those 
commissioned by Christ to preach the gospel of Christ ; 
' stewards of the mysteries of God,' those who are in- 
trusted by God with his own will revealed by him, and 
otherwise hidden from mankind. 

Again : ' I certify to you, brethren, that the gospel which 
was preached by me was not after man ' (that is, devised 
by human reason :' ' For I neither received it of man, 
neither was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus 
Christ. It pleased God to reveal his Son in me, that I 
might preach him among the heathen,' or Gentiles, 
Gal. i. 11, 12, 15, 16. 

Once more : ' If any man think himself to be spiri- 
tual ' (that is, a spiritual man, possessing the miraculous 
power of discerning spirits or doctrines,) ' or a prophet, 
let him acknowledge that the things which I write unto 
you are the commandments of the Lord.' One would 
think, that such as now stand in the place of these spi- 
ritual men in the church, viz. ministers of the gospel, 
would feel themselves bound to make the same acknow- 
ledgment. 

These may serve instead of near two hundred differ- 
ent passages, in which, in one manner and another, St 
Paul asserts explicitly, the inspiration of himself and 
his companions in the gospel ; for these decide the 
point, if any declarations can. 

I intended to have recited declarations to the same 
purpose from the other writers of the New Testament ; 
but, as the time is so far elapsed, I shall omit them. 

(3.) They declared the same thing by styling the gos- 
pel which they preached, the gospel of God, and of 
Christ. 

Quotations, to prove this fact, cannot be necessary for 
such as read the New Testament. I shall therefore only 
observe, it proves directly, that this gospel was revealed 
by God : otherwise, any other human production on the 
same subject might be called the gospel of God. 

(4.) The importance attached by them to the gospel, 
is a full declaration that it was revealed to them. 

They declare that it is ' the power of God unto sal- 
vation to every one that believeth ;' 'a savour of life 
unto life ;-- ' able to make men wise to salvation ;' ' quick 
(or living,) and powerful,' &c. ; ' piercing,' &c. ; ' a 
discerner,' &c 

They declare, that Christ ' will punish with an ever- 
lasting destruction, them that obey not this gospel.' 

St Paul says, ' Woe is me, if I preach not the gos- 
pel.' 

He farther says, ' If any man, or if any angel, preach 
another gospel ' (that is, another than this which he 
preached to mankind,) ' let him be accursed.' 

He also says, ' God shall judge the secrets of men,' 
at the final day, ' according to this gospel.' 

He says also, ' that God shall send ' upon a portion 
of mankind ' strong delusion, that they should believe a 
lie, that they might all be damned, because they believe 
not the truth,' (that is, this very gospel), 'but had plea- 
sure in unrighteousness.' 

St Peter, also, styles it the ' word of God,' ' incor- 
ruptible seed ;' pronounces it the means of regeneration, 
and eternal life ; declares, that it ' lives and endures 
for ever;' and asserts, that the angels stooping down, 
' desire to look into it.' 

Let me now ask, whether all or any one of these 
things can possibly be said concerning the mere opi- 
nions of men ? 



(5.) The apostles wrought innumerable miracles to 
prove the truth of the gospel. 

God only can work a miracle, and therefore he 
wrought these miracles. If the gospel was not revealed 
to the apostles, then it is a mere collection of human 
testimonies and opinions, and of course, to a consider- 
able extent at least, is false. According to this sup- 
position, then, God wrought miracles to prove a mixture 
of false' and true human opinions, incapable of being 
separated by man, to be true. The supposition, that 
God wrought miracles to prove the truth of even just 
human opinions, is absurd. The supposition, that he 
wrought miracles to support any falsehood, is blas- 
phemy. 

To this evidence the apostles appeal Avith full con- 
fidence. The third verse of the text is such an appeal ; 
' And they went forth, and preached everywhere ; the 
Lord working with them, and confirming the word with 
signs following. Amen.' In the same manner St Paul, 
Heb. ii. 3, 4, says, ' How shall we escape, if we neglect 
so great salvation ; which at the first began to be spoken 
by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by those that 
heard him ? God also bearing them witness, both with 
signs and wonders, and divers miracles, and gifts of the 
Holy Ghost, according to his own will.' In these two 
passages, the sacred writers plainly consider the miracles 
wrought by the apostles as the testimony of the Father 
and the Son to the fact, that the gospel preached by 
them was dictated by God, and communicated by inspi- 
ration. 

(6.) The apostles spent their lives for the gospel. 

It is not here my intention to dwell on what the apos- 
tles either did or suffered. It is sufficient to observe, 
that they gave up voluntarily all earthly comforts and 
hopes, and underwent cheerfully all the evils which can 
betide human life, for the sake of the gospel. All these 
things they encountered, solely from confidence in 
Christ, his promises, doctrines, and precepts, as the 
source and the means of eternal life. All these things 
they terminated, also, by quietly yielding their lives to 
a violent and untimely death; a death, which, together 
with their other sufferings, was foretold to them by 
their Master. Thus they ' esteemed all things but loss, 
for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ ; for whom 
they suffered the loss of all things :' ' Accounting not 
even their lives dear to them, so that they might finish 
their course with joy, and the ministry which they had 
received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the 
grace of God.' 

Now the apostles knew whether Christ was what he 
professed himself to be, so far as his character was an 
object of human observation. Particularly, they knew 
whether his promises to them concerning their life, their 
supernatural endowments, their inspiration, and the 
power of working miracles, were fulfilled, or not. If 
they were not fulfilled, they could not but know that 
Christ was an impostor ; and could not have failed to 
give up a cause from which nothing but evil had 
sprung, or could ever spring. Their perseverance is 
therefore complete proof, that these promises were all 
fulfilled ; that the Holy Ghost descended on them, 
' guided them into all the truth ;' ' taught them all 
things,' pertaining to this subject ; or, in the language of 
St Peter, ' pertaining to life and godliness ;' ' brought 
to their remembrance all things whatsoever Christ had 
said unto them ; and showed them things to come,' 



270 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xixl. 



They have, therefore, in this manner proved that they 
were inspired ; so inspired as to become authoritative 
teachers of the will of God concerning our salvation; 



and as to assure us, that whatever they have taught is 
true, and even in so momentous a case is to be believed 
and obeyed with final safety to our well-being. 



SERMON XLIX. 

CHRIST A PROPHET PREACHING OF THE APOSTLES. 



And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel unto every creature. He that be- 
lieveth, and is baptized, shall he saved ; but he that believeth not shall be damned. And they went forth, 
and -preached everywhere ; the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen. 
— Mark xvi. 15, 16, 20. 



In the preceding Discourse, I proposed from these 
words to consider the following subjects : — 

I. The fact, that the apostles actually preached the 
gospel of Christ, or were inspired : 

II. The necessity of their preaching the gospel : 

III. The things which they preached : and, 

IV. The consequences of their preaching. 

The first of these heads I examined largely in that 
Discourse. I shall now proceed to the consideration of 
the three last. 

On the second, viz. The necessity of their preaching 
the gospel, I make the following observations : — 

Christ, in his Discourse to the apostles, recorded John 
xvi. says, ' But when the Comforter is come, he shall 
testify of me. And ye also shall bear witness.' This 
testimony they accordingly gave to the Messiahship, and 
universal character of their Master, in their oral preach- 
ing, their writings, their miracles, and their lives. All 
these they uniformly attributed to him. Their doctrines 
and precepts they declared to be derived from his in- 
structions and the inspiration of his Spirit, their mira- 
cles from his power, and their holiness from his grace, 
all communicated by the same divine agent. In his 
name, and under the authority of a commission given 
by him, they preached, wrote, and acted, as the propa- 
gators of the gospel and the builders of the church. 
Thus every thing which they said or did was a testi- 
mony borne to Christ. 

That this testimony should be thus borne by the apos- 
tles, was necessary in the divine economy of redemption. 

1. Because the apostles had been with Christ from 
the beginning. 

It has doubtless been observed by those who hear 
me, that I have all along mentioned the apostles as if 
alone concerned in this business. It is hardly neces- 
sary to remark, that under this name I mean here to 
include their inspired coadjutors also. 

The reason which I have now alleged is given by 
Christ himself, and is recited in his own words, John 
xvi. 27, ' And ye shall bear witness also, because ye 
have been with me from the beginning. 

The importance of this reason will be manifest, if we 
consider the nature of a great part of the testimony 
which the apostles have given concerning the Re- 
deemer. This is composed partly of facts, and partly 
of discourses, at both of which they were present, and 
to which they were, of course, eye and ear witnesses. 



The only decisive human evidence concerning facts is 
the evidence of our senses, customarily called expe- 
rience. This, wherever it exists in its perfection, is 
universally acknowledged to be decisive. In it all 
other human evidence concerning facts is supposed to 
terminate, and, whenever it is valid, actually termi- 
nates. If, then, human testimony were to be given to 
the mission, character, and doctrines of Christ, it must 
be indispensable that it should rest on this kind of evi- 
dence. No other persons could be valid witnesses of 
the life and miracles of Christ, but those who saw 
them, nor of his discourses, but those who heard them. 
Accordingly, St Paul, though an incontrovertible wit- 
ness to the divine origin of the gospel in many re- 
pects, was not employed to write a history of the Re- 
deemer ; while Luke and Mark, though not apostles, 
were made his historians by the Spirit of God, because, 
as St Luke says of himself, ' they had perfect under- 
standing of all things from the very first.' 

It is true that. God could, if it had pleased him, hare 
disclosed every one of the things recorded in his gos- 
pels to any other person, by an original revelation. 
It is not, however, the way established in the divine 
proceedings to furnish miraculous communications 
where they are not plainly necessary, or miraculous 
evidence, where evidence derived from other sources is 
sufficient. Besides, there would have been a serious 
imperfection attending any such revelation, if the facts 
revealed had been unattested by those in whose pres- 
ence they took place. The mind would instinctively 
have asked, why none of those who were present had 
testified their existence ? and why no record, no valid 
trace of them, had been conveyed down from the begin- 
ning? It must, I think, have been impossible, or at 
least very difficult, to answer these questions in such a 
manner as to satisfy the mind by which they were pro- 
posed. 

The importance of this evidence in the case before 
us cannot but be manifest to every one accustomed to 
investigations of this nature, and peculiarly to such as 
have been conversant with debates concerning the divine 
origin of the gospel. Every such person knows that 
among the arguments on this subject, that which is 
derived from the impossibility of the apostles being 
deceived with respect to the great facts which are the 
basis of the gospel, as having been eye and ear wit- 
nesses, and witnesses competent and unexceptionable, 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



2^1 



has ever h olden a primary place. Every man versed 
in this subject knows it to be an argument which infi- 
dels have never been able to obviate, and which, after 
the efforts of two centuries, as well as all those made 
in ancient times, remains immovable, and beaten in 
vain by the billows of opposition. 

2. Because the apostles survived the ascension of 
Christ 

From this circumstance many advantages were de- 
rived of very great importance. Had Christ written 
the whole gospel, that is, all which he can be supposed 
to have written, and written it at the only time when 
he can reasonably be imagined to have written it, not a 
small, nor unimportant, part of the things pertaining to 
his own history and discourses, as we now find them in 
the Gospels, properly so called, must have been lost to 
the world. The account, must, I think, have been closed 
antecedently to the institution of the Lord's Supper ; 
for, from the commencement of the celebration of the 
passover pi-eeeding it, he does not appear to have had 
any opportunity of writing at all. Of course, the cele- 
bration of this passover, the institution of the eucharist, 
his washing the disciples' feet, and his instructions on 
that occasion, his consolatory discourses, his interces- 
sory prayer, his agony in the garden, the treachery of 
Judas, his trial, condemnation, death, and burial, his 
resurrection, his subsequent appearance to his disciples, 
and his final ascension to the heavens, together with all 
the things connected with them, could have found no 
place in the gospel. But these constitute a large part 
of the objects of our faith, the means of our instruction, 
and the rules of our duty. I need not observe, that 
these also are objects of the utmost consequence to 
every man who reads the gospel, essential parts of the 
dispensation, without which the system would be broken 
and lame, without which the most important inquiries 
of the mind could never be satisfied, and without which 
the chief wants of the probationer for eternal life could 
never be supplied. 

Farther : Christ uttered a number of predictions, 
which were not fulfilled during his life, nor intended to 
be ; but which, according to the nature of his declara- 
tions, were to be fulfilled soon after his ascension. 
Among these, were his prophecies concerning the de- 
scent of the Holy Ghost at the day of Pentecost, the 
success of the apostles in preaching the gospel, the mi- 
racles which they were to accomplish, the sufferings 
which they were to undergo, and the extensive esta- 
blishment of the church by their preaching among the 
nations of men. All these prophecies are of such a 
nature, that the mind of every reader would unavoidably 
demand an account of their fulfillment. Had no such 
account been given (as, if the gospel had been finished 
by Christ, must have been the fact), the omission 
would have been perceived by every reader to be 
an unhappy chasm in the history of the church, Avhich 
nothing could successfully fill up, and about which 
there would have arisen many doubts, perplexities, and 
distresses. 

The Christian sabbath was adopted as a commemora- 
tion of the resurrection of Christ from the dead. The 
only hint concerning it which we find given by Christ, 
is contained in his answer to the Pharisees, when they 
asked him, why his disciples did not fast, as did their 
own disciples, and those of John the Baptist ; ' The 
children of the bride-chamber cannot fast while the 



bridegroom is with them : but the days come, when the 
bridegroom shall be taken away ; then shall they fast.* 
Christ was taken away on the evening preceding the 
seventh day, or Jewish sabbath, and during the whole 
of that day lay buried in the tomb. On this day, then, 
he declares they should fast ; and in this declaration in- 
dicates that the Jewish sabbath should then come to an 
end, so far as the day was concerned on which it was 
celebrated. The sabbath is a festival, not a fast; a day 
of joy only, and not of sorrow. When, therefore, Christ 
declared that the seventh day should be a day of fasting 
to his immediate disciples, he may fairly be considered 
as indicating that this day should no longer be a sabbath 
to them. 

In conformity to this indication, the apostles intro- 
duced the first day to Christians for their future obser- 
vance as the sabbath by their own adoption of it in their 
religious practice. In this manner, principally, is it 
announced to us in their writings, as the proper sabbath 
for all the followers of the Redeemer. On the wisdom 
displayed in this manner of introducing the Christian 
sabbath, I design to discourse more particularly here- 
after. It is sufficient to observe at the present time, 
that, had Christ completed the gospel, it is not easy to 
see how this manner of introducing the sabbath coukl 
have taken place, and it is evident that this account of 
it could not have been given. 

Finally : The whole history of the church, contained 
in the Acts of the Apostles, would, in this case, have 
been lost to the Christian world. No part of the word 
of God is, in many respects, more filled with instruction 
or consolation than this book. The doctrines which it 
contains are of the highest importance for their wisdom, 
the precepts for their plainness and excellence, the ex- 
amples for their number, their variety, and their adap- 
tation to the different circumstances and characters of 
Christians. The history of this book, also, is of the 
greatest value for its edifying and instructive nature, 
for the satisfaction which it furnishes concerning the 
state of the church at that interesting period, for the 
life, sufferings, and deliverances, the preaching and 
success of the apostles, the opposition which they met, 
and the causes which produced it ; the sufferings, pa- 
tience, and perseverance, the errors and faults of the 
first converts ; the progress of Christianity, and the ex- 
tension of the church ; together with a multitude of 
other things interwoven with these. How useful, how 
necessary these things are, to instruct, edify, and com- 
fort every Christian, particularly every minister, I need 
not explain ; nor need I observe, that in a gospel writ- 
ten by our Saviour they could have had no place. 

3. Because it was necessary, that the immediate fol- 
lowers of Christ in the propagation of Christianity 
should be clearly seen to be commissioned of God. 

It will be readily acknowledged, that a body of men, 
so small, so uneducated, so humble, so unfriended as the 
apostles and their companions were, must have wholly 
failed of spreading the gospel through the world by any 
efforts which they could have made, independently of 
peculiar assistance from heaven. Let us inquire then, 
what was the assistance, which they needed ? Was it 
the gift of speaking with tongues? What purpose 
would this have answered, if their minds had been ig- 
norant concerning what they were to speak, or whether 
that which they were about to speak was the will of 
God, and justly demanded the faith and obedience of 






272 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xlix. 



their hearers. Was it the power of working miracles ? 
For what purpose were their miracles to be wrought ? 
For what purpose could they be wrought? Plainly 
for no other, but to prove that that which was spoken 
by those who wrought them was true. But if they were 
not inspired, that which they uttered was, and could at 
the best be, no other than the opinions and the remem- 
brance of honest men. Of course, it must necessarily 
be partially false. Their miracles, therefore, would be 
wrought to prove the truth of falsehood ; and God, if 
they actually wrought miracles, would set his seal to this 
falsehood, and employ his power to deceive their hearers. 
To refute this blasphemous opinion certainly cannot be 
necessary. 

It is plain, then, that no assistance could be given to 
them, short of inspiration, which would at all qualify 
them for the diffusion of the gospel, and the erection of 
Christ's kingdom in the world. The sole end of all 
other miraculous powers, so far as their commission and 
their employment were concerned, was evidently to 
prove them inspired with a knowledge of the divine 
will concerning the salvation of men, and sent to declare 
it to their fellow men. Independently of this great 
purpose, their supernatural powers were of no other 
use, except to amuse and astonish mankind. 

In exact accordance with this scheme, St Paul, in 
1 Cor. xii. asserts directly the inspiration of himself 
and his companions in the ministry ; and in the four- 
teenth chapter declares the superiority of it to all other 
supernatural endowments for the edification of the 
church. ' To one,' he says, ' is given by the Spirit the 
word of wisdom ; to another, the word of knowledge, 
by the same Spirit. To another, faith ; to another, gifts 
of healing ; to another, the working of miracles ; to an- 
other, the discerning of spirits,' or doctrines. In the 
31st verse he directs them to ' covet earnestly the best 
gifts.' In the 39th verse of the xivth chapter, he says, 
' Wherefore, brethren, covet to prophecy,' that is, to de- 
clare the will of God by inspiration, and forbid not to 
speak with tongues. Greater,' he says, ' is he that pro- 
phesieth, than he that speaketh with tongues.' And 
again, ' Now, brethren, if I come unto you speaking 
with tongues, what shall I profit you, except I shall 
speak to you either by revelation, or by knowledge, or 
by prophesying, or by doctrine? All these are only 
different words to express that inspiration by which 
they either originally received, or unerringly under- 
stood, proposed, explained, or enforced, divine truth. 
Without this, he declares expressly, that he should not 
profit the church in its spiritual concerns at all. Ac- 
cordingly, after having directed them to ' covet earnest- 
ly the best gifts,' he farther directs them to ' covet the 
gift of prophesying, and not forbid speaking with 
tongues,' as much as to say, covet to receive from God, 
by revelation, divine truth, and the gifts of unerringly 
explaining, declaring, and enforcing it to others, as be- 
ing things of supreme importance and usefulness ; at 
the same time, forbid not to speak with tongues, as be- 
ing an endowment really, though very subordinately, 
useful. 

Irom these passages I think it unanswerably evident, 
that a revelation, such as Dr Priestley, without mean- 
ing, calls particular, existed in a standing manner in 
the minds of the apostles and their companions ; in the 
latter, to direct them in their preaching ; in the former, 
for the same purpose, and the still more important one 



of committing the word of God to writing, for the in- 
struction of all succeeding generations. So extensive 
and common was this revelation, as to be made the pro- 
per subject of a system of directions from St Paul to 
the Corinthian church ; a thing wholly inexplicable, if 
this fact had not existed. 

From these observations it is plain, that without in- 
spiration all the other supernatural endowments of the 
apostles must, if given, have been given to no valuable 
end ; that, on the contrary, they would only have served 
to establish falsehood and delusion ; and that, unless 
they were inspired, it may certainly be concluded that 
they were in no other respect supernaturally endowed. 
Their inspiration, therefore, was absolutely necessary to 
prove their commission to be from God. 

If it had not been made evident that the apostles 
were commissioned from God, this fact must, I think, 
have been fatal to the cause of Christianity. In this 
case, although we might have acknowledged Christ to 
be a divine missionary ; yet we should naturally and 
unanswerably have said, What authority did these men 
possess to transmit his instructions and precepts to us ? 
What proof have we that they understood them, remem- 
bered them, or expressed them with correctness and 
certainty? Why are we bound to regard what they 
have said, any more than the numerous Gospels written 
by others ? Christ wrote nothing. Had he intended 
to require our faith and obedience to his precepts, he 
would undoubtedly have taken effectual care that we 
should receive them in such a manner, and from such 
persons, as would assure us that they were his, and on- 
ly his. 

To us, it ought to be observed, the inspiration of the 
apostles furnishes a proof that they were commissioned 
from God, which is additional to the proofs given to 
those who heard them preach. In their writings they 
have left on record a number of important prophecies. 
Several of those have been remarkably fulfilled, and 
others are daily receiving their fulfilment. In the ful- 
filment of these prophecies we have a direct proof of 
their inspiration, and consequently of their divine com- 
mission, which is immovable, and which could not, in 
the same degree, be discerned by their contemporaries. 

4. Because many preachers were necessary for such 
an extensive establishment of the church as that which 
actually took place, the great body of whom needed, for 
a time, to sustain the same character. 

On this subject it will not be necessary to dwell. If 
the preceding arguments be allowed to prove the point 
for which they were alleged, it will undoubtedly be also 
conceded, that inspiration was as necessary for some, at 
least, of those who preached in one place, as for any 
who preached in another. It may, perhaps, be objected, 
that this is proving too much and alleging inspiration 
in a wider extent than has hitherto been pretended. 

To prevent any misconceptions on this point, I will 
state my own views of this subject a little more particu- 
larly than I have hitherto done. The inspiration of 
the apostles, I suppose to have consisted in the following 
things : — 

(I.) That they received immediately from God every 
part of the Christian dispensation which they did not 
know by other means. 

(2.) That in the same manner they were furnished 
with a foreknowledge of future events. 

(3.) That in things which they did otheruise know 



CHRIST A PROPHET. 



273 



partially, the deficiencies of their knowledge were in the 
same manner supplied. 

(4.) That those things which they had once known, 
and which were parts of the Christian dispensation, were 
by divine power brought distinctly and fully to their re-, 
membrance. 

(5.) That they were directed by the Holy Spirit to 
the selection of just such things, and such only, and to 
precisely such .a manner of exhibiting them, as should 
be true, just, most useful to mankind, and most agree- 
able to the divine wisdom. 

(6.) That each one was left so far to his own manner 
of writing or speaking, as that the style was strictly his 
own ; and yet that the phraseology used by him in this 
very style was so directed and controlled by the Holy 
Spirit, as to lead him to the most exact and useful ex- 
hibition of divine truth ; his own words being, in this 
important sense, words not devised by human wisdom, 
but taught by the Holy Ghost ; and, 

(7.) That each inspired man was, as to his preaching 
or his writing, absolutely preserved from error. 

All these particulars cannot be applied in the same 
degree, and some of them cannot be applied at all, to 
all the inspired preachers. But, in my own view, every 
such preacher enjoyed the benefits of inspiration so far 
as he needed them to enable him to preach the gospel 
truly and usefully to mankind ; so far as to preserve 
him from false narratives, erroneous doctrines, and un- 
sound or useless precepts. That this was equally ne- 
cessary for every preacher before the written canon fur- 
nished mankind with an unerring standard, with which 
they might compare the things which were preached to 
them, so as to determine their soundness or unsound- 
ness, will, I suppose, be granted by all those who ac- 
knowledge the necessity of inspiration to any preacher. 

5. Because it was necessary that Christ should appear 
to act and to control the affairs of his church after his 
ascension. 

The apostles preached, wrought miracles, spoke with 
tongues, and executed all the parts of their ministry un- 
der the authority, in the name, and by the power of 
Christ. ' In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I 
command thee to arise and walk.' ' JEneas, Jesus Christ 
maketh thee whole.' ' Christ, having received the pro- 
mise of the Father, hath shed forth this, which ye see 
and hear.' ' If Christ be not risen, then is our preach- 
ing vain, and your faith is also vain.' ' I can do all 
things through Christ strengthening me.' ' Paul, an 
apostle of Jesus Christ.' This is the language which, in 
substance, the apostles use on every occasion when the 
subject comes into view. At the same time, they inform 
us, that their commission was given them by Christ ; and 
that in his name, and by his mission, and in no sense of 
themselves, they went forth to preach the gospel, and to 
evince its divine origin by miracles. The power by 
which they acted in all their wonderful works, the wis- 
dom which they preached, and the grace by which they 
were sanctified and sustained, they ascribe wholly to him. 
Beyond this, they declare, that while he resided in this 
world he promised them all these things, and that he 
continually and exactly fulfilled this promise. His 
presence with them on various occasions, whenever it 
was demanded by their circumstances, and his inter- 
ference on their behalf, whenever it was necessary, they 
testify in the amplest and most decisive manner. Thus, 
in every thing which they taught or did, he is the foun- 

2 



tain whence every stream proceeded. He, according to 
their own declarations, is the agent, and they are mere- 
ly instruments in his hand. 

But this agency of Christ on earth after he had as- 
cended to the heavens, is a most important, indispensa- 
ble, and glorious part of his character ; important and 
indispensable to mankind, and glorious to himself. 
Evidence is furnished by it to prove, that he is in all 
places, and beholds all things ; that he is faithful to per- 
form every thing which he has promised, and able to do 
every thing which Christians need; which no Unitarian, 
hitherto has had sufficient ingenuity to answer, or avoid. 
We see him actually exemplifying in his conduct all 
these things to his early followers, and are therefore 
certainly assured that, so far as our necessities require, 
he will substantially exhibit them to us. Christians in 
all ages succeeding that of the apostles, are here furnish- 
ed with the strongest proofs, that he possesses all those 
attributes on which their hope may most securely repose, 
and the most lively incitements to centre in him their 
evangelical confidence. 

6. Because the gospel, in its present form, is far more 
useful to mankind than if it had been written by one 
person, on one occasion, and in one manner. 

By the gospel, here, I mean the whole New Testa- 
ment. Christ, I acknowledge, could have written it, if 
he had pleased, in the very foim, nay, in the very words, 
in which it is now written. But it would have been a 
plain and gross absurdity for Christ to have written a 
history, such as the Acts of the Apostles, or such as that 
of the events immediately preceding and succeeding his 
own death, concerning facts which had not yet happen- 
ed ; or epistles to churches not yet in being, concerning 
business, duties, and dangers of which no vestige had 
hitherto appeared to have existed. It is not, therefore, 
irreverent or improper to say, that Christ could not, so 
far as we can conceive, have written the New Testament 
in its present form, without palpable improprieties in- 
terwoven in the very nature of the work. 

In its present form, the gospel is far more useful, than 
it would have been, if written in the manner which I 
have supposed, in many respects. It is in a much 
greater degree composed of facts ; unless, indeed, the 
same facts had been communicated in predictions. In 
the historical form in which they now appear, they are 
much more easily and strongly realized, more readily 
believed, more capable of being substantiated by evi- 
dence, and more powerfully felt, than if they had been 
only predicted. The Epistles are also, in a great pro- 
portion of instances, written on subjects of real business, 
and for that reason are more easily proved to be genuine, 
are far more interesting and far more instructive than 
would otherwise have been possible. Their different 
dates continue the indubitable history of the church 
through a considerable period, and furnish us with a 
number of very important facts which we could not 
otherwise obtain. Their direction to churches in differ- 
ent countries presents to us, also, with the extension and 
state of the church in different parts of the world at that 
time. The business concerning which they were 
written, occasions a display of the difficulties, doubts, 
errors, temptations, controversies, and backslidings— the 
faith, comforts, hopes, repentance, brotherly love, piety, 
and general excellence of the Christians to whom they 
were addressed. These are the peculiarly interesting- 
circumstances of all other Christians. The instructions, 



274 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xlix. 



therefore, the exhortations, commands, reproofs, en- 
couragements, and consolations addressed to these 
churches, are to all other Christians, as to them, the 
very best means of reformation, improvement, and 
comfort. 

The examples of the apostles, which in a gospel com- 
pleted by Christ could not have been recorded, are 
among the most edifying as well as most interesting 
parts of the sacred canon. 

The variety of form and manner now introduced in- 
to the New Testament, is attended with peculiar advan- 
tages. It renders the Scriptures far more pleasing. 
A greater number of persons will read them. All who 
read them will read them oftener, and will more deeply 
feel their contents. It renders them far more instructive. 
In consequence of the various application of the doc- 
trines and precepts to so many different concerns of 
mankind, clearer views are given of their extent and 
comprehensiveness. By a comparison, also, of the dif- 
ferent passages thus written with each other, as they 
are thus written with a various reference and applica- 
tion, new truths are obviously as well as certainly in- 
ferred from them, almost without any limitation of 
their number. The truths also which are thus inferred 
are always important, and frequently of very great im- 
portance. By this variety of manner, application, 
and inference, the Scriptures are always new, improv- 
ing, and delightful, and exhibit incontrovertible evi- 
dence of divine wisdom in the manner in which God 
has directed them to be written, as well as in the won- 
derful and glorious things which they contain. 

I have now finished this interesting head of my 
Discourse, and shall proceed to the consideration of 
the two remaining ones, which, respecting subjects gen- 
erally understood, will demand our attention but a few 
moments. 

The third subject proposed ivas the things which, the 
apostles preached. 

On this I observe, 

1. The apostles have written the whole New Testa- 
ment, both the things which were said and done by 
Christ, and the things which were said and done by 
themselves. 

2. They have either originally communicated, or ma- 
terially explained, many doctrines and precepts which 
were either omitted or partially communicated by Christ. 

Among these I select the following : — 
The connexion which runs through the whole system 
of redemption ; the Patriarchal, Mosaic, and Christian 
dispensations ; their mutual dependence ; the absolute 
dependance of all on Christ ; and the sameness of the 
manner and principles of salvation in all ; the extent of 
the curse, and the unhappy efficacy of the apostasy of 
our first parents ; the parallelism between the first and 
second Adam, and between the ruin and recovery of 
mankind ; the imperfection of the Sinaitic covenant ; 
the superior glory and blessings of the covenant of 
grace ; the priesthood of Christ, formed after the order 
of Melchisedek ; his government of the world for the 
benefit of the church ; his intercession in behalf of his 
followers before the throne of God ; the preaching of 
the gospel to Abraham and to the Israelites ; justifica- 
tion by the grace of God through faith in the righteous- 
ness of Christ, founded on that righteousness as its mer- 
itorious cause ; the sameness of Abraham's justification 
with that of all other saints, both before and after the 



coming of Christ ; the sameness of the religion of the 
Old and New Testament ; the extension of the media- 
tion of Christ, not only to the Jews but to all mankind ; 
the nature of evangelical faith ; the nature of evangeli- 
cal love ; the progressive sanctification of Christians by 
the Holy Ghost ; the difficulties of the Christian war- 
fare, and the struggle between sin and holiness in the 
sanctified mind ; the nature and circumstances of the 
resurrection ; the process of the final judgment ; the 
conflagration of the earth and visible heavens ; the wor- 
ship rendered to Christ in the heavenly world ; and his 
peculiar agency in administering to his followers the 
happiness of a glorious immortality. These, together 
with a train of important prophecies concerning the 
affairs of the church throughout every age of the Chris- 
tian dispensation, the apostles have added to the other 
contents of the Scriptures, or more perfectly explained 
them to mankind. 

IV. The consequences of their preaching. 

1. The apostles and their converts were furiously 
persecuted soon after they had begun to preach the gos- 
pel, particularly among the Jews, and not long after by 
the Gentiles also. 

This subject is too well known to need a discussion 
from me. It is extensively recorded in the New Testa- 
ment, and largely insisted on in ecclesiastical history. 

2. The apostles preached the gospel with wonderful 
success. 

Beside the many thousand converts whom they made 
among the Jews, they spread the gospel from Hin- 
dostan to Gaul, and planted churches throughout a 
great part of the Roman empire, in Persia, Hindostan, 
and several other countries. The number of their dis- 
ciples in these extensive regions was immensely great, 
and this vast wilderness was made to blossom as the 
garden of God. 

Exclusively of the residence of Christ in the world, 
nothing has ever taken place among mankind so won- 
derful and glorious as this event ; nothing more unlike 
the ordinary progress of things, nothing more declara- 
tive of the presence and agency of God, nothing more 
evincive of the reality of revelation. Whether we con- 
sider the religion to which mankind were converted, 
the difficulty of producing a real reformation in the 
human heart, the original character of the converts, the 
bigotry of the Jews, the ignorance and wickedness of 
the Gentiles, the vastness, uniformity, and enduring 
nature of the change, or the seeming insignificance of 
the instruments by which it was wrought : fishermen, 
publicans, and tent-makers, few, feeble, friendless, de- 
spised, persecuted, and, in many instances put to a vio- 
lent death, we are astonished and lost. A thorough 
discussion of the importance of this fact, the success of 
the gospel, might easily and usefully fill a volume, but 
cannot be pursued at the present time. It has been 
a theme of exultation and joy to all succeeding ages 
of the church, and, as we have the best reason to con- 
clude, of peculiar wonder and transport in the world 
above. 

The evidence which it furnishes to the divine origin 
of the gospel is immovable, and has accordingly been 
always insisted on by Christians with superiority and 
triumph. Infidels have laboured to diminish and ob- 
scure it with extreme earnestness and assiduity, but they 
have laboured in vain. Gibbon, particularly, with much 
art, a malignant hostility to the Christian cause, and 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



275 



the most strenuous exertion of his talents, has struggled 
hard to account for this event, by assigning it to other 



has, however, been to leave the evidence of the inspi- 
ration of the apostles more clear, more convincing, and 



causes than the true one. The real effect of his labours | more unexceptionable, than it was before. 



SERMON L. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST ORIGIN, OFFICE, AND CHARACTER OF THE 

PRIESTHOOD.— PROOFS OF THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



The Lord hath sworn, and will not repent; Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchisedek. 

Psal. ex. 4. 



In a series of Discourses, I have considered the prophe- 
tical character of Christ. I shall now proceed, accord- 
ing to the plan originally proposed for the investigation 
of his office as mediator between God and man, to con- 
sider his priesthood. 

In order to a proper examination of this subject, it 
will be useful to examine summarily, 

I. The origin, 

II. The office, 

III. The character of a priest ; and, 

IV. Inquire in what manner the office and character 
of a priest may be said to belong to Christ. 

I. The office of a priest undoubtedly had its origin in 
the first ages of the world. The earliest mention made 
of this subject in form, is found in Gen. xiv. 18, ' And 
Melchisedek, king of Salem, brought forth bread and 
wine ; and he was the priest of the most high God.' 
The office was, however, in being long before this 
period. Cain and Abel performed the public du- 
ties of it for themselves ; and there is no reason to 
doubt that it was regularly continued from their 
time, through every succeeding period, to the coming 
of Christ. 

So soon as mankind became distributed into families, 
it appears highly probably, that the father of the family 
exercised this office in all instances, in behalf of himself 
and his household. Several instances, of this nature 
are recorded : Noah was plainly the priest of his own 
family, and Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Job, of theirs. 
It is probable that heads of families generally held the 
office in the same manner. 

When mankind became settled in tribes and nations, 
the prince, or chief ruler, and at times some other ruler 
of great distinction, became the priest of the nation. 
Thus Melchisedek was at the same time the king and 
priest of the people of Salem ; and thus, as we know 
from profane history, many other princes held the same 
office among the people over whom they presided. 

Under the Mosaic economy the office was, by divine 
institution, appropriated to a particular class of men. 
All these, except one, were originally ordinary priests, 
over whom that one presided, in the character of high- 
priest. To this officer peculiar duties and privileges 
were attached. His weight and influence were almost 
invariably second only to those of the prince, and not 
unfrequently paramount even to them. Similar estab- 
lishments were early made among the Gentiles. In the 
time of Joseph, we find the priests a separate class of 
men in the land Egypt. An institution, essentially 



of the same nature, appears to have existed in many 
other nations at a very early date, and a priesthood, in 
one form or another, has been found in almost all the 
nations of men in every age of the world. This fact 
proves, unanswerably, that the priesthood had its origin 
either in a divine appointment, handed down by univer- 
sal tradition, or in such a sense felt by the human mind 
of its utility and importance, as to persuade all nations, 
for this reason, not only to institute, but to maintain it 
with great expense and self-denial. As we find the 
office commencing with the very first age of the world, 
we are furnished by this fact with a strong presumptive 
argument, to prove that it was derived originally from 
a divine institution. This argument receives no small 
strength from the consideration that the office, however 
corrupted and mutilated, was in substance everywhere 
the same and was professedly directed to the same 
objects. 

II. The office of a priest involved the following things. 

1. Intercession. 

This is so universally acknowledged to have been al- 
ways a part of the duties of a priest, as to need neither 
proof nor explanation. In conformity to it, Aaron and 
his sons were commanded to bless the children of Israel, 
by praying for them in this remarkable language : 
' Jehovah bless thee and keep thee. Jehovah make his 
face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. 
Jehovah lift up his countenance upon thee, and give 
thee peace.' In the same manner also, in the days of 
the prophet Joel, ' the priests, the ministers of the Lord,' 
were commanded to ' weep between the porch and the 
altar, and to say, Spare thy people, O Lord, and give 
not thine heritage to reproach, that the heathen should 
rule over them. Wherefore should they say among the 
people, Where is their God ?' 

Among the Gentiles also priests customarily prayed 
for the people. 

2. Another branch of the priest's office was the offer- 
ing of sacrifices and other oblations. 

' Every high-priest, taken from among men,' says St 
Paul, ' is ordained for men in things pertained to God, 
that he may offer both gifts and sacrifices for sin.' In- 
tercession seems to be a duty of natural religion, and 
may be easily supposed to be a service properly per- 
formed by beings who have not fallen from their obedi- 
ence. But, in such a state, the offering of sacrifices 
could evidently have no propriety nor foundation. Sa- 
crifices are, in my view, beyond all doubt, of divine ap- 
pointment, and have their foundation in the apostasy of 



276 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. t. 



man. Of this the proof seems to me complete, both 
from reason and revelation. It cannot be supposed, as 
it cannot be proper, that on this occasion 1 should enter 
upon a detailed account of this proof. It will be suffi- 
cient to observe, that sacrifices existed among all the 
ancient nations, and that therefore they are derived 
from one common source ; that no nation beside the 
Jews can give any account of the origin of this rite, or 
any reason for which it was founded ; nor show, unless 
loosely and unsatisfactorily, any purpose which it could 
rationally be expected to answer; that all nations still 
hoped by means of their sacrifices to become acceptable, 
though they could not tell how or why, to their gods, 
and accordingly made the offering of sacrifices the 
principal rite of their respective religions ; that, to a 
great extent, they offered the same sacrifices, and those 
chiefly such as are styled clean, in the Scriptures. 
These sacrifices were also esteemed, in some sense or 
other, though none of the heathen could explain that 
sense, expiations for sin. At the same time it ought to 
be observed, that there is, to the eye of reason, no per- 
ceptible connexion between sacrifices and religion ; and 
that there is nothing in this rite, particularly, which can 
lead the understanding to suppose it in any sense expi- 
atory. The true dictate of reason on this subject is, 
that the causeless destruction of the life of an animal 
must be in itself an evil, an act of inhumanity, a provo- 
cation to God, only increasing the list of crimes in the 
suppliant ; while, on the contrary, the supposition that 
God can be appeased or reconciled by the death of an 
animal burnt upon an altar, is an obvious and monstrous 
absurdity. Well might Balak doubt, when he asked 
so anxiously, under the strong influence of traditionary 
custom, ' Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of 
rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? Shall I 
give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my 
body for the sin of my soul?' The only ' sacrifices of 
God,' that is, the only sacrifices which God will accept, 
if he will accept any from man, are, in the eye of com- 
mon sense, as well as in that of David, ' a broken spirit 
and a contrite heart;' a disposition, as specified by Ba- 
laam in his answer to Balak, ' to do justly, to love mer- 
cy, and to walk humbly with our God.' From these 
observations, taken in their connexion, it is, I think, 
fairly evident, that sacrifices were not, and cannot have 
been devised by mankind. 

In the Scriptures the same doctrine is, I apprehend, 
rendered unquestionably certain. Abel offered a sacri- 
fice to God, and was accepted. By St Paul we are in- 
formed that he offered this sacrifice in faith. While it 
is incredible, that he should have devised this rite as an 
act of religion, it is anti-scriptural, and therefore incre- 
dible, that he should have been accepted in any act 
beside an act of obedience to God. But such an act 
his sacrifice could not have been, unless it had been 
commanded of God. Nor is it possible to conceive in 
what manner his faith could have been exerted, or to 
what object it could have been directed, unless it was 
directed to some divine promise. But no divine pro- 
mise is, in the Scriptures, exhibited as made to man- 
kind, except through the Redeemer. Abel, therefore, 
must have believed in the future existence and effica- 
cious interference of that ' seed of the woman,' which 
was one day ' to bruise the head of the serpent.' With 
the eye of faith he saw that, through this glorious per- 
6on, there was ' forgiveness with God.' and therefore 



' feared,' or reverenced him. He ' hoped ' in the divine 
promise, that through him ' there was plenteous redemp- 
tion ' for the children of men ; and in the exercise of 
this hope he performed such acts of worship as God had 
enjoined. Had he, on the contrary, like Nadab and 
Abihu, brought an offering which the Lord had not 
commanded, we are warranted from analogy to conclude 
that he would have been rejected, as they were. 

After the deluge, Noah, as we are told, builded an 
altar unto the Lord ; and took of every clean beast, and 
of every clean fowl, and offered burnt offerings on the 
altar.' On this occasion, also, the offering was accepted. 
To this fact the same reason is applicable with the same 
force. But it is farther evident from this story, that 
both fowls and beasts were at that time known and de- 
signated as clean, and unclean. That this designation 
existed in the time of Noah, and was customary lan- 
guage, known to him and others at that time, is certain 
from the fact, that he selected only such as were clean ; 
and is still farther illustrated by the fact, that God 
directed him ' to take of every clean beast, and every 
clean fowl, by sevens, into the ark ;' and that Noah 
exactly obeyed this command, and therefore perfectly 
knew what it imported. Beasts and fowls were, of 
course, distinguished as clean and unclean ; or, in other 
words, as those which might, and those which might 
not, be offered to God. But beasts, in themselves, are 
all equally clean and equally unclean ; nor can common 
sense discern a reason why one should be offered rather 
than another, any more than why any of them should 
be offered at all. The distinction of clean and unclean, 
or acceptable and unacceptable, cannot have been found- 
ed in any thing but the divine appointment. But this 
distinction we find thus early made ; and, as Abel of- 
fered clean beasts also, and the firstlings of his flock, 
the very sacrifice commanded afterward to the Israelites, 
there is ample reason to conclude that the same distinc- 
tion was made from the beginning. 

The sacrifices of the Scriptures involve a plain, and 
at the same time, a most important meaning. All of 
them were typical merely, and declared in the most 
striking manner the faith of the worshipper in the great 
propitiatory sacrifice of the Redeemer, and in the bless- 
ings promised by God through his mediation. Con- 
sidered in this light, sacrifices are highly significant 
acts of worship, worthy of being divinely instituted, 
deeply affecting the heart of the suppliant, naturally 
and strongly edifying him in faith, hope, and obedi- 
ence, and well deserving a place among the most im- 
portant religious rites of all who lived before the obla- 
tion of the great sacrifice made for mankind. 

From this view of the subject it is, I think, clearly 
evident, that sacrifices were divinely instituted ; and 
that this institution was founded in the future propitia- 
tory sacrifice for sin made by the Redeemer. It is, of 
course, evident also that this part of the priest's office is 
derived from the apostasy of mankind, and can have a 
place only among beings who need an expiation. 

3. Another part of the priest's office was to deliver 
the oracles, or answers of God to the people. 

This was done, partly by the now inexplicable mode 
of Urim and Thummim, and partly by declarations made 
in the common manner. 

The heathen priesthood, in imitation of that which 
was instituted by God, gave the pretended answers of 
their oracular divinities to such ns came to consult them. 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



277 



4. Another part of the priest's office was deciding the 
legal controversies of individuals, or judging between 
man and man. 

For the institution of this duty of the priests, see 
Deut. xvii. 9, 10. Accordingly, several of the priests 
are mentioned in succeeding ages, as judges of the 
people. 

5. Another part of the priest's office was to instruct 
the people in the knowledge of the divine law. 

' The priest's lips,' says Malachi, ' should keep know- 
ledge ; and they should seek the law at his mouth ; for 
he is the messenger of the Lord of Hosts.' 

Of all the parts of this office the offering of sacrifices 
and other oblations, is undoubtedly the most prominent 
and important. It was originally enjoined in the 
authoritative separation of Aaron and his sons to the 
priesthood. It is everywhere more insisted on as the 
great business of the priests, throughout the law of 
Moses, and throughout the whole history of the Jewish 
economy. It is accordingly mentioned alone by St 
Paul, in his Epistle to the Hebrews, chap. v. ver. 1, as 
the sum of the duty of the high-priest. ' Every high- 
priest — is ordained — that he may offer both gifts and 
sacrifices for sins.' This, then, is the peculiar office or 
duty of the priesthood, while the others are only ap- 
pendages. 

In the performance of this duty, the priest was every- 
where considered in the law of Moses as making an 
atonement for the sins of the person or persons by 
whom the offerings were presented ; sometimes for in- 
dividuals, sometimes for the whole nation. This great 
object, the only rational means of explaining the insti- 
tution of sacrifices, is abundantly inculcated in the for- 
mal institution itself, and in all the precepts by which 
the duties of it are regulated, so abundantly, that I 
know not how it can be misconstrued. Accordingly, 
the Scriptures have been understood in this manner 
only by the great body of Christians from the beginning. 

But nothing is more evident, than that ' it is impossi- 
ble for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.' 
These sacrifices, therefore, were never designed to purify 
those by whom they were offered. They were plainly 
and certainly mere types, holding forth to the suppliant 
the great and real sacrifice, by which the author of it 
' hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.' ' In 
burnt-offerings and sacrifices for sin,' God said by 
David, Psal. xl. ' he had no pleasure.' They were not, 
therefore, ordained for their own sake, but to point the 
eyes of the worshippers to the Son of God, who ' came 
to do his will ; for whom a body was prepared ;' and 
who, ' having offered,' in that body, ' one sacrifice for 
sins, sat down for ever at the right hand of God.' 

The scheme of atonement, then, appears evidently to 
have been a part, and a chief part of the divine eco- 
nomy in the present world in all ages, or from the 
beginning. 

Accordingly, when Christ had performed this great 
duty of his own priesthood, the priesthood of men ceased. 
The Jewish priesthood was terminated within a few 
years after his ascension. The office, except as holden 
by Christ, has no place in the Christian church, and, 
unless in a figurative sense, cannot be applied to Chris- 
tian ministers without a solecism. 

III. The character of a priest, as disclosed in the 
Scriptures, consisted principal/// of the following things : 

1. A priest must, be called of God. 



' No man,' says St Paul, ' taketh this honour unto 
himself, but he that is called of God, as was Aaron. So 
also Christ glorified not himself to be made a high- 
priest, but he that said unto him, Thou art my Son, this 
day have I begotten thee.' Nothing is more plain, than 
that he who ministers to God in divine things, ought 
to be approved of God : and it is clearly evident that 
he, who is not called, cannot expect to be approved. To 
thrust one's self into an office of this nature must be the 
result of mere impudence and impiety ; a spirit which 
cannot meet the divine acceptance. 

2. A priest must be holy. 

Aaron and his sons were originally sanctified, exter- 
nally, by a series of most solemn offerings and cere- 
monies. The garments of the high-priest were also 
pronounced holy, and styled holy garments. The oil 
with which he was anointed was styled holy, and was 
forbidden to all other persons, on a severe and dreadful 
penalty. ' Holiness to the Lord ' was engraved on a 
plate which he was directed to wear upon his mitre. 

' Such a high-priest,' says St Paul, ' became us, who 
is holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners.' 

No absurdity can be more obvious or more gross 
than an unholy, polluted character, in a man whose 
professional business it is to minister to God. The 
very heathen were so sensible of this, that their priests 
claimed generally, and laboured to preserve, that cha- 
racter which they esteemed sanctity. 

3. A priest must be learned in the Scriptures. 

As the priests were to ' teach,' so they were to ' keep 
knowledge.' Ezra, accordingly, is declared to have 
been ' a ready scribe in the law of Moses,' and to have 
' prepared his heart to seek the law of the Lord, and 
to do it, and to teach in Israel statutes and judgments. ' 
Art&xerxes, also, in his decree testifies, that the ' wis- 
dom of God was in the hand of Ezra.' Every priest 
was implicitly required to possess these three great cha- 
racteristics of the priesthood. 

I have discussed the preceding subjects, viz. The 
origin, the office, and the character of the priesthood, 
that the various observations which I shall have occa- 
sion to make in the farther examination of the priest- 
hood of Christ may be the more distinctly understood. 

IV. J shall now inquire in what manner the office 
and character of a priest may with propriety be said 
to belong to him. 

In the text, God the Father is exhibited as having 
sworn with a solemn and unchangeable decree to the 
Son, ' Thou art a priest for ever, after the order of 
Melchisedek.' As the person to whom this oath was 
addressed is expressly declared, both by Christ and St 
Paul, to be Christ, there can be no debate concerning 
this part of the subject. 

Farther : As Christ is here declared by God the Fa- 
ther to be a priest, it cannot be questioned that he sus- 
tained this office. It may, however, be proper to re- 
mind those who hear me, and who wish to examine the 
scriptural account of this subject, that the establishment 
and explanation of the priesthood of Christ occupies a 
great part of the Epistle to the Hebrews. 

But although this fact cannot be questioned, it can- 
not easily fail to be a useful employment in a Christian 
assembly to show, that Christ actually sustained the 
whole character, and performed all the duties, of a 
priest of God. This purpose I shall endeavour to ac- 
complish in the remainder of the present Discourse. 



278 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. l. 



1. Christ sustained the whole character of a priest of 
God. 

(1.) He was called of God to this office. Of this the 
proof is complete in the passage already quoted, from 
Heb. v. 4, 5, ' No man taketh this honour unto him- 
self, but he that is called of God, as was Aaron. So 
also Christ glorified not himself, to be made a high- 
priest ; but he that said unto him, Thou art my Son, 
to-day have I begotten thee.' In the following verse 
the apostle, with unanswerable force, alleges the text 
as complete proof of the same point. ' As he saith al- 
so in another place, Thou art a priest for ever, after 
the order of Melchisedek.' In the 9th and I Oth verses, 
also, he renews the declaration in a different form, 
from the same words. ' And, being made perfect, he 
became the author of eternal salvation unto all them 
that obey him ; called of God a high-priest after the 
order of Melchisedek.' In consequence of this divine 
call to the priesthood, he was anointed to this office, not 
with the holy anointing oil employed in the solemn 
consecration of the Aaronic priesthood, but with the 
antitype of that oil, the Spirit of grace, poured upon 
him ' without measure ' by the hand of God. 

(2.) He was holy. ' Such a high-priest,' says St 
Paul, ' became us, who was holy, harmless, undefiled, 
and separate from sinners.' ' Who did no sin,' says St 
Peter, ' neither was guile found in his month. ' ' The 
prince of this world cometh,' says our Saviour, ' and 
has nothing in me ;' that is, nothing on which he can 
found an accusation against me. 

(3.) He was perfectly acquainted with the law of 
God. This is abundantly declared by Christ himself in 
many forms ; particularly, when he says, ' For the Fa- 
ther loveth the Son, and showeth him all things, what- 
soever he doeth.' And again : ' No one knoweth the 
Father but the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son 
will reveal him.' * And again : 'lam the light of the 
world. 'f And again : ' Thy law is within my heart. 'J 
Of this acquaintance with the divine law he gave the 
most abundant proofs while he resided in this world, in 
his discourses generally. But in his sermon on the 
mount he gave a more clear, minute, and comprehen- 
sive explanation of its nature and extent, than was ever 
furnished elsewhere to the children of men. 

2. He performed all the duties of a priest of God, 
except one ; to wit, 'etermining judicially the controver- 
sies between men ; a thing irreconcilable to his office as 
a priest. 

(I.) He taught the law, or will of God to his people, 
and ultimately to mankind, in a manner far more ex- 
tensive, perspicuous, forcible, and every way perfect, 
than all the priests and all the prophets who preceded 
him had been able to do. On this subject I have dwelt, 
while considering his character as a prophet, with so 
much minuteness, as to preclude all necessity of far- 
ther discussion. 

In this instruction he has included ' all things per- 
taining to life and godliness,' necessary to be known 
by man ; and, therefore, has involved in them every 
oracular answer, or answer of God, to the inquiries of 
mankind after their interest and duty, which they can 
even need on this side of the grave. 

(2.) He has performed, and still performs, for this 
sinful world the great office of an intercessor. 



Matt xi. 23. 



t John ix. 5. 



i Paal. xl. 8. 



' But this man,' says St Paul, ' because he con- 
tinueth ever, hath an unchangeable priesthood. Where- 
fore he is able, also, to save them to the uttermost that 
come unto God by him ; seeing he ever liveth to make 
intercession for them.' ' If any man sin,' says St John, 
' we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the 
righteous.' Of this intercession, his prayer in the 
xviith chapter of John has been considered as an ex- 
ample. 

Finally : He performed the great duty of offering 
sacrifice. ' Who needeth not daily, as those high- 
priests, to offer up sacrifice, first for his own sins, and 
then for the people's ; for this he did once, when he 
offered up himself.' And again : ' Now, once in the 
end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin, by 
the sacrifice of himself. And, as it is appointed unto 
men once to die, but after this the judgment ; so Christ 
was once offered to bear the sins of many.' It will be 
unnecessary farther to multiply proofs of this point. 

It may, however, be useful to obviate a difficulty 
which may, not very unnaturally, arise in the mind 
when contemplating this subject. It is this : How can 
Christ be said to have offered himself, when he was ap- 
prehended, condemned, and crucified, by others ? This 
difficulty will be easily removed, if we remember the 
following things : — 

[1.] That Christ could not, without incurring the 
guilt of suicide, have put himself to death ; and, there- 
fore, could not be virtuously offered, on his own part, 
unless put to death by the hand of others. 

[2.] That he voluntarily came into the world to die 
for sinners. 

[3.] That he predicted his own death, and therefore 
certainly foreknew it ; and, 

[4.] That he could, with perfect ease, have resisted 
and overcome his enemies ; as he proved unanswerably 
by his miracles, and particularly by compelling, through 
the awe of his presence, those very enemies to fall 
backward to the ground, at the time when they first 
attempted to take him. From these things it is evi- 
dent, beyond a debate, that he himself ' made his soul 
an offering for sin ;' and of himself ' laid down his 
life, and took it up again, when none could take it out 
of his hand.' 

From these considerations it is evident, that Christ 
was, in the most proper sense, a priest of God ; and 
that he sustained all the characteristics, and performed 
all the duties belonging to the priesthood ; particular- 
ly, that he was called of God, consecrated, and anointed 
to this office ; and that he performed the great duty of 
offering sacrifice, for which the office was especially 
instituted. 

Let me now ask, whether these things, so strongly 
and abundantly declared in the Scriptures, can be 
made, in any sense, to accord with the Unitarian doc- 
trine, that Christ died merely as a witness to the truth 
of his declarations. Every Christian martyr, as his 
name sufficiently indicates, yielded his life as a testi- 
mony to the truth. But was every Christian martyr, 
therefore, a priest of God : ? Did every martyr offer 
sacrifice ? Was St Paul a priest*? or St Peter ? They 
were both witnesses to the truth, and voluntarily gave 
up their lives as a testimony to the truth. But did 
they, therefore, offer sacrifice ? Were they, therefore, 
priests ? Did any man ever think of applying to them 
language of this nature ? 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



279 



But, farther ; Christ is expressly and often declared 
to have offered himself a sacrifice for sins. 

For whose sins did he offer this sacrifice ? Not for 
his own ; for ' he did no sin, neither was guile found 
in his mouth.' For the sins of others, then, was this 
offering made. According to the declaration of St 
Peter, ' He bore our sins in his own body on the tree.' 
His sacrifice of himself was, therefore, an atonement, 
an expiation of the sins of mankind. 

Thus, from the nature, origin, and institution of the 
priest's office, it is evident that Christ, the great high- 
priest of our profession, became, by the execution of 
his official duties (if I may call them such,) ' a propi- 



tiation for the sins of the world.' So far is the Unita- 
rian doctrine on this subject from being countenanced 
by the scriptural representations, that it is a direct con- 
tradiction of every thing said in the Scriptures concern- 
ing the priesthood, and particularly that of Christ. 

On this subject I propose to insist more at large 
hereafter ; but 1 thought it useful to show, at the in- 
troduction of it into a System of Theology, that it was 
essential to the very nature of the priest's office. Nor 
can I fail to wonder how any man, reading the ac- 
counts given of it in the Bible, should adopt any other 
opinion concerning this part of the mediation of the 
Redeemer. 



SERMON LI. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST —HIS HOLINESS OF CHARACTER. 



For such an high-priest became us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made 

higher than the heavens Heb. vii. 26 



In the preceding Discourse, I considered the origin, 
office, and character, of the priesthood ; and showed, 
that this office, in the strictest sense, belonged to 
Christ ; and that the end of its establishment in the 
world was no other than to hold out to the view of the 
ancients the priesthood of the Redeemer. 

Among the characteristics of a priest, I mentioned it 
as an indispensable one, that he should be holy. This 
characteristic of the Redeemer I shall now make the 
subject of consideration ; and in discussing it shall, 

I. Mention several particulars in which this attribute 
was exemplified. 

II. Explain its importance. 

I. / shall mention several particulars in which this 
attribute of Christ was exemplified. 

In the text the apostle declares, that Christ was 
' holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners.' 
The word ' holy,' in this passage, naturally denotes the 
positive excellence of Christ's character ; the word 
' harmless,' an absolute freedom from the guilt of in- 
juring and corrupting others ; the word ' undefiled,' 
his freedom from all personal corruption ; and the phrase 
' separate (or separated) from sinners,' the entire dis- 
tinction between him and all beings who are, in any 
sense or degree, the subjects of sin. The character 
here given of Christ by the apostle includes, therefore, 
all the perfection of which, as an intelligent being, the 
Saviour was capable. It ought to be remarked, that 
this character is given of him as a priest ; and, of 
course, belongs especially to him, as exercising this part 
of his mediatorial office. 

It will be obvious to a person examining this subject 
with a very moderate degree of attention, that Christ, 
in order to sustain this character, must have fulfilled all 
the duties enjoined on him by the positive precepts of 
the divine law, and have abstained from every trans- 
gression of the negative ones ; that in thought, word, 
and action alike he must have been uniformly obedient 
to the commands of Cod ; that his obedience must have 
been rendered in that exact and perfect degree in 



which it was required by those commands ; and that it 
must have included, in the same perfect manner, all 
the duties which he owed immediately to God, to 
mankind, and to himself : in other words, that his virtue, 
or moral excellence, must have been consummate. 

That such was in fact the character of Christ, we have 
the most abundant testimony. 

The Scriptures declare every part of this character. 
St Peter asserts directly ' that he did no sin ;' that 
' guile was not found in his mouth ;' and styles him ' a 
Lamb without blemish, and without spot.' He calls 
him ' the Holy One and the Just ;' and declares that 
' he went about doing good.' St Paul declares, that 
' he knew no sin.' St John declares, that ' in him was 
no sin.' David styles him ' the Holy One of God.' 
Isaiah, or rather God speaking by Isaiah, calls him his 
own ' righteous servant ;' 'his elect;' ' his beloved, in 
whom his soul delighted.' Jeremiah styles him, ' the 
Lord our righteousness.' Christ himself declares, in 
his intercessory prayer to the Father, ' I have glorified 
thee on earth, I have finished the work which thou 
gavest me to do ;' and asserts, that ' the Father ' and 
himself ' are one ;' and that he, ' who hath seen him, 
hath seen the Father.' He also says, ' The prince of 
this world cometh, and hath nothing in me.' At his 
baptism also, and during his transfiguration, God the 
Father himself declared his character in those memor- 
able words, ' This is my beloved Son, in whom I am 
well pleased.' A similar testimony was given by the 
Spirit of truth, when he ' descended ' upon Christ ' in 
a bodily shape, like a dove.' 

To these and the like declarations, which might be 
easily multiplied to a great extent, various other kinds 
of testimony are added in the Scriptures. 

The Jews who lived on the borders of the sea of 
Galilee, when assembled to behold the cure of the deaf 
man who had an impediment in his speech, exclaimed, 
amid their astonishment at the miracle, ' He hath done 
all things well.' During his life his enemies laboured 
hard to fix some imputation upon his character, but 



280 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SkB. LI. 



their efforts terminated in the groundless and senseless 
calumnies, ' that he cast out devils by Beelzebub, the 
prince of devils ;' and that he was ' a man gluttonous, 
and a winebibber ; a friend of publicans and sinners :' 
calumnies, daily and completely refuted by the testi- 
mony of those among whom he continually spent his 
time, and even by the demons which he cast out, and 
the maniacs whom they possessed. Even these felt 
themselves constrained to say, ' I know thee, who thou 
art, the Holy One of God.' 

In his trial before the Sanhedrim, and afterward be- 
fore Pilate, every art which cunning could devise, 
fraud sanction, or malice execute, was practised, in 
order to fasten upon him at least some species of crim- 
inality. But, in spite of all the subornation and per- 
jury to which they had recourse, they were unable to 
prove him guilty of a single fault. Pilate's repeated 
examinations of him terminated with this public de- 
claration, ' I find no fault in this man.' 

Judas, after he was called as a disciple, lived with 
him through all his public ministry, and was a witness 
of his most private conduct, a companion of his most 
retired hours, a partner in his most undisguised con- 
versation. At these seasons, if ever, the man is brought 
out to view. At these seasons hypocrisy and imposture 
feel the burden of concealment too strongly, not to 
throw off the mask, uncover themselves to obtain a ne- 
cessary relief from the pressure of constraint, and cease 
awhile to force nature, that they may be refreshed for 
new imposition. 

But Judas never saw a single act, and never heard a 
single word which, even in his own biased judgment, 
left the smallest stain upon the character of his Master. 
This he directly declared to the chief priests in that 
remarkable assertion, ' I have sinned, in that I have 
betrayed innocent blood.' Far beyond this, when the 
least fault in the conduct of Christ, could he have re- 
collected it, would have relieved the agonies of his 
conscience, and justified, or at least palliated, his trea- 
son, he put an end to his own life, because he could not 
endure the misery springing from a sense of his guilt. 
In this gross and dreadful act he gave, therefore, the 
strongest testimony which is possible to the perfect in- 
nocence of the Redeemer. 

Correspondent with this testimony is that of all an- 
tiquity. Neither the Mishna nor the Talmud, which 
contain the whole substance of the Jewish testimony 
on this subject ; neither Celsus, Porphyry, nor Julian, 
who may be fairly considered as having given us the 
whole of heathen testimony, have fixed upon Christ the 
minutest charge of either sin or folly. To the time 
of Origen, we have his declaration (which is evi- 
dence of the most satisfactory nature,) that within the 
vast compass of his information nothing of this nature 
had ever appeared. In modern times, the enemies of 
Christianity have laboured with great industry and in- 
genuity to fasten upon him some species of accusation : 
but they have laboured in vain. Unlike in this re- 
spect, that glorious orb, to which he is compared in the 
Scriptures, nothing has ever eclipsed his splendour, no 
spot has ever been found on his aspect. 

That we may form just and affecting views of this 
part of our Saviour's character, it will be useful, with- 
out dwelling any longer on a general survey of his 
holiness, to proceed to the consideration of those par- 
ticulars in which it was especially exemplified. 



I. The piety of Christ was uniform and complete. 

His supreme love to God was divinely manifested in 
the cheerfulness with which he undertook the most 
arduous, and at the same time the most benevolent of 
all employments, and of course that which was most 
pleasing to him, and most honourable to his name. 
His faith was equally conspicuous in the unshaken con- 
stancy with which he encountered the innumerable 
difficulties in his progress; his patience, in the quiet- 
ness of spirit with which he bore every affliction ; and 
his submission, in his ready acquiescence in his Father's 
will, while requiring him to pass through the deepest 
humiliation, pain, and sorrow. However humbling, 
however distressing his allotments were, even in his 
agony in the garden, and in the succeeding agonies of 
the cross, he never uttered a complaint. But, though 
afflicted beyond example, he exhibited a more perfect 
submission than is manifested by the most pious men 
under small and ordinary trials. No inhabitant of this 
world ever showed such an entire reverence for God, 
on any occasion, as he discovered on all occasions. He 
gave his Father at all times the glory of his mission, 
his doctrines, and his miracles : seized every proper 
opportunity to set forth, in terms pre-eminently pure 
and sublime, the excellence of the divine character ; 
and spoke uniformly in the most reverential manner 
of the word, the law, and the ordinances of God. 

At the same time, he was constant and fervent in the 
worship of God ; in prayer, in praise, and in cheer- 
ful compliance with all the requisitions of the Mosaic 
system, civil, ceremonial, and moral ; celebrated the 
fasts, feasts, and sacrifices of his nation, and thus, ac- 
cording to his own language, ' fulfilled ' in this respect 
' all righteousness.' Such, in a word, was his whole life ; 
so unspotted, so uniform, so exalted, that all persons 
who have succeeded him, both inspired and uninspired, 
have found themselves obliged, whenever they wished 
to exhibit a perfect pattern of piety, to appeal to the 
example of Christ. 

2. His performance of the duties which he owed to 
mankind was equally perfect. 

This part of our Saviour's character cannot be pro- 
perly understood without descending to particulars. 
I observe, therefore, 

(1.) That his filial piety was of this remarkable na- 
ture. 

Notwithstanding he was so magnificently introduced 
into the world by a long train of types and predictions, 
and by illustrious instances of the immediate ministra- 
tion of angels, he was entirely obedient throughout al- 
most all his life to the commands of his parents. No per- 
son was ever so ushered into life, or marked out by Pro- 
vidence for so extraordinary purposes. No person so 
early engrossed the attention and admiration of the 
great and wise by his mental endowments. Whatever 
could awaken in his mind the loftiest views of ambition, 
enkindle a strong sense of personal superiority, or pro- 
duce feelings of absolute independence, he could recount 
among the incidents which either attended him at his 
birth, or followed him in his childhood. 

Still no child, no youth, no man of riper years, was 
ever so respectful and dutiful to his parents. ' To them,' 
in the language of St Luke, ' he was subject,' evidently 
till he ' began to be about thirty years of age.' To this 
period he lived contentedly an humble, retired, and 
unobserved life; following quietly the occupation of his 



PRIESTHOOD OP CHRIST. 



281 






father with such industry and regularity, as to be known 
familiarly by the appellation of the carpenter. 

Civilized men have united with a single voice to ap- 
plaud and extol Peter the Great, emperor of Russia, 
for his moderation and condescension, displayed in la- 
bouring at the employment of a ship-carpenter, in the 
Saardam. Unquestionably, this conduct was the result 
of sound wisdom and unusual self-government on the 
part of this great man, and fairly claimed the admiration 
which it received. What, then, shall be said, — when we 
behold him whose title was the Son of God, whose birth 
angels proclaimed, predicted, and sung, to whom angels 
ministered at his pleasure ; who commanded winds, and 
waves, and life, and death ; who triumphed over the 
grave, and ascended to heaven — working at an employ- 
ment equally humble, not a few days only, but the prin- 
cipal part of his life ; and all this not to subserve the 
purposes of ambition, but from a sense of duty, and in 
the exercise of filial piety ! 

The same character was gloriously manifested by 
Christ during his public ministry. Particularly while 
he hung upon the cross, suffered the agonies of that ex- 
cruciating death, and ' bore the sins of mankind in his 
body on the accursed tree,' when he saw his unhappy 
mother pierced with anguish by his side, he forgot his 
own woes, commended her to the care of his beloved 
disciple John, as his future mother, and that disciple to 
her as her future son, and thus made provision for her 
maintenance and comfort through life. Thus he began, 
and thus he ended. 

(2.) Of the same perfect nature were his candour and 
liberality. 

The spirit which is denoted by these two names is 
substantially the same, and differs chiefly by being ex- 
ercised towards different objects. That this spirit should 
exist at all in Christ will naturally seem strange, when 
we remember that he was born of an humble family, in 
the most bigoted nation in the world, and in the most 
bigoted age of that nation, and was educated in that 
humble manner which naturally leads the mind to im- 
bibe with reverence the bigoted sentiments of the great, 
and to add to them the numerous and peculiar prejudi- 
ces springing from ignorance. But from all this influ- 
ence he escaped without the least contamination. There 
is not an instance recorded in his life in which he was 
more attached to any person or thing, or more opposed 
to either, than truth and wisdom must entirely justify. 
There is no instance, in which he ever censured or com- 
mended those of his own nation, or of any other, either 
more or less than plain justice demanded. On the con- 
trary, he commended every thing approved by wisdom 
and piety, and reproved every thing bigoted, partial, 
prejudiced, and faulty in man. 

A great part of the people of his nation were his ene- 
mies, and among the most bitter of these were the Phar- 
isees. Yet he said to his disciples, ' The Scribes and 
Pharisees sit in Moses' seat : all, therefore, that they say 
unto you, do. But do ye not after their works ; for 
they say, and do not.' No commendation of the pre- 
cepts of these men could easily have been conveyed in 
more expressive language than this. By directing his 
disciples to follow their precepts, he declared them in 
forcible terms to be true and right, that is, with such ex- 
ceptions as he has elsewhere made, and as the same ex- 
act regard to truth demanded. 

The same disposition he manifested in the case of the 



Syrophenician woman ; and in that of the Roman cen- 
turion. The Jews considered all the heathen nations as 
deserving nothing but contempt and detestation, and 
called them dogs. But Christ preferred the faith of the 
centurion, although a Roman, to that of all other per- 
sons with whom he conversed, even to that of his own 
apostles. 

In the same generous manner he treated the publi- 
cans, regarded by their countrymen as the vilest of sin- 
ners. In the same manner also he treated the Samari- 
tans, against whom the Jews exercised the most furious 
hatred, and with whom they refused to have any ' deal- 
ings,' even those of the most indifferent and necessary 
kind. 

The same disposition he showed with respect to doc- 
trines, opinions, and customs. No specimen can be pro- 
duced from the history of his life of bigoted attachment 
to his own doctrines, or those of his nation, or those of 
his friends ; of prejudice against those of strangers or 
enemies ; of favouritism or party Spirit, of contracted 
regard to any custom because sanctioned by public usage 
or general respect ; of reluctance to conform to any in- 
nocent practice, by whomsoever adopted, or of any nar- 
rowness of mind whatever. 

When invited to a marriage, he cheerfully went ; when 
bidden to a feast, he readily consented to become a 
guest. Nor did it make any difference, because the 
host was on the one hand, Matthew, or Zaccheus, a pub- 
lican ; or, on the other, Simon, a Pharisee. In a word, 
he adopted and commended nothing except what was 
true and right, and neither refused nor condemned any 
thing except that which was false and evil. Nor did it 
make the least difference with him, whether that which 
was approved or censured was adopted by friends or 
enemies. 

(3.) His prudence was consummate on all occasions. 
Particularly was it manifested in avoiding the wiles 
and open assaults of the Jews. Notwithstanding the in- 
vincible firmness of mind universally displayed by our 
Saviour, notwithstanding he lost no opportunity of do- 
ing good, yet he never wantonly exposed himself to any 
suffering ; discovering clearly, on every occasion, a total 
opposition to that vain and idle fool-hardiness which 
rushes into danger, merely to gain the reputation of 
being courageous. 

The same prudence is strongly evinced in teaching 
his disciples and others, as their minds were able to re- 
ceive his instructions ; giving ' milk to babes ' and 
' strong meat to men ;' opening new doctrines and du- 
ties by degrees, and never ' pouring new wine into old 
bottles.' At the same time, he commended his precepts 
both to the heart and the understanding by their 
form. At one time he communicated them in short 
aphorisms, easily understood, deeply felt, long remem- 
bered, and readily applied to practice. At another, he 
conveyed them in parables, simple, beautiful, natural, 
and affecting, catching the imagination and feelings, as 
well as convincing the understanding. At another, he 
entered into plain, but profound, curious, and unanswer- 
able reasonings, showing both from the works and the 
word of God, that his precepts were just, and his doc- 
trines true. Thus he charmed by variety and novelty, 
as well as proved by argument and evidence ; and ' be- 
came,' innocently, 'all things to all men, that' at least 
he ' might gain some.' 

The same character he discovered in a manner not 
2n 



282 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SER. LI. 



less remarkable, in answering the questions and re- 
solving the cases proposed to him by the Pharisees and 
Sadducees. In every instance of this nature he refuted 
their arguments, exploded their opinions, defeated their 
crafty designs against him, and publicly put them to 
shame and to silence. Thus he beautifully illustrated 
the truth of that memorable declaration which he had 
anciently made concerning himself, ' I, Wisdom, dwell 
•with prudence.' 

The same truth he still more strikingly illustrated by 
the uniform tenor of his life. This was such as to de- 
feat all the malicious accusations of his numerous and 
bitter enemies, and to place his character beyond a 
doubt of its innocence and uprightness. To this end it 
was not sufficient that he was really innocent and up- 
right. It was additionally necessary that he should be 
consummately prudent. In proportion to their want of 
prudence, all men are endangered in this respect, and 
most become sufferers. But Christ was regularly con- 
sidered as an innocent man by all persons even of mo- 
derate candour, had a high reputation for worth in the 
eyes of the public, and, when tried on the accusation of 
enemies and villains, before a malignant and unprinci- 
pled tribunal, was pronounced clear of every imputation. 
Equal proof of prudence as well as innocence was never 
furnished in the present world. 

(4.) His integrity was equally perfect. 

This dignified characteristic is strongly visible in 
several of the things already recited as proofs of his 
candour ; candour itself being no other than a particular 
mode of exercising integrity. Of this nature are his 
impartial censures and commendations of his friends 
and his enemies. The same spirit is conspicuous in his 
reproofs which, on the one hand, were bold, open, and 
sincere, and, on the other, were perfectly free from self- 
ishness and ill-nature. It is also strikingly evident in 
the perfect simplicity of his instructions and conversa- 
tion. 

In them all there cannot be found a single instance of 
flattery, sarcasm, ambiguity, affectation, vanity, arro- 
gance, or ill-will. Nay, nothing is enhanced beyond 
the strictest bounds of propriety. Nothing is so colour- 
ed as to deceive, nothing left so defective as to mislead. 
The strongest specimen ever given of integrity in the 
manner of communication is found in the instructions 
of Christ, 

Many persons have been distinguished for their in- 
tegrity, and so distinguished as to leave behind them in 
their history little or no stain upon their reputation in 
this respect. But Christ differs, evidently, from them 
all in the degree in which he manifested this attribute ; 
and so differs from them, as that simplicity and open- 
ness of communication forms a remarkable characteris- 
tic of the style in which he spoke ; and constitutes, emi- 
nently, what may be called his own original manner. 
As this runs through all his discourses, as recited by the 
several evangelists, it is evident from this fact, that it 
was his own manner and not theirs. 

The same illustrious attribute was, in the same man- 
ner, evinced in all his conduct. By applause he was 
never allured ; by obloquy he was never driven. Popu- 
lar favour he never coveted ; popular odium he never 
dreaded. To friends and enemies, to the populace and 
the Sanhedrim, he declared truth, and proclaimed their 
duty, without favour or fear. When he stood before 
the Sanhedrim, and was on trial for his life, being ad- 



jured by the high-priest to declare whether he was the 
Son of God, he boldly said, though he knew that death 
would be the consequence, ' I am.' And, to place the 
declaration beyond all reasonable doubt, subjoined, 
' And ye shall see the Son of man sitting on the right 
hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven.' In a 
word, he treated all men while he was teaching, exhort- 
ing, and reproving them, as merely rational and immor- 
tal beings, and not as friends or enemies, nor as members 
of any sect, party, or nation. In this mannner he left a 
noble example to every succeeding teacher of mankind. 

(5.) His benevolence also was without an example. 

Many of the observations already made strongly il- 
lustrate this glorious attribute of the Redeemer. It 
will, however, be useful to mention other things more 
particularly, as exemplifications of this disposition. 
Among the numerous miracles wrought by Christ, there 
is not one which was not performed for the direct pur- 
pose of lessening distress or danger, or producing safety, 
comfort, and happiness to mankind. Many of these 
miracles, also, were wrought for those whom he knew to 
be his enemies, with the full conviction on his part that 
they would continue to be his enemies. While his life 
was filled up with that peculiarly bitter provocation 
which arises from ingratitude daily repeated, never 
wearied, and even increased by the very kindness which 
should have melted the heart, even this provocation 
never slackened his hand, nor moved his resentment. 
When he came in sight of that ungrateful city, Jerusa- 
lem, where so many prophets had been killed, where so 
many of his benevolent offices, and so many of his won- 
derful miracles, had been performed in vain ; notwith- 
standing all the injuries which he had received from the 
inhabitants, notwithstanding they were now employed 
in devising means to take away his life, ' he wept over ' 
the guilty, abandoned spot, and cried with inexpressible 
tenderness, '0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem! that killest the 
prophets, and stonest them who are sent unto thee, how 
often would I have gathered thy children together, even 
as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and 
ye would not.' On the cross he forgave, and prayed, 
and secured eternal life for murderers, while they were 
imbruing their hands in his blood, and rendering a most 
bitter death still more bitter by adding insult to agony. 
At the same time, he communicated faith, and peace, 
and hope, the forgiveness of sin, and an earnest of immor- 
tal glory, to the miserable malefactor who, by his side, 
hung over the burnings of devouring fire. 

(6.) Equally wonderful was his disinterestedness. 

This attribute, though often considered as the same 
with benevolence, is really a qualification of benevo- 
lence ; as is evident from the mere phraseology, so cus- 
tomarily adopted, of disinterested benevolence. But it 
is the crown, the glory, the finishing of his character. 

There is not an instance in which Christ appears to 
have proposed his own private, separate good, as the 
end either of his actions or sufferings. He came to live 
and die for others, and those enemies and sinners. From 
them he needed, and could receive nothing. From 
him they needed every thing, and from him alone 
could they receive that which they needed. For such 
beings all his labours, instructions, and sorrows, were 
planned and completed. The objects which he had in 
view were the most disinterested, public, and honoura- 
ble which the universe has ever known ; the deliverance 
of mankind from sin and misery, their elevation to vir- 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



283 



tue and happiness, and the supreme glory of God in this 
divine and most wonderful work. These objects he 
accomplished with extreme difficulty and self-denial, 
and with immense expense on his own part. This ar- 
duous work he began with a fixed purpose, pursued 
with unshaken constancy, and triumphantly completed, 
in spite of every discouragement, difficulty, and danger. 



On all his progress heaven looked with wonder and 
gratulation, and, at his return to that happy world, the 
ransomed of the Lord exclaimed, and will for ever ex- 
claim, ' Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive 
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and ho- 
nour, and glory, and blessing !' 



SERMON LII. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST.— HIS HOLINESS OF CHARACTER HIS SELF-GOVERNMENT. 



For such an high-priest became us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made 

higher than the heavens Heb. vii. 26. 



In the preceding Discourse, I considered the holiness 
of Christ as one great branch of his priestly character. 
In the course of this consideration I stated, summarily, 
my views concerning the manner in which Christ per- 
formed the duties, owed by him immediately to God, 
and to mankind. I shall now make a few observations 
concerning those which he owed more immediately to 
himself. The two former classes are generally denoted 
by the names piety and benevolence ; the latter is usu- 
ally denominated temperance or self-government. 

It ought here to be observed, that our Saviour's life 
was regulated by the rules of perfect virtue in all those 
ordinary and less delicate cases, in which mankind so 
commonly transgress, and in which we usually look for 
the proofs of a gross and guilty character. The truth 
is, imputations of the kind here referred to are not 
made on the Redeemer even by the worst of men, and 
have ceased, notwithstanding the groundless and brutal 
calumnies of his contemporary enemies, who accused 
him as ' a man gluttonous and a wine-bibber, a friend 
of publicans and sinners,' to have any place in the be- 
lief, or even the obloquy of mankind. To say, that 
our Saviour was chaste and temperate, is so far from 
seeming like a commendation of his character, that it 
rather wears the aspect of that cold approbation which 
is considered as grudged, and is yielded merely because 
it cannot with decency be refused. Nay, it may, with 
strict propriety, be said, that the very approach to this 
subject savours, in a degree, rather of impropriety and 
indelicacy, and wears more the appearance of an an- 
xious and sedulous disposition to shield a doubtful re- 
putation, by watchful efforts to say every thing which 
can be said in its favour, than of a sober determination 
to utter the sincere approbation of the understanding, 
and the just applause of the heart. 

With these observations premised, I observe, 

1. That the industry of Christ was wonderful. 

St Peter describes the character of the Redeemer in 
these memorable words, ' who went about doing good,' 
Acts x. 38. This emphatical description exhibits the 
active part or side of his life just as it really was ; and, 
though extremely summary, it is complete. Doing- 
good was his only proper, professional employment; in 
this employment he did not, like other beneficent per- 
sons, stay at home, where he might meet with solitary 



and casual objects of his kindness, but went unceasingly 
from place to place to find the greatest number, and 
those on whom his kindness might be most advanta- 
geously employed. 

The whole life of Christ was a perfect comment on 
this text. He himself has often told us his own views 
concerning the great duty of industry in the service of 
God. When his mother gently reproved him for the 
anxiety which he had occasioned to his parents, when, 
at twelve years of age, he stayed behind at Jerusalem, 
while they went forward three days' journey towards 
Nazareth ; he replied, ' How is it that ye have sought 
me ? Wist ye not, that I must be about my Father's 
business ?' This honourable scheme of life, so early 
adopted, and so forcibly expressed, was the uniform 
rule of his conduct at every succeeding period, and is 
often mentioned by him, as such, during the progress 
of his public ministry. Thus, in his reply to the disci- 
ples, asking him a question concerning ' the man, who 
was born blind,' he said, ' I must work the works of 
him that sent me, while it is day. The night cometh, 
when no man can work,' John ix. 4. Thus, when the 
Pharisees informed him, that ' Herod would kill him,' 
and urged him, therefore, to ' get him out, and depart 
thence,' he said unto them, ' Go ye, and tell that fox, 
Behold, I cast out devils, and I do cures, to-day and to- 
morrow ; and the third day I shall be perfected. Ne- 
vertheless, I must work to-day, and to-morrow, and the 
day following.' Thus also, he declared universally, the 
character of his life in those memorable words, ' The 
Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to mi- 
nister.' Who could claim, with so much propriety, to 
be ministered unto as Christ ? From whom ought not 
ministering to be expected, rather than from him? 
Finally, when he was conversing with the woman of 
Sychar, and his disciples solicited him to eat, he an- 
swered, ' My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, 
and to finish his work.' 

In exact accordance with the spirit of these decla- 
rations, we find him, immediately after his baptism, 
going into the wilderness to suffer and to overcome in 
his temptation. As soon as this was ended, he jour- 
neyed unceasingly throughout Judea, Galilee, and 
Pereea, and occasionally in the neighbouring countries, 
instructing, healing, comforting, and befriending all 



284 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ssr. ML 



whom he found willing to hear his words, or fitted to 
receive his assistance. His early life was a life of in- 
dustrious labour, literally so called. His public life was 
also an uninterrupted course of laborious exertions, 
made in a different manner, a period filled up with 
duty and usefulness. With an unwearied hand he scat- 
tered blessings wherever he went The manner in 
which, and the objects to whom, the good was to be 
done, were to him things indifferent, if it was really 
done. Whether they were friends or enemies, Jews or 
heathens, disciples or strangers ; whether they were to 
be taught, healed, or restored to sight, hearing, or life ; he 
was always prepared to bestow the blessing, wherever 
there was necessity to demand, or faith to receive it. 
So wonderfully numerous were the labours of Christ, 
as to furnish a solid foundation of propriety for that 
hyperbolical and singular declaration of St John, with 
which he concludes his Gospel : ' and there are also 
many other things, which Jesus did ; the which, if they 
should be written every one, I suppose that even the 
world itself could not contain the books that should be 
written. Amen.' 

A stronger instance of this disposition can hardly be 
given, than one of those to which I have already allud- 
ed. Hungry, weary, and faint, in his journey through 
the country of Samaria, he came to the neighbourhood 
of the city Sychar, and seated himself ' on Jacob's well.' 
A woman, a miserable inhabitant of that city, came out 
to draw water, and presented him with an object to 
whom good might be done, and who infinitely needed 
it. Forgetting all his own sufferings, our Saviour ap- 
plied himself with the utmost diligence to accomplish 
the conversion of this sinful woman, and that of her 
countrymen. After he had conversed a considerable 
time with her, she left him to call the people of the city. 
His disciples ' then prayed him, saying, Master, eat. 
But he said unto them, I have meat to eat, that ye 
know not of. Therefore said the disciples one to an- 
other, Hath any man brought him aught to eat ? Jesus 
saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him that 
sent me, and to finish his work.' The sentiments here 
expressed, and on this occasion gloriously exemplified, 
in the diligence with which he devoted himself to the 
business of converting this poor woman and her neigh- 
bours, were the rules by which he governed his whole 
life. 

As he drew near to the close of his ministry he ap- 
pears to have been even more industrious, if possible ; 
and to have taught and done more than during any for- 
mer period of the same length, as if he thought the re- 
maining time valuable in proportion to its shortness. 

Thus he was able to say with perfect confidence and 
exact truth, after he had ended his ministry, ' Father, I 
have glorified thee on earth ; I have finished the work, 
which thou gavest me to do.' 

2. His fortitude was not less remarkable. 

This characteristic of Christ is every where discover- 
ed, and with the highest advantage. To form just 
views of it, we ought to remember that he was alone, 
poor, and friendless ; that he was more opposed than 
any other person ever was ; and that he was opposed 
by the government and nation of the Jews, especially 
by the learned, wise, and great. We ought to remem- 
ber that, wherever he was he found enemies, enemies 
to his person and to his mission, subtile, watchful, per- 
severing, base, and malignant. All his strength, in the 



mean time, was, under God, in himself, in his mind, in 
his wisdom and virtue. Yet he met every danger with 
unshaken firmness, and immovable constancy. He 
bore, not only without despondency, without shrinking, 
and without a murmur, but with serenity and triumph, 
all the evils of life, and, except the hiding of his Fa- 
ther's face, and the manifestations of his anger against 
sin, all the evils of death. At the same time, all this 
was done by him while these evils were suffered by con- 
tinual anticipation. 

They were, in a sense, always in his view. He fore- 
told them daily, and yet encountered them with invin- 
cible constancy. Other men, however boldly and firm- 
ly they encounter actual calamities, are yet prone to 
sink under such as are expected. The distresses of a 
foreboding heart who can bear ? 

When, during his agony in the garden, the ' sweat ' 
flowed from him in the form ' of great drops of blood,' 
he coolly met the guard which approached to seize 
him, reproved Peter for his violence, healed the wound- 
ed ear of Malchus, secured the escape of his disciples, 
and delivered himself up to those very soldiers whom 
his presence had awed into statues. 

With the same invincible spirit he endured the mise- 
ries and injuries of the crucifixion. All the insults 
which were mingled with his agonies on the cross were 
insufficient to remove his self-possession, or disturb his 
serenity for a moment. Amidst them all he was able 
to forget himself, to pity and admonish the daughters 
of Jerusalem, to provide for the future comfort of his 
mother, and to pray for the forgiveness and salvation 
of his murderers. 

3. Not less wonderful was his meekness. 

Meekness is a voluntary and serene quietness of 
mind under provocations perceived and felt, but of 
choice unresented. 

No person was ever so abused or provoked as Christ, 
nor in circumstances which so greatly aggravated the 
provocation. He came from heaven, lived, and died 
only to do good to his enemies, and received all his 
abuses while occupied in this divine employment. In- 
gratitude, therefore, and that of the blackest kind, was 
mingled with every injury, and added keenness to its 
edge. At the same time, every abuse was causeless and 
wanton, without even an imaginary wrong done by 
him to excite ill-will in his persecutors. 

But no person ever bore any provocation with such 
meekness as he exhibited in every instance of this na- 
ture. Neither revenge nor wrath, as this word is usual- 
ly understood, ever found a place in his breast. His 
character was maligned ; his actions were perverted by 
the worst misconstruction ; himself was insulted often 
and alway ; and all the amiableness and worth of his 
most benevolent conduct insolently denied ; yet ' when 
reviled, he reviled not again ; when he suffered, he 
threatened not ; but committed himself to him that 
judgeth righteously.' In his trial particularly, and at 
his crucifixion, he was mocked and insulted beyond 
example. Yet though beaten, buffeted, pierced with 
thorns, spit upon, derided with mock-worship, and 
wounded with every other insult which the ingenuity of 
his enemies could devise, he quietly submitted to them 
all. 

The nature of all these also he perfectly understood, 
and the sting which each conveyed he deeply felt. The 
tenderness of Christ's affections, the exquisiteness of 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



285 






his sensibility, are strongly evident, not only in the his- 
tory of his life, but also in those remarkable predictions 
contained in Psalms xxii. xl. lxix. and lxxxviii. Here, 
in prophetical language, Christ utters the very feelings 
which he experienced both while he lived, and when he 
died. No picture of sorrow is drawn in stronger col- 
ours, or formed of more vivid images, or can more for- 
cibly exhibit exquisite tenderness and sensibility. In 
this picture the injuries and insults which Christ re- 
ceived while on earth, hold a distinguished place, par- 
ticularly those which surrounded him at his trial and 
crucifixion. 

The manner in which he felt them all, he himself 
has explained to us in these Psalms, and has taught us 
to consider them as filling his heart with anguish and 
agony. Still, he quietly yielded himself to them all 
without a momentary resentment, without a single re- 
proachful or unkind observation. No cloud of passion 
appears to have arisen in his breast, or obscured for a 
moment the steady sunshine of his soul. Calm, and 
clear, and bright, amid the rage of the tempest beneath, 
he pursued his celestial course with an undisturbed pro- 
gress, with a divine serenity. 

4. Equally extraordinary was his humility. 

No person ever had the same reason to entertain a 
high opinion of himself, or would have been so natu- 
rally justified, or so far excusable in indulging lofty 
thoughts of his own character, and in wearing a deport- 
ment of superiority to his fellow men. No person was 
ever so ushered into the world. Think, for a moment, 
what it is for a person to be prophesied of during four 
thousand years before he was born ; to be announced 
to the world repeatedly in the songs and predictions of 
angels ; to be the antitype of a long train of august in- 
stitutions, and a glorious succession of the most distin- 
guished personages numbered among mankind. No 
person ever did so great and wonderful things. Think 
what a splendour of character is displayed in healing 
the sick, cleansing the leper, restoring soundness to the 
lame, hearing to the deaf, sight to the blind, and speech 
to the dumb, in calling the dead from the grave, silenc- 
ing the winds and the waves, and casting out demons 
from the possession of man ; and all this by a command. 
Think what it is to receive the homage and obedience 
of angels, to be proclaimed by a voice from heaven, 
' the beloved Son of God,' to have the Spirit of God 
descend upon him in a visible form, and to see all na- 
ture, animated and unanimated, obey his voice and 
execute his pleasure, and thus to stand alone among the 
race of Adam, exempted from the common character of 
men by marks the most clear, certain, and glorious. 

His situation, at the same time, was such as most to 
excite vain glory, and flatter ambition. To these won- 
derful things he rose from the most humble condition 
of life, a condition heightening by contrast the splen- 
dour of all the great things which he did and received. 
Persons rising from such a condition into the admira- 
tion of mankind, are usually much more strongly af- 
fected than those who have lived always in superior 
circumstances, and been from the beginning objects of 
distinguished applause. 

Christ also possessed far more wisdom than any other 
person ever possessed ; wisdom, respecting the most 
noble and sublime subjects, such as the character of 
God, the invisible world, divine providence, and the na- 
ture, duties, and everlasting concerns of man. On all 



these subjects the wisdom contained in his instructions 
totally excels all the wisdom of the greatest and wisest 
men of every age. This wisdom, also, he possessed 
without the aid of education. His precepts and doc- 
trines were his own, and underived from any preceding 
instruction. But nothing more inflates the pride of 
wise men than to be indebted for their wisdom to them- 
selves alone, to native genius, to original thought, in- 
vention, and research, and thus to have become the 
authors of discoveries which have eluded the ingenuity 
and escaped the invention of all who went before them. 

These things his countrymen saw, heard, and acknow- 
ledged, and that in a manner experienced by no other 
inhabitant of this world. They saw him often engaged 
in disputes with the greatest men of his age and coun- 
try, concerning subjects of the highest importance. 
They saw him uniformly and completely victorious, and 
them always put to silence and to flight. His triumph 
they not only beheld, but frequently enjoyed; and, on 
account of it, publicly gave glory to God. They de- 
clared him to be a prophet, the peculiar prophet pro- 
mised by Moses, and the Messiah ; rang his praises 
throughout Judea, and the surrounding countries ; at- 
tempted to make him their king ; and, spreading their 
garments where he was to pass, sung hosannas before 
him, to glorify his character. 

But, fitted as these motives were to kindle every la- 
tent spark of pride in the human heart, and to blow up 
a flame of ambition which should reach to heaven, he 
was superior to them all, and that from the beginning. 
At twelve years of age he astonished the wise and great 
among his countrymen with his wisdom ; yet he obeyed 
the first call of his parents, and returned with them from 
the scene of applause to their humble cottage. When 
his countrymen sought him that they might place him 
on a throne, he retired into a desert. When greeted 
with hosannas by the enraptured multitude, he changed 
neither his demeanour nor his daily employments ; but 
forgot the splendour, the applause, and himself, to weep 
over Jerusalem, and deplore the approaching ruin of that 
ungrateful city. 

He chose the humblest life, the humblest associates, 
the humblest food, the humblest dress, and the humblest 
manners, and voluntarily yielded himself to the most 
humiliating death. Nor was his character more dis- 
tinguished by greatness, wisdom, and moral dignity, 
than by his humility of mind and life. He himself has 
alleged it, as one proof of his Messiahship, that ' the 
poor had the gospel preached to them ' by his mouth. 



I have now finished the observations which I propos- 
ed to make under the first general head, mentioned in 
the preceding discourse ; and have given an account, 
so far as I thought necessary, of several things in which 
the holiness of the Redeemer was exemplified. The 
second, viz. the importance of this attribute to his 
priesthood, I shall reserve for future discussion ; and 
shall proceed to make two or three remarks, naturally 
arising from what has been already said. 

1. We have here seen ample proof, that Christ was 
what he declared himself to be. 

The precepts of Christ required mankind to be abso- 
lutely holy, or perfect, and allowed no defect of obe- 
dience, as well as no degree of transgression ; declaring 
this character to be the only one which, for its own 



286 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. ul 



sake, could be accepted of God. In what lias been said, 
we have the fullest proof that he was exactly what he 
taught others to be, a complete example of the character 
which he required. Of all the things attempted by man 
on this side of the grave, none is more difficult, or more 
transcends human efforts, than the attainment of this 
perfection. The world has never seen a second speci- 
men of this character. How remote then must it be, 
when the best of mankind have fallen so far short of it, 
from the possible attainment of hypocrites, impostors, 
and pretenders ? How distant from every counterfeit ? 
How absolutely unattainable, hitherto, by the least 
blemished integrity, and the most exalted piety which 
has been merely human ? A single act, or a few ac- 
tions, may to the eye of spectators seem great, spotless, 
and exalted. A retired life, little seen and scarcely ob- 
served, may not disclose its defects. But a life spent in 
the midst of mankind, and daily exposed to the view 
of multitudes, and filled up with actions of every kind, 
cannot fail to discover, even in the best of men, con- 
tinual and numerous imperfections. Perfect rectitude 
of heart, therefore, can alone have produced perfect 
rectitude of life in our Saviour. Of course, he was 
what he declared himself, and what he is everywhere 
declared to be, in the Scriptures. Of course, he was 
the Messiah, the Son of God, the Saviour of mankind. 
His doctrines and precepts were from God, and require, 
with divine authority, the faith and obedience of all 
men. His ' life ' was given as ' a ransom for many,' 
and his ' flesh for the life of the world.' He did not, 
therefore, die to bear witness to the truth of his doc- 
trines ; but as ' a propitiation for sin,' and ' a ransom 
for sinners.' As such, therefore, we are required to 
believe on him, if we wish to be saved. 

A strong additional proof of the truth now under 
consideration, is furnished by the circumstances in 
which Christ was born, and lived. He was born, and 
educated, as has been observed before, in the humblest 
circumstances, and continued in them throughout his 
life. With plain and ignorant men only, did he spend 
almost the whole of his days ; men whom he instructed, 
but from whom he could never receive instruction. At 
the same time, the learned men of his age and country 
had wandered in their doctrines far from truth and 
righteousness. Their opinions, grounded partly on a 
perverted revelation, and partly on a wretched and de- 
basing collection of traditions, were, to a great extent 
false, foolish, and stupid beyond all easy conception. 
Their worship was a vain and miserable round of external 
rites. Their morals, also, were licentious, and polluted 
by all the dictates of lust, pride, and avarice ; and 
their whole character was a gross and dreadful mixture 
of bigotry, hypocrisy, oppression, violence, and im- 
purity. 

In such an age, in such circumstances, among such 
men, and in the midst of such errors and sins, Christ 
was born and educated, lived and died. Let every 
honest, every sober man now say, whence it arose that 
he was an exception to the character of all his country- 
men, and to that of mankind ; that his wisdom trans- 
cended that of all other men, and that his life left that 
of every child of Adam out of comparison, and out of 
sight ; a ' sun of righteousness,' at whose presence 
every star disappears from the firmament. 

2. These observations strongly evince the inspiration 
of the apostles. 



This perfect character of Christ they have left on 
record. It is perfectly delineated, not by general de- 
scription, or loose unmeaning panegyric, but by filling 
up a plain, simple, natural history with characteristical 
actions and discourses, and tracing features distinct in 
themselves, and yet harmonious, blending into one 
complete whole, totally distinguished from every other 
character hitherto drawn by man ; as unlike, nay, 
much more unlike, any other person ever seen or heard 
of in this world, than that of Hamlet, Lear, Achilles, 
or Hector. 

Attempts to form such a character as should be ac- 
knowledged to be perfect, have been often made, but 
they have invariably failed of success. The efforts of 
the heathen philosophers and poets to paint their wise 
and perfect men are well known to be miserably imper. 
feet. The iF.neas of Virgil is a picture of this kind, 
but, notwithstanding the genius of the writer, is so far 
from perfection, as not to be even amiable, but gross, 
vicious, and hateful. The wise man of philosophy is 
little better; for he is impious, proud, impure, false, 
and unfeeling. Infidels have succeeded no better ; 
and even Christians have been compelled to derive all 
that is good and commendable in the characters drawn 
by them from the very record left by the apostles, the 
life, precepts, and doctrines of Christ. 

Whence, then, were these men able to perform a task 
too hard for all the rest of their fellow men? Plainly, 
not from learning, for they had none; not from genius, 
for in this most of them were evidently excelled by 
many others ; not from the examples furnished to them 
in their own Scriptures ; Abraham, the most perfect 
example of this nature exhibited at length, is wonder- 
fully inferior to the character of Christ, although won- 
derfully superior to the best men of heathen antiquity. 
All the saints of the Old Testament could not, were 
their excellencies united, supply the most ingenious 
mind with materials out of which the life of Christ 
could be formed, even by such a mind. Nor could all 
the doctrines contained in that invaluable book enable 
such a mind to originate, by its own powers, the in- 
structions of Christ. The character is not only superior 
but singular. The wisdom is not only greater, more 
various, and more satisfactory, but it is wrought into 
forms, communicated in discourses, and started by in- 
cidents, all of which are too particular, too natural, and 
too appropriate to admit, not the belief merely, but the 
possibility of their having been compiled. The cha- 
racter is perfectly new and original, like nothing which 
preceded and nothing which has succeeded it. At the 
same time it is all of a piece, every part being suited 
exactly to every other part, and all the parts to the 
whole. As this character could not have been formed, 
by the apostles, without an actual example, it was 
equally impossible that it should have been formed 
at the time when they wrote, with the aid of such an ex- 
ample. The Gospel of St Matthew was, according to 
the earliest computation, written, as I formerly observ- 
ed, eight years after the death of Christ. How plainly 
impossible was it that he should have remembered 
Christ's Sermon on the Mount, his Parabolical Ser- 
mons, or his Discourses concerning the destruction of 
Jerusalem and the final judgment ? How evidently im- 
possible is it, that he should have made them ? Who 
could make them now ? Compare them with the noblest 
efforts of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero. Who 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



287 



row, what peasant, what beggar, what child twelve 
years of age, would take their discourses as his creed, 
as the directory of his conscience, as the law of his life ? 
But the discourses of Christ were the creed, the wis- 
dom, the boast, the glory of Bacon, Locke, Newton, 
Butler, Boyle, Berkeley, Addison, and Johnson. Can 
it be imagined that the Jewish publican possessed a 
mind sufficiently sublime and capacious, sufficiently 
discerning and pure, to command the admiration, 
belief, and obedience, of these great men? Can it 
be believed that, with all the wisdom of the world 
before them, and their own superior understanding 
to direct their choice, they, and ten thousand other en- 
lightened men, should bow with a single heart and voice 
to precepts and instructions devised by the mere native 
abilities of this uneducated inhabitant of Judea ? 

But if Matthew could not have devised nor remem- 
bered the life and discourses of Christ, what shall be 
said of John P His Gospel was written about fifty 
years after the death of the Saviour, and contains more, 
and more wonderful discourses of this glorious Person. 
All these also are exhibited as springing out of appro- 
priate occasions minutely specified, and are exactly 
fitted to each occasion. The writer, it is to be remem- 
bered, was a fisherman on the lake Gennesaret, and 
followed this business some time after he arrived at 
manhood. A mere fisherman, therefore, wrote the 
Gospel of St John. Suppose the experiment were now 
to be made. Suppose an American fisherman, who 



had read the Bible from his childhood, were to be em- 
ployed to form a new Gospel, and to delineate anew, as 
particularly as John has done, the life and discourses 
of such a person as Christ, both of them to be drawn 
wholly from the stores of his own mind. What must 
we, what must all men be obliged to believe would be 
the result of his efforts ? Undoubtedly, the same nar- 
row-minded, gross, and contemptible compound which 
we now and then behold in a pamphlet, written by an 
ignorant man, which scarcely any person reads through, 
unless- for the sake of seeing what such a man can write ; 
a production devoid of understanding, wisdom, in- 
cident, character, entertainment, and thought ; a trial of 
patience, a provocative of contempt and pity. Such, 
all analogy compels us to believe, must have been the 
Gospel of St John, had it been devised by the mere 
force of his own mind. 

That he could have remembered the incidents and 
discourses contained in it, after the lapse of fifty years, 
I need not attempt to disprove ; since it was never be- 
lieved, and will never be believed by any man. 

But the Gospel of John was written by a fisherman : 
the writer himself declares it, and the declaration is 
confirmed by the testimony of all antiquity. Read this 
book, consider the sublime and glorious wisdom which 
it contains, and the wonderful life which it records, and 
then tell me whether the supposition, that it was re- 
vealed, or that it was written without revelation, in- 
volves the gTeater miracle. 



SERMON LIII. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST HOLINESS OF HIS CHARACTER—IMPORTANCE OF THIS 

ATTRIBUTE TO THE DISTINCTION OF HIS CHARACTER, &c. 



For such an high-priest became us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher 

titan the heavens. — Heb. vii. 26. 






In the two preceding Discourses I have considered the 
personal holiness of Christ, in its three great divisions 
of piety, benevolence, and self-government. I shall now 
proceed to a discussion of the second head of discourse, 
originally proposed concerning this subject, and en- 
deavour to 

Explain the importance of this attribute to Christ, as 
the high-priest of mankind. 

I wish it to be distinctly remembered, that I am not 
inquiring why personal holiness, or inherent moral ex- 
cellence, was necessary to Christ. Personal holiness is 
indispensable to every rational being in order to his 
acceptance with God, being no other than the perform- 
ance of his duty in whatever situation he is placed. 
My inquiries respect solely the necessity of Christ's 
manifesting to the world his holiness of character in a 
life of perfect obedience, such as he actually exhibited. 
Christ might have become incarnate, and died imme- 
diately, and yet have been a perfectly holy being. I ask 
here why it was necessary for him, as the high-priest of 
men, to exhibit such a life as he actually lived. 



The pre-eminent holiness of Christ was, in this cha- 
racter, necessary to him. 

1. To give him that distinction which was indispen- 
sable. 

We are so accustomed to consider Christ as an extra- 
ordinary person, as hardly to ask for any reason why 
this peculiarity of character was necessary to him, or 
what influence it had, or was intended to have, on his 
priesthood. I shall not be able to do justice to this 
subject, yet I will suggest a few considerations which 
have occurred to me at the present time. 

It will be readily believed by all persons who admit 
the priesthood of Christ, that this office was the most 
important ever assumed in the present world. He who 
has expiated the sins of mankind, and opened the way 
for their reconciliation to God, their restoration to ho- 
liness, and their introduction to heaven, has undoubt- 
edly sustained the most important character, and per- 
formed the most important acts which have been ever 
known to the human race. That a person of whom 
these things can be truly said, must be rationally sup- 



288 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SER. Mil. 



posed to be separated from the rest of mankind, by- 
many marks both of personal and official distinction, is 
an assertion which needs no proof. All men are, by 
the very nature of the case, prepared to admit before 
hand, that he who is destined to so extraordinary an 
office, must also possess an extraordinary character. 

The Jews, led by the several predictions given in 
their Scriptures concerning the Messiah, and perhaps 
in some degree, also, by the nature of the case, formed, 
concerning him, apprehensions generally of this na- 
ture. They mistook, indeed, the things by which his 
personal character was to be distinguished, but were 
perfectly correct in their belief, that his character was 
to be singular as well as his office. His life, in their 
view, was to find its peculiar distinction in external 
splendour, conquest, and dominion over all nations, 
who were to be subjugated by his arm. He was to 
reign with a glory utterly obscuring that of every pre- 
ceding conqueror, and was to divide among them, his 
favourite people, the pomp, wealth, and power of this 
lower world. To them, as ' the people of the saints of 
the Most High,' was, in a literal sense, to be ' given the 
kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the king- 
dom under the whole heaven.' To a people, conquered 
as they were, impatient of their yoke, panting for li- 
berty and independence, proud of their pre-eminence 
as the chosen people of God, gross in their conceptions 
of divine truth, and confining, with an animal relish, 
all real good to the gratifications of sense, it can scarce- 
ly seem strange, that this should appear a rational in- 
terpretation of the prophecies concerning the Redeem- 
er, particularly of some, which are couched in terms 
highly figurative. From such a people, in such a state, 
we could hardly expect just apprehensions concerning 
those sublimer glories of the Messiah, which lay in ex- 
cellence of mind, and excellence of life, obtained the 
unmingled complacency of the Father, and called forth 
the admiration, love, and homage of all the virtuous 
among mankind. Still even the expectations of the 
Jews accord with the general truth, that he who sustains 
such an office, must also possess a character suited to 
that office. 

The necessity of this character, to give distinction to 
Christ as the high-priest of mankind, appears in a strik- 
ing manner from several considerations. Particularly, 
it was indispensable to the accomplishment of the end 
of his priesthood ; and, therefore, of his whole mediato- 
rial office, that he should engage, to a great extent, the 
attention of mankind. On this, in a great measure, de- 
pended the importance and success of his public minis- 
try, both among his contemporaries, and among men of 
all succeeding ages. Had he not been an object of 
public curiosity and inquiry in his own time, his instruc- 
tions, if uttered at all, must have been uttered to the 
rocks and the winds ; and his character, unregarded in 
that age, would have been forgotten in the next. Or 
if we suppose a record to have been made of his instruc- 
tions, they would have been the instructions of an in- 
dividual, obscure, not only on account of his parentage 
and the humble circumstances of his life, but on account 
of every thing else. Whatever they were, however 
wise, pure, and unexceptionable, they would have failed 
to arrest the attention, and command the regard of fu- 
ture times, because they were not enforced by a distin- 
guished character in their author. For extraordinary 
sentiments the mind instinctively looks to an extraor- 



dinary man. If Christ had not been separated from 
the rest of the children of Adam by singular character- 
istics, it would have been boldly questioned whether 
these instructions ever came from him ; and the record 
which asserted them to be his, could scarcely have been 
furnished with such proofs of authenticity as to place 
the question beyond rational doubt. If this point had 
been admitted, new and equally perplexing inquiries 
would have arisen concerning the authority of the 
teacher : concerning the strangeness of the fact, that 
God had destined such a man to the office of giving such 
precepts to the world ; and concerning the irreconcila- 
bleness of so insignificant an appearance with a charac- 
ter distinguished by such wonderful wisdom. Strong 
objections are even now made by infidels to the humble 
character in which Christ appeared. What would they 
not have objected, if he had been marked by nothing 
extraordinary ? 

These observations respect Christ in all his offices. 
Had he not possessed this distinction in some clear, ac- 
knowledged manner, and in a degree unquestioned, he 
would never, in any sense, have become the object of 
any peculiar regard ; and would, of course, have failed 
of the end of his mission. The arguments already 
alleged are, therefore, applicable to every part of his 
character as Mediator. But they are, in some respects, 
peculiarly applicable to his priesthood. A great part 
of the truths which he taught respected himself, as the 
High-Priest of the human race. These were truths in- 
dispensable to the salvation of mankind. The atone- 
ment made by him in this office for the sins of men, is 
the only foundation even for the hope of eternal life. 
The belief of men in this great fact is the basis of all 
our confidence in Christ as our Saviour ; and this con- 
fidence is the only mean of our justification. But in 
this fact few men, to say the most, can be supposed to 
have believed, had not Christ been distinguished from 
other persons by peculiar and very honourable charac- 
teristics. There is something so repugnant to all our 
most rational and satisfactory thoughts, in the supposi- 
tion that a person, ranking in all things with such be- 
ings as we are, should sustain this glorious office, and 
accomplish this marvellous end, that it can hardly be 
imagined to have gained admission into the mind of 
any sober man. 

Should it be answered, that a distinction of some kind 
or other, in the degree specified, was indeed necessary 
to the character of Christ, in order to render him the 
object of the confidence or even the attention of man- 
kind, but that this distinction was sufficiently established 
by his power of working miracles, so often and so illus- 
triously exemplified while he was in the world ; I answer, 
that this power distinguished Christ from other inhabi- 
tants of the earth very honourably, but could not dis- 
tinguish him sufficiently for the purpose in view. For, 
to say nothing of the fact, that in this respect he was not 
sufficiently unlike Moses and Elijah, who also wrought 
many and great miracles, or his apostles, who ' did 
greater works than ' his own ; to say nothing of the 
contrariety to all rational thinking in the supposition 
that a man, invested with no other proofs of an extra- 
ordinary character, should work such stupendous mira- 
cles, or any miracles at all, it is perfectly evident, that 
he could never be the object of any moral regard, unless 
in his moral character he had appeared sufficiently im- 
portant to claim it, much less of that supreme moral re- 






PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



289 



gard, evangelical faith. In the exercise of this faith, 
the soul surrenders itself absolutely into the hands of 
Christ. But such a surrender cannot be made, unless 
to a being of such consequence as to make the act ra- 
tional and warrantable in the view of the understand- 
ing. But the understanding can never be persuaded 
that a person undistinguished by pre-eminent holiness, 
however superior might be his natural or supernatural 
endowments, could be regarded by God as an accepta- 
ble propitiation for its sins. Nor could it by any means 
of which I am able to conceive, feel itself warranted to 
exercise this confidence towards any being unpossessed 
of that consummate rectitude, particularly of that sin- 
cerity and good-will upon which it is ultimately founded. 
If Christ had not in this respect been superior to other 
men, the faith placed in him would, I think, have been 
the same with that which is placed in other men, and 
have differed from that neither in kind nor degree. 

Holiness is the supreme distinction of moral beings, 
and the supreme object of moral regard, especially, in 
all cases, where the approbation and acceptance of God, 
or the confidence of intelligent creatures, are con- 
cerned. Is this the object on which our thoughts ulti- 
mately rest, in comparison with which all others are of 
little importance? 

II. To enable him to magnify the law of God, and 
make it honourable. 

Christ performed this important office, an office pre- 
dicted by the prophet Isaiah, and also by himself, many 
ages before his incarnation, in a manner absolutely per- 
fect. The following particulars will, if I mistake not, 
illustrate this subject with advantage. 

1. Christ in his own obedience showed that the law 
was capable of being perfectly obeyed by mankind. 

By this I mean, that beings possessing exactly such 
natural powers as we possess are, if properly disposed, 
proved by the obedience of Christ to be capable of per- 
fectly obeying the law of God. 

There is no reason to believe that Christ possessed 
any other natural powers than those which are possessed 
by mankind generally. The difference between him 
and them lay, radically, in the disposition ; his being 
that of a dutiful child, and theirs being froward and re- 
bellious. With these powers Christ perfectly obeyed 
the law of God, and thus proved that it might be per- 
fectly obeyed by any other person possessing the same 
powers. No difference of intellect can be pleaded here ; 
because Christ thus obeyed in every stage of his life ; 
with the intelligence of an infant, of a child, of a youth, 
and of a man The least degree of intelligence which 
he possessed after he became a moral agent is, there- 
fore, sufficient to enable any other moral agent thus 
to obey. The difficulty of obeying experienced 
by us does not, therefore, lie in the want of under- 
standing. 

The importance of this article will be easily realized 
if we call to mind how prone we are to justify ourselves 
in sin, and to feel secure from the danger of punishment, 
from the consideration, that we have not, naturally, suffi- 
cient power to obey ; and if, at the same time, we remem- 
ber that, even to the present day, not only ordinary 
men and plain Christians, but even philosophers and 
divines, hold this doctrine, and insist on it as a part of 
their customary instruction. The proof here furnished, 
that the doctrine is wholly erroneous, is complete ; for 
it can never be said, that the mind of Christ at its en- 



trance upon moral agency possessed more intelligence, 
and more natural ability to obey, than that of a mature 
man. Christ obeyed throughout his infancy and child- 
hood. Bacon, Newton, and Locke, were sinful beings. 
The reason why they were sinful beings was not a de- 
fect of intelligence. The difference between them as 
moral beings, and Christ while an infant or a child, was 
a moral difference, involved moral turpitude on their 
part, and rendered them deserving of blame and punish- 
ment. 

In this manner Christ proved the practicability of 
obedience, and the reasonableness of the law. If he 
with the same natural powers which we possess, could 
obey the law, obedience is naturally and certainly prac- 
ticable to us. If Christ obeyed while an infant, or little 
child, the requisitions of the law cannot be unreasona- 
ble. The importance of his glorifying the law, in this 
respect, needs no illustration. 

2. Christ in obeying, furnished mankind with an ex- 
tensive and most useful comment on the law of God. 

A moment's recollection will show us, if we need to 
be shown, that the nature of all precepts is more per- 
fectly seen in those actions which are conformed to them, 
than it can be in the abstract contemplation of the pre- 
cepts themselves. The life of Christ was exactly con- 
formed to the precepts of the divine law, and was, 
therefore, a more perfect exhibition of their true nature 
than any other of which they were capable. It was, 
particularly, a perfect exhibition of the nature and 
extent of every requirement, so far as it was applicable 
to him. In seeing what he did, we learn exactly what 
we are required to do ; more exactly than we could 
possibly learn from the precept itself. 

It exhibited, also, the beauty and excellency of obe- 
dience. This is discerned very imperfectly in the mere 
contemplation of the precept, by which it is required. 
That application of the precept, through which alone 
its proper influence can be discerned by mere contem- 
plation, is made so imperfectly and seen so obscurely 
by the mind, that the proper efficacy of the precept 
cannot, in this way, be ever realized. In example, in 
actions, on the contrary, the true nature, the beauty, the 
desirableness of the wise and good precepts by which 
such actions are governed, are distinctly perceived and 
comprehended. The example of Christ is, beyond de- 
bate, far the most amiable and glorious of all the moral 
objects ever exhibited to mankind. At the same time, 
it is an exact display of the nature and influence of the 
precepts of the divine law, as being no other than a 
course of mere obedience to them. 

Thus Christ has taught us what it is to obey the law 
of God ; what conduct is obedience, in every situation 
in which he was placed ; in what respects, within what 
limits, and to what degree, obedience is to be exhi- 
bited ; what words we are to use, what actions to per- 
form, what affections to indulge, and to discover ; and 
when, or how far, we are to withhold, or restrain, and 
to deny them all. These several things, also, he has 
taught us with a distinctness and perfection of which all 
other instruction is incapable. At the same time, he 
has shown us the beauty and loveliness of obedience in 
the strongest colours, divinely fair, divinely amiable ; 
beheld by God the Father with infinite complacency, 
and admired, loved, and adored with supreme regard 
by angels and good men. 

3. Christ in his obedience has made the law honour- 
2o 



290 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



able, because it was tbe obedience of a person possessed 
of infinite dignity. 

I have formerly, and, as I flatter myself, with success, 
attempted to show, that Christ was God as well as man. 
In these united natures he was one person ; and all his 
actions were the result, not only of human views and 
affections, but of a divine approbation and choice ; of a 
created mind voluntarily devoted to perfect rectitude 
and to perfect truth, and thus coinciding in the most 
exact manner with the will of God ; and of the divine 
wisdom, complacently regarding all the dictates and 
conduct of this mind, and concurring with it in every 
affection and effort. The obedience of Christ is the 
obedience of this glorious person. 

As Christ is a person of infinite knowledge, it is im- 
possible that he should not discern with entire exactness, 
the propriety or impropriety of becoming a subject to 
the law of God, in the character of Mediator. In con- 
formity to this perfect discernment he became such a 
subject. In this character he discerned with the same 
exactness the propriety or impropriety of all the conduct 
presented, by the circumstances in which he was placed, 
to his view ; and of course the propriety or impropriety 
of his absolute obedience to the divine law. But in this 
manner he actually obeyed. 

The infinite rectitude of Christ prompted him to that 
conduct, and that only which in all respects was right. 
But, under the influence of this rectitude, he became 
subject to the law ; and, when he had become a subject, 
conformed his whole life, in every minute as well as 
every important particular, to the precepts of that law. 
In this manner he showed with the most decisive evi- 
dence, the evidence of life and conduct, that infinite 
knowledge and rectitude dictated to him to assume the 
office of Mediator, to become a subject of the divine 
law, and in that character to yield to its precepts a uni- 
versal and perfect obedience. 

Christ is a person of infinite dignity. By this I 
mean, not only the splendour of moral and intellectual 
greatness with which his character is invested, but the 
dignity also which is conferred by omnipotence, eternity, 
and immutability, and by supremacy of station and do- 
minion. With this transcendent exaltation over all 
things in heaven and in earth, he still chose to become 
subject to the divine law ; and as a subject to obey every 
one of its precepts which at any time respected either 
his character or his conduct. Thus he taught, in a 
manner which cannot be questioned, and with a deci- 
siveness allowing of no doubt, that infinite knowledge 
and rectitude regarded the divine law as possessing such 
infinite excellence and glory, that it was not unbecom- 
ing a divine person to conform his own actions to its 
dictates, even in the minutest particulars ; that it was 
not unsuitable to a divine person to become subject to 
its control, and in this state of subjection to obey its 
precepts in an absolute mannner. 

These considerations exhibit my own views of that 
active obedience or righteousness of Christ, by which 
we are said in the Scriptures to be justified. Christ, as 
a mere man, was of necessity subject to' the law of God 
equally with all other moral creatures. His obedience 
in this character, therefore, was necessary to his own 
justification, and could not be the means of ours. As a 
divine person, he was subject to no law, and needed and 
could need no justification. By the union of his divine 
and human natures he became one person, as Mediator 



between God and man ; in such a sense one, that all 
his actions and sufferings became the actions and suffer- 
ings of this one Mediator. The value which was in- 
herent in his conduct as a divine person, was in conse- 
quence of this union extended to all the conduct of the 
Mediator, Jesus Christ. When, therefore, this glorious 
person voluntarily yielded himself as a subject of the 
divine law, the act was the result of infinite knowledge 
and rectitude, and was instamped with the worth neces- 
sarily belonging to all the determinations and conduct 
to which these perfections gave birth. The same moral 
excellence and glory are attached to all the acts of 
Christ's obedience, subsequent to his assumption of the 
character of a subject. Every one of them is an act of 
the Mediator ; and derives its true worth and impor- 
tance from the greatness and excellency of his personal 
character. 

As Christ assumed the office of a Mediator and the 
condition of a subject voluntarily, as he was originally 
subject to no law, and could be required to yield no act 
of obedience, he could, if he pleased, become with pro- 
priety a substitute for others, and perform in their be- 
half vicarious services which, if possessing a nature and 
value suited to the case, might be reckoned to their 
benefit, and accepted in their stead. Had these services 
been due on his own account, and necessary to his own 
justification, as all the services of intelligent creatures 
are, throughout every moment of their existence, they 
could never have assumed a vicarious character, nor 
have availed to the benefit of any person, at his final 
trial, besides himself. Now, the services of the real 
Mediator were all gratuitous ; demanded by no law, 
and in no sense necessary to the justification of himself. 
All therefore, that could in this case be required, to 
render them the means of justification to others, must 
be these two things only ; that they should be of such a 
kind as to suit the nature of the case, and that they 
should be of sufficient value. 

That the actual services of the Mediator were suited 
to the real nature of the case, we know ; because they 
were prescribed and accepted by the Father. We may 
also be satisfied of this truth by the manner in which 
the subject is exhibited by the Scriptures. The law 
of God is there declared, as it is also by the nature of 
the fact itself, to be dishonoured by the transgressions 
of men. This dishonour, as is evident from both these 
sources of information, is equally done to the charac- 
ter and government of the lawgiver. To pardon the 
transgressors in this case, would be to consent to the 
dishonour, and to acknowledge practically that the law 
which they had transgressed, the character of the law- 
giver who prescribed it, and the government founded 
on it, were unreasonable and unjust. It would be to 
declare, and that in the most solemn manner, that such 
obedience as was enjoined by the law could not be de- 
manded nor expected by a righteous and benevolent 
lawgiver. But this declaration would be false ; and 
could therefore never be made on the part of God. 

But, when Christ offered himself as the substitute for 
sinners, he ' restored,' to use his own language, f that 
which he took not away.' He restored that honour to 
the divine law, character, and government, which men 
had refused to render ; and removed the dishonour 
done them all by their disobedience. Nay, he did 
much more. In obeying the precepts of the law, he 
testified that they were such as infinite perfection was 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



291 



pleased to obey ; that the government founded on 
them, and the character of him who published them 
to the universe, as the rule by which he intended to 
govern it for ever, were of the same glorious and per- 
fect nature. This testimony none but Christ could 
give. A testimony of equal weight the universe could not 
furnish. Thus, in a manner which nothing else could 
rival, ' he magnified the law, and made it honourable,' 
according to the prediction of God by the prophet 
Isaiah, in the sight of angels and men. 

The influence of this conduct of Christ upon the 
future obedience of virtuous beings could not fail to be 
supreme. What creature, however exalted, can refuse 
to be subject to that law to which the Son of God volun- 
tarily became subject ? Who can deny those precepts 
to be reasonable, all of which he exactly and cheerfully 
obeyed? Who can hesitate to believe that law to be 
' holy, just, and good ;' who can doubt that it is infi- 
nitely honourable to its Author, and supremely benefi- 
cial to the universe, when he knows and remembers that 
a person of infinite knowledge, rectitude, and dignity, 
of his own accord submitted both his affections and his 
conduct to its absolute control ? So far as I can see, 
higher glory was reflected on this great rule of right- 
eousness by the obedience of Christ, than could have 
resulted from the united obedience of the whole intelli- 
gent creation. 

It is hardly necessary to observe, that the obedience 
of Christ and his holiness are convertible terms, and 
that all the importance of the things mentioned under 
these three heads, is no other than the importance of 
this attribute to his priestly character. 

III. To give the necessary efficacy to his sufferings 
for mankind. 

The sufferings of Christ were of no value as mere 
sufferings. There is no worth or excellence in the mere 
endurance of evil. The real merit of the sufferings of 
Christ, as of all other meritorious sufferings, lay in these 
two things ; that they were undergone for a valuable 
end, and that they were born by a good mind, with the 
spirit of benevolence and piety. The end for which 
Christ endured the cross, and all the other evils of his 
humiliation, was the best of all ends, the glory of God, 
and the salvation of men. The mind of Christ is the 
best of all minds ; and the spirit with which he encoun- 
tered and sustained his sufferings, was that of supreme 
benevolence and supreme piety. 

In undertaking the office of a Mediator between God 
and man, he gave the most solemn and glorious testi- 
mony to the equity of the divine law in all its precepts 
and in all its penalties. In enduring the sufferings 
which he underwent as the substitute for sinners, he 
completed this testimony, by cheerfully consenting in 
this character to obey and to suffer. If he had not been 
perfectly holy, he would, instead of becoming a substi- 
tute for others, have needed a substitute for himself, to 
expiate his sins. No supposition can be more absurd 
than that Christ should make an atonement for the sins 
of others, when he needed an atonement for his own 
sins ; or that God should accept him as a Mediator for 
sinners, when he himself was a sinner ; or that he 
should become the means of delivering mankind from 
the penalty of the law, when he himself deserved to suf- 
fer that penalty. 

Thus it is evident, that without consummate holiness 
Christ would not only have utterly failed to execute to 



the divine acceptance the office of a priest, but that he 
could not have entered upon that office. 

IV. To qualify him for executing the office of inter- 
cessor. 

Absolute holiness seems entirely necessary to render 
the prayers of any being, even when offered up for him- 
self, if offered in his own name, acceptable to God. The 
same holiness seems even more indispensable to render 
intercession for others accepted, and especially for a 
world of sinners. Such intercession, also, appears 
plainly to demand, as a previous and essential qualifica- 
tion on the part of the intercessor, that he should 
acknowledge in the amplest manner the perfect recti- 
tude of the divine government in condemning sinners 
to that punishment, for their deliverance from which his 
intercession is undertaken. It cannot, I think, be sup- 
posed even for a moment, that God would accept of any 
person in this office who denied, doubted, or did not, 
in the most open and complete manner, acknowledge 
the equity and propriety of his administrations. It 
seems farther necessary, that he who made this acknow- 
ledgment should be a competent judge of the nature of 
the divine government, so that the acknowledgment 
should be made with intelligence and certainty, and not 
be merely a profession of faith. 

The holiness of Christ, manifested in his obedience 
both to the preceptive and penal parts of the divine law, 
was the most direct and complete acknowledgment of 
the rectitude of the divine law and the divine govern- 
ment which was possible ; because it was voluntarily 
undertaken, and perfectly accomplished. It was, at 
the same time, the obedience of a person who was a 
finished judge of the nature of both, from the entire 
rectitude of his disposition, and the unlimited greatness 
of his understanding. It was also the acknowledg- 
ment of a person possessed of infinite dignity in the 
nature of his attributes, in the supremacy of his station, 
and in the eternal and immeasurable extent of his do- 
minion. 

As an intercessor, therefore, Christ comes before his 
Father both in the most amiable and the most exalted 
character ; having confirmed, beyond all future debate, 
the rectitude of his law and government, and supreme- 
ly glorified his name in the sight of the universe, and 
pleading with divine efficacy both his obedience and his 
sufferings on the behalf of those for whom he intercedes. 
What must not such an intercessor be able to obtain ? 
From such an intercession what may not penitent sin- 
ners hope ? How plain is it, that ' such an high-priest 
became us ;' was fitted to expiate all our sins, and to 
secure to us 'an inheritance undefiled and unfailing,' in 
the everlasting love of God ; an high-priest ' who was 
holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and 
made higher than the heavens?' 



292 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. liv. 



SERMON LIV. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST HOLINESS OF HIS CHARACTER IMPORTANCE OF THIS 

ATTRIBUTE HIS EXAMPLE. 



He that saith he abideth in him, ought himself also so to walk even as he walked. — I John ii. C. 



In my last Discourse I considered the importance of the 
holiness of Christ in his character of high-priest, as be- 
ing necessary to give him that distinction, without which 
the attention and confidence of men could not have been 
excited towards him ; as necessary to enable him to 
magnify the law of God ; and to become a propitia- 
tion and an intercessor for the children of Adam. 

The subject which naturally offers itself next for our 
consideration is, the importance of this attribute to 
Christ, as an example to mankind. 

That Christ was intended to be an example of righte- 
ousness to the human race, is completely evident from 
the passage of Scripture which I have chosen for the 
theme of this Discourse. ' He that saith he abideth in 
him ;' that is, he who professes himself a Christian, 
' ought himself also so to walk even as he walked.' 
Every Christian is here required to follow the example 
of Christ. But every man is bound to become a Chris- 
tian ; therefore every man is required to follow the 
same example. ' I have given you an example,' said 
our Saviour, when he washed his disciples' feet, ' that 
ye should do as I have done to you,' John xiiL 15. 
And again : ' If any man will serve me, let him follow 
me,' John xii. 26. ' Be ye followers of me,' says St 
Paul, ' even as I also am of Christ,' 1 Cor. xi. 1, ' Let 
this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus,' 
says the same apostle, urging upon the Philippians the 
duty of humility, and arguing at length their obligation 
to be humble from our Saviour's example, Phil. ii. 5. 
&c. In the like manner he urges upon the Romans 
the character of benevolence, from the same source of 
argument, Rom. xv. 1, &c. ; and the Hebrews to 
patience and fortitude in the Christian race, Heb. xi. 
1, &c. It will be useless to multiply passages any 
farther to this purpose. Even these will probably be 
thought to have been unnecessarily alleged. 

The example of Christ is formed of his holiness di- 
rected by his wisdom, or more properly by his under- 
standing. Of all its parts, holiness is the substance and 
the soul. Without this attribute he would only have 
been a more sagacious sinner, and therefore a more 
malignant example, than other men. A proper exhibi- 
tion of the example of Christ, in which its nature and 
usefulness are sufficiently displayed for the present pur- 
pose, will, of course, be a proper exhibition of the impor- 
tance of this attribute to Christ in this character. 

The excellence of Christ, as an example to mankind, 
I shall attempt to exhibit under the following heads : 

I. He was an example of all virtue. 

By this I intend, that he was an example of piety, 
benevolence, and self-government, alike. This truth 
has been sufficiently illustrated in the two first sermons 
on this subject. To add any thing, therefore, to what 
has been so lately said must be unnecessary. 

1. By the example of Christ, considered in this light, 
w e are decisively taught that virtue is no partial character. 



The apprehension, not unfrequently entertained, that 
a man may love God and not love his neighbour, and 
yet be a virtuous man, that is, in the evangelical sense ; 
the contrary apprehension, much more frequently en- 
tertained, that a man may love his neighbour and not love 
God ; and the opinion, still more generally adopted, 
that a man may love both God and his neighbour, and 
thus be virtuous, while he yet does not confine his 
passions and appetites within scriptural bounds, are 
completely done away by the example of Christ. ' He 
that saith he abideth in him,' is in the text required to 
' walk as he walked :' and in Rom. viii. 9, St Paul de- 
clares, that ' if any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, 
he is none of his.' But if any man has the Spirit of 
Christ, it will dictate the same conduct which it dictated 
to Christ. If he is Christ's therefore, in other words, 
if he is a virtuous man, the subject of that holiness of 
which Christ was the subject, and beside which there is 
no virtue, he will ' walk as Christ also walked.' This 
is one of those commands of our Saviour which he him- 
self has made the test of our discipleship, and of our 
love to him. If therefore we are his ' disciples indeed;' 
if we ' love him,' we shall ' keep' this command ; and 
be as he was, pious, benevolent, and self-governed, alike. 

2. Christ performed all the duties of life prompted by 
these three great divisions of virtue. 

This conduct of our Saviour teaches us irresistibly, 
that he who does not carry the virtue which he professes 
into practice, or who does not perform those acts, or ex- 
ternal duties, which are the proper allusions of such a 
spirit as that of Christ, is not a disciple of Christ. 
Christ habitually prayed to God. He who does not 
thus pray is, therefore, not a disciple of Christ. Christ 
praised God, blessed and gave thanks for his food, wor- 
shipped God in his house, and celebrated all the insti- 
tutions of the sanctuary. He, therefore, who does not 
these things, since he walks not ' as Christ also walked,' 
has not ' the spirit of Christ,' and ' is none of his.' 
Christ also universally befriended, in all the ways of 
justice and charity, his fellow men, by furnishing that 
relief to their wants and distresses which they needed. 
In vain will that man pretend to be his disciple who is 
unjust in his treatment of others, or who does not rea- 
dily open his heart and his hand to relieve his fellow 
creatures in their wants and distresses ; or who does not, 
like the Redeemer also, administer to them advice, re- 
proof, and consolation, as they need ; and employ, with 
sincere and tender affection, all the proper means in 
his power to promote their salvation. Christ spoke the 
truth at all times with perfect exactness. No liar, no 
prevaricator, no sophist, can be his disciple. Christ 
abstained from every fraud, and from every hard bar- 
gain, from gaming, from reproaches, from obloquy, 
from obscenity, from jesting with sacred things, from 
loose and irreverent observations concerning Cod, his 
works, word, and institutions, from all ' idle words,' 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



293 



and from wrath, bitterness, and revenge. He who in- 
dulges himself in these, or any of these, is not Christ's 
disciple. 

At the same time, the example of Christ in this re- 
spect, teaches us in the most decisive manner, that he 
who performs one class of these external duties, and neg- 
lects the others, or who abstains from one class of sins, 
and commits another, is not a disciple of Christ. For 
example : a man may pay his debts, speak truth, and 
give alms to the poor ; yet, if he does not pray to God 
in his closet, his family, and the church, he is not a dis- 
ciple of Christ. 

Generally : the example of Christ teaches us, beyond 
a debate, what may indeed be clearly proved from the 
nature of this subject, that virtue has not, and cannot 
have, a partial existence. No man can love God with- 
out loving his neighbour ; or his neighbour, without 
loving God; or both, without restraining his passions 
and appetites. He who supposes himself to do one of 
these things when he does not the others, is guilty of a 
gross self-deception, and is employed in preventing his 
own attainment of eternal life. 

II. Christ was an example to all classes of men. 

It ought, I think, rationally to be expected, as plainly 
it ought to be most earnestly desired, that the person 
intended by God to be the great pattern of righteous- 
ness to mankind, should so appear, and live, and act in 
the world, as to become such a pattern to men of every 
description. Such a pattern Christ has in fact become ; 
a fact derived, in a great measure, from the lowly cir- 
cumstances in which he was born, lived, and died. 

Had our Saviour appeared as the Jews expected him 
to appear, in the character of a prince and conqueror, 
reigning with unprecedented splendour, perpetual tri- 
umph, and universal dominion, he would, as an example, 
have been useful to but few of mankind, and to them in 
comparatively few respects. The great and splendid 
only would have been materially benefited, and even 
they in but a small part of the truly excellent human 
characteristics. In the seat of splendour and dominion 
certain exercises of virtue may be exhibited with pe- 
culiar advantage ; such, for instance, as are attendant 
on the just and wise administrations of government, and 
the honourable distributions of princely favour. But 
these are chiefly such as few of mankind have it in their 
power to imitate. Men in exalted stations, princes, 
nobles, and statesmen may, indeed, learn wisdom, worth, 
and dignity of character from these attributes, when 
displayed in a superior manner by persons occupying 
places of superior distinction. How few persons derive 
moral advantages from reading the actions of kings 
and conquerors recorded in general history, compared 
with the multitudes who are seriously profited by a 
single instance of well conducted biography ? 

In the humble station which Christ actually occupied, 
all his excellencies were and are plainly seen to have 
been merely personal, springing from nothing acci- 
dental, blended with nothing adventitious, the inherent 
excellencies, and the natural emanations of his own 
goodness of character, neither enhanced nor obscured 
by the dazzling glare of office, nor liable to any misap- 
prehensions of ours from that prejudiced awe, that im- 
posing veneration, with which we are prone to regard 
the great. The virtues of Christ were, in the strictest 
sense, all his own ; the excellencies of an intelligent 
being merely ; of a man, unencumbered with office, 



place, or power, or any other of those gaudy trappings, 
in our attention to which, just views of the real charac- 
ter are apt to be perplexed or lost. These excellencies 
constitute an example for man as such ; and are, 
therefore, fitted to instruct and improve every child of 
Adam. 

To the great he became a glorious pattern of that 
condescension, meekness, and humility, which they or- 
dinarily need, in a peculiar manner, to learn, and 
which, when learned, is their prime ornament and glory. 
When kings and nobles behold him, who was declared 
by a voice from heaven to be the beloved Son of God, 
and who on earth commanded the winds and the waves, 
and raised the dead to life, characterizing himself as 
' meek and lowly of heart,' and retiring into a desert 
to avoid the offer of a throne, it is impossible that they 
should not feel, unless lost to rational sentiments, their 
own pride, haughtiness, and irritability, strongly re- 
proved. If they have hearts open to rational convic- 
tion, and not dead to virtuous impressions, it is impos- 
sible for them not to feel that the meekness and lowliness 
of mind which in the Redeemer were so excellent and 
exalted, must, of course, constitute the highest amiable- 
ness and exaltation of their own characters. 

To men of inferior classes, down to the peasant and 
the beggar, the slave, and the child, Christ is a universal 
example. In all the excellencies of which they are 
capable, or which are compatible with their circum- 
stances, Christ has gone before them, as a glorious ori- 
ginal, which they are required unceasingly to copy. 
The pattern is distinct ; it can therefore be clearly seen. 
It is exactly suited to their circumstances ; with a suit- 
able disposition it can, therefore, be easily followed. 
It is faultless ; and can, therefore, conduct them to no 
sin. It is sublime and lovely ; and allures, therefore, 
irresistibly to virtue. 

When we remember, that men of these classes con- 
stitute almost all the human race ; when we remember, 
that among them are found almost all those who are 
willing to follow any virtuous example ; when we remem- 
ber, that Christ, by appearing and living in humble cir- 
cumstances, has furnished a perfect pattern of right- 
eousness to this part of mankind, and consulted in this 
efficacious manner their highest good ; when we re- 
member that he has, at the same time, with equal effi- 
cacy, pursued the best interests of the remaining class, 
those in exalted stations, by recommending to them the 
virtues which they most need to be taught : we shall 
see, in the clearest manner, the perfect wisdom of the 
Redeemer in condescending to appear in so humble a 
character. ' To the Jews ' this was ' a stumbling-block,' 
to infidels it has been ' foolishness.' ' But the foolish- 
ness of God is,' in this as in all other respects, ' wiser 
than men.' 

To ministers of the Gospel the example of Christ 
commends itself with peculiar energy. Christ himself 
was a minister of the gospel ; sent by his Father in the 
same manner in which he has sent them. As a ruler 
in his church, as a preacher and pattern of righteous- 
ness, he is the great archetype, of which they are bound 
to be as exact copies as it shall be in their power to be- 
come. It ought here to be observed, that Christ, not 
improbably to render his example more useful to them, 
by adapting it more to their circumstances and their 
capacity of imitation, has in this respect acted almost 
only in the character of a mere man, and not as the 



294 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. uv. 



searcher of hearts, nor as the lawgiver of the church. 
Where he has acted otherwise, the distinction is so 
clearly and successfully made, that it may usually be 
understood without difficulty. His example in this, as 
in all his private conduct, is that of a mere, though per- 
fect, man, and is, of course, easily transferred to the 
practical concerns of every minister, and is both under- 
stood and followed without perplexity. Ministers, there- 
fore, are peculiarly without excuse if they are not fol- 
lowers of Christ. 

I shall only add, on this part of the subject, that the 
example of Christ is to all men authoritative. It is not 
merely a bright and beautiful pattern which we are in- 
vited to copy, because this conduct will be pleasing, 
honourable, and useful to us ; but it is a law also : re- 
quiring of us, with divine authority, to ' go, and do 
likewise.' Our obligation to obey is indispensable. 
Nor can any man be excused for a moment, who does 
not labour faithfully to resemble Christ in all the mere- 
ly personal and moral parts of his character. 

III. The example of Christ was perfect. 

By this I intend, that in all cases he did exactly 
that, and that only, which was right. The truth of this 
observation I have sufficiently illustrated in a former 
Discourse. Nothing more, therefore, will be necessary 
on this subject at the present time, than to show its ap- 
plication and usefulness to the concerns of mankind. 
Regarded in this light, Christ is to us a finished stand- 
ard of moral excellence, and as such has taught us, 

1. What we ought to be. 

In the progress of these Discourses, I have endea- 
voured to show the manner in which Christ walked, in 
which he glorified God, and did good to men. The 
two great commands of the moral law, which regulate, 
or should regulate, the conduct of all intelligent crea- 
tures, are, ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart ; and thy neighbour as thyself.' 

In conformity with the first of these commands, God 
held the supreme place in his views and affections. He 
came into the world to accomplish a work which his 
Father had appointed him. This work, in all its parts, 
he steadily pursued while he was in the world ; and 
when he left the world his work was done ; so that he 
was able to say at the close of life, ' Father, I have glo- 
rified thee on earth ; I have finished the work which 
thou gavest me to do.' But he did nothing else. When 
he left the world he left nothing unfinished, and no- 
thing superadded. The end of all which he did, or 
said, or thought, was the glory of his Father. This end 
he accomplished, and in the pursuit left himself out of 
consideration ; cheerfully subordinating to it his own 
convenience, pleasure, and comfort ; and cheerfully un- 
dergoing every trouble, difficulty, and danger. The 
whole language of his heart, on which the whole lan- 
guage of his life was a glorious comment, was, ' Not my 
will, but thine be done !' This is the pattern which we 
should set always before us ; this the piety, at which we 
should unceasingly aim. 

To mankind, also, he yielded himself, to promote 
their comfort, relieve their distresses, and secure their 
salvation. God is always glorified when good is vo- 
luntarily done to mankind, and was in this manner 
singularly glorified by Christ. He taught men truth 
and righteousness. He taught them all the doctrines 
which they needed to know, and all the duties which 
they were required to perform, for the attainment of 



eternal life. At all times he prayed for them, even 
while he was agonizing on the cross ; and wrought for 
them, with extreme self-denial, many wonderful and 
beneficent miracles. In a word, he lived in such a man- 
ner, that even his hard-hearted, unbelieving, and ma- 
lignant countrymen, were compelled to say, ' He hath 
done all things well.' 

In the meantime, he did nothing ill. He never 
omitted a duty, nor committed a sin. He was neither 
idle nor vain. He neither flattered nor slandered, nei- 
ther deceived nor defrauded, neither corrupted nor neg- 
lected his fellow men. By their favour he was not 
enticed, by their resentment he was not awed. His 
mind indulged no wrath, his bosom harboured no re- 
venge. Boldly and uniformly, without fear and with- 
out fondness, he told the truth, and did that which was 
kind, just, and right. 

To friends he was never partial, to enemies he was 
never resentful. In his virtues he was not rigid, in his 
doctrines not severe, in his worship not superstitious ; 
but in all was rational, gentle, meek, faithful, self-pos- 
sessed, and sublimely excellent. 

He was born in an age in which ' pure, undefiled re- 
ligion' had wonderfully decayed, and given place to an 
almost absolute round of superstitious and vain exter- 
nals. Whenever men rely on these observances for 
acceptance with God, they resign, of course, all ideas 
of internal purity. He who expects that washing his 
hands will give him a title to heaven, will never con- 
cern himself with cleansing his heart. In such a state 
of things, wickedness of every kind will triumph ; all 
the doctrines of religion will be modelled to the views 
and feelings of those who practise it ; and the whole 
system of faith will become a complication of folly, 
falsehood, authoritative dogmas, and implicit submis- 
sions of credulity. But in an age and country distin- 
guished by these evils more than, perhaps, any other, 
Christ uniformly and victoriously resisted them all. 
He received no doctrine, he required his hearers to re- 
ceive none, except when known and proved by unan- 
swerable evidence to be from heaven. All his own in- 
structions he proved in this manner. Not an instance 
can be produced, in which he used the argument from 
authority. In his conduct there is not an example of su- 
perstition, enthusiasm, or bigotry. Harmless enjoyments 
he never refused, sinful ones he never indulged. No 
man was the better or the worse treated by him, on ac- 
count of the sect, party, or nation to which he belonged. 

In his beneficence he was a glorious example to all 
men. His affections were literally universal, and his 
beneficence was an exact expression of his affections. 
As it was dictated by no idle dreams of philosophy, by 
no cobweb system of abstraction, but by plain, practi- 
cal truth, it was real, useful, uniformly honourable to 
himself, and invariably profitable to mankind. He 
never spent his time in sending his thoughts abroad to 
distant countries, to inquire what errors, abuses, or suf- 
ferings existed there, which demanded correction, re- 
formation, or relief. He did not sit down in the ex- 
ercise of vain philanthropy, to employ life in unavailing- 
sighs and tears for the sufferings of distant countries and 
ages, nor give himself up to the useless despair of doing 
any good to mankind, because he could not do all 
which their circumstances required. He did not satisfy 
himself with lamenting the distresses of his fellow men, 
and teaching others to relieve them. In a manner 



PRIESTHOOD OP CHRIST. 



295 



directly opposed to this visionary, useless philosophy, 
he made his whole life a life of the most active bene- 
ficence. Instead of seeking for objects of charity in 
Persia, or at Rome, he found them in his own coun- 
try, on the spot where he was, among the sufferers daily 
presented to his eyes. During his private life he con- 
tributed by his daily efforts to support and befriend the 
family of his father. Throughout his ministry he took 
an effectual and daily charge of his own family of disci- 
ples, and travelled unceasingly from one place to 
another, to find new objects on whom his kindness 
might be successfully employed. Thus he ' loved ' 
mankind, ' not in word, neither in tongue, but in deed, 
and in truth.' The weight of his example is, in this 
respect, singular ; because the great purposes of his mis- 
sion were more extensive, more absolutely general, than 
any which ever entered into the human mind. Like 
his views, his benevolence also was, in the absolute 
sense, universal. Yet he spent his life in doing good 
within the sphere in which he lived, and to the objects 
within his reach. Thus he has taught us irresistibly 
that, instead of consuming our time in wishes to do 
good where we cannot, the true dictate of universal 
good-will is to do it where we can. 

At the same time, he ' denied all ungodliness and 
worldly lusts.' No avaricious, ambitious, proud, or 
sensual desire found a place in his mind. Every selfish 
aim was excluded from his heart, every unworthy act 
from his life. Omniscience itself, looking into his soul 
with a perfect survey, saw nothing but pure excellence, 
supreme beauty, and divine loveliness ; a sun without a 
spot ; a splendour formed of mere diversities of light 
and glory. 

The perfection of this wonderful example we cannot 
expect nor hope to attain ; but a character of the same 
nature we may, and, if we would be interested in the 
favour of God, we must acquire. Like him, we must 
consecrate ourselves absolutely to the glorification of 
God. Like him, we must willingly and always do 
good. Like -him, we must steadily resist temptation 
and overcome iniquity. 

Obedience, and not pleasure, must be the commanding 
object of our purposes. The pleasure at which we 
supremely aim must be, not the pleasure of sense, but 
' the peace which passeth all understanding ;' ' the joy 
which no stranger meddles withal ;' a self-approving 
mind, the consciousness of personal worth, the enjoy- 
ment of virtuous excellence, accompanied and cherished 
by a glorious hope of the final approbation of God, and 
an eternal residence in his house in the heavens. 

2. The example of Christ teaches us how far the 
character of mankind is from what it ought to be. 

We are often told very flattering things concerning 
the dignity and worth of man, the number and splen- 
dour of his virtues, and the high moral elevation to 
which he has attained. The errors into which we fall 
in forming this estimate of the human character are, 
together with many others respecting our own character, 
the consequence of referring the conduct of ourselves 
and our fellow men to a false standard of moral excel- 
lence. No man ever intends to rise above the standard 
which he prescribes for himself ; all men expect to fall 
below it. If the standard, then, be too low, their cha- 
racter will be lower still. If it be imperfect, their life 
will be more imperfect. If it be erroneous, their con- 
duct under its influence, will err still more extensively. 



The true aim of every man ought to be pointed at per- 
fection. Of perfection he will indeed fall short ; but 
his life will be more excellent than if he aimed at any 
inferior mark. For this reason probably, among others, 
the Scriptures have directed us to make the attainment 
of perfection our daily as well as ultimate aim. 

The formation of a defective standard of excellence 
was one of the predominant errors and mischiefs of the 
ancient philosophy. The wise man of the Stoics, Fla- 
tonists, and Peripatetics felt himself to be all that he 
ought to be, because he so grossly misconceived of what 
he ought to be. Proud, vain, impious to the gods, a 
liar, and adulterer, and even a sodomite, he still boasted 
of his morality and piety, just as the Stoic boasted 
of his happiness while writhing under the pangs of the 
colic, or the gout. The reason plainly was, he believed 
all these enormities to be consistent with the character of 
a wise man. Cicero thought war (that is, the butchery 
of mankind, and the devastation of human happiness), 
when undertaken for the love of glory, and sustained 
with peculiar cruelty, justifiable. Why ? Because he had 
previously determined the love of glory to be virtue, or 
the real excellence of man, and therefore concluded that 
the means of indulging and gratifying this passion must 
be, at least, consistent with virtue. In the same manner, 
men of all descriptions, when they have formed to 
themselves a false standard of excellence, are satisfied, 
if they only embrace the errors and commit the sins 
which that standard allows ; and will in fact embrace 
more errors, and commit more sins. 

He who will compare himself with the perfect stan- 
dard of virtue furnished by the life of Christ, will see 
at once, and without a doubt, how far his character falls 
below what God has required. The best man living 
will, in this case, cordially unite with Paul in exclaim- 
ing, ' wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver 
me from the body of this death ?' and with Job, humbled 
by the immediate presence of God, in the kindred 
exclamation, ' Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent 
in dust and ashes.' How different, will he say, is my 
life from that of the Redeemer ! How different the 
heart from which it has been derived ! ' To me belong- 
eth shame and confusion of face, because I have sinned, 
and done this great wickedness.' But to thee, divine 
Saviour of men, be ' blessing, and honour, and glory, 
for ever and ever. Amen.' 

If such be the state of the best, in the light of this 
comparison, what must be the state of others? What 
of men who feel themselves to be, not only decent, but 
in a good degree, virtuous and safe ? What shall be 
said of him who neglects the worship of God in his 
family or closet, who attends in the sanctuary occasionally 
only, and is inattentive to the worship when present, 
who neglects the relief of the poor and distressed, who 
justifies lying in certain circumstances, who uses sophis- 
try, who makes hard bargains, who preaches moral es- 
says, effusions of genius, and metaphysical disquisitions, 
instead of the gospel, and himself, his resentments, or 
his flattery, instead of Christ ; who wastes his time in 
light and fanciful reading, or devotes life to amusement, 
instead of duty ? All these, and all other similar per- 
sons, are contrasts to the character of Christ ; and not 
resemblances. They ' walk ' not ' as Christ walked.' 
' 'Ihe same mind ' is not in them ' which was in Christ.' 

The meek and lowly virtues were peculiarly the vir- 
tues of the Redeemer. By this I mean, that he exhibited 



295 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lv. 



tliem most frequently, urged them most extensively and 
forcibly, and described his own character as being form- 
ed of them in a peculiar degree. The proud, there- 
fore, the vain, the insolent, the wrathful, and the re- 
vengeful, are irresistibly compelled, when they read his 
character, to know that they are ' none of his.' 

IV. The example of Christ was highly edifying. 

By this I intend, that it was of such a nature as 
strongly to induce and persuade mankind to follow him. 
On this part of the subject, interesting as it is, I can 
make hut a few observations. 

1. The example of Christ was singular. No other 
corresponding with it has ever appeared in the present 
world. The best of men are only faint and distant 
copies of his excellence. When exhibited by him it was 
a novelty, and has since been always new, as well as 
always delightful. In this view, it is formed to engage 
attention, and command a peculiar regard. 

2. It was the example of an extraordinary person ; 
who taught wonderful wisdom, lived a wonderful life, 
and wrought wonderful miracles. Such a person natu- 
rally compels, beyond any other, our admiration and 
respect ; an admiration mightily enhanced by a consi- 
deration of the circumstances in which he was born and 
lived, the humble education which he received, the low- 
ly condition and character of those with whom he con- 
sorted, the superiority of his precepts and life to those 
of all who went before him, and their total opposition 
to those of his own contemporaries. All these conside- 
rations lead us to a full and affecting conviction, that 
his wisdom was self-derived, and his life the mere result 
of his own unrivalled virtue. Accordingly, all these 
facts astonish those who lived around him, and have 
filled with wonder men of every succeeding age. 

3. The example of Christ was an example of benevo- 
lence only. All his employments were directed to no 
other earthly end than the promotion of human happi- 
ness. His miracles were directed only to such objects 
as feeding the hungry, healing the sick, giving sight to 
the blind, and restoring life to the dead. His precepts 
and his life terminated in illuminating the soul, dimi- 
nishing the power of sin, invigorating virtue, and secur- 
ing the salvation of men. 

4. It was the example also of a person struggling with 
suffering and sorrow, unceasing obloquy and bitter per- 
secution. The heathen could say, ' The gods themselves 
behold not a nobler spectacle than a good man firmly 
enduring adversity.' Christ was supremely good, and 
encountered extreme adversity. The patience with 



which he submitted, and the firmness with which he en- 
dured, invest his character with a greatness to which 
there is no parallel. The fire of persecution, instead of 
consuming him, merely lent its gloomy lustre to show 
the splendour of the object which it surrounded. 

5. It was the example of a person employed in accom- 
plishing the greatest work, which was ever done, and in- 
troducing into the universe the most extensive good which 
it ever beheld. There is a moral grandeur, a divine subli- 
mity in this employment of Christ, at which the mind 
gazes with wonder, and is lost; which angels behold with 
amazement and rapture, and which eternity itself will 
hardly be able to unfold to a created understanding. 

6. It was the example of a person devoting all his 
labours, and undergoing all his sufferings, for the benefit 
of others, and proffering with an open hand the im- 
mense good, which he procured at an immense price, to 
strangers, sinners, apostates, enemies to himself, and 
children of perdition. Not for himself, but for guilty, 
ruined men, he was born, lived, laboured, suffered 
through life, and expired on the cross. To every one 
who is willing to be like him he shut the prison of woe, 
and opened the gates of heaven. 

7. It is an example in itself pre-eminently beautiful 
and lovely. His meekness, gentleness, humility, com- 
passion, and universal sweetness of disposition, are not 
less distinguished than his greatness and glory. Solo- 
mon, beholding his character in distant vision, exclaimed, 
' He is the chief among ten thousand, and altogether 
lovely !' David, in prophetic view of the excellence of 
his life, exclaimed, ' Thou art fairer than the sons of 
men.' God the Father, beholding him with infinite 
complacency, announced his character to the world with 
a voice from heaven, ' This is my beloved Son, in whom 
I am well pleased.' To these divine declarations, all 
virtuous beings have subjoined their Amen. 

Finally : It is an example in which divine wisdom 
and excellence united with the most perfect human mind, 
coinciding with all its designs, and guiding it to un- 
mingled excellence. To the amiableness and beauty of 
the most finished created virtue, were superadded and 
united the authority and greatness of the Divinity, by 
which that mind was inhabited. 

The combination, therefore, was a combination of all 
that is lovely with all that is awful, exalted, and divine. 
What mind that can be persuaded from sin must not 
this example persuade ? What mind that can be allured 
to holiness must not this example allure? 



SERMON LV. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST HIS ATONEMENT. 



Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus : Whom God hath set forth 
to be a propitiation, through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that 
are past, through the forbearance of God. To declare, I say, at this time, his righteousness ; that he migltt 
be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus. — Rom. iii. 24 — 26. 



In a former Discourse I proposed to consider, as parts i ter; — the sacrifice which he offered for sin 
ot the Priesthood of Christ, the holiness of his charac- I intercession which he makes for sinners. 



and, the 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



297 



The first of these subjects has been examined at length. 
The present discourse shall be occupied by the second, viz. 
The sacrifice of Christ for the sins of men. 
In considering this subject I shall endeavour to show, 

I. The nature, 

II. The necessity, 

III. The existence of an atonement for sin, 

IV. The manner in which it was performed, 

V. Its extent. 

I. I shall attempt to show the nature of an atonement. 

The word atonement, in its original sense, always 
denotes some amends or satisfaction for the neglect of 
some duty, or the commission of some fault ; a satisfac- 
tion with which, when supposed to be complete, the per- 
son injured ought reasonably to be contented, and to 
demand of the offender nothing more on account of his 
transgression. This satisfaction may, in certain cases, 
be made by the offender himself. Whenever he has 
owed some piece of service, and this was all he has owed, 
he may, if lie have failed to perform this duty, atone 
for the fault by a future service, which he did not owe, 
and which is equivalent to that which he neglected, and 
to the damage occasioned by his neglect. A servant, 
who owes an estimated day's work to his master every 
day, may, if he have neglected to work half a day, atone 
thus for his fault, by such future labour as shall be equi- 
valent to the extent of his neglect, and to the injury 
occasioned by it to his master. In this case it will be 
seen, that the atonement respects only the fault which 
has been committed. The servant owed his master so 
much labour : the payment of so much labour would be 
a discharge therefore of the debt. But we do not say, 
that the debt in this case is atoned. The fault only 
which has been committed, in neglecting or refusing to 
pay in the proper season and manner, demands or ad- 
mits of an atonement. In every other case where an 
atonement exists, it is in the same manner a satisfaction 
for an injury or fault. 

In some cases, the party offending cannot atone for 
his offence, but the atonement, if made at all, must be 
made vicariously, that is, by the intervention of a third 
person between the offender and the offended. Of this 
nature is every case, in which the offender owes as ab- 
solutely every duty which he could afterward perform, 
as he owed that, the non-performance of which consti- 
tuted his fault. In this case, all his future efforts are 
necessarily due for the time being, and can, therefore, 
never become a satisfaction for faults which are past. 
Amends for an injury can never be made by services 
which are due to the injured person on other grounds, 
and the refusal of which would constitute a new injury. 
In other words, they must be services rendered only on 
account of the injury already received. He, therefore, 
who owes to another all his services for himself, can 
never become the means of atoning to him for the faults 
of another. In all cases of vicarious atonement, the 
substitute must be under no personal obligation to ren- 
der the services which are to be accepted as a satisfac- 
tion of the principal, or in other words the offender. 
Nothing is more plain, than that that which is due to him- 
self, cannot be transferred to the account of another. 

In every case of personal or vicarious atonement, the 
services rendered must be of such value as to become a 
reasonable and full satisfaction for the injury done ; all 
that justice can fairly demand or render ; such as will 
place the person injured in as good a situation as that 



which preceded the injury. Where the injury has been 
great, therefore, or multiplied, the services must also be 
proportionally great. 

An atonement for a crime committed against a go- 
vernment of any kind, supposes the offender, if he is to 
receive the benefit of it, to be pardoned. In this case 
it must be such as to leave the government in as good a 
state, as firm, as honourable, as easy, and certainly 
efficacious in its future operations, after the offender is 
pardoned, as it would have been, if he had been punish- 
ed with exact justice. In no other manner can it be- 
come a satisfaction for the injury. If all the services of 
the offender, in this case, were due to the government 
after his crime was committed, it would be impossible 
for the atonement to be made, unless by another person. 

Sin is a crime committed against the government of 
God. All the services of sinners are owed to God for 
the time being. No future services of any sinner, there- 
fore, can be any satisfaction for his past sins. If an 
atonement be made in this case, then it must be made 
by a substitute ; and this substitute must be able to ren- 
der services of sufficient value to repair the injury done. 
In the performance of these services he must leave the 
divine government as firm, as honourable, as efficacious 
in its operations, after the atonement is made, as it was 
before the crime was committed. 

It will perhaps be objected here, that the divine go- 
vernment cannot become less firm or less honourable 
than it originally was, because it is supported in its full 
strength by infinite power and wisdom. To this ob- 
jection I answer, that the government of God over his 
moral creatures, is a moral government ; that is, a go- 
vernment of rules and motives ; or of laws, rewards, and 
punishments. Such a government, even in the hand of 
omnipotence, may become weak and inefficacious, in 
the view of its subjects. A law which, after it has been 
violated, is not vindicated by publishing the violator, 
loses of course a part of its authority. A moral governor 
will cease to be regarded with veneration, if, when he is 
insulted by his subjects, he does not inflict on them the 
proper punishment. A government of mere power may 
be upheld in its full strength by the exercise of power 
only. But a moral government cannot be thus preserv- 
ed, unless the motives to obedience are continued to the 
view of its subjects in their full force. An atonement 
for sin, therefore, that is, a complete atonement, must be 
sucli as to leave these motives wholly unimpaired. It 
must consist of such services as, whatever else may be 
their nature, will, after the sinners are pardoned, leave 
the government of God in no degree less venerable, less 
efficacious, or less likely to be punctually obeyed, than 
before the sins were committed. As these sins have 
been numerous, and very great, it is farther evident, 
that the services rendered as a satisfaction for them 
must be of great value. 

II. / shall endeavour to show the necessity of an 
atonement. 

In order to understand this part of the subject, and 
forewarn my hearers that it is a part of high importance 
to the subject itself, and to all just views of the Christian 
system, it will be necessary to bring up to view the state 
of man, as a transgressor of the divine law. 

The language of this law, and its only language, was, 

' He that doeth these things shall live by them.' — ' This 

do, and thou shalt live.' — ' Cursed is every one, that 

continueth not in all things written in the book of the 

2 p 



298 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbh. lv. 



law to do them.' This law, God published, as the rule 
by which his own infinite wisdom and rectitude de- 
termined to govern the world. Of course it is a right 
and just rule. Of course, also, it is a rule which 
the same wisdom and rectitude are pledged to maintain 
in its full force. The very reasons for which it was 
enacted require, with their full strength, that it should 
be also maintained. If it was wise and right to enact 
it, it was equally wise and right to maintain it. If to 
enact it was the dictate of infinite wisdom and rectitude, 
to maintain it must equally be the dictate of the same 
attributes. 

If these observations be admitted, and it is believed 
that they cannot be refused an admission, it follows of 
necessity, that no sinner can be forgiven, consistently 
with this law, or the honour of the lawgiver, unless on 
the ground of an atonement. In the law he had de- 
clared that ' the soul which sinneth shall die.' To par- 
don the sinner, without any change from that state of 
things which existed when the law was published, would 
be to declare, by declining to carry the sentence of the 
law into execution, that infinite wisdom and rectitude 
had formed new views concerning the sentence of the 
law, and the demerit of the sinner ; views, contrary to 
those with which the law was published. When the law 
was published, God declared that the sinner should die. 
Now he must declare, by pardoning the sinner, that he 
should not die. Yet no change in the state of things 
had taken place, nor is any supposed to have taken 
place, to occasion this change in the divine conduct. No 
reason is even supposed why the conduct of God should 
be thus changed. The change itself must, of course, be 
wanton, causeless, and disgraceful to the divine charac- 
ter. If the law was originally just, it was now just. 
Justice, therefore, required the execution of its penalty 
upon every transgressor. In pardoning the transgres- 
sor, God would declare that the law was not just, in 
direct contradiction to the declaration which he made 
of its justice, when he published it, as the rule by which 
he intended to govern the world. If the law was origi- 
nally wise, it must now be wise to execute it. But in 
pardoning the sinner, God must declare that the exe- 
cution of the law was not consistent with wisdom. If 
the law was originally good, that is, formed by a bene- 
volent mind, so as to promote benevolent purposes, it 
was now equally good. But in pardoning the sinner, 
God must declare that the execution of the law was in- 
consistent with the dictates of benevolence. The change, 
therefore, manifested in the divine character and con- 
duct, by pardoning the sinner, where no change of cir- 
cumstances existed to justify it, would, on the one hand, 
be great and essential ; no less than God's denying 
himself; and, on the other, would be causeless, weak, 
and contemptible. Can such a change be attributed, 
even in thought, to the immutable and perfect Jehovah ? 
In the law, God had manifested an infinite love to 
holiness and an infinite hatred to sin ; or, if the lan- 
guage should be preferred, a supreme love to the one, 
and a supreme hatred to the other. But, to pardon the 
sinner without any change in the state of things, would 
be to treat the sinner and the faithful subject exactly in 
the same manner, or to treat the sinner in the same 
manner as if he had faithfully obeyed. Declarations 
made by conduct are altogether the most solemn and 
efficacious of all declarations. In this conduct, there- 
fore, God would, in the most solemn manner, declare 



that lie regarded holiness and sin alike, because he 
treated the sinner and the saint alike ; and that neither 
of them was an object of his serious regard. The views 
of a lawgiver are always expressed in the whole of his 
government, taken together, and from this cannot but 
be distinctly understood. If his laws are unwise, he 
will be pronounced to be unwise. If his administrations 
be unwise, he will be considered as sustaining the same 
character. If either of them be unjust, he will be pro- 
nounced to be unjust. If they be inconsistent, incon- 
sistency will necessarily be attributed to his character. 
How perfect a violation would this conduct be of the 
attributes of justice, wisdom, and immutability! 

At the same time, all subjects of the divine govern- 
ment would be encouraged to disobedience by these 
proofs of a changeable, weak, and inconsistent charac- 
ter. Angels, we know, can disobey. This is complete 
proof that all inferior creatures are capable of the same 
disobedience. Angels have disobeyed, when, at least 
they supposed the law to mean exactly what it threat- 
ens ; and without the least hope, founded on any decla- 
ration of God, of any possible exemption from the pen- 
alty actually denounced. Man also disobeyed in the 
same circumstances. Both also revolted when, antece- 
dently, they had been only and perfectly holy. In these 
facts we have complete evidence that no class of holy 
beings is secure from disobedience, even under a law 
which gives not a single encouragement of escape to 
those who disobey. Should such encouragement then 
be holden out by the actual forgiveness, much more by 
the universal forgiveness, of the penitent, without an 
atonement, who might not be expected to rebel ? Who, 
when temptation powerfully assailed, and the wish to 
sin was strongly excited, would not feel assured of his 
own future repentance, and his consequent safety from 
future punishment. 

Of such beings, as men now are, it ought to be ob- 
served, that they themselves furnish ample proof of what 
might be rationally expected under such a dispensation. 
This will appear, if we consider, 

1. That the atonement of Christ has completely 
opened the door for the exemption of all penitents from 
the punishment threatened by the law ; and yet, that 
the number of those who really repent is ordinarily 
very small, compared with the number of those who 
transgress. 

2. That not even one of these becomes a penitent of 
his own accord, as the Scriptures abundantly assure 
us ; but assumes this character only in consequence of 
the immediate influence of the Divine Spirit upon his 
heart. 

3. That of this number, few, very few are ever awak- 
ened or convinced by the encouragements and promises 
of the gospel ; but almost all by the denunciations of 
the law. The blessings of immortality, the glories of 
heaven, are usually, to say the least, preached with little 
efficacy to an assembly of sinners. I have been sur- 
prised to see how dull, inattentive, and sleepy, such an 
assembly has been, amidst the strongest representations 
of these divine subjects, combining the most vivid images 
with a vigorous style, and an impressive elocution. 

4. That those persons who disbelieve a future punish- 
ment are distinguished by a licentiousness of character, 
even beyond other licentious men. Repentance and 
religion are certainly never seen by the common eye 
among infidels or universalists : and no revival of reli- 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



299 



gion, no considerable prevalence of religion, has, so far 
as I know, been the consequence of preaching Unitari- 
an doctrines. 

All these are direct proofs, that men who now sin so 
; extensively and perseveringly, would, if the denuncia- 
tions of the law were proved to be false, by the exten- 
sion of forgiveness to sinners without an atonement, 
sin with a harder heart, with a bolder hand, and through- 
out a more uniformly guilty life. 

Restraint is a necessary part of every law and 
every government : ' Hitherto shalt thou come, but no 
farther,' being invariably the language of both. All 
restraint is a hinderance of inclination ; a prohibition 
of the indulgence of desire. In itself, it is always re- 
garded as an evil ; and is really such, whenever it does 
not prevent some other evil, or accomplish some good. 
Adam, in a state of innocence, in the end considered 
the prohibition of the forbidden tree as an evil. We 
with sinful propensities only, should undoubtedly re- 
gard, and naturally do in fact regard, every restraint in 
the same manner. If, then, God were not to execute 
the sentence of the law upon us for our transgressions, 
but were to forgive the sinner without an atonement, 
we should undoubtedly sin, not only invariably, but 
with a boldness, constancy, and extent, not often seen 
even in this guilty world. 

If any person should think this conclusion harsh and 
severe, let him remember how soon after the apostasy 
mankind, in the possession of long life and abundant 
enjoyments, forgot the loss of their immortality ; and 
corrupted themselves to such a degree, that the infinite- 
ly benevolent author of their being thought it necessary 
to sweep away the whole human race, except one family, 
with the besom of destruction. Let him remember, how 
little reformation followed the overthrow of Sodom and 
Gomorrah, or the terrible plagues of Egypt. Let him 
remember, that the Israelites worshipped a calf at the 
foot of Mount Sinai ; and sank into all the abominations 
of the Canaanites, as soon as the generation which de- 
stroyed them had gone to the grave. Let him remem- 
ber that, amid all the judgments and mercies which 
they received, they apostatized from God at the end of 
every little period, and were finally given up, as hope- 
less, to captivity and ruin. Let him remember, that 
their descendants crucified Christ ; and that, after the 
sufferings of eighteen hundred years, and those extreme, 
they are still unbelieving, impenitent, and harder than 
the nether millstone. Let him remember, finally, how 
soon the Christian world itself degenerated into idola- 
try, impurity, persecution, forgetfulness of God, a gene- 
ral corruption of Christianity, and a general dissolution 
of morals. With these things in his view, it will be im- 
possible for him to think the conclusion which I have 
drawn, either unwarrantable, or unkind. 

But it may be said, that although all these evils 
might indeed take place, if God should pardon sinners 
without repentance ; still the forgiveness of penitents in- 
volves no such consequence. To this allegation, which 
I believe to be made by almost every human heart, I 
tnswer, 

L The threatening of the law against transgression is 
bsolute. ' The soul that sinneth shall die.' In this 
breatening there is no mention, and plainly no admis- 
on, of repentance, as the foundation of escape to the 

[insgressor. If an exception was intended to be made 

favour of the penitent, why was it not expressed, or 



at least hinted, by the law ? There is not, that i know, 
a single intimation of this nature in any of the expres- 
sions which it contains. Should it be said, that, al- 
though the exception is not made in the words of the 
law itself, yet it is sufficiently declared in the comments 
on the law, given us by Moses and the succeeding pro- 
phets ; I answer, that wherever these commentators 
speak of repentance, as connected with our escape from 
the curse of the law, they speak of it, either as connect- 
ed with the atonement of Christ, or not. If they men- 
tion it as connected with this atonement, then the ob- 
jector will be obliged to admit that the atonement itsel? 
is the foundation of the penitent's escape. If they do 
not speak of it as connected with the atonement, then it 
follows, that the penitent is pardoned, under the law, or 
legal dispensation. An act of pardon is an act of grace ; 
and no act is more eminently gracious, or free. To this 
grace the gospel can add, and does in fact add, nothing 
material. ' Grace,' therefore, ' came,' according to this 
supposition, originally by Moses, and not by Christ ; 
and the gospel is not the ' good news,' or the ' glad 
tidings of the grace of God,' as it is often styled 
by the writers of it ; because the tidings which it pro- 
fesses to bring, were long before published by the 
law. 

Farther : It will not be in this case true, that ' hea- 
ven and earth shall sooner pass away, than one jot or 
one tittle of the law shall pass, until all be fulfilled.' 
Not only one jot or one tittle, but the whole penal sen- 
tence of the law is, according to this scheme, left, and 
will for ever be left, unfulfilled ; without any other rea- 
son to forbid its fulfilment, besides what existed, and 
was known to exist, at the time when it was published 
to the world. 

2. The absolute threatening of the law was denounced 
by God in the exercise of his infinite perfections. 
When he denounced it, therefore, in this manner, that 
is, unconditionally, he acted wisely and justly. The 
denunciation he intended either to execute, or not. If 
he did not intend to execute it, he acted, so far as I am 
able to discern, insincerely ; because in publishing it 
he declared, that he would do what he intended not to 
do. If he intended to execute it, he will certainly exe- 
cute it : because no reason exists, in the case supposed, 
to forbid the execution, which did not exist, in this 
view, when he published the threatening. It will not 
be denied, that he foresaw every instance of repentance 
which would afterward be exhibited by mankind. As 
God is immutable, it must at the least be conceded, 
that he cannot be supposed to change his determina- 
tions in any case, especially a case of such import- 
ance, where no reason whatever exists for the change, 
beside those which existed when the determination was 
made. 

3. The repentance of the sinner cannot be an atone- 
ment for his crime. Repentance consists in sorrow for 
sin, confession of it, an acknowledgment of the justice 
of God in punishing it, resolutions of future obedience, 
and actual reformation. These things undoubtedly, 
constitute an important change in the character of the 
sinner ; but they alter not the nature or degree of the 
guilt which he has already incurred. For this he is con- 
demned ; and for this, even according to his own peni- 
tential views, he has merited punishment. In what 
manner does his present penitence affect his guilt P 
Certainly, in no such sense as to lessen its degree, or 



500 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lv. 



desert of punishment. In what manner then can it 
prevent him from being punished ? Plainly, in none, 
except that which will make amends for the evils which 
he has committed ; the dishonour which he has done to 
the law and government of God. But what is there in 
his repentance which can make these amends ? In what 
manner will it discover that the character of God, in 
threatening punishment to his sins, and declining, on 
account of a repentance, originally foreseen, to inflict 
that punishment, was the same character ; or that God, 
when he threatened the punishment, and when he re- 
fused to execute it, regarded holiness and sin in one 
unchangeable manner P Will his sorrow for sin make it 
cease to be sin ? Will the confession of his guilt make 
him cease to be guilty ? Will his acknowledgment of 
the justice of the punishment which he has deserved, 
make it cease to be just ? Will his resolutions of 
amendment, or his actual reformation, efface or lessen 
the guilt of his past life ? None of these things will, I 
suppose, be pretended. How, then, can the repentance 
of a sinner become a proper ground for his forgiveness 
and acceptance ? If he is actually forgiven on this 
ground, it cannot but be seen, and will with truth be 
said, that God in the formation and the administration 
of his law, has acted inconsistently ; and that either the 
law was unjust and unreasonable, or that his failure to 
execute it was unwise and dishonourable to himself. 
.For this evil, which, for aught that appears, may be 
great beyond any assignable limit, this scheme furnishes, 
so far as I can see, no remedy. 

But it may be farther asked, Would it not be more 
honourable to God, or at least equally honourable, to 
forgive the penitent without an atonement? Whence is 
it, that suffering or punishment becomes necessary to 
the establishment of his glory in the government of the 
universe ? 

To these questions, I answer, that it ill becomes a 
creature of yesterday to employ himself in contriving a 
government for the universe ; or a system of regulations 
by which the Author of the universe may direct his 
immense and eternal administration. Even to under- 
stand that state of things which really exists, is, in a few 
instances only, possible for us ; and in almost all, utterly 
transcends the extent of our faculties. A little child 
would be very absurdly employed, in contriving a sys- 
tem of government for a kingdom, or in forming 
decisions concerning the wisdom or folly, the justice 
or injustice, by which it was governed. The universe 
is more disproportioned to the powers of a man, than 
a kingdom to those of a child ; and the government of 
God as absolutely transcends the comprehension of an 
angel, as that of a prince exceeds the understanding of 
a child. An attempt to answer these questions, there- 
fore, must be, and from the nature of the case be seen 
to be, lame, imperfect, and in many respects unsatis- 
factory. Nothing more can be expected on this subject 
by a sober man, than a removal or diminution of some 
of the most obvious doubts ; and even this, perhaps, 
may be attempted in vain. Let it be remembered, how- 
ever, that the difficulties attendant upon our inquiries in 
the present case arise, not from any perceptible absurdity 
of what we know, but from the mere inexplicableness of 
what we do not know, from the nature of the subject, 
in itself free from all absurdity, but incomprehensible 
by such minds as ours. 

Willi these things premised, I will suggest, as a di- 



rect but partial answer to these inquiries, the following 
observations : — 

1. We are prejudiced judges of this subject. Our own 
case, and that a case immensely interesting to us, is con- 
cerned. Where we have interests depending of verv 
moderate importance, our judgments usually are partial. 
Here they must of course be extremely partial. 

2. No government of the universe can become the 
character of the Creator, except a moral government. 
A government of force would be obviously destitute or 
any moral excellence, or any intellectual glory. The 
ruler, so far as he was obeyed, would be obeyed only 
from fear, and never from confidence or love. This is 
the obedience of a slave ; as the government would be 
that of a tyrant. It is unnecessary to multiply words, 
to prove that in this case the ruler could never be 
reverenced or loved by his subjects ; or that his subjects 
could never be virtuous and amiable in themselves, or 
loved and approved by him. 

3. The law of God is, and must of necessity be, a rule 
of action for an immense multitude of beings, that is, for 
the whole intelligent universe, throughout eternity. The 
wise and perfect regulation of this vast kingdom cannot 
but require a course of administration, in many respects 
different from that by which a little part of this kingdom 
might, perhaps, be effectually governed. Regulations, 
also, which are to extend their influence through eter- 
nity, must of course, differ from those whose influence 
is confined to a little period of time. Particularly, 

4. The motives to obedience must be great, uniform, 
always present, and always operative. We well know, 
by familiar appearance, that a little state can be kept in 
order by what is commonly called a very gentle admin- 
istration : that is, the government may consist of mild 
laws, holding out motives to obedience of moderate effi- 
cacy, and an administration of those laws, presenting 
by its gentleness similar motives. Whereas a great 
empire, containing vast multitudes of people, can be 
successfully controlled only by what is called a more 
vigorous or energetic government ; inducing obedience 
by more powerful motives, addressed unceasingly to 
every subject, both in the laws and in the administra- 
tion. The degree, to which these motives need to be 
extended in the government of the universe, can be 
comprehended only by an unlimited understanding. 

5. All motives to obedience are comprised in natural 
good and natural evil ; that is, in enjoyment and suffer- 
ing. As a moral government influences only by mo- 
tives, and only in this way preserves the peace and 
insures the happiness of those who obey ; it is plain, 
that these motives, found in enjoyment and suffering, 
must, in such a kingdom as this, possess, if its peace 
and happiness are to be secured, very great power ; 
power sufficient to accomplish the end. How great the 
suffering or enjoyment proposed by the law, and pro- 
duced by the administration, as motives to obedience 
and disobedience, must be, God only can determine. 

6. A great part of all the motives to obedience, ii 
such a government, is presented by the uniformity an' 
exactness of the administration. No state in the pr< 
sent world is ever well-governed, is ever orderly, peac' 
ful, and happy, under an administration inconsistei 
with itself; an administration at one time rigid, t 
another lax ; at one time severe, at another indulgei. 
This is proverbially acknowledged. Such a governmt t 
of the universe would, not improbably, within a lite 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



301 



time throw its affairs into confusion, and involve its 
inhabitants in very extensive evil, if not in absolute ruin. 
If the law of God, then, were not to be executed, unless 
occasionally ; if its penalties were not inflicted on peni- 
tents ; this inconsistency would be seen in all its extent, 
and be productive of all its evil consequences. But 
this could not be honourable to God, nor, as it would 
seem, useful to his intelligent kingdom. 

7. The law of God is formed in such a manner, as to 
insure, if obeyed, the supreme glory of his character, 
and the highest happiness of his subjects. Nothing can 
be so honourable to God as to sit at the head of an im- 
mense and an eternal kingdom, composed of subjects 
who ' love him with all the heart, and each other as 
themselves ;' a kingdom, therefore, of perfect order, 
harmony, and rectitude. But these immense bless- 
ings are secured as well as generated by this law. A 
law of such importance can neither be given up, nor 
changed in any manner, consistently with the honour 
of God. 

8. The advent of Christ is every where exhibited as 
fraught with peculiar blessings to mankind. It was 
published by the angel to the Bethlehem shepherds, as 
an event the news of which were ' good tidings of great 
joy.' It was sung by his heavenly companions as the 
foundation and source of ' glory to God in the highest, 
peace on earth, and good-will towards men.' But if 



Christ did not make an atonement for sin, it will be 
difficult, I presume it will be impossible, to point out or 
to conceive in what respect his advent was of such 
importance, either to the glory of God, or to the good 
of mankind. On this ground, he certainly was not the 
means of pardon to men ; because they are pardoned 
without his interference. He was not the means even 
of publishing this pardon ; for it had been published 
long before, and amply, by the prophets of the Old Tes- 
tament. ' A broken heart, and a contrite spirit,' says 
David, ' thou wilt not despise.' ' Let the wicked for- 
sake his way,' says Isaiah, ' and the unrighteous man 
his thoughts ; and let him turn to the Lord, for he will 
have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will abun- 
dantly pardon.' 

If Christ made an atonement for the sins of mankind, 
all the magnificent expressions concerning his mission 
and character, the declarations, that he is the only Sa- 
viour of mankind, and that, ' there is salvation in no 
other,' are easily understood ; if not, I am unable to see 
how they can be explained. Particularly, I am unable 
to discern how God is so solemnly said to be peculiarly 
glorified by the mission of Christ ; for, according to this 
scheme, he was sent for no purpose which had not been 
accomplished before ; and which might not, for aught 
that appears, have been accomplished afterward, without 
his appearance in the world. 



SERMON LVI. 



THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST HIS ATONEMENT. 

WHICH IT IS PERFORMED: 



-ITS EXISTENCE: THE MANNER IN 
ITS EXTENT. 



Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus : Whom God hath, set forth 
to be a propitiation, through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that 
are past, through the forbearance of God. To declare, I say, at this time, his righteousness ; that he might 
be just, and the justifier of Mm which believeth in Jesus Rom. iii. 24 — 26. 



In the last Sermon I proposed to discourse on the atone- 
ment of Christ, under the following heads : — 

I. The nature, 

II. The necessity, 

III. The existence of an atonement for sin, 

IV. The manner in which it was performed, 

V. Its extent. 

The two first of these I considered sufficiently in that 
Discourse. The three last I propose to examine at the 
present time ; and shall proceed, without any prelimi- 
nary remarks, to show, 

III. The existence of an atonement for sin. 

It is hardly necessary to observe here, that as all our 
knowledge of this subject is revealed, all proofs of the 
fact in question must be derived from Revelation. The 
proofs which I shall allege, I shall arrange under the 
fol lowing heads : 

1. Those passages of Scripture which speak of Christ 
as a propitiation for sin. 

These are the text ; 1 John ii. 2 ; and 1 John iv. 10. 
Of these, the text first claims our consideration. In the 
text it is declared, that God hath set forth Christ * to be 
s propitiation.' 



The word here rendered propitiation, is i'ha.arriqiou. 
This word is used only twice in the Greek Testament ; 
viz. in the text, and Hebrews ix. 5. Its proper mean- 
ing is the propitiatory, or mercy-seat ; as it is rendered 
in the latter passage. The mercy-seat in the tabernacle 
and temple, was the place where God manifested himself 
peculiarly by the Shechinah, or visible symbol of his 
presence ; heard the prayers, and accepted the offerings 
of his people ; and dispensed to them his mercy, in an- 
swer to their supplications. The mercy-seat, we are 
taught in the text, was a type, of which Christ, the true 
i~haaTri(>i<iv, was the antitype. In him, God hears our 
prayers, and dispenses his own mercy to us. The mercy- 
seat, the place where God exhibited himself as thus pro- 
pitious to mankind, was itself a mere shadow or symbol, 
denoting Christ ; the means by which he is rendered 
propitious. Although the word differs, therefore, from 
that used in the other passages mentioned, the meaning 
is the same. It is accordingly rendered in the same 
manner by the translators. 

A propitiation for sin is the means by which God is 
rendered merciful to sinners. Christ is here declared 
to be the propitiation. But the only possible sense, in 



302 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lvi. 



which Christ can have become the means of rendering 
God merciful to sinners, is by making an atonement for 
them. This atonement I have explained to consist in 
making sufficient amends for the faults which they have 
committed, and placing the law and government of God 
in such a situation, that when sinners are pardoned, both 
shall be equally honourable and efficacious, as before. 
The motives to obedience, also, must in no degree be 
lessened. Farther : the character of God, when pardon- 
ing sinners, must appear perfectly consistent with itself, 
and exactly expressed by the law. Finally : God must 
be seen to be no less opposed to sin, and no less de- 
lighted with holiness, than when the law was formed. 

The doctrine is completely established by the text. 
God is here said to have set forth Christ ' to declare his 
righteousness, 1 or, as it is better rendered by Macknight, 
' for a proof of his own righteousness in passing by the 
sins which were before committed, through the forbear- 
ance of God ; for a proof, also, of his righteousness at 
the present time, in order that he may be just, when 
justifying him who believeth in Jesus.' In this passage, 
the end for which Christ was set forth to be a propitia- 
tion, is asserted to be, that Christ might declare, or be 
a proof of the righteousness of God, in passing by, or 
remitting sins which were past ; and of his righteousness, 
also, at the present time, when justifying believers. In 
these assertions we are taught in the most unambiguous 
manner, that unless Christ had been set forth as a pro- 
pitiation, the righteousness of God, in remitting past 
and present sins, would not have been manifested. It 
is also declared in the same decisive manner, that if 
Christ had not been set forth as a propitiation, God 
would not have been just, when justifying believers. 
Christ, therefore, in the character of a propitiation, and 
only in this character, has made the pardoning, or jus- 
tification of sinners, consistent with the justice of God. 
To pardon sinners, therefore, without a propitiation, 
would have been inconsistent with divine justice, and of 
course impossible. 

The same doctrine is farther confirmed by St John, 
who, in his first epistle, ii. 2, and iv. 10, declares, that 
Christ ' is a propitiation for our sins.' The word used 
in both these passages, is iKxaftos ; the proper English 
of which is ' a propitiation,' a propitiatory sacrifice or 
sin-offering. The word is often used by the Seventy ; 
and appropriately signifies, in their usage of it, a sacri- 
fice of atonement. Thus x.qio; fcaafiov * is a ' ram for a 
sin-offering ;' and irgotrlpegitv iT^aafiov f is ' to offer a sin- 
offering.' The same signification it has, and can only 
have, as used by St John. 

2. Those passages of Scripture, which speak of Christ 
as a ransom for mankind. These are Matt. xx. 28 ; the 
corresponding passage in Mark, x. 45 ; and 1st of Tim. 
ii. G. The passage in Matthew is, ' Even as the Son of 
man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, 
and to give his life a ransom for many.' That in Mark 
is a repetition of this. That in Timothy is, ' Who gave 
himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time.' 
The word translated ransom in the two first of these 
passages, is Kvtqov ; which signifies the price paid for 
the deliverance of a captive from the slavery or death 
to which, among the ancients, a captive was or might be 
regularly condemned. The word in Timothy is eturt- 
aviqov ; which, according to Estius, denoted the ransom 

* Lev. vi.6,7;— Num. v. S. 

t Eze.xliv.27.— Parkhmst;— Macknight. 



paid for the life of a captive, by giving up the life of 
another person. The 'Avt^ov might be a sum of money. 
But the signification in all these passages is unquestion- 
ably the same in substance ; because exactly the same 
thing is referred to in them all. This, in the passage 
from Timothy, is declared to be ' giving up his own life 
for the life of sinners ;' or, in other words, ' dying, that 
sinners might live.' I know not how the fact, that 
Christ made an atonement, could have been declared in 
more explicit, or more forcible language. 

Of the same nature are all those passages, which de- 
clare, that we are redeemed by Christ. The Greek 
word, which signifies to redeem, is Tivrgoa ; as that 
which signifies redemption is airo'hvr^aaig : both deri- 
vatives from ?ii/tjoi/, ransom. Every one, who has read 
his Bible, knows, that Christ is there appropriately 
styled our Redeemer ; and that we are often said to be 
' redeemed,' and to ' have redemption,' by him. For 
example, Eph. i. 7, 'In whom we have redemption 
through his blood.' Rev. v. 9, ' Thou hast redeemed 
us to God by thy blood.' GaL iii. 13, ' Christ redeemed 
us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us.' 
In all these, and various other passages of the New 
Testament, it is declared, that ' Christ redeemed us :' 
that is, he brought us out from the bondage and con- 
demnation of sin ' by his blood,' and by ' being made 
a curse for us,' in that he died upon the accursed tree. 
It will be unnecessary to multiply words to show, that 
exactly the same thing is here taught, as in those pas- 
sages, where Christ is declared to have ' given himself 
as a ransom.' 

3. Those passages, in which Christ is spoken of as a 
substitute for mankind. 

These are very numerous, and of many forms. A 
few of them only can be recited at the present time. 
' Surely,' says Isaiah, ' he has borne our griefs, and 
carried our sorrows.' ' But he was wounded for our 
transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities : the 
chastisement of our peace was upon him ; and with his 
stripes we are healed.' ' The Lord has laid upon him 
the iniquity of us all. For the transgression of my 
people was he stricken.' ' By his knowledge shall my 
righteous servant justify many.' ' When thou shalt 
make his soul an offering for sin.' ' For he shall bear 
their iniquities.' ' And he bare the sin of many.' $ 
These passages can need no explanation. Language 
cannot more clearly or more strongly assert, that Christ 
was a substitute for sinners ; that he bore their sins, and 
suffered for their iniquities ; or, in other words, that he 
became an atonement for them. 

Daniel, in his ninth chapter, recites, from the mouth 
of Gabriel, the following words : ' Seventy weeks are 
determined upon thy people ; — to finish the transgres- 
sion, and to make an end of sins, and to make recon- 
ciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting right- 
eousness, — and to anoint the Most Floly.' In the 
following verse he farther informs us, that at the end 
of the ' seventy weeks,' the ' Messiah should be cut off, 
but not for himself.' Accordingly, at the end of seventy 
weeks, or four hundred and ninety years, ' from the 
going forth of the commandment to rebuild Jerusalem,' 
published by Artaxerxes Longimanus, the ' Messiah was 
cut off, but not for himself;' that is, within four years 
after he had been anointed by the Holy Ghost, accord. 

j Isaiah liii. 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



303 



ing to the same prediction. The effect of his being cut 
off, was to make an end of sin, and to make reconcilia- 
tion for iniquity. 

1 Cor. xv. 3, ' Christ died for our sins, according to 
the Scriptures.' Here it is not only asserted, that 
' Christ died for our sins ;' hut this fact is said to have 
taken place ' according to the ' general tenor of the 
' Scriptures.' The same doctrine is taught by Christ 
himself, first to Cleophas and his companion, and next 
to the eleven ; Luke xxiv. 25, 26, 45, 46. Then he 
said unto them, ' O fools, and slow of heart to believe 
all that the prophets have spoken ! Ought not Christ to 
have suffered these things, and to have entered into his 
glory ? Then opened he their understanding, that they 
might understand the Scriptures ; and said unto them, 
Thus it is written ; and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, 
and to rise from the dead the third day.' In both these 
passages our Saviour asserts his death to have been due, 
or necessary, because it had been before declared by 
the prophets, and in the Scriptures : reproves the two 
disciples for not thus understanding and believing the 
prophets ; and teaches them, that this is the substance 
of all which the prophets had spoken ; and the eleven, 
that to understand this great fact in a proper manner, is 
to understand the Scriptures themselves at large. 

Gal. i. 4, ' Who gave himself for our sins, that he 
might deliver us from this evil world.' Heb. i. 3, 
' When he had by himself purged our sins.' 1 Pet. ii. 
24, ' Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on 
the tree; that we, being dead to sins, should live unto 
righteousness : by whose stripes ye were healed.' 1 
John iii. 5, ' He was manifested to take away our sins.' 
Rev. i. 5, ' Unto him that loved us, and washed us from 
our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and 
priests unto God.' 

In every one of these passages, as well as many 
others, it is evident beyond all debate, that Christ stood 
in the place of mankind, — bore their sins and healed 
them by the stripes which he suffered — that our iniqui- 
ties were laid on him — that he washed our sins away — 
became a curse for us — was wounded for our transgres- 
sions — made reconciliation for iniquity — and was cut 
off, not for himself, but for mankind. The same doc- 
trine is taught with equal precision in many other forms 
of expression ; but I presume, it is unnecessary to add 
any thing farther on this part of the subject, 

4. I argue the same doctrine from those passages, in 
which we are said to be ' forgiven,' or ' saved,' for his 
sake, or in his name. 

Acts iv. 12, ' Neither is there salvation in any other ; 
for there is none other name under heaven, given 
among men, whereby we must be saved.' Acts xiii. 38, 
' Be it known unto you, therefore, men and brethren, 
that through this man is preached unto you the for- 
giveness of sins.' I John ii. 12, 'I write unto you, 
little children, because your sins are forgiven you for 
his name's sake.' 1 Cor. vi. 11, ' But ye are washed, 
but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name 
of the Lord Jesus.' Eph. iv. 32, ' Even as God for 
Christ's sake hath forgiven you.' 

Now it is plain, that we cannot be forgiven, washed, 
justified, or saved, for the sake of Christ, unless Christ 
was in some sense or other, a substitute for us — stood in 
our place— did something which we had failed to do — 
made amends for faults which we had committed — or in 
other words, made that atonement for sin which God 



was pleased to accept. Of the very same import are 
those passages of the Old Testament, in which sin is said 
to be forgiven, and blessings to be bestowed upon man- 
kind, by God, ' for his name's sake,' or ' for his own 
sake.' In Exod. xxiii. 21, God, speaking of his own 
Angel, says, ' Beware of him, and obey his voice ;' and 
' provoke him not ; for he will not pardon your trans- 
gressions : for my name is in him.' The Jews of ancient 
times considered the ' name of God,' mentioned in a 
great number of passages in the Old Testament, as be- 
ing no other than one appellation of the Messiah ; and 
construed those passages in which the forgiveness of sin 
was promised for the sake of the name of God, in some, 
and probably in all instances, as intending, and really 
though figuratively expressing, forgiveness for the sake 
of the Messiah. Thus, when in Isaiah xlviii. 9, God 
says, ' For my name's sake will I defer mine anger;' 
and in the 11th verse, ' For mine own sake will I doit;' 
when the Psalmist says, Psalm xxv. 11, ' For thy name's 
sake pardon mine iniquity ;' and Psalm cix. 21, 'Do 
thou for me, God, the Lord, for thy name's sake ;' 
and Psalm cxliii. 11,' Quicken me for thy name's sake ;' 
and when the church says, Psalm Ixxix. 9, ' Help us, O 
God of our salvation, for the glory of thy name ; and 
deliver us, and purge away our sins for thy name's 
sake ;' the phraseology is exactly equivalent to what it 
would be, if for the sake of Christ, had been substituted 
in each of these cases. This, however, is not mentioned 
as being necessary to the proof of the doctrine in hand ; 
but as evidence that the same views of it. are given to us 
in both Testaments. 

On the same ground we are required to offer up our 
prayers to God in the name of Christ. In John xvi. 
23, our Saviour says, ' Verily, Verily, I say unto you, 
whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will 
give it you. Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my 
name ; ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be 
full :' and again : ' At that day ye shall ask in my 
name :' and in John xiv. 13, 14, ' And whatsoever ye 
shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father 
may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall ask any thing 
in my name, I will do it.' See also John xv. 16. St 
Paul also (Col. iii. 17), ' And whatsoever ye do in 
word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, 
giving thanks to God and the Father by him.' The 
direction given to us, to offer up our prayers and 
thanksgivings in the name of Christ ; and the promise, 
that in this case, and in this only, we shall be heard ; 
teaches us in the strongest manner, that our prayers are 
acceptable to God for his sake, and not our own ; and 
that in offering them we are to rely wholly for accep- 
tance, and for blessings of every kind, on what he has 
done, and not on what we have ourselves done. Of 
course, the audience and acceptance which are granted, 
and the blessings which are given to us, are granted and 
given for the sake of Christ, and not for our own sakes. 
But no reason can be alleged, why blessings should be 
given to us for the sake of Christ, unless he has interfer- 
ed in some manner or other in our behalf, and done ; 
something for us, which has made it pleasing and pro- 
per in the sight of Cod to give us blessings on our own 
account, which otherwise he would not have thought it 
proper to give. If God will not give us blessings on 
our own account, it is undoubtedly because we have 
done something which renders it improper for him thus 
to give them. Otherwise, the same benevolence which 



304 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lvj. 



feeds the 'sparrow' and the 'raven,' would certainly 
be ready to bless us. We, therefore, by our sins have 
forfeited our title to all blessings, and even to the privi- 
lege of asking for them. If God will give us blessings 
on account of Christ, it is certain that Christ has done 
something for us which has removed this impropriety, 
and which God accepts on our behalf, notwithstanding 
the forfeiture. In other words, he has made it consis- 
tent with the honour of the divine character and 
government, that the benevolence which we had forfeit- 
ed, should be renewedly exercised towards us. 

5. I argue the same doctrine from the sacrifices under 
the law of Moses. 

St Paul tells us, that the ancient ' tabernacle was a 
figure for the present time.' In the service performed 
in it, victims were continually offered, under the name 
of ' sin-offerings ;' and by them an atonement was made 
for the sins and for the souls of the people. On this 
subject, the passages which declare the doctrine here 
specified, are found almost everywhere in Exodus, 
Leviticus, and Numbers, and cannot need to be repeat- 
ed at this time. But we know from the same apostle, 
that ' it is not possible for the blood of bulls and of goats 
to take away sin.' Yet this blood is said, in thirty or 
forty passages, to be the means of making an ' atone- 
ment ' for those who offered it. In what manner was 
this true ? St Paul himself has taught us that it was 
true in the typical, or figurative, sense only. All these 
sacrifices, as he has taught us expressly in the 9th and 
10th chapters of the Epistle to the Hebrews, were only 
types of the sacrifice of Christ ; and the atonement pro- 
fessedly made by them, was only a type of the real 
atonement made by him. Particularly, the ceremonial 
of the sacrifice on the great day of expiation, when the 
high-priest made an atonement for himself, his family, 
the priests, and the whole congregation of Israel, was a 
remarkable and most lively type of the death and re- 
surrection of Christ. On this day, the tenth day of the 
seventh month annually, two goats were selected for an 
offering to God. One of these was killed, and his 
blood sprinkled upon the mercy-seat, and before the 
mercy-seat, and upon the horns of the altar. This was 
called making an atonement for the holy place, and re- 
conciling the holy place, the tabernacle, and the altar 
unto God, as having been polluted during the preceding 
year, by the imperfect and impure services of sinful be- 
ings. On the head of the living goat ' the high-priest 
laid both his hands, and confessed over him all the 
iniquities of the children of Israel ; and sent him away 
by a fit man into the wilderness.' Of this goat it was 
said, that ' he should bear upon him all their iniquities 
unto a land not inhabited.' This religious service can- 
not, I think, need any explanation. 

I shall now proceed to consider, 

IV. The manner in which the atonement was per- 
formed. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. That, in my own view, all the sufferings of Christ 
were included in the atonement which he made for sin. 

Christ was perfectly holy. No part of his sufferings, 
therefore, can have been inflicted or undergone for his 
own sake. He was always ' beloved ' of God ; and what- 
ever he thought, spoke, or did, was ever ' well-pleasing ' 
in his sight. When, therefore, we are told, that ' it 
pleased Jehovah to bruise him,' it was not as a punish- 
ment ; for he never merited punishment : not a wanton, 



causeless infliction, for God cannot be the author of such 
an infliction. It was only as a substitute for mankind 
that he was afflicted in any case, or in any degree ; or be- 
cause he had ' laid on him the iniquities of us all.' I 
understand all such general expressions as these, ' Ought 
not Christ to have suffered ?' — ' it behoved Christ to 
suffer ' — ' Christ must needs have suffered ' — ' Christ 
suffered for us ' — ' who being rich became poor, that ye 
through him might become rich ' — as directly indicating, 
that all his sufferings were parts of his atonement. 

2. The death of Christ, together with its preceding 
and attendant agonies, especially constituted his atone- 
ment. 

This-kmust, I think, have been already made evident 
from many passages quoted under the third head of 
discourse, as proofs of the existence of an atonement for 
sin. I shall, however, add to these several others, which 
must, it would seem, place the point, now in question, 
beyond a doubt. 

In the text it is said, that ' Christ is set forth as a 
propitiation, through faith in his blood.' But if the 
blood of Christ was not the means of his becoming a 
propitiation, it is difficult to conceive in what sense his 
blood can be the object of our faith, any more than the 
blood of Jeremiah, Peter, Paul, or any other martyr to 
the truth of God. ' But if we walk in the light,' says 
St John, ' the blood of his Son Jesus Christ cleanseth 
us from all sin.' Eph. i. 7, ' In whom we have re- 
demption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins ; 
according to the riches of his grace.' Eph. ii. 13, ' But 
now in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were afar off, 
are made nigh by the blood of Christ.' 1 Pet. i. 18, 
19, 'Ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, but 
with the precious blood of Christ, as a lamb without 
blemish, and without spot' Rev. i. 5, ' Who washed 
us from our<sins in his blood.' Rev. v. 9, ' Thou hast 
redeemed us to God by thy blood.' Rom. v. 9, ' Being 
justified by his blood.' In these passages it is directly 
asserted, that mankind are washed, cleansed, justified, 
forgiven, redeemed, and made nigh unto God, by the 
blood of Christ. He who admits the existence of an 
atonement, cannot, with these declarations in view, hesi- 
tate to admit, also, that it was accomplished by his 
blood, that is, by his death and its connected sufferings. 
The views of Christ himself, concerning this subject, 
cannot easily be mistaken, if we remember that he said, 
' he came to give his life a ransom for many ;' that the 
good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.' ' I am the 
living bread, which came down from heaven ; if any 
man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever. And the 
bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for 
the life of the world,' John vi. 51. 

3. The peculiar agonies, which preceded and attended 
the death of Christ, and in which the atonement made 
by him for sin peculiarly consisted, were chiefly dis- 
tresses of mind, and not of body. This I think evident 
from many considerations. 

(1.) There is no reason, so far as I can see, to sup- 
pose that the bodily sufferings of Christ were more se- 
vere or even so severe, as those which have been expe- 
rienced by many others. 

The death of the cross was undoubtedly a very dis- 
tressing death. But it was probably less distressing 
than that experienced by many of the martyrs. Some 
of these were roasted by a slow fire. Some were dis- 
located on the rack, and suffered to expire under long 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



305 



continued tortures. Some had their flesh taken of 
piece by piece, in a very gradual manner, with red hot 
pincers. Others expired under various other kinds of 
exquisite sufferings, devised by the utmost ingenuity of 
man, and protracted with the utmost cruelty. Multi- 
tudes of these martyrs, however have sustained all their 
distresses without a complaint, and expired without a 
groan. 

Multitudes, also, both of martyrs and others, have 
died on the cross itself; and for aught that appears, 
with bodily anguish not inferior to that which Christ 
endured. Yet of these, it would seem, numbers have 
died in the same peaceful manner. Even the thieves 
who were crucified together with our Saviour, seem to 
have died without any complaint. 

Yet Christ uttered a very bitter complaint on the 
cross ; and complained also in a similar manner in the 
garden of Gethsemane. Whence arose these com- 
plaints ? Not from his want of resignation to the will 
of God ; for no other person was ever so resigned : not 
from the want of fortitude ; for no other person ever 
possessed it in an equal degree. The very complaints 
which he utters do not appear to have any respect to 
his bodily sufferings, but to have originated entirely 
from a different cause, and that cause purely mental ; as 
I shall have occasion farther onward to explain. 

(2.) Christ is expressly said to have made his soul 
an offering for sin. 

Isa. liii. 10, ' When thou shalt make his soul an of- 
fering for sin.' In the margin, ' When his soul shall 
make an offering for sin.' In Lowth, ' If his soul shall 
make a propitiatory sacrifice.' But if his soul was in- 
deed the sin-offering, then the sufferings which he un- 
derwent as an atonement for sin, were peculiarly the 
sufferings of his soul, or mental suffering. According- 
ly, they are called ' the travail of his soul.' * 

(3.) The complaints of Christ, in Psalms xxii. xl. 
lxix. and lxxxviii. appear to indicate that his sufferings 
were chiefly sufferings of mind. 

Such, at least, is the impression made on my mind 
by reading these passages of Scripture: an impression, 
resulting not so much from detached parts, as from the 
whole strain of the composition. To this mode of ex- 
amining the subject I shall refer those who hear me, 
for their own satisfaction. 

4. The agony which Christ underwent in the garden 
of Gethsemane exhibits the same truth. 

Christ, in this garden, had his sufferings full in view-. 
The prospect was so terrible, that it forced from him 
' sweat, as it were great drops of blood falling to the 
ground.' At the same time, he prayed earnestly, thrice, 
that 'if it were possible, this cup might pass from him.' 
It cannot, I think, be imagined even with decency, and 
certainly not in any consistency with the character of 
Christ as manifested elsewhere, that the mere prospect 
of death, even of a most cruel and bitter death, was so 
overwhelming to his mind, as to convulse his constitu- 
tion in this manner, or to force from him such a prayer. 
Perhaps no person, under the mere apprehension of 
death, was ever agitated in an equal degree.. Had 
it not ' pleased Jehovah to bruise him,' there is no rea- 
son to believe that he would have been anxiously soli- 
citous concerning the utmost evils which he could suf- 
fer from the hands of men. He had directed even his 

* He shall see of the travnil of hissonl.and be satisfied.' Isa. liii. 11. 



disciples, notwithstanding their frailty, ' not to feat 
them who could kill the body, and after that could do 
no more.' It cannot be supposed that his own conduct 
was not exactly conformed to this precept. 

5. Christ himself appears to have decided this point 
in the manner alreadyspecified. 

In his exclamation on the cross, he said, ' My God, 
my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?' As this was his 
only complaint, it must, I think, be believed to refer 
to his principal suffering. But the evil here complained 
of, is being forsaken by God. In the language of the 
psalmist, ' God hid his face from him ;' that is, if I mis- 
take not, withdrew from him wholly these manifestations 
of supreme complacency in his character and conduct, 
which he had always before made. As this was in itself 
a most distressing testimony of the divine anger against 
sin, so it is naturally imagined, and, I think, when we 
are informed that ' it pleased Jehovah to bruise him,' 
directly declared in the Scriptures, that this manifesta- 
tion was accompanied by other disclosures of the anger 
of God against sin, and against him as the substitute for 
sinners. 

The views and feelings of one mind towards another 
can produce the highest, sense of suffering, of which we 
are capable. The esteem and love of intelligent beings 
are, when united, the most exquisite of all enjoyment ; 
and are naturally, and in all probability necessarily, co- 
veted more than any other, except the approbation of 
our own minds. Their mere indifference towards us 
when they have opportunity of being so fa. acquainted 
with us as to give room for being esteemed and loved 
by them, is ordinarily the source of severe mortification. 
In proportion as they are more intelligent and worthy, 
their love and esteem are more important to us, and 
more coveted by us ; and the refusal of it creates in us 
more intense distress. 

The complacency of God, whose mind is infinite, and 
whose disposition is perfect, is undoubtedly the first of 
all possible enjoyments. The loss of it, therefore, and 
the consequent suffering of this hatred and contempt, 
are undoubtedly the greatest evils which a created mind 
can suffer ; evils, which will in all probability constitute 
the primary anguish experienced in the world of woe. 
Omniscience and omnipotence are certainly able to 
communicate, during even a short time, to a finite mind 
such views of the hatred and contempt of God towards 
sin and sinners, and of course towards a substitute for 
sinners, as would not only fill its capacity of suffering, 
but probably put an end to its existence. In this man- 
ner, I apprehend, the chief distresses of Christ were pro- 
duced. In this manner, principally, was that testimony 
of God against disobedience exhibited to the Redeemer, 
and ultimately to the universe, which so solemnly sup- 
ported the sanctions of the divine law, and so illustri- 
ously honoured the divine government, as to prevent 
the pardon of sinners from being regarded by intelli- 
gent creatures as the mere indulgence of a weak and 
changeable disposition in the infinite ruler. 

6. The active obedience of Christ was, in my appre- 
hension, essentially concerned in his atonement. 

This position I shall illustrate under the following 
particulars. 

(1.) If Christ had not obeyed the law perfectly, he 
could not have atoned for the sins of mankind at all. 

It was as ' a lamb without blemish and without spot,' 
that he became a proper, acceptable offering ; and in 
2Q 



306 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lvi. 



this character only. Had he been stained with iniquity, 
his sufferings would have been, and would have been 
regarded, as the mere punishment of his own sins, and 
not as an expiation for the sins of others. Had he 
been of a neutral character, his sufferings would have 
been of no apparent value. On the contrary, they 
would have been considered as strange, inexplicable, 
and resembling those accidents which, being uncon- 
nected with any thing preceding or succeeding, are fitted 
only to excite a momentary attention and wonder. 
The excellency of Christ gave all the real value and 
efficacy to his sufferings. But can it be said, that that 
which gave all the real value to his sufferings consti- 
tuted no part of the atonement which he made by 
them ? The atonement of Christ certainly did not con- 
sist in mere sufferings, but in such sufferings in such a 
person. But Christ could not have been such a person 
without his active obedience ; nor could his sufferings 
have been of such a nature, if he had not been such a 
person. If he had not suffered, he could not have 
atoned for sin at all. If he had not obeyed, his suffer- 
ings would have been of no value. 

(2.) It was indispensable to the existence of the atone- 
ment of Christ, that he should magnify the law and make 
it honourable. 

This I consider as having been done by his obedience 
in the first instance, and in the second, by his sufferings. 
The former was as truly indispensable as the Latter ; 
and was indispensable to the existence of the latter. 
In the predictions of the Old Testament, and the de- 
clarations of the New, similar stress is laid on both 
these great articles. As I have expressed my views of 
this subject in a late Discourse, I will not repeat them 
here ; but will only add, that the obedience of Christ 
as truly honoured the preceptive parts of the law, as his 
sufferings the penal. The doctrine which has been 
taught by some wise and good men, that if the law is 
not discerned in itself to be ' holy, just, and good,' the 
obedience of Christ cannot make it appear so, but only 
shows, that it was a law which he was so desirous to sup- 
port as to be willing to obey it, is, I am bound to say, 
contrary to my own conviction. The character of 
Christ, as excellent, is certainly capable of being seen 
and realized, independently of the divine law. Christ, 
as all those with whom I am now contending will ac- 
knowledge, is a divine person. Surely we are not 
obliged to have recourse to the law of God, as the only 
means of proving the excellency of his character. In- 
dependently of this, we are able to prove, that the infi- 
nite mind is possessed of infinite excellence ; and of 
course cannot but discern, that a law which this excel- 
lence is disposed to obey, as well as to promulgate, 
must be of the most glorious kind possible. The mere 
promulgation of the law consists in declarations only. 
But who does not know, that actions carry with them 
an evidence far more convincing, and especially far 
more impressive, than any declarations whatever ? At 
the same time, the transcendent dignity of the Son of 
God lends the same lustre to his obedience as to his suf- 
ferings ; and renders the former of the same influence 
in recommending the precepts of the law, which the lat- 
ter possess in vindicating its penalty. Besides, the same 
objection may be made against the proof derived from 
the sufferings of Christ, that the penalty of the law is 
just. For it may with the same propriety be alleged, 
that if the penalty of the law does not appear just in it- 



self, the sufferings of Christ can never make it appear 
so ; since they prove no more, than that Christ was so 
desirous to support the law, as to be willing for this end 
to undergo such sufferings. Should it be said, that the 
sufferings of Christ involved self-denial ; and that thus 
they exhibited the sincerity of his regard for the law, 
because self-denial is the strongest proof of sincerity : 
I answer, that his consent to become a subject, and all 
the parts of his obedience, involved self-denial also ; 
less, apparently at least, in degree, but the same in 
kind. Should it be said, that the sufferings of Christ 
were a testimony of God's displeasure against sin, and 
of the righteousness of the penalty denounced against 
it : I answer, so is his obedience equally a testimony of 
God's complacency in the precepts of the law, and the 
righteousness of requiring his intelligent creatures to 
obey them. Should it be said, that his sufferings were 
inflictions from the hand of God ; I answer, that his 
obedience was required by God, and was therefore 
equally a testimony of his pleasure. Finally, should it 
be said, that Christ's obedience was voluntary : I an- 
swer, that his sufferings were equally voluntary ; other- 
wise, they would never have existed ; or, if we suppose 
them to have existed, would have had no efficacy. 

Upon the whole, the attempts made to discriminate 
between these parts of Christ's mediation, and to assign 
to each its exact proportion of influence in the economy 
of redemption, seem to me to have been very partially 
successful. 

V. J shall now, in a few words, consider the extent 
of ChrisVs atonement. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. The atonement of Christ was complete. 

By this I mean, that it was such as to vindicate the 
law, government, and character of God. This we know, 
because Christ repeatedly declared, that his work was 
finished; because it was appointed and accepted of God, 
as ive are assured by the many testimonies of his appro- 
bation given to Christ ; and because the Spirit of grace 
descended in a glorious manner on the day of Pente- 
cost, to carry the design of it into execution. 

2. The degree of suffering which Christ underwent 
in making this atonement, was far inferior to that which 
will be experienced by an individual sufferer beyond 
the grave. 

It will not be supposed, as plainly it cannot, that 
Christ suffered in his divine nature. Nor will it be be- 
lieved that any created nature could, in that short space 
of time, suffer what would be equivalent to even a slight 
distress extended through eternity. 

3. The atonement of Christ was still of infinite value. 
The atonement of Christ, great as his distresses were, 

did not derive its value principally from the degree in 
which he experienced them, but from the infinite great- 
ness and excellency of his character. Although the 
divine nature is necessarily unsuffering ; yet, in this 
case, it exactly coincided in its dictates with all the 
conduct of the created mind of'Christ, and lent to that 
conduct its own infinite weight and worth. 

4. The atonement of Christ was sufficient in its 
extent to open the door for the pardon of all human 
sinners. 

This doctrine is so often and so plainly declared in 
the Scriptures, that I am surprised to find a doubt con- 
cerning it entertained by any man. ' Who gave him- 
self,' says St Paul, ' a ransom for all, to be testified in 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



307 



due time:' and again, ' Who is the Saviour of all men, 
especially of them that believe.' ' He is the propitiation 
for our sins,' says St John, ' and not for our sins only, 
but also for the sins of the whole world.' It is needless 
any farther to multiply passages to this effect. 

When this Discourse was first written, disputes con- 
cerning the extent of the atonement had not openly ap- 
peared in this country ; and I did not suppose it to be 
necessary to canvass the question with any particularity. 
The length of the present Discourse forbids me to dwell 
upon the subject now ; yet I will very briefly suggest 
two or three arguments for the consideration of my 
audience. 

1. If the atonement of Christ consisted in making 
such amends for the disobedience of man as should 
place the law, government, and character of God in such 
a light, that he could forgive sinners of the human race, 
without any inconsistency ; then these amends, or this 
atonement, were all absolutely necessary, in order 
to render such forgiveness proper, or consistent with 
the law and character of God in a single instance. 
The forgiveness of one sinner without these amends, 
would be just as much a contradiction to the declarations 
of the law, as the forgiveness of a million. If, then, the 
amends actually made were such that God could consis- 
tently forgive one sinner, he might with equal consis- 
tency and propriety forgive any number, unless pre- 
vented by some other reason. The atonement, in other 
words, which was necessary for a world, was equally ne- 
cessary, and in just the same manner and degree, for 
an individual sinner. 

2. The atonement was, by the infinite dignity and 
excellence of the Redeemer, rendered infinitely merito- 
rious. But it cannot be denied, that an infinitely meri- 
torious atonement is sufficient for all the apostate chil- 
dren of Adam. 

3. If the atonement of Christ consisted in suffering 
what those for whose sins he atoned deserved to suffer, 
his mediation did not lessen the evils of the apostasy. 
All the difference which it made in the state of things 



was, that he suffered in the stead of those whom he 
came to redeem, and suffered the same miseries which 
they were condemned to suffer. In other words, an in- 
nocent being suffered the very misery which the guilty 
should have suffered. Of course, there is in the divine 
kingdom just as much misery, with the mediation of 
Christ, as there would have been without it ; and no- 
thing is gained by this wonderful work, but the transfer 
of this misery from the guilty to the innocent. 

4. If Christ has not made a sufficient atonement 
for others beside the elect, then his salvation is not 
offered to them at all, and they are not guilty for not 
receiving it. But this is contrary to the whole tenor of 
the gospel, which everywhere exhibits sinners as great- 
ly guilty for rejecting Christ. Yet if Christ be not 
offered to them, they cannot be guilty of rejecting him. 

5. The gospel or glad tidings published by Christ, is 
said to be good tidings unto all people. But, if there 
be no atonement made for the sins of all people, the 
gospel, instead of being good news to them, is not ad- 
dressed to them at all. 

6. Ministers are required to preach faith, as well as 
repentance, to all sinners as their duty. But if no 
atonement has been made for their sins, they cannot be- 
lieve ; for to them Christ is in no sense a Saviour, and 
therefore not even a possible object of their faith. 

Should it be asked, Why, then, are not all men par- 
doned ? I answer, Because all mankind do not evangeli- 
cally believe in this atonement, and its author. No 
man is pardoned merely because of the atonement made 
by Christ ; but because of his own acceptance also of 
that atonement, by faith. The way is open, and equally 
open, to all ; although all may not be equally inclined 
to walk in it. 

The proffers of pardon on the very same conditions 
are made, with equal sincerity and kindness, to every 
man. He who does not accept them, therefore ought to 
remember that nothing stands in his way, but his own 
impenitence and unbelief. 



SERMON LVIT. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST—HIS ATONEMENT OBJECTIONS ANSWERED.— APPLICATION. 



Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus : Whom God hath set forth to 
be a propitiation, through faith In his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, 
through the forbearance of God. To declare, I say, at this time, his righteousness ; that he might be just, and 
the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus Rom. iii. 24 — 26. 



Having finished the observations which I intended con- 
cerning the atonement of Christ, as proofs of its exist- 
ence, and explanations of its nature ; I shall now pro- 
ceed to consider some objections to this doctrine ; and 
to suggest several practical remarks to which it naturally 
gives birth. 

Among the objections alleged against this doctrine, I 
select the following, as particularly deserving attention. 

1. It is objected, that a vicarious atonement for sin 
is not consistent with the dictates of reason. 

' The sin,' it is observed, ' is ours : and cannot be- 



long to another. Whatever atonement is to be made, 
ought, therefore, to be made by us ; particularly such 
an atonement, as is here insisted on ; viz. such a one, 
as is to be made by suffering. The sufferings which 
are necessary to expiate our guilt, are due from the 
sinner only, and cannot be justly inflicted on any other 
person.' 

I cheerfully agree with the objector, that the sinner 
cannot claim such an interference on his behalf, as is 
made by the atonement of Christ. Strict justice de- 
mands the punishment of the sinner only ; and can, in 



303 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lvii. 



no wise, require the punishment of another in his stead. 
But I still deny the consequence which the objector de- 
rives from these premises. 

No person who has observed the affairs of the pre- 
sent world with attention, can hesitate to admit that vi- 
carious interference, to a great extent, producing in 
great numbers both good and evil consequences, is a 
prominent feature of the providential system by which 
the affairs of this world are regulated. Children thus 
become rich, well educated, intelligent, religious, and 
everlastingly happy, by the agency of their parents ; 
while other children owe, in a great measure, to the 
same agency, the contrary evils of poverty, ignorance, 
vice, and final ruin. Friends by their interference be- 
come the means of wealth, reputation, advancement, 
holiness, and everlasting life, to their friends ; and 
rescue them from poverty, bondage, disgrace, profligacy, 
and perdition. Enemies accomplish all the contrary 
evils for their enemies ; and by temptation, slander, 
fraud, and treachery, effectuate for those whom they 
hate every kind of destruction. A great part of the 
business of human life, both public and private, is in 
the strict sense vicarious ; the benefits or the injuries 
rarely terminating in the personal good of the agent 
only, but almost, of course, extending to others. The 
agency of Washington has beneficially affected every 
inhabitant of the United States. That of Moses ex- 
tended blessings to the Israelitish nation through fifteen 
hundred years. That of St Paul and his companions 
has spread holiness through the Christian world for 
seventeen centuries ; and added many millions to the 
general assembly of the first-born. Nay, this very 
agency will hereafter become the means of converting 
the whole human race to Christianity, people heaven 
with ' a great multitude which no man can number, of 
all nations, kindreds, and tongues,' and diffuse glory, 
honour, and immortal life, throughout never-ending ages. 

From these observations, it is evident, that vicarious 
agency is so far from being an unreasonable thing in 
itself, as in one form and another to constitute an im- 
portant part of the present system of things, and to 
have a very extensive and very efficacious influence on 
the most interesting concerns of mankind. The whole 
analogy of human affairs in the present world furnishes 
us, therefore, with every reason to expect that vicari- 
ous agency would be adopted, more or less, in every 
part of the providential system. 

What the state of the world thus naturally teaches us 
to look for, revelation countenances in the strongest 
manner. A single instance will be sufficient to place 
this truth in the clearest light. Every one who is at all 
acquainted with the Scriptures, perfectly well knows 
that they require of all men intercession for their fel- 
low men, and that to this intercession blessings are both 
promised and declared to be given. ' Is any sick among 
you ?' says St James,' ' Let him call for the elders of 
the church, aud let them pray over him — and the prayer 
of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him 
up ; and, if he have committed sins, they shall be for- 
given him.' If restoration from disease, and the for- 
giveness of sins, blessings of the greatest temporal and 
spiritual magnitude, are promised and given in conse- 
quence of the intercession of others, our minds can set 
no limits to the propriety or the efficacy of vicarious in- 
terference, exhibited in other forms. 

In the present case (the case objected to), the pro- 



priety of admitting vicarious interference is complete. 
Mankind were all sinners, were all condemned by the 
unalterable law of God ; and were all, therefore, des- 
tined to final ruin. In themselves there was no power 
to expiate their sins, or to prevent their destruction. 
When it is remembered, that their number was incal- 
culable, and that each of them was immortal, the case 
must be admitted to have been great and interesting be- 
yond any finite comprehension. Both the magnitude 
of the case, therefore, and its desperate nature, de- 
manded of a benevolent being every effort capable of 
being demanded. Whatever could with propriety be 
done, was plainly and loudly called for by circumstances 
so deplorable, a wretchedness sO vast, a doom extend- 
ing to a collection of intelligent creatures so plainly in- 
comprehensible. But vicarious efforts could here be 
made, and made with propriety and success. The law 
and government here dishonoured could, and I hope it 
has been proved that they could, be supported in their 
full strength and efficacy ; the sin could be expiated ; 
the sinners restored to holiness, the favour of God, and 
immortal life ; and the character of God appear, not 
only with the same, but increased glory. Thus, from 
the nature of the case, as well as from the analogy of 
things, a vicarious interference is so far from being, in 
the present instance, improbable or improper, that it is 
strongly recommended to our belief by the very best 
presumptive evidence. 

2. It is objected, that the punishment of an innocent 
person, such as Christ was, is inconsistent with the plain 
dictates of justice. 

To punish an innocent person for a fault not his own, 
will not be denied to be unjust. Nor will an inquiry 
now be instituted concerning the question, whether it 
would be consistent with justice to require, in any pos- 
sible case, a being perfectly holy to suffer for the sake 
of other beings of a different character, in order to re- 
lieve them from greater sufferings. Neither of these will 
be necessary at the present time. The objection may 
be completely answered in another manner. For, 

(1.) That Christ actually suffered, while yet he was 
perfectly holy, the objector cannot deny. He, therefore, 
suffered for himself, or for mankind. If he suffered 
for mankind the existence of an atonement is admilted. 
If he suffered for himself, then the objector must admit 
that he was punished, while yet he was perfectly holy ; 
and, of course, that God can inflict suffering, not only on 
holy beings, but for their own sake ; or in other words, 
can retribute punishment to obedience. I leave the ob- 
jector to choose which part of this alternative he pleases. 

(2.) Christ was not required to suffer. This is 
in the Scriptures, in a great multitude of passages, and 
in many forms, too well known to be specified here. 
Christ voluntarily assumed the office of a Redeemer ; 
voluntarily became a substitute for man ; and of his 
own accord ' gave his life as a ransom for many.' It 
is true, that in all this he obeyed the will of his Father ; 
but it is not true, that he did not voluntarily enter upon 
every part of this course of obedience. ' When he was 
in the form of God, and thought it no robbery to be 
equal with God ; he took upon himself the form of a 
servant ;' and ' laid down his own life,' when ' none 
could take it out of his hand.' But it is evident, that 
there can be no injustice in requiring a being perfectly 
holy to fulfill his own engagements, and to do what he 
has covenanted to do ; although by this covenant he 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



309 



has engaged to yield himself to personal suffering. To 
consent to suffer, may be on his part right, when by his 
suffering, he can redeem others from great suffering, or 
accomplish in any way what will, on the whole, be supe- 
rior good. On the part of God also, it may, and if no- 
thing extraneous prevent, must be right to accept of 
his sufferings in such a case, if voluntarily proffered. 
The objection, therefore, is destitute of weight. 

3. It is farther objected, that if Christ expiated the 
sins of mankind, God is obliged by justice to bestow on 
them salvation. 

This objection is derived from misapprehensions con- 
cerning the nature of the atonement. The Scriptures, 
in speaking on this subject, very frequently, as well as 
very naturally, speak in figurative language. Particu- 
larly, they exhibit us as ' bought with a price ;' as 
' purchased ;' as ' redeemed ;' that is, literally under- 
stood, as bought from a state of bondage and condem- 
nation by the blood of Christ ; as ransomed by the 
Ai/tjok, or price of redemption. This language, derived 
from that fact in human affairs which, among the cus- 
tomary actions of men approaches nearest in resem- 
blance to the atonement of Christ, seems unwarily to 
have been considered as describing literally this atone- 
ment. But this mode of considering it is plainly erron- 
eous. We are not, in the literal sense, bought, or pur- 
chased, at all. Nor has Christ, in the literal sense, 
paid any price to purchase mankind from slavery and 
death. 

The error into which the objector has fallen lias, I 
acknowledge, been countenanced by many Christians 
who have held the doctrine of the atonement. These 
have supposed the satisfaction for sin made by the Re- 
deemer, essentially to resemble the satisfaction made 
for a debtor, by paying the debt which he owed. In 
this case, it is evident that, if the creditor accept the 
payment from a third person, he is bound in justice to 
release the debtor. As the two cases have been sup- 
posed to be similar, it has been concluded that, since 
Christ has made such a satisfaction for sinners, God is 
in justice also bound to release them. 

This, however, is an unfounded and unscriptural view 
of the subject. There is no substantial resemblance 
between the payment of a debt for an insolvent debtor, 
and the satisfaction rendered to distributive justice for a 
criminal. The debtor owes money ; and this is all he 
owes. If, then, all the money which he owes is paid 
and accepted, justice is completely satisfied, and the 
creditor can demand nothing more. To demand more, 
either from the debtor or from any other person, would 
be plainly unjust. When, therefore, the debt is paid 
by a third person, the debtor is discharged by justice 
merely. But when a criminal has failed of doing his 
duty as a subject to lawful government, and violated 
laws which he was bound to obey, he has committed a 
fault, for which he has merited punishment. In this 
case, justice, not in the commutative, but the distributive 
sense, the only sense in which it can be concerned with 
the subject, demands, not the future obedience, nor an 
equivalent for the omitted obedience, but merely the 
punishment of the offender. The only reparation for 
the lvrong which he has done, required by strict justice, 
is this punishment ; a reparation necessarily and always 
required. There are cases, however in which an atone- 
ment, such as was described in the first of these Dis- 
courses, may be accepted ; an atonement by which the 



honour and efficacy of the government may be pre- 
served, and yet the offender pardoned. In such a case, 
however, the personal character of the offender is un- 
altered. Before the atonement was made, he was a 
criminal. After the atonement is made, he is not less 
a criminal. As a criminal, he before merited punish- 
ment. As a criminal, he no less merits it now. The 
turpitude of his character remains the same ; and while 
it remains, he cannot fail to deserve exactly the same 
punishment. After the atonement is made, it cannot 
be truly said, therefore, any more than before, that he 
does not deserve punishment. But if the atonement 
be accepted, it may be truly said that, consistently with 
the honour of the government, and the public good, he 
may be pardoned. This act of grace is all that he can 
hope for ; and this he cannot claim on account of any 
thing in himself, or any thing to which he is entitled, 
but only may hope, from the mere grace or free gift of 
the ruler. Before the atonement was made, the ruler, 
however benevolently inclined, could not pardon him, 
consistently with his own character, the honour of his 
government, or the public good. After it is made, he 
can pardon him, in consistency with them all ; and, if 
the offender discover a penitent and becoming disposi- 
tion, undoubtedly will, if he be a benevolent ruler. 

From these observations it is manifest, that the atone- 
ment of Christ in no sense makes it necessary that 
God should accept the sinner on the ground of justice, 
but only renders his forgiveness not inconsistent with 
the divine character. Before the atonement, he could 
not have been forgiven ; after the atonement, this im- 
possibility ceases. The sinner can now be forgiven, 
notwithstanding the turpitude of his character, and the 
greatness of his offences. But forgiveness is an act of 
grace only ; and to the same grace must the penitent be 
indebted for all the future blessings connected with 
forgiveness. 

I have now considered all the objections against the 
doctrine of the atonement, which I consider as claiming 
an answer ; and shall therefore proceed, as J proposed 
at the commencement of this Discourse, to make some 
practical remarks, arising from the preceding observa- 
tions, on this important subject. 



From these observations it is evident, 

1. That those who trust in the expiation of Christ 
will certainly inherit the favour of God. 

In the text it is said, that God ' set forth Christ as a 
propitiation for sin, through faith in his blood, to de- 
clare his righteousness ; that he may be just, when justi- 
fying him that believeth in Jesus.' The end for which 
Christ was set forth as a propitiation, is, that God, con- 
sistently with justice, may justify those who believe in 
Christ The peculiar and essential nature of the faith 
of such as believe in Jesus is, in one important particu- 
lar, exactly defined also, in the text, when it is styled 
' faith in his blood :' the faith through which alone he 
is exhibited in the text as becoming a propitiation to 
men. This faith, or, as I shall take the liberty to call it, 
trust or confidence (for such I hope hereafter to show 
it to be), is not indeed, nor is it here asserted to be, 
faith in the atonement only ; but it is faith in the atone- 
ment pre-eminently. We are required to believe in the 
whole character, and in all the offices of Christ ; but we 
are required, peculiarly, to believe in him as the great 



310 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lvii. 



propitiatory sacrifice for sin. Every one who is the 
subject of this faith, the real and only means by which 
we become interested in this propitiation, is amply ex- 
hibited in the text as entitled to justification. 

That every such believer will certainly inherit the 
favour of God, cannot be rationally doubted. While he 
was yet a sinner, condemned and ruined, God, moved 
by his infinite benevolence, sent into this world his be- 
loved Son, to become incarnate, to become a subject of 
his law and a substitute for mankind ; to lead a life of 
humiliation, and to die the accursed death of the cross, 
that he might redeem such sinners from the curse of the 
law, from a guilty character, and the endless miseries 
of devouring fire. The condition proposed by himself, 
on which we become entitled to the blessings of this 
redemption, are all summed up in this single phrase, 
' faith in Christ,' and pre-eminently in his atonement. 
This condition the believer has performed ; and is, 
therefore, entitled to these blessings. His title is se- 
cured to him by the covenant of redemption, by the im- 
mutable promise of God to him, by the glory and excel- 
lency of Christ's mediation, and by that amazing and 
immense purpose of infinite love, which proposed and 
accomplished all the parts of this wonderful work. Who 
can doubt for a moment, that he who proposed, he who 
accomplished, this astonishing design, will go on to ac- 
complish every thing which it draws in its train ? ' He 
that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for 
us all, how shall he not, with him also, freely give us 
all things ?' Can any thing be too dear to be given to 
those for whom Christ was given ? Can any thing be 
too great to be expected by those who are united to the 
Son of God, as ' members of his body, of his flesh, and 
of his bones ;' who are become ' his seed ' in the ever- 
lasting covenant ; and to whom, unasked, he has from 
his own overflowing goodness, given the ' glory, which 
he had with the Father before ever the world was?' 

Let every believer, then, be-completely assured that 
his cause is safe in the hands of God. He has ' chosen 
the good part,' and it ' shall never be taken from him.' 
He who has begun to befriend him in this infinite con- 
cern, will ' never leave him nor forsake him.' ' All the 
steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord. Though 
he fall, yet shall he rise again; and his mercy God will 
not utterly take from him.' In the seed sown in his 
heart ' there is a blessing,' the beginning of immortal 
life. Cold and wintry as is the climate beneath which 
it has sprung, unkind and barren as is the soil in which 
it grows, doubtful and fading as we often see its pro- 
gress, it cannot die. The hand that planted it will cul- 
tivate it with unceasing care, and will speedily remove 
it to a happier region, where it will flourish, and blos- 
som, and bear fruit for ever. ' I am persuaded,' says 
St Paul, ' that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor 
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things 
to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' 

2. It is equally evident, that those who reject the 
atonement of Christ are without any hope of the divine 
favour. 

The favour of God is proffered to the inhabitants of 
this world through Christ alone ; and those only are 
promised an interest in it who cordially believe in him, 
as the expiation of sin. Had there been any other 
condition upon which this glorious blessing could be 



communicated, the same benevolence which planned 
and accomplished our redemption would undoubtedly 
have communicated it to us. No such communication 
has, however, been made. On the contrary, it is often 
declared in the most explicit language, that ' he who 
believeth not shall be damned.' 

Even if the Scriptures had been silent, and no such 
awful declarations had been found in them, the nature 
of the subject holds out the strongest discouragement 
to every presumption of this kind. After such amaz- 
ing efforts made on the part of God to bring mankind 
back from a state of rebellion, and to restore them to 
virtue and happiness, it cannot but be believed, that 
their obstinate continuance in sin must be regarded by 
him with supreme abhorrence. His law condemned 
them for their original apostasy to final ruin. To the 
guilt of this apostasy, unatoned, unrepented of, and 
therefore, remaining in all its enormity, they in this 
case, add the peculiar guilt of rejecting the singular, 
the eminently divine goodness of God manifested in 
this wonderful provision for their recovery. In what 
manner they could more contemptuously despise the 
divine character, in what manner they could more in- 
solently affront the divine mercy, it is beyond my power 
to conceive. No other offer can be so kind, no other 
blessing so great, no other display of the divine charac- 
ter of which we can form a conception, so lovely. The 
ingratitude, therefore, is wonderful, the insolence amaz- 
ing, the guilt incomprehensible ! ' If,' then ' the right- 
eous scarcely be saved, where shall these unbelieving, 
ungodly sinners, appear?' If it be ' a fearful thing' 
for all men, for heathens and for Mohammedans ' to 
fall into the hands of the living God,' what must it be 
for these men, to whom Christ is offered freely, daily, 
and alway ; who sit, from the cradle to the grave, un- 
der the noon-day light of the gospel, and bask through 
life in the beams of the Sun of righteousness ? 

Whence do these persons derive their hope ? From 
their character ? That could not save them under the 
law. It is the very guilt for which they are condemned. 
From their repentance ? They exercise none. Even 
if they did, it could never be accepted. A perfect re- 
pentance, as has been hitherto proved, cannot be- 
come an expiation for sin. But such repentance was 
never exhibited by men. Their repentance is not even 
a sorrow for sin. On the contrary, it is the mere dread 
of danger, a mere terrified expectation of punishment. 
Who, however abandoned, does not at times experience 
such repentance as this ? Who ever dreamed that the 
dread of death ought to excuse the felon from the gib- 
bet ? 

Let every unbeliever, then, tremble at the approach 
of the judgment. Let him no longer say to himself, 
' Peace, peace ; when sudden destruction is coming up- 
on him.' Let him ' turn to the strong hold,' while he 
is yet a ' prisoner of hope.' ' Let him turn to the Lord 
with all the heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with 
mourning : for he is gracious and merciful, slow to an- 
ger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the 
evil. Who knoweth, if he will turn, and repent, and 
leave a blessing behind him !' 

3. It is evident from the observations made in these 
Discourses, that mankind are infinitely indebted to Christ 
for expiating their sins. 

Christ, by his atonement, has redeemed mankind 
from under the curse of the law. The sufferings to 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



311 



which they were doomed by this curse were endless 
sufferings. Without an expiation, a deliverance from 
these sufferings was impossible. Equally impossible 
was it for any other person beside Christ to make an 
expiation. From mere compassion to our ruined world 
he undertook the arduous labour of delivering us from 
these stupendous sufferings, and accomplished it at the 
expense of his own blood. Infinitely ' rich, for our 
sakes he became poor, that we through him might be- 
come rich.' For him we had done nothing, and were 
disposed to do nothing. For us, influenced by his own 
overflowing goodness, he did all things. He taught us 
as our prophet, ' all things pertaining to life and godli- 
ness.' He lived before us, as our example ; he died for 
us, as our propitiation ; he rose from the dead as the 
earnest of our resurrection to endless life. He entered 
heaven as our forerunner; he assumed the throne of 
the universe as our ruler, protector, and benefactor. 
At the end of the world he will appear as our judge 
and re warder ; and will conduct to the mansions of 
eternal life all those who have cordially accepted of 
his mediation ; and will there, throughout interminable 
ages, ' feed them with living bread, and lead them to 
fountains of living waters.' To the obligations confer- 
red by such a benefactor what limits can be set? Our 
deliverance from sin and sorrow is a boundless good ; 
our introduction to endless virtue and happiness is a 
boundless good. But of all this good the atonement of 
Christ is the foundation, the procuring cause, the com- 
mencement, and the security. ' Worthy is the Lamb 
that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wis- 
dom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and bless- 
ing.' Such is the everlasting song, to which the ' four 
living creatures ' in the heavens subjoin their unceas- 
ing ' Amen.' 

With this glorious subject in our view, can we fail to 
be astonished at the manner in which the Saviour of 
the world is treated by multitudes of those whom he 
came to redeem ? By what multitudes is he regarded 
with cold-hearted unbelief, and stupid indifference ! 
By what multitudes, with open opposition and avowed 
hostility ! By what multitudes, with shameless con- 
tempt, insolent sneers, and impudent ridicule ! How 
often is his glorious name profaned and blasphemed by 
those whom he died to save from endless perdition ! 
How many miserable wretches, tottering on the brink 
of eternal ruin, while in the house of God, while in this 
house, and while his agonies, endured for them, are re- 
sounding in their ears, quietly compose themselves to 
sleep, or busily employ themselves in whispering, amuse- 
ment, and mirth ; forgetful that they have souls to be 
saved, or lost, and destitute of a wish to be interested in 
the Saviour ! Had Christ been as regardless of these 
miserable beings as they are of him, nay, as they are 
of themselves, what would have become of them ' in the 
day of wrath ?' What Mill become of them in that 
dreadful day, if they continue to treat Christ as they 
have treated him hitherto ? 

4. It is evident from these observations, that the gos- 
pel alone furnishes a consistent scheme of salvation to 
mankind. 

The gospel takes man where it finds him, in a state 
of sin and ruin, condemned by the law of God to final 
perdition, and incapable of justification, by his own 
righteousness. In this situation it announces to him a 
Saviour, divinely great and glorious, divinely excellent 



and lovely ; assuming his nature to become an expia- 
tion for his sins ; revealing to him the way of reconci- 
liation to God ; and inviting him to enter it, and be 
saved. The acceptance of this expiation it announces 
from the mouth of God himself. The terms in which 
we may be reconciled, it discloses with exact precision 
and perfect clearness : so that ' he who runs may read ;' 
so that beggars and children may understand and ac- 
cept them. Faith in the Redeemer, repentance towards 
God, and holiness of character, involve them all. They 
are terms reasonable in themselves, easy to us, ar.d pro- 
ductive of incomprehensible good to all who embrace 
them. To overcome the stubbornness of our hearts, 
Christ has commissioned the Spirit of grace to sanctify 
us for himself, to draw us with the cords of his love, to 
guide us with his wisdom, to uphold us with his power, 
and to conduct us under his kind providence to the hea- 
vens. In this scheme is contained all that we need, and 
all that we can rationally desire. The way of salvation 
is here become ' a highway, and way-faring men, though 
fools, need not err therein.' 

The religion of the gospel is a religion designed for 
sinners. By the expiation of Christ it opens the bra- 
zen door which was for ever barred against their re- 
turn. Here the supreme and otherwise immovable 
obstacle to the acceptance of sinners is taken away. If 
sinners were to be accepted, it was not ' possible that 
this cup should pass from ' Christ. The next great ob- 
stacle in the way of their acceptance, is found in their 
unholy, disobedient hearts, propense ' to evil only and 
continually ;' and the next, their perpetual exposure to 
backsliding, and to falling finally away. These obsta- 
cles, immovable also, by any means on this side of 
heaven, the Spirit of grace, by his most merciful inter- 
ference in our behalf, entirely removes. Man, there- 
fore, in the gospel, finds his return from apostasy made 
possible, made easy, made certain ; actually begun, stea- 
dily carried on in the present world, and finally com- 
pleted in the world to come. 

But no other scheme of religion presents to us even 
plausible means of removing these difficulties. Na- 
tural religion, to which infidels persuade us to betake 
ourselves for safety, does not even promise us a return 
to God. Natural religion is the religion of law ; of 
that law, which in the only legal language declares to 
us, ' Do these things, and thou shalt live ; but the soul 
that sinneth shall die.' These things, the things speci- 
fied in the requisitions of the law, we have not done ; 
and therefore cannot live. We have sinned, and there- 
fore must die. It has been formerly shown, that the 
law knows no condition of acceptance or justification, 
but obedience. Concerning repentance, faith, forgive- 
ness, and reconciliation, concerning the sinner's return 
to God, and his admission to immortal life, the law is 
silent. Its only sentence pronounced on those who dis- 
obey is a sentence of final condemnation. 

Whatever we may suppose the law to be, we have 
disobeyed its precepts. Nothing has been ever devised 
or received by man, as a law of God, which all men 
have not disobeyed. Infidels cannot devise such a law 
as they will dare to call a law of God, and publish to 
men under this title, which they themselves, and all 
other men have not often disobeyed. From the very 
nature of law, a nature inseparable from its existence 
as a law, disobedience to its precepts must be con- 
demned ; and if nothing interfere to preserve the of- 



312 



SYSTE.M OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



fender from punishment, he must of necessity suffer. 
To what degree, in what modes, through what extent 
these sufferings will reach, the infidel cannot conjecture. 
To his anguish no end appears. Of such an end, no 
arguments can be furnished by his mind, no tidings 
have reached his ear, and no hopes can rationally arise 
in his heart. Death, with all the gloomy scenes at- 
tendant upon a dying bed, is to him merely the com- 
mencement of doubt, fear, and sorrow. The grave to 
him is the entrance into a world of absolute and eternal 
darkness. That world, hung round with fear, amaze- 
ment, and despair, overcast with midnight, melancholy 
with solitude, desolate of every hope of real good, opens 
to him through the dreary passage of the grave. Be- 
yond this entrance he sees nothing, he knows nothing, 
he can conjecture nothing, but what must fill his heart 



with alarm, and make his death-bed a couch of thorns. 
With a suspense scarcely less terrible than the miseries 
of damnation itself, his soul lingers over the vast 
and desolate abyss; when, compelled by an unseen 
and irresistible hand, it plunges into this uncertain and 
irreversible doom, to learn by experience what is the 
measure of woe destined to reward those, ' who obey 
not God,' and reject the salvation proffered by his Son. 
In such a situation what man not yet lost to sense and 
thought, net yet convinced that he has committed the 
sin which cannot be forgiven, would not hail with trans- 
port the dawn of the gospel ; the clear rising of the 
Sun of righteousness, to illumine his path through this 
melancholy world, to dispel the darkness of the grave, 
to shed a benevolent light upon the entrance into eter- 
nity, and to brighten his passage to the heavens. 



SERMON LVIII. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST HIS INTERCESSION. 



But this man, because lie continueth ever, hath an unchangeable priesthood. Wherefore he is able also to save 

them to the uttermost, that come unto God by him ; seeing lie ever liveth to make intercession for them Heb. 

vii. 24, 25. 



Having in a series of Discourses examined, as far as 
I thought it necessary, the personal holiness of Christ, 
and his atonement for sin ; I shall now proceed in the 
order originally proposed, to consider his intercession. 

In the first verse of the text, St Paul declares, that 
Christ, in contradistinction to earthly high priests, ' has 
an unchangeable priesthood ;' or, as the original more 
exactly signifies, ' a priesthood which passes not from 
one hand to another.' In the last verse he infers from 
this fact, ' that he is able to save ' his followers ' to the 
uttermost ; because he ever lives to make intercession 
for them.' The intercession of Christ, therefore, is 
here declared to be real — to be made for his followers 
— and to be effectual to their salvation. Of course, it 
claims, in a high degree, our serious attention. 

To intercede denotes, originally, to go between one 
person and another. In its secondary or figurative 
sense, the only one in which it seems now to be used, it 
denotes offering petitions in behalf of another ; and, in 
the Scriptures, offering such petitions to God. On this 
subject we have St John as a commentator, to direct us. 
' It* any man sin,' says the apostle, ' we have an advocate 
with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.' The ori- 
ginal word here translated ' advocate ' is ■xu.ga.KhnTbg. 
It denotes either a person who in the Roman courts, 
under the appellation of patronus, attended a client, 
and in countenancing, advising, and interceding for him, 
took an efficacious care of his interest : or an agent of 
one of the states, either allied or tributary to Rome, who 
took a similar care of the interests of that state before 
the Roman government, and interceded from time to 
time, with the emperor on its behalf, as those interests 
demanded. Such is one of the offices assumed by Christ 
in the heavens. 

It will be seen at a glance, that this subject is merely 




a scriptural one. All our knowledge concerning it is 
derived from revelation only. Reason can add nothing 
but conjecture to what the Scriptures have taught ; and 
you are not now to learn that additions of this nature 
are of very little value. The observations which I pro- 
pose to make concerning it, I shall arrange under the 
following heads : — 

I. The character and circumstances of those for 
whom Christ intercedes. 

II. The manner in which, his intercession is perform- 
ed. 

Under the former of these heads I observe, 

L That they are the children of God. 

In proof of this position I cite the following pas- 
sages : — 

(1.) The text. ' Wherefore he is able to save to the 
uttermost, them that come unto God by him ; seeing he 
ever liveth to make intercession for them.' It cannot 
but be seen, that St Paul speaks here of no other inter- 
cession than that which is made for such as come unto 
God by Christ. 

(2.) The passage already quoted from I John ii. 1, 
' My little children, these things write I unto you, that 
ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate 
with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.' The per- 
sons who are here said to have an advocate with the 
Father, are the persons denoted by the word, ' we,' that 
is, St John, and those to whom he writes ; or whom he 
here styles ' little children :' in other words, the children 
of God. 

(3.) Rom. viii. 34, ' Who is he that condemneth ? It 
is Christ that died ; yea, rather, that is risen again : who 
is even at the right hand of God ; who also maketh in- 
tercession for us.' The persons for whom Christ is here 
said to intercede, are those included in the word ' us ;' 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



313 



those who in the preceding verses are called ' God's 
elect ;' and of whom it is said, that none shall hereafter 
be 'able to lay any thing to their charge;' and of whom 
in the verses following it is declared, that nothing, whe- 
ther present or future, ' shall be able to separate them 
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' 

I know of no passage in the Scriptures which even 
seems to teach any other doctrine, except Isa. liii. 12, 
' and he made intercession for the transgressors.' Of this 
passage, I observe, 

[I.] That saints may be, and with the utmost 
propriety are, considered as designed by the word 
' transgressors,' in this place. Saints both before and 
after their regeneration, are transgressors ; and, in this 
character only, need the intercession of Christ. 

[2.] The murderers of Christ are very naturally desig- 
nated in this place, by 'transgressors :' and the passage 
may be considered as a prophecy of the intercession 
which he made for them on the cross. 

In the same verse it is said, ' He was numbered with 
the transgressors ;' that is, with the thieves between whom 
he was crucified ; and with all the other capital criminals 
condemned to the same death. All these were emi- 
nently transgressors ; and with them he was numbered 
or reckoned when he was pronounced to have the same 
character, and sentenced to the same infamy and suffei*- 
ings. As the word ' transgressors ' denotes malefactors 
or murderers in the former of these clauses, it is very 
naturally understood to denote persons of the same 
character in the latter. In the former clause, also, the 
prophet speaks one fact which took place on the day of 
Christ's crucifixion ; it is very naturally supposed, there- 
fore, that he pursues the same subject through the verse, 
and that the intercession mentioned by him, was made 
on the same day. If these remarks are just, the prophet 
may be fairly considered as predicting, in this passage, 
the prayer of Christ for his murderers, ' Father, forgive 
them, for they know not what they do!' This was a 
real and wonderful instance of intercession, and was 
gloriously answered in the conversion of several thou- 
sands of these persons to the faith and obedience of the 
gospel. 

2. The children of God are still the subjects of back- 
sliding and sin, in greater or less degrees, while they live. 

In every child of God there still exists ' a law in his 
members,' which wars ' against the law in his mind,' 
and often brings him ' into captivity to the law of sin, 
which is in his members.' It is to be remembered, that 
all such sins are committed not only against the law, but 
against the grace of God, and are aggravated by this 
high consideration. Originally, they were apostates ; 
but afterward they were reconciled to God by faith in 
the blood of his Son. For this unspeakable blessing 
their obligations to obedience are increased beyond 
measure. -Against these obligations, and against their 
own solemn covenant, recognizing and enhancing them, 
they still have sinned. Their ingratitude, therefore, is 
peculiar, and all their transgressions are heightened by 
the amazing consideration that they have been redeem- 
ed, sanctified, and forgiven. 

3. Notwithstanding their backslidings, they are not 
utterly cast off. 

' My mercy,' saith God, ' will I keep for him for ever- 
more ; and my covenant shall stand fast with him. His 
seed also will I make to endure for ever, and his throne 
as the days of heaven. If his children forsake my law, 



and walk not in my judgments ; if they break my sta- 
tutes, and keep not my comandments : then will I 
visit their transgression with the rod, and their iniquity 
with stripes. Nevertheless, my loving-kindness I will 
not utterly take from him, nor suffer my faithfulness to 
fail.' Psalm lxxxix. 28 — 33. This is the universal 
language of the Scriptures concerning this subject. 
' Persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not de- 
stroyed; perplexed, but not in despair; chastened, but 
not killed.' Such is the language of the apostles, and 
such was their condition. Such also, in various respects, 
is that of all their followers. 

From the obliteration of the sins of persons so circum- 
stanced, it cannot be irrational to suppose, that some 
provision would be made by him who sent his Son to 
die for them ; and who had promised in the covenant of 
redemption that they should endure for ever. 

II. I shall consider the manner in which the inierces 
sion of Christ is performed. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. Some of the ancients were of opinion, that Christ 
executes this office by presenting, continually, his hu- 
man nature before the throne of his Father. Aquinas 
also, a more modern writer, says, ' Christ intercedes for 
us by exhibiting, with a desire of our salvation, to the 
view of the Father the human nature, assumed for us, 
and the mysteries celebrated or accomplished in it.' 

It will be admitted on all hands that Christ does 
thus exhibit his human nature in the heavens ; nor can 
it be denied, that this is a continual exhibition of what 
he has done and suffered for the glory of his Father, and 
the salvation of his church. All this was done by him 
in the human nature ; which is, therefore, an unceasing 
and affecting symbol of his wonderful labours for these 
great ends. The same exhibition is, also, a strong and 
constant memorial of his own love to his followers, and 
his earnest desires that they may be forgiven and saved. 
These desires, therefore, together with these labours 
and sufferings, being all forcibly exhibited in this pre- 
sentation of his human nature before ' the throne of the 
Majesty in the heavens,' it is, I think, a well founded 
opinion, that in this manner the intercession of Christ 
is, partially at least, performed. In support of this 
opinion we are to remember, that the high-priest, whose 
intercession was a type of that of Christ, made his in- 
tercession, not by offering prayers for the people in the 
most holy place, but by sprinkling the blood of sacrifi- 
ces on the mercy-seat. As the blood of the sacrifice 
was here presented before God by way of intercession, 
so Christ is considered as presenting the memorials of 
his sacrifice before God in the heavens ; and as the 
high-priest by this act opened to the Israelites the 
earthly holy places, so Christ is considered as in the like 
manner opening the heavenly holy places to his own 
followers for ever. 

2. Christ pleads, substantially, for the forgiveness of 
the sins of his followers, their preservation in holiness, 
and their final acceptance into heaven. 

Intercession in its very nature involves petition. The 
manner in which it is performed may vary, but the 
substance is always the same. In whatever manner, 
therefore, Christ may be supposed to intercede for his 
children, he must substantially offer up petitions on 
their behalf. That they need this intercession can- 
not be rationally doubted. The blessings to which 
they are conducted are the greatest of all blessings ; 
2 a 



314 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lviii. 



their final forgiveness, acceptance, purification, and 
eternal life. Of these and all other blessings they are 
wholly unworthy. That much is necessary to be done 
for such persons, in order to save them from punish- 
ment, and secure to them immortal happiness, is a doc- 
trine accordant with the dictates of common sense. In 
this world great evils are remitted, and great blessings 
procured to the undeserving, by the intercession of the 
worthy and honourable. Analogy, therefore, leads us 
to look to similar means for the accomplishment of 
similar purposes, in the universal providence of God. 
Especially will this seem natural and necessary, where 
the greatest blessings are to be obtained for those who 
are unworthy of the least of all blessings. 

3. In John xvii. we have, if I mistake not, an exam- 
ple of this very intercession. 

This chapter is the last communication of Christ to 
his apostles before his death. In it he recites, briefly, 
his Avonderful labours for the glory of his Father, and 
for the good of his children ; declares that he had 
finished the work allotted to him ; and announces, that 
he was bidding adieu to the scene of his humiliation, 
and preparing to enter into his glory. 

On these grounds he prays his Father to sanctify and 
perfect his children ; to keep them while they were in 
the world, from the evil ; to make them one in their 
spirit, their character, and their pursuits ; and to cause 
the love which he exercised towards Christ, to rest 
upon them. At the same time he declares, that he had 
given to them his own glory ; and that it was his will 
that they should be where he was, and behold his glory 
for ever. All these illustrious things also he solicits on 
the ground of his Father's love to him, and his own la- 
bours and sufferings in obedience to his will. 

In this prayer of Christ we have probably a fair spe- 
cimen of his intercession in the heavens. The same 
things are recited, and the same things requested here, 
which we are taught to expect there ; and all is asked 
of God which can contribute to their safety or their 
happiness. 

If these observations be allowed to be just, it will be 
seen that the great ends of Christ's intercession are to 
preserve his followers from final backsliding ; an evil to 
which, if left to themselves, they would certainly be ex- 
posed, notwithstanding all the virtuous principles which 
they possess ; to obtain the forgiveness of those sins 
which they commit after their regeneration ; and to se- 
cure their reception into the world of glory. These 
ends are of the highest importance to them, and in the 
highest degree declarative of the goodness of God. 

This method of proceeding on the part of God is 
wholly accordant with the common dictates of the hu- 
man mind. Similar means, as I have observed, are 
used, and efficaciously used, to procure the remission of 
punishment and the enjoyment of good for unworthy 
men in the present world. That which is done here, 
therefore, and has ever been done with the plainest 
propriety and the most decisive efficacy, strongly illus- 
trates the reasonableness and propriety of what is thus 
done in the heavens. 

From these observations I infer, 

1. The perfect safety of the children of God. 

Christ, the Son of God, and the infinitely meritorious 
Redeemer of men, intercedes for their preservation in 
holiness, the forgiveness of their backslidings and their 
final acceptance into heaven. ' The Father always 



heareth' the Son. It is impossible that his intercession 
should fail, or that the purposes of it should not be ac- 
complished. His followers, therefore, though exposed 
to ten thousand dangers, and to numberless temptations, 
enemies, and backslidings, though always in a state of 
peril, and living only a doubtful and scarcely percepti- 
ble life, will pass safely through all these hazards, and 
finally arive at the possession of perfect holiness and 
everlasting joy. 

In the preceding Discourse I evinced the truth of this 
doctrine by arguments drawn from the atonement of 
Christ. It is equally evident from his intercession. 
-Christ, in his prayer at the tomb of Lazarus, says to 
the Father, ' I knew that thou hearest me always.' In 
his intercessory prayer, in the xviith of John, he de- 
clares, that he intercedes not only for his apostles and 
their fellow disciples then existing, but also ' for them, 
who should believe on him through their word ;' that 
is, the gospel. Those then who believe on him through 
the gospel, are universally interested in that interces- 
sion of Christ, which ' the Father heareth always.' Of 
course, their safety is complete, their interest in the di- 
vine favour indefeasible, and their title to endless life 
unalterably secure. 

2. We have here a strong proof that Christ is un- 
changeable. 

In Prov. viii. after giving a variety of testimonies of 
his compassion for sinners, he informs us, that ' before 
the mountains were settled, or the earth was made, he 
rejoiced in the habitable parts of the earth,' in a glori- 
ous foresight of the good which he intended to accom- 
plish ; and that ' his delights were' from eternity ' with 
the sons of men.' In the indulgence of this divine be- 
nignity, though infinitely ' rich ' in the possession of 
all good, yet ' for our sakes he became poor, that we 
through him might become rich.' ' The Word, who 
was in the beginning with God, and by whom all 
things were made, became flesh, and dwelt among us ; 
and we beheld his glory (the glory as of the only-be- 
gotten of the Father), full of grace and truth.' While 
he dwelt in this apostate world, he underwent a course 
of extreme humiliation, labours, and sufferings for the 
sake of mankind ; and in the end purchased for them 
the regeneration of the sou], and a title to everlasting 
life, with the agonies of the cross. 

To the heavens he has gone before, ' to prepare a 
place for them, and to receive them to himself.' In 
that glorious world, amid all the splendours of his ex- 
altation, he forgets not for a moment those worms of 
the dust, whom he came to redeem ; those backsliding, 
frail, sinning apostates, for whom he poured out his 
blood on the accursed tree ; but, in the strong language 
of the apostle, ' ever lives to make intercession for 
them.' By his intercession, as well as by his govern- 
ment, he secures their continuance in holiness ; ' cleanses 
them from secret faults ; restrains them from presump- 
tuous sins ;' and thus keeps them ' innocent of the great 
transgression.' Thus his love is, from everlasting to 
everlasting, the same boundless love ; to himself di- 
vinely glorious, to them great beyond example, benefi- 
cial beyond degree. 

3. The intercession of Christ most affectingly teaches 
us the grace of God in the salvation of sinners. 

Sinners are originally redeemed, forgiven, and sanc- 
tified by the mere sovereign goodness of God. After 
all these mighty works are accomplished, they are still 



PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST. 



315 



guilty and undeserving ; they need the intercession as 
well as the atonement of Christ ; and without it could 
not, as far as we are informed, be with propriety blessed 
in the heavens. In consequence of this intercession 
they are preserved from fatal declension, their sins 
committed after their regeneration are forgiven, and 
themselves admitted to the presence of God. 

In heaven this intercession is continued for ever. 
Throughout eternity the children of God are thus fur- 
nished with the strongest evidence, that their everlast- 
ing happiness is the result of mere sovereign goodness 
and mercy ; and that all the glory of devising, accom- 
plishing, and bestowing this happiness is to be ascribed 
to him. The praises of the heavenly world, and the 
gratitude whence they spring, will from this source de- 
rive a more exquisite rapture ; their sense of depend- 
ence on God be more humble, intense, and lovely ; and 
their perseverance in holiness find the most delightful, 
as well as the most powerful motives. 

4. How wonderful is the love of Christ to sinners ! 

It is beyond measure wonderful, that he should love 
them at all. What are they ? Guilty, rebellious, odious 
creatures, opposed to his will, designs, and character ; 
requiting his love with ingratitude, hatred, and con- 
tempt ; ' crucifying him afresh ' by their unbelief; ' and 
accounting the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was 
sanctified, an unholy thing.' Why did he love them ? 
Not because they were rational beings. With a word 
he could have created millions of such beings for one 
of them ; and all more rational and more exalted than 
themselves. Not because of their moral excellence ; for 
they had none. Not because he needed them ; for he 
cannot need any thing, and they possessed nothing 
which they did not receive from him. 

On the contrary, all his conduct towards them sprang 
from his own boundless good- will ; his disinterested love. 
They were not deserving, but he was pitiful ; they were 
not valuable, but he was bountiful ; they were not 
necessary to him, but he was infinitely necessary to 
them. ' Herein is love ; not that we loved God, but 
that he loved us, and gave his Son to die for us.' It 
was because Christ was superlatively good ; and because 
we were ' poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, 
and naked, and in want of all things,' that this glorious 
person had compassion on us in our apostasy and ruin. 
He lived and died, he reigns and intercedes, that we 
might live, and not die. This great work he began to 
execute here, and he carries it on in the heavens 
throughout eternity. 

In that world of glory, although elevated to the throne 
of the universe, and beholding all things beneath his 
feet, although loved, obeyed, and worshipped with su- 
preme attachment and homage by the great kingdom 
of virtuous beings, he assumes and executes the office 
of an intercessor for the fallen children of Adam. In 
that world ' he is not ashamed to call them,' however 
degraded by their apostasy, and however odious by their 
guilt, by the endearing names of ' friends ' and ' bre- 
thren.' He is the universal ruler ; but he is not ashamed 
to appear as the ' elder brother, the first-born,' of this 
human assembly ; nay, as a suppliant for those whom he 
rules. He is a person of infinite dignity and perfection, 
but he is not ashamed to appear as a companion to those 
who could originally ' say to corruption, Thou art our 
father, and to the worm, Thou art our mother and our 
sister.' Thus the character which he exhibited on earth, 



he sustains in heaven. He is still in the same manner 
' meek and lowly of heart ;' and still ' feeds his disciples,' 
and ' leads them to fountains of living waters.' To him 
they have been indebted for the atonement of their sins 
and the salvation of their souls, and to him they will be 
infinitely indebted for the communication of knowledge, 
holiness, and enjoyment throughout the endless ages of 
their being. 

What character can be compared with this? Before 
it, how does all other excellence fade ! In it what ex- 
altation and condescension are blended ! What great- 
ness and benignity united ! What must be the mind in 
which these majestic and these sweet and lovely cha- 
racteristics thus unchangeably and for ever harmonize ; 
a mind supremely great and glorious in the lowly station 
of a man, a child, a servant to an humble artisan, and 
divinely meek and condescending in the infinite splen- 
dour of universal dominion. 

What dishonour is here reflected on the pride of men 
and fallen angels ! Pride, unsatisfied with all present 
attainments, and making the greatest communications 
from God, of distinction and glory, the mere founda- 
tions of claiming more, and of murmuring because they 
are not elevated to higher honours, and replenished 
with more extensive enjoyments ! How poor, how de- 
based, how odious, how guilty is that pride ! How con- 
temptible does it appear, when compared with the 
Redeemer's condescension ! In heaven there is no pride ; 
on earth and in hell it is the prevailing character. Men 
are proud, fallen angels are proud. Christ is ' meek 
and lowly of heart.' What would become of the uni- 
verse, were pride to find a place in the infinite mind ? 

5. How differently are Christians regarded by Christ, 
and by evil men ! 

Christ descended from heaven, and left 'the glory 
which he had with the Father before ever the world 
was ' to befriend Christians. He became a man, he 
lived, he laboured through life, he hung upon the cross, 
and was buried in the tomb, to redeem them from sin 
and death. He arose from the dead, ascended to heaven, 
' sat on the right hand of the Majesty on high, be- 
came ' head over all things,' governs all things, and in- 
tercedes with his Father for ever, for the benefit of 
Christians. To save and bless them is, in a sense, his 
professional employment throughout eternity. 

How different is the conduct of evil men towards the 
very same persons ! In the eyes of these men, Christians 
are objects of contempt and hatred ; and in their cus- 
tomary language are styled superstitious, enthusiasts, 
hypocrites, fanatics, and bigots. Men of the same 
character mocked and crucified Christ ; their followers 
have ever since exhibited the same spirit ; at times in 
the same, at other times in different manners ; but in 
all its exhibitions the spirit has been the same. 

Reason would naturally ask, when contemplating 
this subject, What evil have Christians done, to merit 
this treatment? Have, they injured these enemies? 
Have they injured the public ? Are they not as indus- 
trious, as peaceable, as just, as sincere, as kind, as use- 
ful, as other men ? Do they not, as parents, children, 
friends, neighbours, magistrates, and citizens, perform 
the duties of life as fathfully, as those who are not 
Christians ? Do they transgress the laws, oppose the 
government, or disturb the peace of society, more than 
their enemies themselves ? If they are guilty of such 
crimes, it can undoubtedly be proved ; it ought to be 



316 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lviii. 



proved ; and they ought, accordingly, to be condemned 
and punished. To this no fair objection can be made 
even by Christians themselves. 

But how far from these dictates of reason has been 
all the conduct of their adversaries ! Have they even 
attempted any proof of this nature ? Have not their ac- 
cusations been general and indefinite, like the outcry 
raised against Paul and his companions, ' These, that 
have turned the world upside down, have come hither 
also :' the mere exclamations of undiscriminating male- 
volence, not the specific charges of sober conviction. 

To this malevolence what an endless train of men, 
women, and children — of men covered with the hoary 
locks of age, of children scarcely escaped from the 
cradle — have been offered up on the altar of per- 
secution! What multitudes by the ancient heathen, 
what multitudes by the idolatrous apostates from Christi- 
anity, what multitudes by the infidels of modern times ! 

Where law and government have prevented these 
atrocities, how many private and personal injuries, how 
many sneers and taunts, how many stings of gall and 
bitterness, have Christians been obliged to endure ! 
How many aspersions have been cast on their doctrines, 
designs, and characters, merely to load them with shame! 
How frequently are their best intentions misconstrued, 
and their most benevolent labours perverted, in this 
very land, originally peopled by Christians, and conse- 
crated to religion : this land converted by Christians 
from a wilderness into a habitation of industry, peace, 
civilization, and happiness : to change which from a 
howling wilderness into an asylum of persecuted piety, 
Christians encountered the perils of the ocean, and the 
sufferings of the desert ; sustained all the horrors of 
savage war, and all the evils of famine, disease, and 
death. In this very land, how many enemies have 
risen up to the church of God, among the descendants 
of these very Christians, and among the brethren of 
those who are persecuted ! They know not, perhaps, 
that their curses are directed to the ' fathers who begat 
them,' or that ' their eye is evil towards the mothers 
who bore them,' nor mistrust, that their scorn is pointed 
against the source whence, under God, they have 
derived every enjoyment and every hope. 

Against this source of blessings, the religion of Chris- 
tians, they are more malignant than even against Chris- 
tians themselves. The Bible is hated more than those 
who helieve it ; the doctrines and duties of Christianity 
more than its professors. What are those duties ? They 
are all summed up in these two great precepts, ' Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy 
neighbour as thyself;' and in the means of producing 
obedience to these precepts in the soul of man. What 
is there in these precepts which can be the object of 
vindicable hatred ? Who will stand up and say, who 
will say in the recesses of his own heart, it is an odious 
and contemptible thing to love God, to obey his voice, 
to believe in his Son, to shun the anger of God, to 
escape from endless sin and misery, and to attain ever- 
lasting virtue and happiness ? Or is it, in the view of 
common sense, wise to choose the anger of God rather 
than his favour, a depraved character rather than a vir- 
tuous one, the company of apostates and fiends rather 
than of saints and angels, and hell rather than heaven ? 

Is it odious, is it contemptible, is it ridiculous, does 
it deserve obloquy and persecution to ' love our neigh- 
bour as ourselves,' to exhibit universal kindness, to deal 



justly, to speak truth, to fulfill promises, to relieve the 
distressed, to obey laws, to reverence magistrates, to 
resist temptation, to be sober, chaste, and temperate, 
and to follow all things which are ' honest, pure, lovely, 
and of good report ?' 

Is it, on the contrary, honourable, is it praiseworthy, 
does it merit esteem and reward, to be impious, profane, 
and blasphemous, to be infidels ; to have a seared con- 
science ; to possess a hard heart ; to be unjust, unkind, 
and unfaithful ; to be false, perjured, and seditious ; to 
be light-minded, lewd, and gluttonous ? 

Is not the true reason of all this hostility to Christians, 
the plain superiority of their character to that of their 
enemies ? Does not the hatred arise from their con- 
sciousness of this superiority ; from the impatience 
which they feel whenever they behold it ; from the 
wounds which neighbouring excellence always inflicts ? 
Do they not feel that good men cast a shade upon their 
character ; reprove them, at least by the silent and 
powerful voice of their own virtue ; serve as a second 
conscience, to hold out their sin before their eyes, and 
alarm their hearts with a secret and irresistible sense of 
future danger? Do not wicked men say in their hearts, 
as they said at the time when the Wisdom of Solomon 
was written, ' Therefore let us lie in wait for the right- 
eous, because he is not for our turn, and he is clean 
contrary to our doings. He upbraideth us with our 
offending the law, and objecteth to our infamy the 
transgressions of our education. He professeth to have 
the knowledge of God, and calleth himself the child of 
the Lord. He was made to reprove our thoughts. He 
is grievous unto us, even to behold : for his life is not 
like other men's, his ways are of another fashion. We 
are esteemed of him as counterfeits ; he abstaineth from 
our ways as from filthiness ; he pronounceth the end of 
the just to be blessed ; and maketh his boast that Cod 
is his father. Let us see if his words be true, and let 
us prove what shall happen in the end of him. Let us 
examine him with despitefulness and torture, that we 
may know his meekness and prove his patience. Let 
us condemn him with a shameful death ; for by his own 
saying he shall be respected.' Apply this description, 
and you will find it as exact and just, as if it had been 
written yesterday, and intended to mark out in the 
most definite manner, the loose and profligate of our 
own land. 

But let Christians remember that these things will 
not always be. The time will come, it will soon come, 
when their enemies, however numerous, proud, and 
prosperous, ' will like sheep be laid in the grave. Death 
shall feed on them ; and the worm shall cover them. 
Their beauty shall consume away ; and the upright 
shall have dominion over them in the morning.' Then 
shall all the just ' be far from oppression, for they shall 
not fear : and from terror, for it shall not come near 
them.' God shall ' redeem them from the power of the 
grave,' and shall ' wipe away all tears from their eyes.' 
Then shall it be seen that their ' light affliction ' in the 
present world was ' but for a moment,' and that its 
real and happy efficacy was no other than to ' work for 
them a far more exceeding and eternal weight cf glory.' 



CHRIST A KING. 



317 



SERMON LIX. 



CHARACTER OF CHRIST AS A KING. 



Which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly 
places; far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only 
in this world, but also in that which is to come. And hath put all things under his feet ; and gave him to be 
the head over all things to the church Eph. i. 20 — 22. 



I have now in a series of Sermons examined the cha- 
racter of Christ, as the Prophet and High Priest of man- 
kind. Under his prophetical character I have consider- 
ed his preaching, by himself, and by his apostles — the 
things taught by both — the manner in which they were 
taught — and their consequences. Under his priesthood 
I have considered his personal holiness — his atonement 
— and his intercession. 

I shall now, according to the original scheme men- 
tioned when I began to discuss the mediation of Christ, 
proceed to consider his character as a King. 

That this character is given to Christ in the Scrip- 
tures, in instances almost literally innumerable, is per- 
fectly well known to every reader of the Bible. In the 
second Psalm there is a solemn annunciation of the 
kingly office of Christ to the world. It is introduced 
with these words, ' I have set,' or, as in the Hebrew, 
have anointed, ' my king on my holy hill of Zion.' 
' Unto us,' says Isaiah, ' a Child is born ; unto us a 
Son is given ; and the government shall be upon his 
shoulder ; and his name shall be called Wonderful, 
Counsellor, the mighty God, the Father of the everlast- 
ing age, the Prince of peace ; and of the increase of his 
government and of his peace there shall be no end : 
upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to 
order it, and to establish it with judgment and with 
justice, from henceforth, even for ever.' ' The Lord 
hath sworn,' says David, ' and will not repent. Thou 
art a priest for ever, after the order of Melchisedek.' 
Melchisedek was both a king and a priest. The priest- 
hood of Christ, therefore, was a ' royal priesthood ;' or 
the priesthood of a person who was at the same time a 
king : like Melchisedek, a ' king of righteousness,' and 
a ' king of peace.' ' Thy throne, O God,' says David, 
' is for ever and ever : and the sceptre of thy kingdom 
is a sceptre of righteousness.' ' He shall reign,' says 
Gabriel, when predicting his birth to Mary, ' He shall 
reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his king- 
dom there shall be no end.' ' His name,' says St John, 
' is called the Word of God ; and he hath on his vesture 
and on his thigh a name written, King of kings, and 
Lord of lords.' 

In the text we are presented with several interesting 
particulars concerning the kingly office of Christ, which 
shall now be the subject of our consideration. 
We are taught in this passage, 

I. That God hath exalted Christ to this dominion : 

II. The extent of this dominion : 

III. That this dominion was given and assumed for 
the benefit of the church. 

I. We are taught, that God hath exalted Christ to 
this dominion. 

This doctrine is repeatedly taught in the text, in the 



following expressions : ' He set him at his own right 
hand in the heavenly places.' — ' He hath put all things 
under his feet.' — ' He gave him to be head over all 
things.' In these expressions, the exaltation of Christ 
to the dominion and dignity ascribed to him in the text, 
is as unequivocally attributed to the Father as it can be 
in human language. Of course, their plain import must 
be acknowledged by every Christian. I insist on this 
doctrine of the text ; I have insisted on it particularly, 
because it has been made by Unitarians an argument 
against the divinity of Christ. ' If,' they say, ' Christ 
is a divine person, whence is it that we hear so many 
things said in the Scriptures concerning his exaltation, 
and particularly of his exaltation by the Father? If 
Christ is God, how is it possible that he should be in 
any sense exalted ? But should we, contrary to plain 
probability, suppose him to have undergone voluntarily 
an apparent humiliation, can he who is truly God be 
indebted to any other than himself for a restoration to 
his former dignity and greatness P To be exalted at all, 
necessarily involves a preceding state of inferiority, 
particularly to the state to which he is exalted; and, 
certainly, of inferiority to the proper state and charac- 
ter of Jehovah, He who has all power, knowledge, 
wisdom, and greatness, cannot have more ; and, there- 
fore, can in no sense be exalted. To be exalted by 
another person, also, involves dependence on that per- 
son ; and a dependent being cannot be God.' 

As this, in my view, is the most plausible argument 
against the divinity of Christ, and that which has had 
more weight in my own mind than any other, though I 
believe, less relied on and less insisted on by Unitarians, 
than some others, I shall consider it with particular at- 
tention. 

As a preface to the answer which I intend to this ob- 
jection, I observe, that the argument contained in it, is 
in my own view conclusive ; and, if applied to the sub- 
ject without any error, must be admitted in its full force. 
The error of those who use it, lies in the application 
made of it to Christ. That exaltation involves a state 
of preceding inferiority is, I apprehend, intuitively cer- 
tain ; and that he who is exalted by another must be a 
dependent being, dependent on him by whom he is ex- 
alted, cannot be denied. Let us see how far this argu- 
ment is applicable to Christ, and how far it would con- 
clude against his Deity. 

It must be acknowledged by all Trinitarians, as well 
as others, that if Christ be God in the true and propei 
sense, it is impossible for him to be exalted above the 
dignity and greatness which he originally and always 
possessed. He cannot be more powerful, wise, or ex- 
cellent. He originally possessed all things, and there- 
fore can have nothing given to him. It cannot, of 



318 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See., lix. 



course, be in this sense that the scriptural writers speak 
of Christ as exalted. 

But it is equally clear, and will be equally insisted on 
by every Trinitarian, that Christ is man as well as God. 
In this character it is evident that he can receive exalta- 
tion ; and that to any degree less than infinite. It is 
farther evident, according to the Trinitarian doctrine 
concerning Christ, that the Messiah, or Mediator, Jesus 
Christ, is distinguishable from Christ considered as God, 
and from Christ considered as man : being constituted 
by the union of the eternal Word with the man Christ 
Jesus : ' A union,' as the Westminster Assembly ex- 
presses it, ' of two distinct natures and one person for 
ever.' This Mediator in his complete character began 
to exist at the birth of the man Jesus Christ, as being a 
person then new to the universe. Of this Mediator, 
then commencing his perfect existence, the predictions 
concerning the kingdom of Christ, and the accounts 
concerning his assumption of that kingdom, are, 1 ap- 
prehend, all or nearly all written. It is of the Media- 
tor that it is said, ' I set my King on the holy hill of 
Zion.' It is of the ' Son » who was ' born,' and whose 
' name was called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty 
God ;' on whose ' shoulder the government was to be 
placed.' Of the Mediator Gabriel said, ' He shall reign 
over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom 
there shall be no end.' Of the Mediator St Paul says, 
' Wherefore God hath highly exalted him, and given 
him a name which is above every name ; that at the 
name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in 
heaven, and things in earth.' It is of the Mediator that 
it is said in the text, ' God set him at his own right 
hand in the heavenly places, far above every name that 
is named in this world, and in that which is to come :' 
and that it is farther said, ' He hath put all things un- 
der his feet ; and given him to be head over all things 
to his church.' 

As the Mediator Jesus Christ began to exist at the 
birth of the man Jesus Christ, so, until his resurrection, 
he existed in a state of humiliation only. The Word, 
though ' originally in the form of God, and ' justly 
' thinking it no robbery to be equal with God, yet ' 
voluntarily ' took upon himself the form of a servant, 
and was made in the likeness of men.' In this form or 
character of a servant, he fulfilled all the several duties 
which he had engaged to perform, and in this humble 
character he acted till he arose from the dead. 

It will not be denied, that this person, allowing him 
to have existed, was capable of exaltation ; nor that, if 
he received it at all, he must receive it from him under 
whose commission he acted, and to whom he had volun- 
tarily become a servant when ' he was made in the 
likeness of men.' 

This person, it is plain, had received no kingdom 
until his ascension to heaven ; had not before been 
' head over all things to the church ;' nor been ' exalt- 
ed above every name that is named in this world, and 
that to come.' This kingdom is frequently spoken of 
as the reward of the labours and sufferings of Christ, 
in the character of fllediator. These labours and suf- 
ferings had never before existed, and therefore could 
not have been rewarded at an earlier period. 

From these views of the subject it is clear that al- 
though Christ, as God, was incapable of exaltation 
equally as of suffering ; yet as Mediator he was capable 
of both ; and that exaltation was with perfect propriety 



given him by the glorious person under whose authority 
he placed himself, by voluntarily assuming the form of 
a servant. In this view of the subject the Trinitarians 
are so far from being inconsistent with themselves, that 
they merely accord with the necessary consequences of 
their own doctrine. 

II. We are tauglit'inthetexttheextentofthiskingdom. 

The word ' kingdom ' sometimes denotes the rule 
which is exercised by a king ; and sometimes the per- 
sons and regions which he rules. According to the 
former of these senses, David says, ' Thou hast prepared 
thy throne in the heavens ; and thy kingdom is over 
all.' Of the latter sense, ' it shall be given thee' to the 
half of the kingdom,' is an example. 

1. The kingdom of Christ is the universe. 

In the text, the extent of Christ's kingdom is repeat- 
edly denoted by the phrase ' all things.' The absolute 
universality of this phrase is sufficiently manifest from 
the text itself, when it is said, that ' he is set at the right 
hand of God, far above all principality, and power, and 
might, and dominion, and every name that is named 
in this world, and that which is to come.' But it is 
placed beyond all doubt in the corresponding passages 
in Phil. ii. 10, where it is said, that ' every knee should 
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things 
under the earth, and that every tongue should confess, 
that Jesus Christ is Lord.' ' Heaven and earth ' is the 
phrase by which the Jews denoted the universe. When 
they meant to express this idea with emphasis, they 
sometimes added the phrase, 'under the earth.' Here 
we have the most emphatical language ever used by a 
Jew to denote the universe, and all things which it 
contains. ' Every knee ' in this vast dominion we are 
assured will one day bow to Christ ; and ' every tongue ' 
found in it will confess, at a future period, that ' Christ 
is Lord.' In the same manner, in Col. i. 16, ' All 
things ' are said to be ' created by him, and for him ;' 
whether they be ' visible or invisible,' whether in 'heaven 
or in earth.' As in this absolutely universal sense they 
were made by and for himself, so from this passage we 
cannot doubt, that in the same sense they will be his 
absolute possession, and that after as well as before he 
became Mediator. This world, therefore, the planetary 
system, the stellary systems, the highest heavens above, 
and hell beneath, are all included, and alike included 
in the immense empire of which he is the head. Men 
are his subjects. Angels, both fallen and virtuous, are 
his subjects ; and the inhabitants of the innumerable 
worlds which compose the universe, ' confess that he is 
Lord, to the glory of God the Father.' 

2. His authority over this great kingdom is supreme. 

The whole course of providence is under his immedi- 
ate control. ' He upholds all things by the word of his 
power,' and directs them with a universal and irresisti- 
ble agency to their proper ends. The affairs of this 
world and all its inhabitants are directed by his hand. 
He has the ' keys of hell and of death,' or of the world 
of departed spirits. ' He openeth, and no one shutteth ; 
and he shutteth, and no one openeth.' Into that world 
none enter without his bidding, and out of it none can 
come but by his permission. The world of misery be- 
neath, is in the same manner under his absolute domi- 
nion ; and the glorious system of happiness in the 
heavens above, is the mere result of his wisdom, good- 
ness, and power. 

In the exercise of his dominion he will, at the close 



CHRIST A KING, 



319 



of this providential system, summon the dead from the 
grave, consume the world with fire, and judge both the 
righteous and the wicked, both angels and men. In the 
exercise of the same authority also, he will send the 
wicked down to the regions of darkness, and ' punish 
them with an everlasting destruction from his presence, 
and from the glory of his power.' 

III. We are taught in the text, that this kingdom 
rvas given and assumed for the benefit of the church. 

This doctrine is directly asserted in the text ; and will, 
therefore, not be questioned. In the exercise of his go- 
vernment over all things for the benefit of his church, he, 

1. Defends it from all enemies. 

The enemies of Christians are their temptations, in- 
ternal and external ; their sins, death, evil men, and 
evil angels. 

Against their temptations he furnishes them with de- 
fence by all the instructions, precepts, warnings, reproofs, 
threatenings, and promises which are contained in his 
word. These constitute a continual and efficacious pro- 
tection from the influence of lusts within, and enemies 
without, by rectifying the views of the soul concerning 
its interest and duty, awakening in it solemn consider- 
ation, alarming it with affecting apprehensions, encour- 
aging it with hope, alluring it with love and gratitude, 
stimulating it with the prospect of a glorious reward, 
and thus prompting it to suspend the dangerous purpose, 
to watch against the rising sin, to oppose with vigour 
the intruding temptation, and to pray unceasingly for 
that divine assistance which ' every one that asketh shall 
receive.' 

To the means of defence furnished by his word, he 
adds continually the peculiar influences of his Spirit. 
This glorious agent commissioned by Christ for this di- 
vine purpose, diffuses through the soul the spirit of re- 
sistance, the hope of victory, the strength necessary to 
obtain it, and the peace and joy which are its happy as 
well as unfailing consequences. 

From their sins he began to deliver them by his 
atonement. This work he carries on by his interces- 
sion, and completes by his providence. In the present 
world, where all things are imperfect, this deliverance 
partakes, it must be acknowledged, of the common na- 
ture ; yet it is such, as to secure them from every fatal 
evil, and such as we know to be one of those things, 
which ' work together for their good.' Their progress 
towards perfect holiness is slow, irregular, and inter- 
rupted ; yet it is real and important ; producing hope, 
comfort, and perseverance unto the end. 

At the judgment this deliverance will be complete. 
There the glorious effects of his atonement and inter- 
cession will be all realized. Every one of his followers 
will find himself entirely interested in them both ; and 
will see, at that trying period, all his sins washed away, 
and nothing left to be ' laid to his charge.' These dread- 
ful enemies, at this dreadful season, will be powerless, 
and overthrown ; and Christians will ' be more than con- 
querors through him that hath loved them.' 

From death he has taken away its sting, and from the 
grave its victory. Death, so terrible to the impenitent, 
will be found by them to be no other than a rough, 
gloomy, unwelcome messenger, sent to summon them to 
the house of their Father. Over all its dangerous power 
they will triumph in a glorious manner, and be enabled 
to sing with everlasting exultation, ' Death ! where is 
thy sting? O Grave! where is thy victory? All the 



preceding diseases, sorrows, and trials through which 
they have passed in this vale of tears, they will distinctly 
perceive to have been scarcely enemies at all. On the 
contrary, they will appear to have been sent with infinite 
kindness, to check them in the career of iniquity, to 
warn them of approaching danger or existing sin, and 
to recall them effectually to the path of life. 

Against evil men and evil angels he furnishes them 
throughout their pilgrimage, with a continual and suffi- 
cient protection : not a protection, indeed, which will 
prevent them from suffering and sorrow ; but this is be- 
cause suffering and sorrow are necessary to their safety 
and improvement. Hence, they are maligned, calum- 
niated, despised, persecuted, and at times brought to a 
violent death. They are also at times perplexed, in- 
snared, allured, and tempted to wander from their duty 
by art, sophistry, and falsehood. By the former class 
of evils they are gradually weaned from that love of the 
world, that desire of human favour, and that lust for hu- 
man applause, which so naturally charm the eyes and 
fascinate the hearts even of Christians, and which are 
wholly inconsistent with the love of God. By the latter 
they are made sensible of their own weakness, taught 
their dependence on God, driven to their closets and 
their knees, and induced to ' walk humbly with God ' 
all their days, in the intimate and most profitable com- 
munion of faith and prayer. 

' The triumphing of the wicked is short;' and 'the 
upright shall have dominion over them in the morning.' 
When Christians are ' redeemed from the power of the 
grave,' they shall see all these enemies retiring behind 
them, and speedily vanishing, with the flight of ages, to 
a distance immeasurable by the power of the imagination. 
All around them will then be friends. God will then 
be their Father, angels their brethren, happiness their 
portion, and heaven their everlasting home. 

2. In the exercise of this authority he bestows on 
them all good, temporal and eternal. 

Of temporal good he gives them all that is necessary 
or useful for such beings in such a state. The world 
may be, and often is, a vale of tears ; and like a soli- 
tary pilgrimage through ' a weary land.' Poverty may 
betide, afflictions befall, diseases arrest, and death, at 
what they may think an untimely period, summon them 
away. By enemies they may be surrounded, and by 
friends forsaken. They may be exposed to hatred, con- 
tumely, and persecution. Their days may be overcast 
with gloom, and their nights with sorrow. But he has 
assured them, and they will find the assurance verified, 
that these are ' light afflictions,' which only ' work for 
them an eternal weight of glory ;' and that these as truly 
as all other things ' work together for their good.' Even 
these, therefore, however forbidding their aspect, will 
be found to be good for them ; good upon the whole ; 
good in such a sense as to render their whole destiny 
brighter, better, and more happy. 

In the mean time, he furnishes them also, and furnishes 
them abundantly, with spiritual good. He furnishes 
them with the sanctification of the soul. He gives them 
light to discover their own duty, and his glory and ex- 
cellency. He gives them strength to resist temptations ; 
sorrow for their sins ; patience, resignation, and forti- 
tude, under afflictions; faith to confide in him, and to 
' overcome the world ;' hope, to encourage their efforts, 
and to fix them firmly in their obedience ; peace, to hush 
the tumults of the mind, and to shed a cheerful serenity 



320 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. trx. 



over all its affections ; and joy, to assure them of Ills 
glorious presence, and to anticipate in their thoughts 
the everlasting joy of his immortal kingdom. 

In the future world, when death shall have been 
' Swallowed up in victory,' and ' all tears shall be wiped 
away from their eyes,' he will begin to bestow upon 
them eternal good. In this ' fulness of joy,' every thing- 
will be only delightful. Their bodies, raised from the 
grave * in incorruption, power, and glory,' will be 
' spiritual, immortal,' ever vigorous, and ever young.; 
their souls, purified from every stain, and luminous with 
knowledge and virtue, will be images of his own amiable- 
ness and consummate beauty ; their stations, allotments, 
and employments will be such as become those who are 
' kings and priests ' in the heavenly world ; their com- 
panions will be cherubim and seraphim, and their home 
will be the house of their Father and their God. 

At the same time, in bestowing all this good he him- 
self is the dispenser, and the good dispensed. * I,' says 
Christ, ' am the light of the world.' ' The city,' says 
St John, ' had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, 
to shine in it ; for the glory of God did lighten it, and 
the Lamb is the light thereof.' In other words, Christ 
is the medium through which all the knowledge of God 
is conveyed to the intelligent universe, his character dis- 
covered, and his pleasure made known. Of the heav- 
enly world, particularly, he is here expressly declared 
to be ' the light :' ' The glory of God did lighten it, and 
the Lamb is the light thereof.' The Lamb is this * glory 
of God,' which is said to be ' the light of heaven.' Christ 
is not only the dispenser of the good enjoyed in heaven, 
but the very good which is dispensed ; not only the dis- 
penser of knowledge, but the tiling known ; not only 
the communication of enjoyment, but the thing enjoyed ; 
the person divinely seen, loved, worshiped, and praised 
for ever. In his presence all his followers and all their 
happy companions ' with open face beholding ' in him, 
' as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, will be changed 
into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit 
of the Lord.' 



From these observations may be conclusively argued, 

1. The Divinity of Christ. 

From the text, and the comments here given on it, it 
is evident that Christ holds the sceptre of the universe, 
and rules the great kingdom of Jehovah. Let me ask, 
Who but the infinitely perfect One can possibly hold such 
a sceptre, or control successfully, or even at all, such 
an empire ? Unless he be every where present, how 
can he every where act, rule, and bring to pass, such 
events as he chooses ; such as are necessary to the di- 
vine glory, and the universal good ? Unless thus pre- 
sent, acting, and ruling, how can he prevent the exist- 
ence of such things as will be injurious to this good ; or 
fail to be disappointed of his own purposes, and ulti- 
mately of the supreme end of all his labour ? How evi- 
dent is it, even to our view, that inanimate things must 
cease to operate and to move in their destined course, 
that animated beings must wander out of it, and that 
rational beings must, if virtuous, go astray, from the 
defectiveness of their imperfect nature, and, if sinful, 
from malignity and design. The evil designs of the 
latter, particularly, must, if he be not present, multiply 
in their numbers, and increase in their strength, until 
various parts of this immense kingdom become disor- 



dered, and perhaps destroyed. What an impression 
would it make on the feelings, what a change in the af- 
fairs of this world, if mankind, if evil spirits, were to 
know that the ruler of all things would be absent from 
it even a single year ! What courage would sinners 
gather ! With what strength, and to what a multitude, 
would sins accumulate ! What a tempest of violence 
would ravage this globe ! To what a mountainous 
height would be heaped up the mass of human misery ! 

Nor is his absolute knowledge of all things less in- 
dispensable than his universal presence. This know- 
ledge is completely necessary to enable him to discern 
the ends deserving of his pursuit, and the proper means 
of their accomplishment. When all these are resolved 
on, the same knowledge only can direct the operations 
of- these means, prevent their disorder or their failure, 
preclude successful opposition, and avoid the conse- 
quent confusion, disturbance, and disappointment. Es- 
pecially is this knowledge indispensable to the effica- 
cious government of rational or moral agents. The 
powers of these agents are thought, volition, and moti- 
vity : all invisible to every eye, except the omniscient ; 
and, if discovered at all before their operations exist, 
discovered by that eye only. But these agents are be- 
yond measure the most important instruments of the di- 
vine designs in this great kingdom ; and, if not pre- 
vented, the most able to disturb its order and happiness. 
It is plain, therefore, that he who rules the universe, 
must, in order to prevent the disturbance of this kingdom, 
f understand the thoughts afar ofF;' or, as in the transla- 
tion formerly in use, ' long before ' they are formed. 

By the same knowledge only is the same exalted per- 
son qualified to be the final judge and rewarder of the 
universe. A great part of the sin and holiness of such 
beings, and of the enhancements and diminutions of 
both, lies altogether in their thoughts and volitions. To 
judge his creatures justly, then, it is absolutely neces- 
sary that he should ' search the heart and try the reins ' 
of every rational being. 

With the same knowledge only can he determine, 
apportion, and execute the unnumbered allotments of 
intelligent creatures. These united, form an immense 
and eternal system of providence ; compared with which 
the providence exercised in this world is but a point ; 
and this vast system must, indispensably, be contrived 
aright, and without any defect, from the beginning. 
The parts of which it Avill be composed will be literally 
infinite, and can be devised only by an infinite mind. 

Nor is omnipotence less necessary for all these vast 
and innumerable purposes than omniscience and omni- 
presence. No power inferior to omnipotence could 
produce or hold together so many beings, or carry on 
to completion so many and so various purposes. To the 
power actually exerted for these ends, every being must 
be completely subjected, and all created power entirely 
subordinate. An absolute and irresistible dominion 
must be exercised unceasingly over every part of his 
kingdom, or the great designs of creation and provi- 
dence must be in continual danger of being finally frus- 
trated. 

Equally necessary is infinite rectitude for the just, 
benevolent, and perfect administration of such a govern- 
ment. The least defect, the least wrong, would here be 
fatal. From the decision there can be no appeal, from 
the arm of execution there can be no escape. A crea- 
ture, if wronged here, is wronged hopelessly, and for 



CHRIST A KING. 



321 



ever. The ruling mind must, therefore, be subject to no 
weakness, passion, or partiality. Without perfect rec- 
titude there can be no ultimate confidence ; and without 
such confidence, voluntary or virtuous obedience cannot- 
exist. 

Thus, when Christ is ' exalted to be head over all 
things,' and constituted the ruler, judge, and rewarder 
of the universe ; he is plainly exalted to a station and 
character demanding infinite attributes, perfections li- 
terally divine. Either then he possesses these attributes, 
or he has been exalted to a station which, so far as rea- 
son can discern, he is unqualified to fill. But he was 
exalted to this station by unerring and boundless wis- 
dom. Of course, he certainly possesses all the qualifi- 
cations which it can demand. In other words, he is a 
person literally divine. 

2. From the same observations we may discern how 
greatly we need such a friend as Christ. 

That we are creatures wholly dependent, frail, igno- 
rant, exposed, and unable to protect ourselves or provide 
for our interests, needs neither proof nor illustration. 
To us futurity is all blank. Between our present exist- 
ence, and the approaching vast of being, hangs a dark 
and impenetrable cloud. What is beyond it no human 
eye is able to discern, and no human foresight to con- 
jecture. There, however, all our great concerns lie, and 
are every moment increasing in their number and im- 
portance. There we shall enjoy the exquisite emotions 
and the high dignity of immortal virtue, the pure plea- 
sures of a serene, self-approving mind, the eternal inter- 
change of esteem and affection with the ' general assem- 
bly of the first-born,' and the uninterrupted favour of 
God in the world of joy ; or we shall suffer the unceas- 
ing anguish of a guilty, self-ruined soul, the malignity 
of evil men and evil angels, and the wrath of our offended 
Creator, in the regions of woe. Between these infinite- 
ly distant allotments there is no medium, no intervening 
state, to which those who fail of final approbation can 
betake themselves for refuge. When, therefore, we bid 
adieu to this world, we shall meet with events whose im- 
portance nothing but omniscience can estimate, to us, 
utterly uncertain, and utterly beyond our power. 

Nay, the present moment, and every moment when 
present, is fraught with consequences incapable of being 
estimated by any finite understanding. On time eter- 
nity hangs. As we live here we shall live hereafter. If 
our time be well employed, and our talents well used, 
it will be well with us in the end. But if we abuse both 
here, it will be ill with us hereafter. The present 
moment is important, chiefly as it affects those which 
are future ; begins or strengthens an evil or virtuous 
habit ; depraves or amends the soul ; hardens or softens 
the heart ; and contributes in this way to advance us 
towards heaven or towards hell. There is no man 
who is not better or worse to-day, by means of what he 
thought, designed, or did yesterday. The present day, 
therefore, is not only important in itself, as a season 
for which we must give an account, but because of the 
influence which it will have on the events of the mor- 
row. Thus circumstanced, frail, irresolute, wandering, 
wicked, exposed to immense dangers, and yet capable 
of immense enjoyments, how infinitely desirable is it 
that we should have such a friend as Christ. In his 
mind are treasured up all the means of happiness which 
we need, the immense power, knowledge, and good- 
ness, the unchangeable truth, faithfulness, and mercy 



which, and which only, can provide and secure for us 
immortal blessings, or preserve us from evils which 
know no end. In all places he is present, over all 
things he rules with an irresistible dominion. No be- 
ing, no event, can be hidden from his eye. No enemy, 
however insidious, or however powerful, can escape 
from his hand. His disposition is written in letters of 
blood on the cross. He who died that sinners might 
live, he who prayed for his murderers, while imbruing 
their hands in his blood, can need, can add, no proofs 
of his compassion for men. This glorious Redeemer is 
also ' the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' Such 
a friend to man as he was when he .hung on the cross, he 
will be throughout eternity ; and to every one, who sin- 
cerely desires an interest in his good-will, he will mani- 
fest his friendship in an endless succession of blessings. 

While we wander through the wilderness of life, 
amid so many wants, how desirable must it be to find a 
friend able and willing to furnish the needed supplies ! 
Amid so many enemies and dangers, how desirable 
must it be to find a friend, able and willing to furnish 
the necessary protection ? Amid so many temptations 
to watch over us ! Amid so many sorrows to relieve 
us ; in solitude, to be our companion ; in difficulties, 
our helper; in despondence, our support; in disease, 
our physician ; in death, our hope, resurrection, and 
life ! In a word, how desirable must it be to find a 
friend who, throughout all the strange, discouraging 
state of the present life, will give us peace, consolation, 
and joy, and cause all things, even the most untoward 
and perplexing, to ' work together for our good !' 

On a dying bed especially, when our flesh and our 
hearts must fail of course, our earthly friends yield us 
little consolation, and no hope, and the world itself re- 
tires from our view, how delightful will such a friend 
be ? Then the soul, uncertain, alone, hovering over 
the form which it has so long inhabited, and stretching 
its wings for its flight into the unknown vast, will sigh 
and pant for an arm on which it may lean, and a bosom 
on which it may safely recline. But, there Christ is 
present, with all his tenderness and all his power. With 
one hand he holds the anchor of hope, and with the 
other he points the way to heaven. 

In the final resurrection, when the universe shall 
rend asunder, and the elements of this great world shall 
rush together with immense confusion and ruin, how 
supporting, how ravishing will it be, when we awake 
from our final sleep, and ascend from the dust in which 
our bodies have been so long buried, to find this glori- 
ous Redeemer ' re-fashioning our vile bodies like unto 
his glorious body,' and re-uniting them to our minds, 
purified and immortal ! With what emotions shall we 
arise, and stand, and behold the .ludge descend ' in the 
glory of his Father, with all his holy angels!' With 
what emotions shall we see the same unchangeable and 
everlasting friend placing us on his right hand in glory 
and honour, which kings will covet in vain, and before 
which all earthly grandeur shall be forgotten ! With 
what melody will the voice of the Redeemer burst on 
our ears, when he proclaims, ' Come, ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the 
foundation of the world !' How will the soul distend 
with transport, when accompanied by 'the church of 
the first born,' and surrounded by ' thrones, principali- 
ties, and powers,' it shall begin its flight towards the 
highest heavens, to meet ' his Father and our Father, 
2 s 



322 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lx. 



his God and our God ?' What an eternal heaven will 
dawn in the mind, when we shall be presented before 
the throne of Jehovah ; and, settled amid our own 
brethren in our immortal inheritance and our final 
home, behold all Our sins washed away, our trials end- 
ed, our dangers escaped, our sorrows left behind us, 
and our reward begun, in that world where all things 
are ever new, delightful, and divine ! 

At these solemn and amazing seasons, how different- 



ly will those unhappy beings feel, who on a death-bed 
find no such friend ; who rise to the resurrection of 
damnation ; who are left behind, when the righteous 
ascend to meet their Redeemer ; who are placed on the 
left hand at the final trial ; and to whom, in the most 
awful language which was ever heard in the universe, 
he will say, ' Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, 
prepared for the devil and his angels.' 



SERMON LX. 

MIRACLES OF CHRIST. 



Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved of God among you, by miracles, and wonders, and signs, which God 
did by him in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know. — Acts ii. 22. 



In a series of Discourses, I have considered at length 
the character of Christ as a Prophet, Priest, and King. 
I shall now proceed to investigate his character as a 
worker of miracles. 

In the text, Christ is styled ' Jesus of Nazareth, a 
man approved of God among ' the Jews. This appro- 
bation is declared to have been testified ' by miracles, 
and wonders, and signs, which God did by him in the 
midst ' of that people : and of all this it is asserted the 
Jews themselves had been witnesses. These subjects I 
propose to consider in the following Discourse, so far 
as I shall judge necessary to my general design. I 
shall, however, neglect the order of the text : and adopt 
one more suited to the present purpose. I shall, 

I. Define a miracle. 

II. Show that Christ wrought miracles. 

III. Point out their importance. 
I. J shall define a miracle. 

A miracle is a suspension or counteraction of what 
are called the laws of nature. By the laws of nature 
I intend those regular courses of divine agency which 
we discern in the world around us. God, to enable 
us to understand his works, and his character as dis- 
played in them, and to enable us also to direct with 
success our own conduct in the various duties of life, 
and probably for other purposes, has been pleased to 
conform his own agency to certain rules formed by his 
wisdom ; called by philosophers, laws of nature, and in 
the Scriptures, ' ordinances of heaven.' To these laws 
all things with which we are acquainted by experience 
are usually conformed. A miracle is either a suspen- 
sion or counteraction of these laws ; or, more definitely, 
of the progress of things according to these laws. I 
have chosen both these words, because I would include 
all possible miracles, and because some events of this 
kind may more obviously seem to be suspensions, and 
others counteractions, of these laws. 

II. J shall show that Christ wrought miracles. 

In this case I shall, for the present, assume the story 
as true which is told us by the evangelists concerning 
the works of Christ, and refer my observations on this 
subject to another part of the discussion. Taking it, 
then, for granted that Christ really did the things as- 
cribed to him in the gospel, I assert, that a considerable 



number of these things were real miracles. I say a 
considerable number, because it would be idle to extend 
the debate on the present occasion, to any thing sup- 
posed to be of a ' dubious nature, and because, after 
every deduction which can be asked, a sufficient num- 
ber will remain to satisfy every wish of a ^Christian, 
and to overthrow every cavil of an infidel. Among 
other examples of this nature, I select the following : — 
The case of the man who was born blind ; who ob- 
served justly concerning it, ' Since the world began it 
was not heard that any man opened the eyes of one 
that was born blind.' No arguments are necessary to 
prove this to have been a miracle in the perfect sense ; 
for every individual knows, that it is a total counterac- 
tion of the laws of nature, that clay, made of spittle and 
earth, and smeared upon the eyes, should restore sight 
to a person born blind. I select this case the rather, 
because it was formerly examined by the Jewish San- 
hedrim, and evinced to have been real beyond every 
doubt. 

The case of Christ's walking upon the water in the 
lake of Gennesaret, is another equally unexceptionable. 
The cures which he wrought on lepers by his mere 
word and pleasure — cures which no other person has 
been able to perform by any means whatever, are in- 
stances of the same nature. Of the same nature also, 
are those cases in which he raised the dead to life : viz. 
the daughter of Jairus, the son of the widow of Nain, 
and Lazarus. That these persons were all really dead, 
there is not the least room to doubt ; that they were all 
raised to life is certain. 

I shall only add two instances more — one in which he 
fed four, and the other in which he fed five, thousand 
men, besides women and children, with a few loaves of 
barley-bread and a few little fishes. In this miracle 
creating power was immediately exerted, with a degree 
of evidence which nothing could resist, or rationally 
question. 

That all these were miracles, according to the defini- 
tion given above, must I think, be acknowledged with- 
out hesitation. Arguments to prove this point, there- 
fore, would be superfluous. 

That these facts really took place, and that the nar- 
ration which conveys the knowledge of them to us is 



MIRACLES OF CHRIST. 



323 



true, has been so often, so dearly, and so unanswerably 
proved, that to attempt to argue this point here would 
seem a supererogatory labour. All of you have, or, 
easily can have, access to a numerous train of books 
containing this proof, elucidated with high advantage. 
I shall, therefore, consider this subject in a manner 
extremely summary, and calculated to exhibit little 
more than a mere synopsis of evidence pertaining to 
the subject. For this end I observe, 

1. The facts were of such a nature as to be obvious, 
in the plainest manner, to the senses and understanding 
of all men possessed of common sense. 

2. The marrators were eye and ear-witnesses of them. 

3. They were performed in the most public manner ; 
in the presence of multitudes, the greater part of whom 
were opposers of Christ, 

4. They were generally believed ; so generally, as to 
induce, customarily, the friends of the sick and dis- 
tressed wherever Christ came to apply to him, with ab- 
solute confidence in his ability to relieve them : a fact 
which proves the universal conviction of the Jewish 
people at that time, that Christ certainly and contin- 
ually wrought miracles. But this conviction could not 
have existed to any considerable extent, unless he had 
actually wrought miracles. 

5. The apostles had no possible interest to deceive 
their fellow men. They neither gained, could gain, nor 
attempted to gain, any advantage in the present world 
by publishing this story. On the contrary, they suf- 
fered through life the loss of all things while declaring 
it, and the religion of which it was the foundation, to 
mankind. In the future world, as Jews, believing the 
Old Testament to be the word of God, they could ex- 
pect nothing but perdition, as the reward of their use- 
less imposture. 

6. They were men whose integrity has not only been 
unimpeached, but is singular. This is evinced by the 
fact, that innumerable multitudes of their countrymen, 
and of many other nations, embraced the religion 
which they taught ; committed to their guidance their 
souls, and their everlasting interests ; hazarded and 
yielded all that they held dear in this world for the sake 
of this religion ; and still esteemed these very men, 
through whose instrumentality they had been brought 
into those distresses, the very best of mankind. It is 
also proved by the farther fact, that in the ages imme- 
diately succeeding, as well as in those which have fol- 
lowed, their character has in this respect stood higher 
than that of any other men whatever. 

7. Their narratives wear more marks of veracity than 
any other which the world can furnish. 

8. The existence of these miracles is acknowledged by 
Jews and heathen, as well as Christians, and was 
wholly uncontradicted by either for fifteen hundred 
years. 

9. These narratives were the genuine productions of 
those to whom they are ascribed. That they were writ- 
ten by these persons is unanswerably proved by the 
testimony of their contemporaries, and very early fol- 
lowers. That they have come down to us uncorrupted 
;md unmutilated is certain ; from the age and coinci- 
dence of numerous manuscripts ; from the versions early 
made of them into various languages ; from the almost 
innumerable quotations from them found in other books 
t>till extant ; from tne joint consent of orthodox Chris- 
tians and heretics; from the impossibility of corrupting 



them with success ; because of the frequency and con- 
stancy with which they were read in public and in 
private ; because of the numerous copies very early dif- 
fused throughout all Christian countries ; because of 
the profound religious veneration with which they were 
regarded ; and because of the eagle-eyed watchfulness 
with which contending sects guarded every passage 
which furnished any inducement to corruption or mu- 
tilation. 

No other history can boast of these, or one half of 
these powerful proofs of its genuineness and authentici- 
ty. If, then, we do not admit these narratives to be 
true, we must bid a final farewell to the admission of all 
historical testimony. 

Mr Hume has written an Essay to disprove the ex- 
istence of the miracles recorded in the gospel. In the 
introduction to this Essay he says, ' he flatters himself 
he has discovered an argument which will prove an 
everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion.' 
When this Essay first appeared, it was received with uni- 
versal triumph by Infidels, and with no small degree of 
alarm by timorous Christians. Since that time, however, 
it has been repeatedly answered. It was most triumph- 
antly refuted by Dr Campbell, and completely exposed 
as a mere mass of sophistry, ingenious indeed, but 
shamefully disingenuous, and utterly destitute of solid 
argument, and real evidence. 

After such ample refutation, it would be a useless 
employment for me to enter upon a formal examination 
of the scheme contained in this Essay. I shall, there- 
fore, dismiss it with a few observations. 

The great doctrine of Mr Hume is this : ' That ac- 
cording to the experience of man, all things uniformly 
exist agreeably to the laws of nature ; that every in- 
stance of our experience is not only an evidence that 
the thing experienced exists in the manner which we 
perceive, but that all the following events of the same 
kind will also exist in the same manner. k This evi- 
dence he considers, also, as increased by every suc- 
ceeding instance of the same experience. According 
to his scheme, therefore, the evidence that any thing 
which we perceive by our senses now exists, is made 
up of the present testimony of our senses, united with 
all former testimonies of the same nature to facts of 
the same kind. The existence of any fact, therefore, 
instead of being completely proved, is only partially 
proved, by the present testimony of our senses to its 
existence. According to this scheme, therefore, we 
who are present in this house know that ourselves 
and others are present, partly by seeing each other 
present at this time, and partly by remembering that 
we have been present heretofore. Of course, the first 
time we were thus present we had not the same assur- 
ance of this fact, as the second time. This assurance 
became still greater the third time ; greater still the 
fourth ; and thus has gone on accumulating strength 
in every succeeding instance. Every person, therefore, 
who has been here one hundred times, has a hundred 
times the evidence that he is now here, which he had 
when he was here the first time that he was then pre- 
sent ; and I, who during twenty-four years have been 
present many thousand times, know that I am now- 
here with a thousand degrees of evidence more than is 
possessed concerning the like fact by any other person 
who is present. A scheme of reasoning which conducts 
to such a manifest and gross absurdity must, one would 



324 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lx. 



think, have been seen to be false by a man much less 
sagacious than Mr Hume. 

Every man of common sense knows, and cannot 
avoid knowing, even at a glance, that all the evidence 
which we possess, or can possess, of the existence of 
any fact is furnished by the present testimony of our 
senses to that fact. Of course, every such man knows 
equally well, that no testimony of the senses to any 
preceding fact can affect a present fact in any manner 
whatever. The person who is now present in this 
house for the first time, has all the evidence that he is 
here, which is possessed by him who has been here a 
thousand times before. The evidence of the senses to 
any single fact is all the evidence of which that fact is 
ever capable. Nor can it be increased, even in the 
minutest degree, by the same evidence repeated con- 
cerning similar facts existing afterward, in any suppos- 
able number of instances. He who lias crossed a ferry 
safely, never thought of crossing it a second time in 
order to know whether he was safe or not. 

The influence which experience is intended by Mr 
Hume to have on our belief of the existence of future 
events, is of the same nature. Past experience is, by 
his scheme, the great criterion for determining on all 
that which is to come. An event which has already 
been witnessed a thousand times, is, in his view, to be 
expected again with a confidence exactly proportioned 
to this number. If an event, on the contrary, has not 
taken place, it is not to be at all expected ; but regard- 
ed as incredible. Thus, if a ferry boat has crossed the 
ferry a thousand times without sinking, the probability 
is, as one thousand to nothing, that it will never sink 
hereafter. 

The analogy here referred to is founded on the ge- 
neral maxim, that ' the same causes produce in the 
same circumstances the same effects.' The instances in 
which causes and circumstances apparently the same, 
are really such, are so few, that, in the actual state of 
things, it can answer Mr Hume's purpose in a very 
small number of cases only. Almost always the causes 
themselves, or the circumstances in which they operate, 
are in this mutable world so continually changed, that 
analogies founded on this maxim are rarely exact, and 
are, therefore, rarely safe rules for forming conclusions. 
All men are so sensible of this truth, that they easily 
and uniformly admit testimony as a sufficient proof of 
the fallacy of such conclusions. The smallest credible 
testimony will induce any man to believe that a ferry- 
boat has sunk, although it may before have crossed 
safely and regularly for many years. Much more do 
we always admit beforehand, that almost all events may 
come to pass, contrary in their nature and appearance 
to those which have already happened. 

Mr Hume exhibits to me a full conviction in his own 
mind that his scheme was unsound, by the recourse 
which he was obliged to have to the disingenuous arts 
of controversy. Thus he at first uses the word experi- 
ence, which is all-important to this controversy, to de- 
note, what alone it truly denotes, the actual evidence of 
a man's own senses. In the progress of his essay, he 
soon diverts it into a sense entirely different; and 
means by it the experience of all who have preceded us. 
But of their experience we know nothing, except by 
testimony ; the very thing to which Mr Hume profess- 
edly opposes what he calls experience. On this testi- 
mony, styled by him experience, he founds an argu- 



ment upon which he places great reliance, to overthrow 
the evidence of the same testimony. Thus he declares 
miracles to be contrary to all experience ; meaning by 
it the experience of all mankind, when he knew that a 
part of mankind had testified that they in their own 
experience had been witnesses of miracles ; for this 
testimony was the very thing against which he wrote 
his essay. 

Miracles he defines to be ' violations and transgres- 
sions of the laws of nature.' These words being regu- 
larly used to denote oppositions of moral beings to 
5 moral laws, and involving naturally the idea cf turpi- 
tude, or wrong, were, I presume, used to attach to 
miracles an idea of some variation from that perfect 
moral conduct which we attribute to God. 

Miracles, he also says, ' are contrary to our experi- 

j ence.' In this declaration he is unhappy. They may 

! be truly said to be aside from our experience ; but are 

in no sense contrary to it. All that can be said is, that 

we have not witnessed miracles. No man can say, that 

he has experienced any thing contrary to them. 

Having made these observations, I proceed to ex- 
amine Mr Hume's capital doctrine, that testimony can- 
not evince the reality of a miracle. His argument is this : 
the evidence that any thing exists in any given case, is 
exactly proportioned to the number of instances in 
which it is known to have happened before. If then an 
event have happened a thousand times, and the con- 
trary event should afterward happen once : then there 
are one thousand degrees of evidence against the exis- 
tence of this contrary event, and but one in its favour. 
We are, therefore, compelled, by a. balance of nine 
hundred and ninety-nine degrees of evidence against 
nothing, to believe that this event has not taken place. 
We are here, as Mr Hume teaches, to weigh experience 
against experience, and to be governed in our decision 
by the preponderating weight. In this manner he de- 
termines, that our experience has in the number of in- 
stances furnished such a vast preponderation of evidence 
against the existence of a miracle, that if we were to 
witness it, we could not rationally believe it to have ex- 
isted, until it had taken place ns many times, and some 
more, than what he calls the contrary event. For ex- 
ample : if we have known a thousand deceased persons 
to have been buried, and none of them to have been 
raised from the grave ; we cannot rationally believe a 
man to have been raised from the grave, although we 
saw him rise, conversed with him, and lived with him 
ever so many years afterward. Before we begin to be- 
lieve that a person was raised from the dead, we must 
have seen, at least, one more person thus raised than 
the whole number who have been buried, and have not 
risen. Then, and not till then, we shall become pos- 
sessed of one degree of evidence, that a person has been 
raised from the dead : the whole influence of all the 
preceding resurrections being to diminish, successively, 
the previously existing evidence against the fact, that a 
person has been raised from the dead. Our own expe- 
rience of the existence of a miracle is thus not to be 
admitted as a proof of its existence. But as testimony 
is founded on experience, and is evidence of a less cer- 
tain nature, it is clear, that what experience cannot 
prove can never be evinced by testimony. 

This reasoning has a grave and specious appearance, 
but is plainly destitute of ail solidity. Every man 
knows by his own experience, that the repetition of an 



MIRACLES OF CHRIST. 



325 



event contributes nothing to the proof or certainty of 
its existence. The proof of the existence of an event 
lies wholly in the testimony of our senses. When the 
event is, as we customarily say, repeated, that is, when 
another similar event takes place, our senses in the same 
manner prove to us the existence of this event. But the 
evidence which they give us of the second has no retro- 
spective influence on the first, as the evidence given of 
the first has no influence on the second. In each in- 
stance the evidence is complete ; nor can it be affected 
by any thing which may precede it, or succeed it. What 
is once seen and known, is as perfectly seen and known 
as it can be, and in the only manner in which it can be 
ever seen and known. If we were to see a man raised 
from the grave, we should know that he was thus raised, 
as perfectly as it could be known by us ; nor would it 
make the least difference in the evidence or certainty 
of this fact, whether thousands, or none, were raised 
afterward. 

In perfect accordance with these observations has 
been the conduct of mankind in every age and country. 
No tribunal of justice ever asked the question, whether 
a crime had been twice committed, in order to deter- 
mine with the more certainty and better evidence, that 
it had been committed once. No evidence of this na- 
ture before any such tribunal was ever adduced, or con- 
sidered as proper to be adduced, to evince the existence 
of any fact, or to disprove its existence. No individual 
ever thought of recurring to the testimony of his senses 
on a former occasion, to strengthen their evidence on a 
present occasion. 

The man born blind (to apply this scheme directly 
to miracles) could not possibly feel the necessity or ad- 
vantage of inquiring whether he had been restored to 
sight before, in order to determine that he had received 
it from the hands of Christ ; or of asking the question 
whether he saw at any time before, to prove that he saw 
now. The leper who acquired his health by the com- 
mand of Christ was as perfectly conscious of his resto- 
ration, as if he had been restored on twenty former oc- 
casions. All around him also, when they saw the scales 
fall off* with which he had been incrusted, and the 
bloom of health return ; when they beheld his activity 
renewed, and all the proofs of soundness exhibited to 
their eyes, perceived the cure as perfectly, as if they 
had been witnesses of one hundred preceding cures of 
the same nature. 

What is true of these is equally true of all similar 
cases. Experience, therefore, is capable of completely 
proving the existence of a miracle. 

What w r e experience we can declare, and declare ex- 
actly as it has happened. Were this always done, tes- 
timony would have exactly the same strength of evi- 
dence which experience is admitted to possess. It is 
not, however, always done. Errors, both intentional 
and unintentional, and those very numerous, accom- 
pany the declarations of men. Still the weight of tes- 
timony is very great ; so great, that the conduct of al- 
most all the important concerns of mankind is regulat- 
ed entirely, as well as rationally, by the evidence which 
it contains. Should twelve men, known and proved to 
possess the uniform character of unimpeachable veracity, 
declare to one of us, independently (no one of them 
being acquainted with the fact that any other had made 
the same declaration), that they had seen in the midst 



of a public assembly a leper cleansed, and the white, 
loathsome crust of the leprosy fall off, and the bloom 
and vigour of health return at the command of a per- 
son publicly believed to have wrought hundreds of 
such miracles, and to be distinguished from all men by 
unexampled wisdom and holiness, every one of us 
would believe the testimony to be true. Especially 
should we receive their testimony, if we saw these very 
men endued with new and wonderful wisdom and holi- 
ness, professedly derived from the same person ; for- 
saking a religion for which they had felt a bigoted 
attachment, embracing and teaching a religion wholly 
new ; and in confirmation of this new religion profes- 
sedly taught by God himself, working many miracles, 
forsaking all earthly enjoyments, voluntarily undergo- 
ing all earthly distresses, and finally yielding their 
lives to a violent death. A miracle, therefore, can be 
proved by testimony. 

I have already pursued this subject farther than I 
intended in this Discourse. Some other considerations 
relative to it, I shall probably mention hereafter. At 
the present time, I will only remark farther, that Mr 
Hume confidently, but erroneously supposes a presump- 
tion to lie strongly against the existence of miracles. 
The presumption is wholly in favour of their existence. 
We know that innumerable miracles have taken place. 
The creation of the world is one immense complication 
of miraculous works, and the first beings of every sort 
were miraculous existences. As miracles were wrought 
here, so the analogy of the divine works, as well as the 
uniformity of the divine character, irresistibly compels 
us to believe that they will be wrought, wherever a 
sufficient occasion is presented. The illumination and 
reformation of mankind is a cause of this nature, exist- 
ing in the highest degree. That God should work 
miracles to prove the truth and spread the influence of 
Christianity is, therefore, with the highest reason to be 
expected, especially as miracles are the most proper as 
well as most forcible of all proofs that a religion is de- 
rived from him. 

III. J shall now attempt to point out the importance 
of miracles. 

1. The importance of the miracles of Christ is mani- 
fest in the immediate benefit of those for whom they 
were wrought. 

All the miracles of Christ were glorious acts of 
beneficence. In his own words, ' The blind received 
their sight, and the lame walked ; the lepers were 
cleansed, and the deaf heard ; the dead were rised up, 
and the poor had the gospel preached to them.' That 
acts of this general nature were of high importance to 
those for whom they were done ; and that, multiplied as 
we are told they were, particularly by St John, they 
constituted a mass of beneficence incalculably interest- 
ing to the age and country in which they existed, will 
not admit of a doubt. 

2. The miracles of Christ were of great importance 
to his character. 

They were important, first, as proofs of power. Christ, 
for the wisest and best reasons, appeared as the son of 
a carpenter, and lived always in a state of general humi- 
liation. But it was necessary also that his character, 
even in this world, should be distinguished by personal 
greatness. That distinction nothing could so effectually 
produce, as the power of controlling in this manner the 



326 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



.laws of nature, and suspending or counteracting in this 
manner the agency by which the .affairs of this world 
are carried on. As Christ wrought miracles in his own 
name, he was thus proved to possess this power in him- 
self, as an inherent energy. But how superior is this 
power to all that can be boasted by the greatest men 
who have ever lived ? What conqueror would not 
cheerfully barter all the power in which he glories, for 
the control of wounds and diseases, of winds and waves, 
of life and death ? This power exhibited Christ in the 
midst of all his humiliation as greater than any, and than 
all of the children of Adam, and surrounded his cha- 
racter with a splendour becoming his mission. How 
important, how necessary, this greatness was to Christ, 
as the Mediator between God and man, I need not il- 
lustrate. 

3. The miracles of Christ were necessary as proofs 
of his benevolence. 

Benevolence is proved by action. But no actions 
were ever equally proofs of benevolence with the mira- 
culous actions of Christ, except his condescension, atone- 
ment, and intercession. It would not have been possi- 
ble for Christ in any other manner to exhibit the same 
character with the same strength. No actions could 
have been equally beneficent. The good done was the 
most necessary and the most useful to those for whom 
it was done. Those for whom it was done were per- 
sons to whom it is usually least done, who most need it, 
to whom it is of the highest consequence, and whb, there- 
fore, as objects of Christ's beneficence, illustrate more 
clearly than any others could do, this excellence of his 
character. At the same time, it was beneficence accom- 
plished by a person, possessed of stupendous power and 
greatness, manifested in the very communication of the 
good. Those who possess great power very rarely ma- 
nifest, and therefore are justly believed very rarely to 
possess, an eminent degree of good-will. Intoxicated 
with their greatness, they are generally employed in 
displaying it to mankind, and in thus engrossing admi- 
ration and applause. From such persons Christ is glo- 
riously distinguished, by employing his own unexam- 
pled power solely in communicating kindness to those 
around him. 

In both these great particulars the miracles of Christ 
invest him with greatness and glory, to which there has 
been nothing parallel in the present world. 

4. The miracles of Christ are of vast importance, as 
proofs of the divinity of his mission. 

A miracle is an act of infinite power only, and is, 
therefore, a proof of the immediate agency of God. 
None but he can withhold, suspend, or counteract his 
agency exerted according to the laws of nature. 

A miracle becomes a proof of the character or doc- 
trine of him by whom it was wrought, by being profess- 
edly wrought for the confirmation of either. A miracle 
is the testimony of God. From the perfect veracity of 
God it irresistibly results, that he can never give, nor 
rationally be supposed to give, his testimony to any 
thing but truth. When, therefore, a miracle is wrought 
in confirmation of any thing, or as evidence of any 
thing, we know that that thing is true, because God has 
given to it his testimony. The miracles of Christ were 
wrought to prove that the mission and doctrine of 
Christ were from God. They were, therefore, certain- 
ly from God. 



To this it may be objected, that miracles are asserted 
by the Scriptures themselves, to have been wrought in 
confirmation of falsehood ; as, for example, by the ma- 
gicians — the witch of Endor — and by Satan in the time 
of Christ's temptation. 

If the magicians of Egypt wrought miracles, God 
wrought them, with a view to make the final triumph of 
his own cause in the hands of Moses more the object of 
public attention, and more striking to the view of man- 
kind. This was done when the magicians themselves 
were put to silence, and forced to confess, that the 
works of Moses were accomplished by ' the finger of 
God.' But the truth is, the magicians wrought no mi- 
racles. All that they did was to busy themselves with 
' their enchantments,' by which every man now knows 
that, although the weak and credulous may be deceived, 
miracles cannot possibly be accomplished. That this is 
the real amount of the history given by Moses, any so- 
ber man may, I think, be completely satisfied by read- 
ing Farmer's Treatise on miracles. 

The witch of Endcr neither wrought, nor expected 
to work, any miracle. This is clearly evident from her 
astonishment and alarm at the appearance of Samuel. 
Saul, who expected a miracle, beheld Samuel without 
any peculiar surprise ; she, who expected none, with 
amazement and terror. 

Satan is said by the evangelists to have taken our 
Saviour up into ' a very high mountain, and to have 
shown him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment 
of time.' The Greek word oucovfievris, here translated 
' world,' very frequently signifies land or country, and 
ought to have been thus rendered here; the meaning 
being no other, than that Satan showed our Saviour the 
four tetrarchies, or kingdoms, comprised in the land of 
Judea. In this transaction it will not be pretended that 
there was any thing miraculous. 

The doctrine, that miracles have been, or may be 
wrought in support of falsehood, has been incautiously 
adopted by several respectable divines, and they have 
taught us, that we are to try the evidence furnished by 
the miracle, by the nature of the doctrine which it was 
wrought to prove. This, I apprehend, is infinitely dis- 
honourable to the character of Jehovah ; for it supposes, 
that he may not only countenance, but establish, false- 
hood. At the same time, it is arguing in a circle. It 
is employing the doctrine to prove the miracle, and 
then the miracle to prove the doctrine. That the mi- 
racles of Christ were complete proof of his doctrine, is 
clearly evident from the words of Christ himself, when 
he declares concerning the Jews, that ' if he had not 
done among them such works as no other man did, 
they had not had sin : but that now they had no cloak 
for their sin.' 



RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



32T 



SERMON LXI. 

RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



— And killed the Prince of life, whom God hath raised from the dead ; whereof we are witnesses. — Acts iii. 1 5. 



In the preceding Discourse, I made a number of gener- 
al observations concerning the miracles of Christ. The 
subject which next offers itself to our view concerning 
this glorious person, is his resurrection. This interest- 
ing subject I propose now to examine with particular 
attention. Its importance in a System of Theology 
can scarcely need to be illustrated. 

If Christ was raised from the dead, he was certainly 
the Messiah ; or, in other words, whatever he declared 
h mself to be. His doctrines, precepts, and life were 
all approved by God, possess divine authority, and de- 
mand, with the obligation of that authority, the faith 
and obedience of mankind. To prove this fact, there- 
fore, is to prove, beyond a reasonable debate, the truth 
of the Christian system. 

At the same time the arguments which prove the 
reality of this miracle, lend their whole force to the 
other miracles recorded in the gospel. For this reason, 
I have reserved most of the direct arguments in behalf 
of miracles for the present occasion. 

In the context we are informed, that ' a certain man, 
lame from his mother's womb, who was now more than 
forty years old, and who had been carried and laid 
daily at the gate of the temple, called Beautiful, to re- 
ceive alms of them that entered into the temple,' was 
cured of his lameness by the command of St Peter. So 
extraordinary an event astonished the Jews assembled 
to worship in the temple, and collected them in great 
numbers around Peter and John. Peter, observing 
their astonishment, addressed to them a pertinent and 
very pungent discourse, in which he informed them, 
that the Lord Jesus Christ, whom they had killed, and 
whom God had raised to life, had restored this lame 
man to soundness and strength. This proof of Christ's 
Messiahship, he made the foundation of an earnest and 
persuasive exhortation to them to repent of their sins, 
and turn to God. The efficacy of this discourse on those 
who heard it was wonderful. About five thousand men 
received it with the faith of the gospel, and were added 
unto the Lord. 

In the text (the hinge, on which all this discourse of 
St Peter turns), he declares to the Jews the three fol- 
lowing things : 

1. That they had killed the prince of life: 

2. That God had raised him from the dead : and, 

3. That the apostle himself and his companions were 
witnesses of this wonderful event. 

The first of these assertions has very rarely been 
doubted. I know of but a single instance in which it 
has been denied in form. Volney has made a number 
of silly observations, intended to persuade the world that 
Christ never existed ; and that the history of him con- 
tained in the gospel is a fiction, compiled, with some 
variations and improvements, from the Hindoo tales 
concerning the god Creshnoo. I will not attempt a 
serious answer to such nonsense. Infidelity must he 



pitied, when it is driven to such fetches as this in order 
to support itself, and maintain its contest with Christian- 
ity. 

The second assertion has been often disputed ; as in- 
deed, it must always be by every man who denies the 
revelation of the Scriptures, or the mission of Christ. It 
is the design of this Discourse to state the evidence con- 
cerning the great fact here declared, with candour and 
fairness. It demands no other manner of statement ; as> 
will, I trust, be sufficiently evinced in the prosecution of 
this design. As the proof of this fact is almost all fur- 
nished by the apostles and their companions, the wit- 
nesses appointed by Christ himself, the evidence alleged 
here will of course be principally derived from them. 
It will be unnecessary, therefore, to make the two last 
assertions of St Peter the subject of distinct heads of 
discourse. 

If the apostles have not given us a true account con- 
cerning the resurrection of Christ, it must be, 

I. Because they were themselves deceived : or, 

II. Because they intended to deceive others. 

For if they were not themselves deceived, but knew 
the truth, and have faithfully declared it in their 
writings, the plainest and most ignorant man cannot 
fail to discern, that Christ was certainly raised from the 
dead. That neither of these suppositions is just, I shall 
now attempt to prove. 

I. The apostles were not themselves deceived with re- 
gard to this fact. 

In support of this assertion I observe, 

1. The fact is of such a nature, that they were com- 
petent judges whether it existed or not. 

In the nature of the case, it is just as easy to deter- 
mine whether a person once dead is afterwards alive, as 
to determine whether any man is living who. has not 
been dead. A familiar instance will prove the justice 
of this assertion. Suppose a person, who was an entire 
stranger to us, should come into the family, in which we 
live : suppose he should reside in this family, eat and 
drink, sleep and wake, converse and act, with them ex- 
actly in the manner in which these things are done by 
us, and the rest of mankind : suppose him, farther, to 
enter into business in the manner of other men ; to cul- 
tivate a farm ; or manage causes at the bar ; or practise 
medicine ; or assume the office of a minister ; and 
preach, visit, advise, and comfort, as is usually done in 
discharging the duties of this function ; every one of us 
who witnessed these things would, beyond a doubt, 
know this stranger to be a living man, in the same man- 
ner and with the same certainty with which we know 
each other to be alive. 

The proofs of life in this and every other case are 
the colour, the motions, the actions, and the speech of 
a living man. These we discern perfectly by our 
senses, under the general regulation of common sense. 
The proofs thus furnished are complete ; and when 



328 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxi. 



united, as in a living man they always are, they have 
never deceived, they can never deceive, any man who 
has the customary use of his senses. 

As these are complete proofs of the facts in question, 
so they are always equally complete. The evidence 
which they contain admits of no gradations, but is al- 
ways entire, always the same, and in every supposable 
case perfectly satisfactory. Nor is there an instance 
within our experience, nor an instance in the records of 
history, which has impaired this evidence at all, or ren- 
dered it capable of being even remotely suspected. 

Were this evidence not entire in every instance, con- 
sidered by itself; were it capable of being suspected in 
the smallest degree, we should be obliged when we met, 
conversed, or bargained with each other, to settle the 
question, whether we were mutually living beings. 
The farmer would be obliged, before he bought a piece 
of land of his neighbour, to settle by a formal investi- 
gation the question, whether he was about to buy it of 
a real man, or a phantom of the imagination. The 
judge, when called upon to try a prisoner, would in the 
same manner be compelled, before he began the trial, 
to decide, whether he had brought to him for adjudica- 
tion a living being, or a spectre. The religious assem- 
bly would be equally necessitated to examine whether 
such an assembly was really gathered, and whether a 
real and living preacher was in the desk, or whether 
what seemed to be a preacher and a congregation were 
only the phantasms of a waking dream. 

As these proofs are in every instance complete, so they 
are the only evidence of the fact in question. If then 
they can deceive us, we are left wholly without a reme- 
dy : for we have no other possible mode of coming to 
the knowledge of the fact 

To the case of the stranger, whom I have supposed, 
all these proofs have obviously a perfect application. 
We know as well as we can possibly know, we know 
beyond any possible doubt, that he is a living man. 
But we do not and cannot know, that he has never been 
dead, and afterwards raised to life. To prove this, we 
must be supplied with totally new evidence, derived from 
totally other sources, than any hitherto supposed to be 
furnished by him. The evidence, therefore, that he is 
a living man, is wholly independent of the fact that he 
has, or has not, been raised from the dead ; and is, by 
itself, absolutely complete. If, then, we should be af- 
terward informed, with evidence which could not be 
questioned, that this stranger had been actually dead, 
and buried, and had been afterward raised to life, the 
evidence which we had before received, that he was a 
living man, from the time when we first became ac- 
quainted with him, could not in the least degree be af- 
fected by the fact, that he had before been dead. The 
story of his death and resurrection we should undoubt- 
edly admit, if we acted rationally, only with extreme 
slowness and caution, and upon decisive evidence. But 
no one of us would or could hesitate to believe the man, 
circumstanced as above, to be alive. Otherwise, it is 
plain Ave could not know that any man is alive ; for all 
the proofs which can attend this subject actually attend 
it in the case supposed. If, therefore, the evidence can 
be justly doubted in one case, it can with equal propriety 
be doubted in all. 

That the apostles possessed all the means of judging 
accurately concerning the existence and the nature of 
these proofs, cannot be denied. They were possessed 



of the common sense, and had the usual senses of man. 
No judges could be better qualified for this purpose. Had 
Newton, Bacon, or Aristotle, been employed in examin- 
ing these proofs, they must have used exactly the same 
means of examination which were used by Peter and 
John. Had they summoned philosophy to their assist- 
ance, it could only have told them that it had no con- 
cern with cases of this nature. 

2. The apostles were unprejudiced judges. 

In proof of this assertion I observe, 

(1.) That the apostles were not enthusiasts. 

Enthusiasm is a persuasion that certain religious doc- 
trines are true, derived from a peculiar strength of 
imagination and feeling, relying on internal suggestions 
supposed to come from God, and not relying on facts or 
arguments. In the whole history, preaching, and writ- 
ings of the apostles, there is not the least appearance of 
this character. According to their own accounts of 
themselves (which in this case we readily believe, be- 
cause in their view they were accounts of their defects,) 
they were slow of belief, even to weakness and crimina- 
lity. For this conduct they were often and justly re- 
proved by their Master ; and, as we see in their writ- 
ings, received his declarations with difficulty when their 
evidence was complete. Nor were they finally con- 
vinced, even when uninfluenced by this sceptical spirit, 
except by evidence of the best kind, to wit, that of facts. 
These also existed befoi-e their eyes and ears, in the 
presence of multitudes and enemies, who were equally 
convinced with themselves. Nor were they witnesses of 
such facts once, twice, or a few times only ; but beheld 
them in an uninterrupted succession of several years. 
Had they not yielded to them in such circumstances, 
they must have been either idiots, or madmen. 

Enthusiasts also appeal to their internal suggestions, 
as proof which plainly ought, in their view, to satisfy 
others. The apostles have never made such an appeal ; 
nor demanded belief on any other considerations, ex- 
cept those which reason in the highest exercise perfect- 
ly approves. 

Enthusiasts always boast of the leaders whom they 
professedly follow. The apostles, although following 
the most extraordinary leader ever seen in the world, 
have written the history of his life without a single 
panegyric, and recorded the unparalleled injustice, 
abuse, and cruelty which he suffered from his enemies, 
both in his life and death, with only a single direct 
censure of those enemies, contained in these words, 
' For they loved the praise of men more than the praise 
of God.' 

Enthusiasts always boast of their own excellences and 
attainments. The apostles had higher reason for such 
boasting than ever fell to the lot of men. They set up 
a new religion, and to the belief and profession of it 
converted a great part of mankind. They wrought, or 
were certainly believed to work, miracles of the most 
stupendous nature, rose to an influence which kings 
never possessed, and ruled more human beings than 
most monarchs have been able to claim as their subjects. 
To this height of influence they ascended also from the 
humble employments of fishing, collecting taxes, and 
making tents. How few of the human race, nay, who 
beside these very men, would not have become giddy in 
the ascent from such a lowly condition to such distin- 
guished eminence ? Yet Matthew records nothing o( 
himself, except that he was a publican, that he followed 



RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



329 



Christ, and that he once entertained him at his table. 
Mark and Luke do not even mention their own names. 
John says nothing of himself by way of commendation, 
unless that he was ' the disciple whom Jesus loved,' and 
this he expresses obscurely, in the most modest manner 
conceivable. Indeed, the subject of self-commendation 
seems never to have entered their thoughts. 

There is, I acknowledge, one apparent exception to 
this remark in the writings of the apostles, 1 mean, 
St Paul's commendation of himself to the Corinthian 
church. This, however, is prefaced with a quotation 
from the Old Testament as the word of <4od, in which 
it is declared, that ' not he who commendeth himself is 
approved, but he whom the Lord commendeth.' He 
then pronounces boasting to be folly ; and declares 
himself to be compelled to this folly by the Corinthian 
church, because some of its members had denied his 
apostleship ; a denial fraught with the utmost mischief 
to the Christian cause, and particularly in that city. 
The things which he recites are calculated in the most 
perfect manner to establish his character as an apostle, 
and to refute the unworthy calumnies which they had 
uttered against him. At the same time they are ac- 
companied with such proofs of ingenuousness, truth, and 
modesty, as leave irresistibly on the mind a stronger 
impression of these attributes in St Paul, than we could 
have felt, if he had not written this passage. Let it be 
remembered, that this is the conduct of a person who 
had converted half the civilized world. 

In the mean time, the apostles, in the most frank, 
artless, and faithful manner possible, do that which 
enthusiasts never do at all; that is, they record their 
own mistakes, follies and faults, and those of very 
serious magnitude, acknowledged to be such by them- 
selves, and severely censured as such by their Master. 
No example of this nature can be found in the whole 
history of enthusiasm, and no other such example in 
the whole history of man. Enthusiasm, is always a 
proud, vain, boasting spirit, founded in the belief that 
the enthusiast is the subject of immediate and extraor- 
dinary communications from heaven, and, therefore, 
designated by God as his peculiar favourite ; raised of 
course above the human level ; and irresistibly prompted 
to publish on every occasion, this peculiar testimony of 
heaven to its pre-eminent worth, and to unfold to the 
view of all around it a distinction too flattering to be 
concealed. 

Enthusiasts also, in all their preaching and conversa- 
tion on religious subjects, pour out with eagerness the 
dictates of passion and imagination, and never attempt 
to avail themselves of the facts or arguments on which 
reason delights to rest. Strong pictures, vehement 
effusions of passion, violent exclamations, loudly voci- 
ferated, and imperiously enjoined as objects of implicit 
faith and obedience, constitute the substance and the 
sum of their addresses to mankind. They themselves 
believe because they believe, and know because they 
know. Their conviction, instead of being, as it ought 
to be, the result of evidence, is the result of feeling 
merely. If you attempt to persuade them that they are 
in an error by reasoning, facts, and proofs, they regard 
you with a mixture of pity and contempt, for weakly 
opposing your twilight probabilities to their noon-day 
certainty, and for preposterously labouring to illumine 
the sun with a taper. 

How contrary is all this lo the conduct of the apostles. 



When a proof of their mission or doctrine was demanded 
of them, they appealed instantly and invariably to argu- 
ments, facts, and miracles. These convinced mankind 
then, and produce the same conviction now. The lapse 
of seventeen centuries has detected in them no error, 
and in no degree enfeebled their strength. Their dis- 
courses were then, and are now, the most rational, 
noble, and satisfactory discourses on moral and religious 
subjects ever witnessed by mankind. There is not an 
instance in them all, in which belief is demanded on any 
other grounds than these, and on these grounds it is 
always rightfully demanded. But on these grounds it 
is never demanded by enthusiasts. There is not in the 
world a stronger contrast to the preaching of enthusi- 
asts, than that of Christ and his apostles. 

2. The apostles were unprejudiced judges of this fact, 
because every thing respecting it contradicted their 
favourite prejudices. 

In common with their countrymen, they expected a 
conquering, reigning, glorious Messiah, who was to 
subdue and control all the nations of men. With him, 
also, they themselves expected to conquer and reign, 
together with the rest of the Jews, as princes and nobles 
in the splendid earthly court of this temporal Messiah. 
No expectation ever flattered the predominant passions 
of men so powerfully as this. It was the source of 
almost all their follies and faults, and, in spite of Christ's 
instructions and their piety, it broke out on every occa- 
sion, and clung to them with immovable adherence till 
the day of Pentecost. For just at the moment of Christ, 's 
ascension, ten days only before that festival, they asked 
him, ' Lord, wilt thou at this time restore the kingdom 
to Israel ?' 

They did not and could not believe that he would die. 
After he had predicted his death at five or six different 
times in as plain language as can be used, St John 
informs us, that ' they understood not that saying,' and 
that it was hidden from them.' Peter also, when Christ 
had uttered a prediction of this nature, understanding 
the meaning of the prediction, took upon himself the 
office of rebuking his Master, and said, ' Be it far from 
thee, Lord ; this shall not be unto thee.' 

Nor do they appear to have believed that he would 
live again. They plainly disbelieved all the testimonies 
of his resurrection, except that of their own eyes and 
ears ; and regarded the accounts of their companions, 
whom on all other occasions they esteemed persons of 
unstained veracity, ' as idle tales.' It may seem strange 
that, believing as they did implicitly the declarations 
and Messiahship of their Master, they should not believe 
that he would rise again, after his various prophecies 
concerning that event. But we are to remember that 
his death had violated all their prejudices, blasted all 
their fond hopes, and buried them in gloom and 
despondency, The Jews customarily, whenever passa- 
ges of Scripture admitted of no interpretation accordant 
with their established opinions, resolved the difficulty, 
or rather removed it, by pronouncing the passage to be 
mysterious. The apostles in all probability had recourse 
to the same expedient to reconcile the predictions of 
Christ with that train of facts whose future existence 
they believed ; and chose rather not to understand the 
true import of his predictions, plain as it was, than to 
admit an interpretation of them, which opposed all their 
riveted opinions. At the same time, melancholy n& 
were their circumstances and their feelings, they were 
2 T 



330 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxj. 



ill fitted for the business of commenting on the predic- 
tions of Christ, and seem not to have made even an 
attempt to gain the conviction which would so effectu- 
ally have relieved their distresses. When, therefore, 
they had evidence of his resurrection sufficient to con- 
vince any reasonable person, they still disbelieved, and 
were hardly brought to admit the testimony of their own 
eyes and ears. After various reports of his resurrection 
from those who had seen him ; reports so satisfactory, 
that Christ himself afterward ' upbraided them with 
their unbelief, and hardness of heart,' because they had 
not believed them who had seen him after he was risen ; 
' Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and said, 
Peace be unto you. But they were terrified and 
affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit. 
He then said unto them, Why are ye troubled, and why 
do thoughts arise in your hearts ? Behold my hands 
and my feet ; that it is I myself. Handle me, and see : 
for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have. 
And when he had thus spoken, he showed them his 
hands and his feet.' You are to remember, that ' the 
print of the nails,' by which he was fastened to the 
cross, was still perfectly visible both in his hands and 
feet These were, therefore, appealed to by Christ, 
because they thus furnished evidence ' that it was he 
himself,' which no man would counterfeit. Still ' they 
believed not for joy, and wondered.' To remove this 
doubt, which, like most that preceded it, was the result 
of feeling, and not of judgment, he farther said to them 
' Have ye here any meat ?' In answer to this inquiry, 
' they gave him a peace of a broiled fish, and of a ho- 
ney-comb. And he took it, and did eat before them.' 
At the end of this process only did they entirely believe 
that he was risen from the dead. 

From this story, written after they had all in the full- 
est manner realized his resurrection, and therefore in- 
tended severely to censure their own unbelief; from this 
story, written in a manner so perfectly artless and na- 
tural, and with circumstances of such nice discrimination 
as the writer could not have invented ; and on both 
these accounts carrying with it the clearest evidence of 
its truth, we have the strongest proof that the apostles 
were ' slow of heart to believe ' the resurrection of 
Christ Their assent was reluctant, and gradual ; such 
as is always yielded to evidence which contradicts pre- 
judices strongly imbibed. 

I have observed, that the story of St Luke is written 
in a manner perfectly artless and natural, and with cir- 
cumstances of such nice discrimination as the writer 
could not have devised. It is extremely natural to the 
human mind in a state of despondency, either not to 
believe at all, or to believe with extreme difficulty, 
those things which would remove its despondency. The 
good in question seems too great to be realized, and 
therefore too improbable even to be hoped. The apos- 
tles for this reason disbelieved at first ; and for the same 
reason continued their disbelief after Christ stood in 
the midst of them, and discovered himself to their eyes 
and ears. A strong and mixed emotion of pleasure and 
surprise partially overwhelmed their reason, and pro- 
longed their doubts, in spite of the clearest evidence. 
Never was the nature of man exhibited with more exact- 
ness, or with nicer discrimination, than in this remark- 
able declaration, ' They believed not for joy, and won- 
dered.' 

From these observations it is, if I mistake not, un- 



answerably evident, that the prejudices of the apostles 
were all directed against the resurrection of Christ, and 
that they were not inclined to admit this fact by any 
bias in its favour. 

3. The apostles had sufficient means and opportuni- 
ties of judging whether Christ was raised from the dead. 

He appeared to some or other of them, or their com- 
panions eleven times distinctly recorded in the Scrip- 
tures. He appeared to Mary Magdalene ; to her com- 
panions with her ; to Peter ; to the disciples going to 
Emmaus ; to James ; to the ten apostles, Thomas not be- 
ing present; to the eleven, Thomas being present; to 
the apostles again at the sea of Tiberias ; to above five 
hundred brethren at once ; to the apostles before, and 
during, his ascension ; and finally to St Paul ; in his way 
to Damascus. Besides these instances, he appeared sever- 
al times afterward to St Paul ; and, as St Luke informs 
us, ' showed himself alive after his passion by many in- 
fallible proofs ; being seen of them forty days, and 
speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of 
God,' It ought to be particularly remembered, that in 
nine of the instances mentioned above, he appeared to 
the apostles themselves ; in several instances to many, 
or all of them ; and once to more than five hundred 
disciples together. Should we then admit such an illu- 
sion of the senses as infidels sometimes contend for to 
be possible, and mankind to be capable of being deceiv- 
ed by it in such degrees as they urge ; still the impro- 
bability must, even according to their own principles, 
be very great, that two persons should, at the same time, 
experience exactly the same illusion concerning the 
same object, and concerning so many circumstances at- 
tending it. Of a fact of this kind history furnishes no 
record, and conversation no testimony. All the extra- 
ordinary and inexplicable things actually testified in 
which such illusions may be supposed to have taken 
place, have invariably existed, if they existed at all, to 
the view of one person only. No instance can be men- 
tioned in which two unexceptionable witnesses have 
testified to the same illusion, at the same time, concern- 
ing the same thing. Far more improbable is it that 
three persons should thus experience the same illusion. 
When we raise this number to eleven, the improbability 
becomes incalculable ; and when to five hundred, it 
transcends all limits. 

The improbability is also enhanced without measure, 
by the repetition of this fact in so many instances, to so 
many persons, together with all the circumstances, by 
which it was attended. But when we remember, that 
Christ not only appeared, but eat, drank, walked, and 
conversed with them, at so many different times, through 
forty days, and declared to them a great number of di- 
vine truths concerning the kingdom of God, the impro- 
bability ceases, and is changed into an impossibility. 
The apostles and their companions had here all the 
evidence that Christ was living, which they had of the 
life of each other ; all the evidence which we have, that 
those around us, with whom we have daily intercourse, 
are alive. If, then, the apostles could be deceived with 
respect to the fact that Christ was living, they could 
with the same ease, be equally deceived with respect to 
the life of each other. With the same ease can we be 
equally deceived in our belief, that men whom we see 
daily, with whom we converse, and with whom we act, 
are living men. A stranger who has visited us, continu- 
ed with us forty days, conversed with us, and united 



RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



S3 J. 



with us in eating, drinking', and the serious business of 
life, must, on the same grounds, be denied or doubted 
to be a living man, and supposed to be a spectre, a 
phantom of the imagination, an illusion of the senses, or 
an inhabitant of a dream. To this length the principles 
carry us, on which alone we can deny that the apostles 



had perfect evidence that Christ was alive after his 
death. He who can admit these principles, has re- 
nounced the evidence of his senses ; and ought from 
motives of consistency, to believe a man to be a post, as 
readily as to believe him to be a man. 



SERMON LXII. 

RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



— And killed the Prince of life, whom God hath raised from the dead, whereof we are witnesses. — Acts iii. 1 5. 



In the preceding discourse I observed, that in this passage 
St Peter declares to the Jews the three following things : 

I. That they had killed the Prince of life : 

II. That God had raised him from the dead : and 

III. That the apostle himself, and his companions, 
were witnesses of these facts. 

The first of these assertions, I observed, had been 
scarcely controverted, and therefore needed no discus- 
sion from me. To establish the second, I remarked, 
was indispensable to a System of Christian Theology, 
as being the great point on which such a system must 
depend ; and therefore proposed it as the immediate 
object of that Discourse. The evidence of its truth, I 
farther observed, was chiefly furnished by the apostles 
and their companions. This evidence, therefore, I pro- 
posed to state, and to show, that it was a proper and 
unexceptionable object of reliance for the truth of the 
important fact declared in the text. 

In pursuance of this design I observed, that if Christ 
was not raised from the dead, the apostles were either 
themselves deceived, or have of design deceived others. 
That they themselves were not deceived, 1 endeavoured 
to prove in that Discourse ; and shall now attempt to show, 

II. That they have not deceived others. 

By this you will understand, that they have not de- 
ceived others of design : all other deceptions having 
been considered under the former head. 

In support of this assertion I observe, 

1. That the known probity of the apostles places them 
beyond every reasonable suspicion of intentional decep- 
tion. 

The probity of the apostles stands on higher ground, 
and has been regarded with higher confidence by man- 
kind, than that of any other men whatever. This has 
been so often evinced, and with arguments so plainly 
unanswerable, that it would be probably thought tedious 
to expatiate on the subject at the present time. Suffice 
it then to say, that the histories which they have given 
us of our Saviour's life, contain more internal and de- 
cisive proofs of sincerity than any other human writ- 
ings ; that they recite facts, and utter doctrines, with a 
simplicity and artlessness unequalled ; that their story 
both as to the subject, and as to the manner, is such, as 
no impostor could or would tell; that the character of! 
Christ is drawn with excellences so great, combined j 
with features so distinctive, as to prove it beyond the | 
power of human invention, and much more beyond the '■ 
invention of such humble, uneducated men ; that, greatly J 



as they respected him, horrible as were the injuries 
which he received from his enemies, gross and abomi- 
nable as was the character of those enemies, and in- 
tensely as the apostles abhorred both them and their 
conduct, they have recited his whole story without a 
single panegyrical remark concerning him, and without 
a single testimony of resentment, unkindness, or pre- 
judice against them. Let it be remembered, also, that 
no impostor would have ever thought of terminating his 
account concerning a favourite and splendid character 
with the history of his trial and crucifixion as a male- 
factor ; that no impostor, if we were to suppose him to 
have done this, would have prefaced his history with a 
recital of his own disbelief that this favourite was to die ; 
especially after he had predicted his death many times, 
in the plainest language ; that no impostor would have 
recorded his own ignorance and disbelief of the true 
character, mission, and doctrines of the hero of his 
story ; or his severe and stinging reproofs of his follies 
and faults, and all this without disguise or palliation ; 
that the doctrines and precepts contained in the gospel 
are beyond the discovery of any men, particularly of 
such men ; that, if an impostor could discover them, he 
could never have enjoined them on mankind, because 
of their spotless purity and perfect excellence ; that 
every impostor must, of course, have blended with the 
better doctrines and precepts which he thought proper 
to deliver, others sufficiently licentious to countenance, 
or at least to palliate, his own crimes ; that the end, uni- 
formly proposed and intensely pursued in the gospel, 
viz. the amendment of the human character, is such as 
no impostor would be willing to promote ; that four im- 
postors, writing independently, or without concert, could 
not possibly have exhibited the same accordance of 
facts, nor the same perfect harmony of doctrines ; and 
that the character of the apostles was, in their own age, 
not only unimpeached, but considered as superior to 
that of all other virtuous men. To these proofs of inte- 
grity ought to be added that decisive one, their cheerful 
relinquishment of all the pleasures of this life, and their 
voluntary endurance of all its distresses, and, in the end , 
their voluntary surrender of life itself, for the sake of 
the religion which they professed, and of the Master 
whom they served. 

That men who gave so many efficacious and uniform 
proofs of integrity, should conspire to palm upon man- 
kind this gross imposition is too replete with absurdity 
to be admitted by any sober man. 



332 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxh. 



2. The apostles had no interest in attempting to de- 
ceive mankind with respect to this event. 

In order to render the imposition profitable to its 
authors, it was necessary that it should be believed ; 
.and, to gain credit elsewhere, it must first gain credit 
where it was originally published. The story was first 
declared to the Jewish nation ; and without a single 
hope or thought of spreading it among other nations. 
It was for twelve years confined to Jews only. Now, 
let me ask, what inducement had the apostles to believe 
that a tale, so incredible in itself, would be received by 
this people ? a tale concerning the resurrection of a 
crucified malefactor ; for such, if false, must the story 
have been; and such, although true, it was believed to 
be by the Jews. By them Christ was regarded as an 
impostor, as a blasphemer of God, as an impious pre- 
tender to the Messiahship, and an impious opposer of a 
religion unquestionably derived from heaven. Yet with 
Jews this publication was to begin, and so far as they 
knew, to end ; Jews beyond example bigoted to their 
own religion, and furious in their hostility to every 
other ; the bitter persecutors of Christ, while he lived, 
and the accusers and witnesses who caused his death. 
What hope could any but a madman entertain that 
among such a people, such a story could gain even a 
solitary admission ? To give credit to this story, was 
in a Jew no other than to yield up his religion, his bi- 
gotry, his connexion with the Jewish church, his interest 
in the public opinion of his countrymen, and in the 
protection of its government. It was to expose his pos- 
sessions, his family, and his life, to become excommu- 
nicated, outlawed, and an outcast from society, and to 
place himself within the reach of all the dreadful threat- 
enings contained in the law of Moses. At the same 
time, it was to acknowledge himself a murderer, a mur- 
derer of the Messiah, a murderer of the Son of God; 
to confess, that he had found this glorious person in the 
son of a carpenter ; in a man, emphatically styled by 
him and his countrymen, ' a friend of publicans and 
sinners; a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber.' It 
was, also, to renounce all his bright and dawning hopes 
of the deliverance of himself and his nation from Ro- 
man servitude, by that mighty Prince, with whom they 
were all in hourly expectation of triumphing and reign- 
ing over every nation on earth. All this, also, was to 
be done without any good to balance these mighty evils, 
either in hand or in reversion. Never was there a field 
so unpromising to the talents or the efforts of an impostor. 

At the same time, this tale was to be told by the fol- 
lowers of the person professedly raised, and the enemies 
of those to whom it was told ; by men, poor, ignorant, 
and despised, without friends, and without influence ; 
abhorred by their countrymen, and regarded as apos- 
tates from their religion. Never were persons so ill 
qualified for successful efforts at imposition. Suppose 
such a story were now to be told. None of these embar- 
rassments, it is evident, would attend the recital, except 
those which arise out of the story itself. The narrators 
would lie originally under no public odium. The sub- 
ject would be obnoxious to no peculiar prejudice. The 
reception of it would be followed by no peculiar sacrifi- 
ces ; by no civil or religious disqualifications ; by no loss 
of property, reputation, safety, or even quiet. How plain 
is it, that such a story, if false, could not even here pro- 
duce any other effect but pity, contempt, and ridicule ? 
To persuade others to believe it, is in the nature of the 



case a thing so hopeless and desperate, that no impostor 
has been found weak, rash, or impudent enough to think 
of making the attempt. But, of all persons on earth, 
none were ever more disadvantageous^ situated to pro- 
pagate such a story, than the apostles. The Jews were 
certainly less inclined to believe this story than the apos- 
tles themselves. They refused to believe it, long after 
very sufficient evidence had been furnished them of its 
truth. The Jews would certainly require evidence still 
more ample. This the apostles could not but know, and 
therefore must have been hopeless of persuading them 
to believe it, unless themselves were able to support it 
by such evidence. But this evidence could never be 
produced in support of a falsehood. 

If the story did not gain belief, the attempt to spread 
it could be of no possible use to the apostles. As, then, 
they could not entertain a single hope of inducing the 
Jews to believe it, they could have no possible induce- 
ment to attempt to palm it upon the Jews. But if the 
Jews did not believe it, it could never be received by 
any other people. Jews, in great numbers, were scat- 
tered over all the countries in which the apostles could 
ever hope or wish to spread the story. These Jews car- 
ried on a continual correspondence with those at Jeru- 
salem, and in immense numbers visited that city every 
year. If, then, the story were not believed at Jerusalem, 
this fact would be perfectly well known wherever Jews 
resided. But the knowledge that the story gained no 
credit at Jerusalem, the place where the event had pro- 
fessedly existed, would effectually prevent it from gain- 
ing the least credit in any other place. To the spot, 
where the event was said to exist, all thinking men 
would have recourse, to learn the true state of the evi- 
dence concerning it. If it were there found insufficient, 
it would at once be pronounced to be insufficient by all 
men. The gospel was, probably, directed by Christ to 
be preached first at Jerusalem and in Judea, for this as 
one great reason, that the story of his resurrection, on 
which his whole scheme depended, being established 
there in the immovable belief of multitudes, might be 
successfully and irresistibly published in other countries. 

But, whatever advantages the apostles could derive, 
or expect to derive from their imposture (if it were one,) 
must be wholly derived from persuading mankind to be- 
lieve this story. They themselves perfectly understood, 
and frankly declared to mankind, that their whole sys- 
tem turned on this single hinge. ' If Christ be not risen, 
then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain,' 
is the constant language of all which they said. For 
proof of this you need only examine the sermons of St 
Peter and St Paul, recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. 
Unless this fact were established, therefore, they could 
not hope for a single follower, nor for the smallest re- 
ward. But of the establishment of this fact among eithei 
Jews or Gentiles, I flatter myself I have shown they 
could not, in the existing circumstances, form even the 
remotest hope. They had not, therefore, the smallest 
interest in making the attempt. 

3. They were assured, with absolute certainty, of suf- 
fering every imaginable disadvantage. 

All the losses and injuries mentioned under the pre- 
ceding head, must have stared them in the face at the 
beginning. At every step of their progress new evils 
could not fail to arise, and those of the most distressing- 
kind. Had they been blind enough not to have per- 
ceived their miserable destiny, before they commenced 



RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



333 



this wretched work of deception, the first attempt could 
not fail to produce the most ample conviction ; and to 
this every new attempt would add fresh proof. The 
scourge, the prison, and the cross, have always proved 
effectual antidotes to imposition. All other dishonest 
men, are, equally with Voltaire, no friends to martyr- 
dom. Had the apostles possessed the same character, 
they would have soon been wearied of the sufferings 
which they everywhere underwent. Everywhere they 
were hated, calumniated, despised, hunted from city to 
city, thrust into prison, scourged, stoned, and crucified. 
For what were all these excruciating sufferings endured ? 
Gain, honour, and pleasure are the only gods to which 
impostors bow. But of these the apostles acquired, and 
plainly laboured to acquire, neither. What, then, was 
the end for which they suffered ? Let the infidel answer 
this question. 

As they gained nothing, and lost every thing in the 
present world, so it is certain that they must expect to 
gain nothing, and suffer every thing, in the world to 
come. That the Old Testament was the word of God, 
they certainly believed without a single doubt. But, in 
this book, lying is exhibited as a supreme object of the 
divine abhorrence, and the scriptural threatenings. From 
the invention and propagation of this falsehood, there- 
fore, they could expect nothing hereafter, but the sever- 
est effusions of the anger of God. 

For what, then, was all this loss, danger, and suffering 
incurred? For the privilege of telling an extravagant 
and incredible story to mankind, and of founding on it 
a series of exhortations to repentance, faith, and holiness ; 
to the renunciation of sin and the universal exercise of 
piety, justice, truth, and kindness ; to the practice of all 
that conduct which common sense has ever pronounced 
to be the duty, honour, and happiness of man, and the 
avoidance of all that which it has ever declared to be his 
guilt, debasement, and misery. Such an end was never 
even wished, much less seriously proposed, by an im- 
postor. 

At the same time, they lived as no impostors ever 
lived, and were able to say to their converts, with a full 
assurance of finding a cordial belief of the declaration, 
' Ye are witnesses, and God also, how holily, and justly, 
and unblamably, we behaved ourselves among you that 
believe.' That this was their true character is certain, 
from the concurrent testimony of all antiquity. Had 
they not nobly recorded their own faults, there is not 
the least reason to believe that a single stain would have 
ever rested on their character. 

If, then, the apostles invented this story, they invented 
it without the remotest hope or prospect of making it 
believed ; a thing which was never done by an impos- 
tor : propagated it without any interest, without any 
hope of gain, honour, power, or pleasure ; the only ob- 
ject by which impostors were ever allured ; and with 
losses and sufferings, which no impostor ever voluntarily 
underwent; proposed as their only end, or at least only 
end which has ever been discovered to mankind, an 
object which no impostor ever pursued, or even wished; 
and during their whole progress through life, lived so 
as no impostor ever lived, and so as to be the most per- 
fect conti-ast ever exhibited by men to the whole char- 
racter of imposition. 

III. The apostles were not deceived, and did not de- 
ceive others with regard to this fact ; but the fact was 
real. 



In support of this declaration I observe, 

1. That if Christ was not raised from the dead, it 
could certainly have been proved. 

Christ was put to death by the Roman governor, at 
the instigation of the government and nation of the 
Jews. His body was in their hands, and entirely under 
their control. They knew that he had predicted his 
resurrection. They knew that, if he should rise, or 
should be believed to have risen, his cause would gain 
more by this fact, or by this belief, than by every thing 
which he had taught or done during his life. All this 
they declared to Pilate in form, for the express purpose 
of guarding against this dreadful evil. ' Now the next 
day that followed the day of the preparation,' says St 
Matthew, ' the chief priests and Pharisees came together 
unto Pilate, saying, sir, we remember that that deceiver 
said, while he was yet alive, After three days I will rise 
again. Command therefore, that the sepulchre be made 
fast, until the third day ; lest his disciples come by night, 
and steal him away ; and say unto the people, He is 
risen from the dead. So the last error shall be worse 
than the first. Pilate said unto them, Ye have a watch : 
go your way ; make it as sure as you can. So they 
went, and made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone and 
setting a watch.' In this remarkable passage we have a 
distinct account of their knowledge of Christ's predic- 
tion, that he should rise on the third day ; of their dread 
of the prevalence of a future belief that he had risen ; 
of their conviction that this belief would advance his 
cause more than all his preaching, life, and miracles ; 
and their earnest request to the governor, that effectual 
measures might be taken to prevent this peculiar evil. 
We are farther informed, that the governor, in com- 
pliance with their fears and their wishes, after remind- 
ing them that they had a watch or guard under their 
control, directed them, with a communication of unlimit- 
ed authority, ' to make the sepulchre as sure as they 
could.' Finally, we are informed that, with this power 
in their hands, ' They went their way, and made the 
sepulchre sure ;' that is, according to their own judg- 
ment ; and we are completely assured that such eagle- 
eyed and bitter enemies, under the influence of such 
apprehensions, left no precaution untried, to secure 
themselves against the danger which they dreaded. 
Accordingly, the evangelist informs us, that they not 
only set a guard at the sepulchre, which we may be cer- 
tain was more than sufficient, but also ' set a seal upon 
the stone which was rolled to it for a door ;' in order to 
produce complete and universal conviction that Christ 
was not raised, because the seal was unbroken. 

But, notwithstanding all these precautions, thus care- 
fully taken, the body was missing. In this great fact 
the Sanhedrim and the apostles perfectly agree : it can- 
not therefore be questioned. The Sanhedrim would, 
otherwise, have certainly produced it ; and thus detected 
the falsehood of the apostles' declaration that he was 
risen from the dead, and prevented it from gaining 
credit among the Jews. 

There are but two ways in which it could be missing. 
It was taken away, or it was raised. If it was taken 
away, it was undoubtedly taken by the apostles. But 
this was not true ; because, 

(1.) They had no interest in taking it away. 

Christ had declared that he should rise from the dead. 
The mere taking away of his body, instead of evincing 
the truth of. this prediction to the apostles themselves. 



334 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxh. 



would have been an unanswerable proof of its falsehood ; 
and, by consequence, of the falsehood of him who 
uttered it. If the prediction were unfulfilled, of which 
the presence of his dead body would have been the pro- 
per and complete proof, Christ was a false prophet, an 
impostor. Of course, the apostles could expect no pos- 
sible advantage from following him, and plainly saw 
themselves exposed to every disadvantage. They had, 
therefore, no conceivable inducement to take away his 
body, nor even to accept it, if it had been offered to 
them freely. This, it is believed, has been sufficiently 
evinced under a former head. 

To others they could never produce the body of 
Christ as evidence, either of his sincerity, or their own ; 
for it would have completely destroyed the character of 
both. The only end, therefore, which the theft could 
answer, would have been to gain some credit to the 
story of his resurrection, from the fact that his body 
was missing. When we consider that the body was per- 
fectly in the power of their enemies, the Jewish San- 
hedrim, it must be acknowledged, that an argument 
of some force might be drawn from this fact in favour 
of Christ's resurrection. At the same time, it is evident 
that this single fact would have been wholly insufficient 
to establish the point ; and the apostles, in attempting 
to palm the story on the world, would have engaged in 
a cause wholly desperate. We demand very important 
additional proof, derived from other sources, to esta- 
blish this point in our own minds. The necessity of 
such proof the apostles could not but have seen, with, at 
least, as much certainty as ourselves ; they could, there- 
fore, never have been willing to take it away for this 
purpose. 

(2.) The apostles durst not take away the body of 
Christ. 

They knew that a guard was placed at the sepulchre, 
a numerous and amply sufficient band of Roman sol- 
diers. They themselves were few, friendless, and dis- 
couraged ; in hourly expectation of being arrested and 
put to death, as followers of Christ ; and voluntarily 
confined to a solitary chamber, for fear of being either 
crucified or stoned. The time was that of the Passover, 
when Jerusalem customarily contained more than a 
million of people. It was the time of the full moon. 
The sepulchre was just without the walls of the city, 
and exposed therefore to continual inspection. How 
could a body of men, who had just before fled from a 
similar guard, notwithstanding their Blaster was present 
with them, venture to attack this band of armed soldiers, 
for the purpose of removing the body of Christ from the 
sepulchre ? How, especially, could they make this at- 
tempt, when they had nothing to gain ; and when they 
must become guilty of rebelling against the Roman 
government; and, if they escaped death from the hands 
of the soldiers, were exposed to this evil in a much 
more terrible form ? 

(3.) The apostles, with respect to this subject, had 
formed no plan ; and entertained no expectations and no 
hopes. 

They disbelieved the story of his resurrection, when 
asserted by the most unsuspicious witnesses, his female 
disciples, and their own companions. Nay, they dis- 
believed it after he had appeared several times ; when 
they had seen and known that his body was gone from 
the sepulchre, and even when he had appeared to them- 
selves. The truth is, they were completely discouraged 



and broken-hearted. The death of Christ had violated 
all their prejudices, destroyed their fondest hopes, and 
sunk their spirits in the dust. Nor was any expedient 
less fitted to revive their hopes, than the wretched cheat 
imputed to them by their enemies. 

(4.) The story told concerning this subject by the San- 
hedrim, and thoughtlessly believed by the great body of 
the Jews even to the present time, is itself strong evidence 
of the truth of the assertion which I am maintaining. 

This story, as you well know, is, that the disciples 
stole the body of Christ, while the guards were asleep. 
I will not here insist on the ridiculousness of this story, 
but will only consider it as the real account given by 
the Sanhedrim concerning the disappearing of the body 
from the sepulchre. This sagacious collection of men, 
sharpened into extreme cunning by the constant man- 
agement of human affairs in very difficult times, thought 
it proper to tell the world this story, as the best account 
which they could give of the subject. To what straits 
must their ingenuity have been driven, when they were 
compelled to such a resort? Every man knows that 
the guards would, of their own accord, have never ven- 
tured upon such a narration ; for it would have been 
the infallible cause of their condemnation to death. It 
is scarcely possible that a Roman sentinel should ac- 
knowledge himself to have slept upon his post ; nor is 
it much more possible, that a Jewish senate should, un- 
less under extreme pressure of circumstances, publicly 
accord with so contemptible a tale. Had that senate 
been possessed of any truth which would at all have fa- 
voured their designs, they would have never disgraced 
their character by acknowledging their reliance, and 
persuading their countrymen to rely, on the testimony 
of a heathen guard, nor of any other men, concerning 
what was done when they were asleep. Had truth fa- 
voured their wishes in any manner, neither the senate 
nor the people of the Jews would have rested them- 
selves, in a case of this consequence, nor indeed in 
any case, upon a story, which carried with it its own 
refutation. 

2. The Jews in great numbers believed the resurrection 
of Christ. 

The Jews most ardently hated Christ and his apos- 
tles. Him they persecuted throughout his public min- 
istry, and at the end of it nailed him to the cross. The 
apostles directly charged them with these enormous 
crimes, particularly in this very sermon of St Peter, 
from which I have taken my text. On this ground they 
urged them to repentance ; asserting always before 
them, that he had risen from the dead. Clear and un- 
answerable evidence, as I have already remarked, is 
necessary to convince the most candid man of so won- 
derful an event. But to convince Jews, that the man 
whom they had hated and crucified, was risen from the 
dead — Jews, so opposed to his character, mission, and 
doctrines — Jews, who in admitting his resurrection, 
acknowledged themselves to have sinned in a manner 
unparalleled — demanded singular evidence. Y'et three 
thousand of these Jews believed the apostles 1 declara- 
tion of this fact on the day of Pentecost, fifty days only 
after the crucifixion. Within a few days more, five 
t.iousand others adopted the same belief, and soon after- 
ward very great multitudes. 

The evidence of their faith is complete. All these 
men publicly professed it, and, in spite of their former 
prejudices and their furious hatred, submitted them- 



RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



335 



selves to Christ, as the Messiah. This crucified man 
they acknowledged in that glorious character, and 
yielded themselves to him as the Son of God. Judaism, 
to which they had been attached with such bigotry, 
they now publicly renounced ; and gave up their cere- 
monious worship, their sabbath, temple, priests, and 
sacraments ; adopting in their stead the Christian wor- 
ship, sabbath, and sacraments ; submitting themselves 
to the ministers of the gospel ; and embracing a new 
life, alife of real holiness, to them in the highest de- 
gree self-denying and difficult. A great number of 
them also sold their possessions, and distributed the 
avails of them in mere charity to their Christian, bre- 
thren. Beyond this, these converts voluntarily forsook 
their friends, their interests, and their hopes, and un- 
derwent a series of dreadful sufferings, terminating not 
unfrequently in a violent death. 

To persuade men to renounce their religion, espe- 
cially bigoted men, and to exchange a sinful life for a 
virtuous one, is undoubtedly as hard a task as was ever 
assigned to the human mind ; especially when that re- 
ligion contravenes all the selfishness of man. Jews now 
exist in great numbers, and have existed ever since the 
crucifixion of Christ. They hold the same character, 
and the same religion. Christianity, the religion to 
which they are to be converted, is also the same. But 
more Jews were made converts to the religion of Christ 
by these two sermons of St Peter, than have embraced 
it within the last sixteen hundred years. It is there- 
fore certain, that the apostles possessed advantages for 
this end, which their followers have not possessed ; and 
these advantages, independently of miracles, consisted, 
in a great measure at least, in the peculiar circumstances 
of their hearers. They knew and remembered the life, 
preaching, and miracles of Christ, and the wonderful 
events which attended his death. These, as is obvious 
from the declaration of St Luke, greatly affected their 
minds. ' And all the people,' says the evangelist, ' that 
came together to that sight, beholding the things that 
were done, smote their breasts, and returned.' The 
guards, also, went into the city, and told the story of the 
descent of the ' angel,' who ' rolled away the stone 
from the sepulchre,' the awful circumstances by which 
he was attended, and the resurrection of Christ.* When 
to these things were added the miraoulous events of the 
day of Pentecost, and the marvellous cure of the lame 
man at the Beautiful gate of the temple, these Jews 
yielded up their prejudices, and submitted to truths 
which they could no longer resist. The facts here spe- 
cified were, in the hands of the Spirit of grace, the 
means by which such multitudes of enemies were con- 
verted to the faith of the gospel. 

3. The Sanhedrim believed the resurrection of Christ. 
In Acts iv. we are informed, that the Sanhedrim had 
the apostles brought before them for preaching in the 
name of Christ the doctrines of Christianity, and for 
affirming that Christ was risen from the dead. Had 
they believed that the apostles stole away the body of 
Christ, they would now certainly have charged them 
with this gross fraud, this direct rebellion against the 
Roman and Jewish government ; and. unless they could 
have cleared themselves of the crime, would have pun- 
ished them for it with at least due severity. Such pun- 
ishment would not only have been just but it had now 

* Malt, xxviii. II. 



become necessary for the Sanhedrim to inflict it, in 
order to save their own reputation. They had origi- 
nated the story, and were now under the strongest 
inducements to support it. Yet they did not even 
mention the subject ; but contented themselves with 
commanding them to pi-each no more in the name of 
Christ. 

In Acts v. we are told, that the whole body of the 
apostles were brought before them again, for continuing 
to preach in opposition to this command. On this oc- 
casion also they kept a profound silence concerning 
the theft, which they had originally attributed to the 
apostles ; but charged them with disobedience to their 
former injunctions. In this charge are contained the 
following remarkable words: 'Did we not straitly 
command you, that ye should not teach in this name ? 
and behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doc- 
trine, and intend to bring this man's blood upon us.' 
To bring the blood of one person upon another, is 
phraseology frequently used in the Bible. In fifteen* 
different instances in which we find it there, it has but 
a single meaning ; viz. to bring the guilt of contribut- 
ing to the death of a person, or the guilt of murder, 
upon another person. When it is said, ' His blood 
shall be upon his own head;' it is clearly intended, 
that the guilt of his death shall be upon himself. When, 
therefore, the Sanhedrim accuse the apostles of attempt- 
ing to bring the blood of Christ upon them, they ac- 
cuse them of an intention to bring upon them the guilt 
of shedding his blood ; this being the only meaning of 
such phraseology in the Scriptures. 

Should any doubt remain in the mind of any man 
concerning this interpretation, it may be settled, I 
think, beyond all question, by recurring to another pas- 
sage, to which hitherto, I have not alluded. In Matt. 
xxvii. 24, 25, we are told, that when Pilate saw that 
he could prevail nothing towards releasing Christ, ' he 
took water, and washed his hands before the multitude, 
saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person ; 
see ye to it ;' and that then ' all the people answered, 
and said, His blood be on us, and on our children.' 
The meaning of the phraseology in this passage cannot 
be mistaken ; and it is altogether probable that the de- 
claration of the Sanhedrim being made so soon after 
this imprecation, to the apostles, so deeply interested 
in the subject, and on an occasion which so naturally 
called it up to view, the Sanhedrim referred to it directly. 

But if Christ was not raised from the dead, he was a 
false prophet, an impostor, and, of course, a blasphemer; 
because he asserted himself to be the Messiah, the Son 
of God. Such a blasphemer the law of God condemned 
to death. The Sanhedrim were the very persons to 
whom the business of trying and condemning him was 
committed by that law, and whose duty it was to accom- 
plish his death. If, therefore, his body was not raised 
from the dead, there was no guilt in shedding his blood, 
but the mere performance of a plain duty. His blood, 
that is, the guilt of shedding it, could not possibly rest 
on the Sanhedrim; nor, to use their language, be 
brought upon them by the apostles, nor by any others 
All this the Sanhedrim perfectly knew ; and therefore, 
had they not believed him to have risen from the dead, 
they could never have used this phraseology. 

* Lev. xx. 9, 11, 13, 16, 27 ; Deut. xix. 10; xxii. 8; 2 Sam. i. 16; 
xvi. 8; 1 Kings ii. 37; Jet. li. 35 ; Ezek. xviii. 13; xxxiii. 5; Matt. 
xxiii. 35 : Acts xviii. 6. 



336 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. i.xnr. 



It is farther to be observed, that on both these occa- 
sions the apostles boldly declared to the Sanhedrim, in 
the most explicit terms, that Christ was raised from the 
dead ; yet the Sanhedrim not only did not charge them 
with the crime of having stolen his body, but did not 
contradict, nor even comment on, the declaration. This 
could not possibly have happened through inattention. 
Both the Sanhedrim and the apostles completely knew, 
that the resurrection of Christ was the point on which 
his cause, and their opposition to it, entirely turned. 
It was the great and serious controversy between the 
contending parties ; and yet, though directly asserted 
to their faces by the apostles, the Sanhedrim did not 
even utter a syllable on the subject. 

Had they believed their own story, they would either 
have punished the apostles with death, as rebels against 
the Jewish and Roman governments, or confined them 
as lunatics in a bedlam. 

IV. Christ was raised from the dead, because the 
apostles converted mankind to his religion 

The apostles, from the beginning to the end, pub- 
lished the story of Christ's resurrection as the proof of 
his mission, and doctrines ; and as the foundation on 
which rested their own commission, and the truth of 
the religion which they taught. To prove the reality 
of his resurrection, they publicly declared that he had 
invested them with the power of working miracles on 
all occasions, and openly asserted that they were pos- 
sessed of this power. Here, then, the cause was fairly 
at issue between them and mankind. If they wrought 
miracles in proof' of this story, the story was true of 
course ; because, as I observed in a preceding Discourse, 
none but God can work a miracle ; and God cannot 
support a falsehood. 

That this was the real profession of the apostles is 
unitedly testified, without one dissenting voice, by all 
antiquity ; heathen, Jewish, and Christian. It is, there- 
fore, certainly true. 

If the apostles, after having made this profession, did 
not work miracles, they were convicted of falsehood in 
a moment. Their cause fell at once : for they had 
rested it wholly on this single fact. The weakest man 
would see, at a glance, that they were cheats and liars, 
and could never place the least confidence in any of 
their declarations. They could not, therefore, have 
made a single convert. 

But they did convert a great part of the civilized, 



and not a small part of the savage world. They, there- 
fore, certainly wrought miracles in the manner which 
they professed, as proofs of the reality of Christ's re- 
surrection. The resurrection of Christ was of course 
real. God set to it his own sea), and placed it beyond 
every reasonable doubt. 

That the apostles wrought miracles in great numbers, 
is clearly proved also by the united testimony of hea- 
then, Jews, and Christians. All these classes of men 
were deeply interested to deny this fact, if it could with 
any pretence be denied. The heathen and Jews would 
certainly have denied it ; because they wished to pre- 
vent, as far as possible, other heathen and other Jews 
from embracing Christianity ; and because, if they 
could have supported the denial, they would have 
stopped the growth of that religion in its infancy. 
Christians would have denied it ; that is, such as be- 
came Christians in consequence of a belief in these 
miracles under any illusion which could have been 
practised on them, because they would certainly have 
detected the cheat, and must have strongly resented the 
villany, by which it had been played off upon them- 
selves. I say these things, admitting the supposition 
that the imposture might succeed for a time ; but, to 
my own view, such success must plainly have been im- 
possible. 

All these persons have, however, agreed in asserting 
that the apostles wrought miracles. The Jews and 
heathen attributed them to magic. Christians, under 
the influence of their conviction that miracles were thus 
wrought, hazarded and yielded every enjoyment of life, 
and very often life itself. 

We have now, if I do not mistake, come to the clear 
and certain conclusion, that Christ was raised from the 
dead by the power of God. But, if Christ was raised 
from the dead, it follows, by irresistible consequence, 
that he was approved of God ; and, of course, that 
he was the Son of God, and the promised Messiah 
sent from heaven to communicate the divine will to 
mankind concerning their duty and salvation. The 
religion which he taught is in all its parts divine truth, 
the will of our Maker, and the sum and substance of all 
our interest and duty. Of course, it cannot he rejected 
without infinite hazard ; it cannot be embraced without 
complete assurance of infinite gain, the favour of God 
in this world, and eternal life in the world to come. 



SERMON LXIII. 



THE AMIABLENESS OF CHRIST IN PUBLISHING THE GOSPEL TO MANKIND. 



How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of Mm that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace ; that 
bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation ; that saith unto Zion thy God reigneth Isa. lii. 7. 



In a long series of Discourses, I have investigated 
minutely the character and mediation of Christ ; and 
have considered his divine and human nature ; his of- 
fices as a Prophet, Priest, and King ; his miracles ; and 
his resurrection. I shall now close this great and in- 
teresting subject of theology by attempting to exhibit, 



summarily, the excellency and amiableness of Christ, 
as manifested in his interference on the behalf of man- 
kind. 

In the text, the prophet Isaiah presents to us the ad- 
vent of a messenger of good tidings to mankind. Tins 
messenger is represented as announcing to the world 



AMIABLENESS OF CHRIST. 



337 



e good,' or happiness at large ; as ' publishing peace' — 
' salvation ' — and the glorious news, that the God who 
reigns universally, is the God of Zion. His appearance 
is exhibited by the prophet as filling his own mind 
with astonishment and ecstasy. Nothing could more 
forcibly convey to us the prophet's rapturous sense of 
the importance, of these tidings, or his exalted views of 
the messenger who brought them, than the manner in 
which he dwells on these subjects, in the repeated and 
fervid exclamations of the text. When the soul becomes 
the seat of strong emotions, and especially -when it is 
agitated by strong alternations of wonder and joy, it 
usually finds language, in every form of phraseology, too 
feeble to give full vent to its feelings, or to convey them 
to others with such force, as to satisfy the demands 
either of the imagination or the passions. When we 
ourselves feel, we wish others to feel ; and when our 
emotions become peculiarly ardent, we are prone to fear 
that the corresponding emotions of others will be less 
vivid than we desire. The mind in this case seizes the 
most forcible language within its reach, and conscious 
that even this language halts behind its own fervours, 
naturally seeks to increase the impressions, by reiterat- 
ing them in new and more animated phraseology. From 
this source were derived the exclamations of the text, 
peculiarly suited to the mind of Isaiah, whose imagina- 
tion was not only more sublime, but on all occasions 
more ready to glow, than that of any other writer. 

St Faul applies this text to the ministers of the gos- 
pel generally, and perhaps more especially to the first 
ministers. This application teaches us decisively, that 
the gospel, the meaning of which word you know is 
merely ' good tidings,' is the subject of the annunciation 
in the text ; and that ministers of the gospel at large 
are, in a loose and general sense, included in the pur- 
port of these exclamations. The prophet, however, 
speaks of one messenger only ; and this messenger is 
the person who publishes the gospel to mankind. The 
Lord Jesus Christ is undoubtedly the messenger here 
intended, by whose voice the gospel was originally com- 
municated to the world. The prophet, who beyond any 
other writer embodies all his thoughts, and holds them 
out to the view of the eye, exhibits this divine herald as 
advancing over the mountains surrounding the city of 
Jerusalem, and as proclaiming joyful news to its inhabi- 
tants. The reader is transported to the spot ; sees this 
illustrious person approach ; hears him proclaim the 
tidings which he comes to announce ; and unites with 
the prophet and his exulting countrymen in their joyful 
exclamations. 

The only characteristical circumstance on which the 
prophet rests in the text, is the beauty which adorned 
the person of this glorious messenger. ' How beautiful 
on the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good 
tidings !' To the consideration of this subject I propose 
to devote the following Discourse. 

In the discussion of it I shall consider, 

I. The persons to whom these tidings were published : 

II. The tidings themselves : and, 

III. The messenger who published them. 

I. The persons to whom these tidings were published , 
were the children of apostate Adam. 

It will be useful to the design which I have propos- 
ed, to consider both their character and their circum- 
stances. 

Their character, like that of their progenitor, was 



formed of apostasy. Every man who searches his own 
bosom, or examines the conduct of his own life, is pre- 
sented with irresistible evidence that he is a sinner. 
Let him form whatever rule of life he is pleased to pre- 
scribe, by which his duty to himself, to his fellow men, 
and to God, ought even in his own view to be regulated, 
and he will find himself, in innumerable instances, a 
transgressor of that rule. The heathen philosophers 
anciently, and the infidels of modern times, have formed 
such rules. Weigh them in their own balances, and 
they will invariably be ' found wanting.' Lax, licen- 
tious, and even monstrous as the laws are, which they 
have proposed for the regulation of their own moral 
conduct, they still have not obeyed them, and will, if 
tried by them, be certainly condemned. How much 
more defective do they appear, when examined by the 
dictates of a sober and enlightened conscience! How 
far more defective, when tried by the perfect law of 
God ! Searched by this law, it will be uniformly found, 
and every man faithfully employed in the search will be 
obliged to confess, that ' in our flesh dwelleth no good 
thing.' 

' Among the most affecting specimens of this evil cha- 
racter, a conscientious investigator will be deeply af- 
flicted with those which constitute his own personal de- 
basement If he open his eye on what he has been, and 
on what he has done, he will find the most abundant 
reason to exclaim, with Job, ' I abhor myself, and repent 
in dust and ashes.' He will find that he has, in the true 
and evangelical sense, neither loved God nor man ; that 
he has neither accepted of his Saviour, nor repented of 
his sins ; that he has neither laboured to be a blessing, 
nor even endeavoured not to be a nuisance, to the 
divine kingdom. Instead of worshipping God ' in spi- 
rit and in truth,' according to the first dictates of his 
conscience and of revelation, he will find that he has in 
truth prostrated himself to gold, to office, to fame, and 
to pleasure. Instead of the exact justice, unwavering 
truth, and expansive benevolence of the gospel, he will 
see, written in the volume of his life with a pen of iron, 
a succession of melancholy scenes and acts of unkind- 
ness, insincerity, and injustice ; all contrived and finish- 
ed by a mind shrunk with selfishness, swollen with 
pride, heated with anger, debased with avarice, and 
steeled with insensibility. Page after page he will see 
stained with the licentious wanderings of an impure 
imagination, and deformed by the malignant purposes 
of an envious, angry, and revengeful spirit. In vain 
will his eye, pained with these narratives of shame and 
sin, wander from one leaf to another with an anxious, 
inquisitive search, to find the delightful records of filial 
confidence, submission, and gratitude to the Creator, or 
the sweet and cheering remembrances of evang^Jjcal 
charity towards those around him, or a portrait of him- 
self, which shall be a fair counterpart to that of the 
good Samaritan. In vain will he watch and explore 
the humiliating story, to glean from it refreshing recol- 
lections of self-purification, the refinement of his mind, 
the amendment of his heart, or the cleansing of his life. 
Over himself he will find the most distressing reasons 
to mourn, as over a graceless and ruined child ; ruined, 
on the one hand, by the gratification of pernicious ap- 
petites and passions, and on the other, by a senseless, 
thoughtless indulgence, doting with a mixture of idiocy 
and madness. 

The public exhibitions of the human character are 
2u 



338 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



still more striking displays of human guilt. Almost 
the only government of mankind has been tyranny. 
Almost all the conduct of nations may be summed up 
in the rage of plunder, the fury of war, and the frenzy 
of civil discord. Men seem to have thought their bless- 
ings too numerous and too great, and the duration of 
their life too long. Accordingly, they have robbed 
each other of the former, shortened the latter, and 
struggled hard to reduce both to nothing. At what 
time has human blood ceased to flow? In what coun- 
try have rage and revenge ceased to desolate ? When 
and where have the cries of mourning and misery 
ceased to resound P The groans of suffering have 
echoed from California to Japan. The stream of sor- 
row has flowed without interruption for six thousand 
years. On all the public concerns of man, on every 
nation, on every age, have been labelled, ' Lamenta- 
tion, mourning, and woe.' 

Such has been the conduct of man towards man. 
Not less shameful, not less guilty, has been the conduct 
of man towards his Maker. Instead of rendering to 
this glorious Being, whose we are, and whom we are 
bound to serve, the direct, instinctive homage of the 
heart, and the cheerful obedience of the hands ; instead 
of acknowledging his rightful government, rejoicing in 
his divine perfections, and voluntarily labouring to ac- 
complish his exalted purposes ; we have said to him 
with one united voice, ' Depart from us ; for we desire 
not the knowledge of thy ways.' For Jehovah, the on- 
ly living and true God, mankind have substituted dei- 
ties, formed by the imagination, graven by art, and 
molten in the furnace. The forest has been scoured, 
the ocean, swept, and the sky ransacked, for objects of 
worship. The world has prostrated itself before men 
deformed with villany, and putrid with pollution. The 
knee has bent to the ox, the snake, the frog, and the 
fly. Nay, the heart has yielded its homage, prayers, 
and oblations, to the stock of a tree ; and parents have 
sacrificed their children to the great enemy of God and 
man. Look over the long page of history, and you 
will be astonished to see how rarely a country is men- 
tioned, and how rarely a period occurs, in which you 
would be willing to have lived. 

But guilt is not the only ingredient of the human 
character. It is scarcely less humble and insignificant, 
than it is guilty. We are born of the dust, allied to 
worms, and victims to corruption. Weak, ignorant, 
frail, perishing, and possessed only of an ephemeral 
existence, we still are proud ; proud of our reason with 
all its errors, and of our temper with all its sins We 
claim kindred to angels ; but, by a voluntary sla- 
very to passion and appetite, assimilate ourselves to 
' the beasts which perish.' We boast loudly of the dig- 
nity of our nature ; and prostitute that nature daily, on 
objects of shame and remorse, and to purposes which 
we would not, for a world, have known even to our 
dearest friends. What a dreadful display of our cha- 
racter would our thoughts, wishes, and designs make to 
mankind, if they were all printed in a volume, and read 
even by such eyes as ours ! How few thoughts do we 
form which we should be willing to have an angel 
know ! How few purposes, over which an angel would 
not weep ! 

In this character, at the same time, we are immov- 
ably fixed and perverse. No event, in the immense 
providence of God, has contributed to prove that there 



is in a sinful mind a tendency to renovation. Argu- 
ments plead, reason testifies, judgments warn, and mer- 
cies allure, in vain ! The sinful heart is incased in 
adamant, and is proof even to the arrows of the Al- 
mighty. God ' calls' earnestly, and continually : but 
we ' refuse. He stretches out his hand' both to smite 
and to heal, ' but Ave disregard.' 

In consequence of our character, our circumstances 
have become deplorable. The law of God, with an un- 
alterable sentence, has declared that ' the soul which 
sinneth shall die.' As a prelude to the execution of 
this penalty, thorns and briars have overspread this 
melancholy world. Toil and care, sorrow and suffer- 
ing, disease and death, entered paradise the moment it 
was polluted by sin ; withered all its bloom, and blasted 
its immortality. Death, the dreadful offspring of this 
dreadful parent, has claimed the earth as his empire, 
and mankind as his prey. All nations have perished 
under his iron sceptre; ' the young man and maiden, 
old men and children.' Half mankind has he compell- 
ed to the grave in the dawn of childhood, and convert- 
ed the world into one vast burying ground. We walk 
on human dust ; and the remains of men once living 
are turned up by the plough, and blown about by the 
wind. 

From this deplorable lot, and the guilty character of 
which it is the reward, there was, independently of 
Christ's mediation, no escape ; and to both there was 
no end. With heaven our communication was cut off*. 
No messenger ever came from that delightful world, to 
soothe the fears or awaken the hopes of mankind, con- 
cerning a future existence. If in the vast of being, or 
the boundless extent of divine benevolence, good was 
laid up in store for them, it was unknown. No tidings 
of relief or hope, no intimations of forgiveness or re- 
conciliation, had ever reached this desolate region. 
Eternity, solemn and awful in itself, and more solemn 
and awful from its obscurity, became intensely dreadful 
to beings who could make no claims to acceptance, and 
find no solid ground of hope. 

To such beings how delightful must be any tidings of 
good! How much more delightful, tidings of exten- 
sive good! How transporting, tidings of such good, 
which, by their certainty, banished distrust and doubt 
from the soul ! 

II. The nature of these tidings next demands our con- 
sideration. 

This is exhibited in five forms of phraseology ; ' That 
bringeth good tidings ; — that publisheth peace ; — that 
bringeth good tidings of good ; that publisheth salva- 
tion ; — that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth.' The 
first and third of these forms indicate, generally, that 
the tidings are good, or joyful ; and tidings concerning 
good of great value. The remaining forms teach us the 
nature of that good. 

In the two first-mentioned forms of expression, we are 
assured, that the subject of these tidings is real good, 
attainable by us, reserved by God for our enjoyment, 
certain, future, and immortal. Good, fitted for the en- 
joyment of such minds as ours, such as God himself 
esteems real good, and such as it becomes his character 
to proffer and bestow. The tidings concerning this 
glorious allotment are also in themselves pronounced to 
be good ; because they are sincere and certain, and be- 
cause they communicate easy and effectual means of 
making- it ours. 



AMIABLENESS OF CHRIST. 



339 



It is styled in the second phrase, ' Peace.' Peace 
is the cessation of Avar or contention : and in the pre- 
sent case, the cessation of our hostility with God, our- 
selves, and our fellow men. The soul of man is at war 
with his Maker. The great subject of controversy here, 
is our obedience to his will. This he requires, and we 
refuse. Nothing can terminate the contest but our 
submission ; for it cannot be supposed, that the Creator 
will bend his own pleasure to the rebellious spirit of his 
creatures. In announcing these tidings to mankind, 
Christ first proclaims to them, that God is willing to be 
reconciled. This is intelligence which, before the me- 
diation of Christ commenced, could never have gained 
credit, even in the world of benevolence itself. Angels 
knew no reward for revolt from their Creator, but final 
rejection ; the reward to which their own companions 
had been irrevocably condemned. With wonder and 
amazement they saw a new system of dispensations com- 
mencing in this apostate world, and heard forgiveness 
and reconciliation proclaimed to man. Humble as was 
our origin, guilty and little as was our character, we 
were commanded, invited, and entreated to lay down 
the weapons of our warfare ; to return to God, our 
duty, and our happiness ; and to receive from his hands 
peace, commencing in this world, and extending its be- 
nign and delightful influence throughout eternity. 

The soul reconciled to its God, becomes at once re- 
conciled to itself. With himself man is as truly at war, 
as with his Maker. A contention, real, unceasing, and 
violent, is carried on between the conscience and the 
passions. Conscience claims to control the man, as her 
original and rightful province. Against this claim a mob 
of furious passions revolt, and demand, and wrest out 
of her hands the controverted dominion. As in all 
cases where the order established by God becomes in- 
verted, so here every real interest is sacrificed. The soul 
is debased with guilt, harassed by fear, tossed by the 
tempest of conflicting desires, wounded with remorse, and 
hastened onward to final destruction. Conscience, in 
the mean time, infixes all her stings into the heart of 
this miserable subject of domestic discord, and holds up 
her awful mirror before his eyes, presenting him with an 
exact and terrible portrait of himself ; pale, languid, sick- 
ly with mental diseases, his spiritual life already gone, 
and himself, both soul and body, destined speedily to an 
eternal grave. But when the soul submits to its Maker, 
and bows its own will to his, the man becomes reconcil- 
ed to himself. The control of conscience is not only 
permitted, but chosen. The froward passions, like stub- 
born children who have renounced their filial impiety, 
bend with a gentleness and serenity before unknown, to 
a dominion now first discovered not only to be safe, but 
easy, reasonable, and delightful. No longer a seat of 
confusion and discord, the soul becomes henceforth a 
mansion of peace and harmony, where sweet affections 
rise and operate, under the control and the approbation 
of conscience. The man is reconciled to himself; and 
turning his eyes inward, beholds henceforth a prospect 
beautiful and lovely, an image of heaven, a resemblance 
faint and distant indeed, but still a real resemblance, to 
the character of his Maker. 

Peace with our fellow men is the natural consequence 
of peace with ourselves ; not indeed necessarily, nor 
uniformily ; but always, so far as they are possessed of 
the same blessing, and under the influence of the same 
disposition. While the same internal hostility predo- 



minates in them, they are unfitted to be at peace with 
God or man. But the period is hastening when this 
happy state of mind shall be the state of all men, and 
peace shall prevail on earth, according to the full im- 
port of the hymn sung by angels at the birth of the Sa- 
viour. The tidings of the text will then be illustriously 
realized ; and man, at peace with his Maker and him- 
self, will be at peace also with all his fellow men. The 
' confused noise of the battle of the warrior ' will then 
be heard no more ; and ' garments ' be seen no more 
' rolled in blood.' ' Violence shall ' then ' be no more 
heard in the ' world ; ' wasting nor destruction within 
its borders.' The earth, no longer convulsed by human 
passions, no longer gloomy and desolate with the mise- 
ries of human conflicts, will assume the aspect of a de- 
lightful morning in the spring, where all is verdant and 
blooming beneath, and all is bright and glorious above. 
In the fourth of these forms of expression, this good 
is styled ' Salvation.' 

Salvation denotes a deliverance from evil, and an in- 
troduction to the enjoyment of good. In the present 
case, both the evil and the good are immeasurable. 

The evil is twofold ; a compound of sin and misery : 
both imperfect in this world, and both finished in the 
world to come. From both, in this world, the deliver- 
ance announced is partial ; beginning from nothing, 
and enlarging, and ascending, with a constant, though 
unequal progress, towards perfection. The soul, be- 
fore a mass of deformity and corruption, begins to be 
adorned with life, and grace, and beauty. With it an- 
gels love to commune, on it God is pleased to look with 
complacency. 

From future sin and future misery, the deliverance is 
complete. With death our last sins terminate, and out- 
last misery is undergone. Cast your eyes forward 
through the vast of duration, and think what it would 
be to sin and suffer for ever. How amazing the evil ! 
How astonishing the deliverance ! 

The good announced is twofold also ; a glorious 
union of virtue and enjoyment ; like the evil, imperfect 
here, and consummate hereafter. The virtue of man 
in his present state is infantine ; tottering with an un- 
settled step, and lisping with half-formed accents. In 
the future state, the mind, advanced to perfect man- 
hood, is completely sanctified, and cannot fail of being 
completely blessed. To enjoyment and virtue that state 
is wholly destined. Every thing found in it, as once 
in the earthly paradise, blossoms with life, and happi- 
ness, and, like Adam, all its inhabitants are formed for 
immortality. 

In the last phrase of the text, this good is disclosed 
to us in the declaration, ' that saith unto Zion, thy God 
reigneth.' 

God, the author of all things, is the source of all good. 
' Every good gift,' in this and all other worlds, ' and 
every perfect gift, is from above ; and cometh down 
from the Father of lights, with whom there is no varia- 
bleness, neither shadow of turning.' From him, the 
ocean, flow all those streams of holiness which water, 
enrich, and beautify his immeasurable kingdom. His 
character, his moral essence, is ' love ;' and, wherever 
happiness is found, it may justly be said, that the name 
of every blessing is like that of the city seen in vision 
by Ezekiel, ' The Lord is there.' 

With these tidings resounding in their ears, the chil- 
dren of Zion may joyfully say, ' This God is our Cod 



340 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxiii. 



for ever and ever.' To their present and everlasting 
good, his boundless power, wisdom, and goodness are 
by himself graciously consecrated. To renew, purify, 
preserve, protect, enlighten, guide, quicken, and save 
them in this world, and to form them in his own perfect 
image, and exalt them to his own perfect felicity in the 
world to come, is declared to be his constant and fa- 
vourite employment. In that glorious and happy world 
he will unveil his face to them, and give them to ' see 
as they are seen,' and to ' know as they are known.' 
In the smiles of forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying 
love, they will there rove, and bask, and brighten for 
ever. 

III. I shall consider lite messenger who published 
these tidings. 

In the investigation of this subject I shall inquire, 

Who he was ? 

What he became ? 

What he did ? and, 

What he suffered ? 

I. I shall inquire who he was, 

(1.) He was a person of supreme glory and dignity. 

This divine person was from everlasting, underived, 
independent, all-sufficient, and unchangeable in his be- 
ing, wisdom, goodness, and power. All things were 
the work of his hand, and lay beneath his feet. At the 
head of a kingdom filling immensity and eternity, ' he 
was ; and in comparison with him ' there was none 
else.' ' All nations before him were as nothing, and 
were counted unto him as less than nothing and vanity.' 
Angels in his presence veiled their faces, and archangels 
durst not attempt to penetrate the unapproachable light 
with which he clothed himself as with a garment. To 
obey him was their highest honour ; to please him was 
their greatest happiness. In his service they employed 
all their powers, and found all their transports. Suns 
lighted up their fires at his bidding ; systems rolled, to 
fulfill his pleasure ; and to accomplish his designs, im- 
mensity was stored with worlds and their inhabitants. 

(2.) He was rich in all good. 

' All things were ' not only ' made by him,' but ' for 
him.' They were his property ; they were destined to 
fulfill his pleasure. When he looked on all the beauty, 
greatness, and glory, conspicuous in the beings which 
compose and which inhabit the universe, he beheld no- 
thing but the works of his own hands, reflecting the 
boundless beauty, greatness, and glory, which, in forms 
and varieties infinite, were treasured up from everlast- 
ing in his own incomprehensible mind. If he chose 
to bring into*existence any additional number of crea- 
tures, to display new forms and varieties of power, wis- 
dom, and goodness, pre-existent in his own perfect in- 
tellect, his choice would instantaneously give them 
being. To the universe which he had made, he could 
with infinite ease add another, and another ; and fill 
with worlds, and suns, and systems, those desolate wilds 
of immensity, where the wing of angels never ventured 
to rove, and whither no created mind ever sent out a 
solitary thought. Thus the universe of possible things 
was his own. 

He was rich in the veneration and good-will, the com- 
placency and gratitude, of all virtuous beings. Heaven, 
throughout her vast regions, had from the beginning 
echoed to his praise. ' The morning stars' had ' sung' 
his perfections from their birth, 'and the sons of God 
.shouted' his name ' for joy.' The everlasting hymn of 



that exalted and delightful world had ever been, ' Bless- 
ing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto our 
God that sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb for 
ever and ever ; and to this divine ascription every vir- 
tuous world had continually as well as solemnly answer- 
ed ' Amen.' 

He was rich in himself. His own mind was the 
mansion of all things great, excellent, and delightful. 
Pure from every stain, free from every error, serene 
without a cloud, secure beyond a fear, and conscious of 
wisdom and holiness only, himself was an ocean of 
eternal and overflowing good. 

He was rich in the complacency of his Father. He 
was from everlasting his ' beloved Son, in whom he was 
ever well pleased.' ' From everlasting was he by him, 
as one brought up with him. He was daily his delight, 
rejoicing alway before him.' In the transcendent com- 
munion of the ever-blessed Trinity, he experienced en- 
joyment which ' no ' created ' eye hath seen, or can see,' 
and which no mind less than infinite can conceive. On 
this subject beings ' of yesterday' must not presume to 
expatiate. With the deepest reverence they can only 
exclaim, ' It is higher than heaven, what can we know ?' 

2. This glorious person, to accomplish the good an- 
nounced in these tidings, became man. 

Although ' he was' originally 'in the form of God, 
and thought it no robbery to be equal with God, yet he 
made himself of no reputation, took upon him the form 
of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men.' In 
this character of immense humiliation, he lived in this 
sinful, melancholy world. To man, ' who is a worm, 
and the son of man, who is but a worm,' he allied him- 
self by birth, kindred, and character. All the infirmi- 
ties of our nature, except sin, he voluntarily assumed ; 
sprang from an humble lineage, lived in an humble em- 
ployment, was united to humble companions, and was 
invariably in humble circumstances. So depressed was 
he in all things, that he himself has thought proper to 
say, ' I am a worm, and no man.' 

3. In this situation he did all things well. 

His life was filled up with usefulness and duty ; was 
laborious beyond example, and was wholly consecrated 
to the glory of God, and the good of mankind. In 
conformity to this great purpose, he spent all the for- 
mer part of his life in an illustrious discharge of the 
duties of filial piety. In his public ministry he taught, 
with unceasing diligence, the law of God, the ruin of 
man by his disobedience, and the tidings of his recovery 
by his own mediation. The way of life he marked out 
with an unerring hand ; the means of life he disclosed 
with a benevolent voice. The duties to which man is 
summoned, he exemplified in his own perfect conduct. 
The hopes which man was invited to cherish, he por- 
trayed in colours of light. The door of heaven, shut 
before to this apostate world, he unbarred with his own 
power ; and love invited ' labouring and heavy laden ' 
sinners to enter in, and find ' rest.' Wandering prodi- 
gals, perishing with want and nakedness, and lost to the 
universe of God, he sought, and found, and brought 
home to his Father's house rejoicing. Wretches, ' dead 
in trespasses and sins,' he raised to spiritual and im- 
mortal life. This vast earthly catacomb he entered ; | 
and summoned together by his voice the bones of the 1 
immense congregation in its gloomy recesses, ' bone to I;! 
his bone.' The host of skeletons he covered with flesh ; 
and, breathing upon them the breath of life, bade them 



AMIABLENESS OF CHRIST. 



341 



' stand upon their feet, as an exceed ug great army for 
multitude.' 

4. To accomplish this divine purpose, he underwent 
every humiliation, and every suffering. 

He was born in a stable, and cradled in a manger. 
The greatest part of his life he spent in the humble and 
laborious business of a mechanic, and literally earned 
his bread ' with the sweat of his brow.' Poor beyond 
the common lot of poverty, ' he had not,' while mi- 
nistering immortal blessings to a world, a place ' where 
to lay his head.' For all the suffering he wrought mi- 
raculous works of beneficence ; but the power with 
which they were wrought, ready at the call of others, 
was rarely exerted for himself. At the same time he 
was hated and persecuted day by day. Wickedness 
employed all its hostility against him ; its pride and 
cunning, its malice and wrath ; calumniated his name, 
invaded his peace, and hunted his life. By his friends 
he was betrayed and forsaken. By his enemies he was 
accused of drunkenness and gluttony, of impiety and 
blasphemy, of being the friend of sinners, and the co- 
adjutor of Satan. From the agonies of Gethsemane he 
was conveyed successively to the iniquitous tribunal of 
the Sanhedrim, to the bloody hall of Pilate, to the cross, 
and to the tomb. At the close of a life spent in bitter- 
ness and sorrow, he consummated all his sufferings by 
undergoing that last and greatest of all evils, the wrath 
of God, poured out upon him as the substitute for sin- 
ners. 

All these things he foresaw, when he brought these 
tidings to mankind. They were always before him ; 
and were indispensable parts of that mediation which 
he voluntarily assumed. They were undergone, there- 
fore, in a continual anticipation. Every day ' he was ' 
literally ' a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.' 
In the full view of them all, he came to this world, to 
proclaim ' peace and salvation ' to those who despised, 
rejected, and persecuted him ; who nailed him to the 
cross, and compelled him to the grave. To these very 
men he announced all good ; himself, his favdur, his 
kingdom, his house, his presence, his everlasting joy. 
Think what tidings these are ! Think to whom they are 
published ! 

Thus, from a summary view of this subject, Christ, in 
publishing these tidings to mankind, appears invested 
with supreme amiableness and beauty. No attribute 
which forms, no action which becomes, the perfect 
character is wanting in him. With all things in his 
hands, with all excellence and enjoyment in his mind, 
he pitied us, miserable worms of the dust ; descended 
from heaven, became man, lived, and died, and rose 
again, that we might live for ever. With his own voice 
he proclaimed, in the tidings of the text, the very things 
which he has done and suffered, and the infinite bles- 
sings which in this manner he has purchased for man- 
kind. ' There is now (he cries,) glory to God in the 
highest,' while there is ' peace on earth, and good-will 
towards men.' In this ruined world, so long enveloped 
in darkness, so l«ng deformed by sin, so long wasted by 
misery; where guilt, and sorrow, and suffering, have 
spread distress without control, and mourning without 
hope ; where war and oppression have ravaged without, 
and remorse and despair consumed within ; where Sa- 
tan has ' exalted his throne above the stars of God,' 
while its sottish millions have bent before him in reli- 
gious worship ; in this ruined world, where, since the 



apostasy, real good was never found, and where tidings 
of such good were never proclaimed; even here, I an- 
nounce the tidings of expiated sin, a pardoning God, a 
renewing Spirit, an opening heaven, and a dawning im- 
mortality. Here peace anew shall lift her olive branch 
over mankind. Here salvation from sin and woe shall 
anew be found ; and here God shall dwell and reign, the 
God of Zion. ' Come unto me, all ye that labour, and 
are heavy laden ; and I will give you rest.' ' Incline 
your ear, and hear, and your soul shall live ; and I will 
make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure 
mercies of David.' ' The spirit of Jehovah is upon me, 
because he hath anointed me to preach good tidings 
unto the meek ; he hath sent me to bind up the broken- 
hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the 
opening of the prison to them that are bound.' ' I will 
greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall be joyful in 
my God ; for he hath clothed me with garments of sal- 
vation ; for he hath covered me with the robe of right- 
eousness ; as a bridegroom decketh himself with orna- 
ments ; as a bride adorneth herself with jewels.' 

Every messenger of good news is, of course, desir- 
able and lovely in the eyes of those who are deeply in- 
terested ; and a part of that lustre, belonging to the 
tidings themselves, is by a natural association diffused 
around him by whom they are borne, especially be- 
cause he is regarded as voluntarily announcing good to 
us, and as rejoicing in our joy. How glorious, how 
lovely then, does Christ appear, when coming with all 
the inherent splendour and beauty of his character, 
and the transcendent dignity of his station, to proclaim 
to us tidings infinitely desirable, of good infinitely neces- 
sary and infinitely great ! Men to him were wholly un- 
necessary. Had all their millions been blotted out of the 
kingdom of God, they would not even have left a blank 
in the creation. With a word he could have formed, of 
the stones of the street, other millions, wiser, better, and 
happier : more dutiful, and more desirable. How divine- 
ly amiable does he appear, when the tidings which he 
brings, are tidings of his own arduous labours on our be- 
half, and of his own unexampled sufferings ; labours 
and sufferings, without which, good tidings could never 
have reached us, and real good never been found in 
this miserable world ! How divinely amiable does he 
appear, when, notwithstanding the apostasy and guilt of 
the race of Adam, he came, of his own accord, to pub- 
lish these tidings of immortal good to rebels and ene- 
mies ; and, while proclaiming them, ' rejoiced in the 
habitable parts of the earth,' and found ' his delights 
with the sons of men !' 

What, then, must be the guilt, what the debasement, 
of those who are regardless of the glorious declarations, 
hostile to the benevolent designs, and insensible to the 
perfect character of this divine herald! How blind, and 
deaf, and stupid must they be to all that is beautiful, 
engaging, and lovely ! How groveling must be their 
moral taste ! How wonderful their neglect of their own 
well-being! How evidently is their ingratitude ' as the 
sin of witchcraft, and their stubbornness as iniquity and 
idolatry !' Were these tidings to be proclaimed in hell 
itself, one can scarcely fail to imagine that all the ma- 
lice, impiety, and blasphemy in that dreary world would 
be suspended ; that fiends would cease to conflict with 
fiends ; that sorrow would dry the stream of never-end- 
ing tears ; that remorse would reverse and blunt his 
stings : that despair would lift up his pnle form with a 



342 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



5ER. LXIV. 



commencing smile ; that the prisoners of wrath (then 
'prisoners of hope') would shake their chains with 
transport ; and that all the gloomy caverns would echo 
to the sounds of gratitude and joy. In our own world, 
once equally hopeless, these tidings are actually pro- 
claimed. What must be the spirit of those who refuse 
to hear ! 

But, ye followers of the divine and compassionate 
Saviour, infinitely different is the wisdom displayed by 
you ! When this divine messenger proclaims to you 
peace and salvation ; when he informs you that he has 
died, that you may live ; when he demands of you cor- 
dially to embrace his atonement, and accept his interces- 
sion ; you cheerfully hear, believe, and obey. Con- 
scious of your own guilty character, and ruined condi- 
tion, you have yielded yourselves to him with all the 
heart, in the humble, amiable, and penitent exercise of 
faith and love, and finally chosen him as your own Sa- 
viour. On your minds his image is instamped ; in 
your life his beauty shines with real, though feeble, ra- 
diance ; in your character his loveliness is begun ; in 
your souls his immortality is formed. On you his Fa- 
ther smiles, a forgiving God. On you his Spirit de- 
scends, with his sanctifying and dove-like influence. 
To you his word unfolds all his promises, his daily 
favour, his everlasting love. To you hell is barred, 
and all its seducing and destroying inhabitants confined 
in chains. Heaven for you has already opened its 



' everlasting doors ;' and ' the King of glory ' has ' en- 
tered in,' to ' prepare a place foryou.' The joy of that 
happy world has been already renewed over your re- 
pentance. The Spirit of truth conducts you daily on- 
ward in your journey through life, and in your way 
towards your final home. Death, your last enemy, is 
to you deprived of his strength and sting, and the grave 
despoiled of its victory. Your bodies will soon be 
' sown ' in the corruption, weakness, and dishonour ' 
of your present perishable nature, to be ' raised ' in the 
' incorruption, power, and glory' of immortality. Your 
souls cleansed from every sin, and stain, and weakness, 
this divine messenger will present before the throne of 
his Father, ' without spot, or wrinkle, or any such 
thing,' to be acquitted, approved, and blessed. In the 
world of light, and peace, and joy, enlarged with know- 
ledge, and refined with evangelical virtue, he will unite 
you to 'the general assembly of the first-born,' and ' to the 
innumerable company of angels;' will make you ' sons, 
and priests, and kings to God,' and cause you to ' live, 
and reign with him for ever and ever.' ' All things' 
will then be ' yours ;' you will be ' Christ's ; and Christ ' 
will be ' God's.' Anticipate, and by anticipation enjoy 
to the full, this divine assemblage of blessings ; they 
are your birthright. But while you enjoy them, deeply 
pity, and fervently pray for your foolish, guilty, and 
miserable companions. 



SERMON LXIV. 

CONSEQUENCES OF CHRIST'S MEDIATION — JUSTIFICATION JUSTIFICATION BY THE FREE 

GRACE OF GOD. 



Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. — Rom. iii. 24. 



In the series of Sermons which I have preached hither- 
to, as a part of a System of Theology, I have considered 
the existence and perfections of God ; the disobedience 
and apostasy of man ; and the impossibility of his justi- 
fication by his own righteousness ; the covenant of re- 
demption made between the Father and the Son ; the 
character, mediation, and offices of Christ ; the for- 
mer class of subjects constitutes what is frequently 
called the religion of nature ; the latter, the first branches 
of the Christian, or remedial system, grafted upon that 
religion. Perfect beings are justified by their own obe- 
dience, since they fulfill all the demands of the divine 
law. To them, therefore, the religion of nature is amply 
sufficient to secure their duty, their acceptance with 
God, and their final happiness. Sinful beings cannot 
thus be justified ; because they have not rendered that 
obedience which is the only possible ground of justifica- 
tion by law. Of course, some other ground of justifica- 
tion is absolutely necessary for them, if they are ever to 
be accepted, or rewarded. For this the religion of Christ 
professes to have made ample provision. In my exami- 
nation of the character and offices of Christ, I have 
attempted to show that he has taught all which is 
necessary to be known, believed, or done by us, in 



order to our acceptance with God ; and has accom- 
plished the expiation of our sins in such a manner 
that God, in justifying us, may be just to himself, and 
to the universe. Thus far, it is hoped, the way to our 
return from our apostasy has been made clear and 
satisfactory. 

The next great question to be asked, and a question 
of infinite moment to every one of us, is, in what man- 
ner do we become interested in the mediation of Christ, 
and entitled to the glorious blessings which he has pur- 
chased for man ? This question is partially answered 
in the text Here we are said to be ' justified freely by 
the grace of God, through the redemption of Christ 
Jesus.' In this declaration our justification is immedi- 
ately connected with ' the redemption of Christ,' as its 
meritorious or procuring cause. The source of it, also, 
on the part of God, is directly asserted ; as is also the 
manner in which it was accomplished. We are said to 
be ' justified freely ;' and ' justified by his grace.' All 
this is also said to be done ' through,' by means of, 
or on account of, ' the redemption of Christ.' These 
subjects are intended to occupy the following Dis- 
course. 

In the course of my investigation I shall consider, 



JUSTIFICATION BY FREE GRACE. 



343 



I. In what sense mankind are justified under the gos- 
pel. 

II. In what sense we are freely justified by the grace 
of God. 

I. I shall consider in what sense mankind are justifi- 
ed under the gospel. 

The word 'justified,' as I observed in a former Dis- 
course, is taken from the business of judicial courts ; 
and denotes the acquittal of a person tried by such a 
court, upon an accusation of a crime. The person 
accused, being upon trial found innocent of the charge, 
is declared to be just in the view of the law ; and, by an 
easy and natural figure, is said to be justified ; that is, 
made just. In this original, forensic sense of the term, 
it is obvious, from what has been said in a former Dis- 
course, that no human being can be justified by the 
law, or before the bar of God. As all mankind have 
disobeyed this law, it is clear, that he ' whose judgment 
is ' invariably ' according to truth,' must declare them 
guilty. 

Still the Scriptures abundantly teach us, that ' what 
the law could not do, in that it was weak through the 
flesh, God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sin- 
ful flesh, and for a sin-offering,' has, by thus ' con- 
demning sin in the flesh,' accomplished for multitudes 
of our sinful race. It is however certain, that justifica- 
tion, when extended to returning sinners, must, in some 
respects be, of course, a thing widely different from jus- 
tification under the law. A subject of law is justified 
only when he is in the full and strict sense just ; that is, 
when he has completely obeyed all the requisitions of 
the law. In this case, his obedience is the only ground 
of his justification, and is all that is necessary to it; be- 
cause he has done every thing which was required of 
him, and no act of disobedience can be truly laid to his 
charge. From this case, that of the penitent under the 
gospel differs entirely. He has been guilty of innu- 
merable acts of disobedience, and has not fulfilled the 
demands of the law even in a single instance. All 
these acts of disobedience are truly chargeable to him, 
when he comes before the bar of God at the final trial ; 
nor can he ever be truly said not to have been guilty of 
them. If, therefore, he be ever justified, it must be in 
a widely different sense from that which has been al- 
ready explained. The term is, therefore, not used in 
the gospel because its original meaning is intended 
here, but because this term, figuratively used, better 
expresses the thing intended than any other. The act 
of God, denoted by this term as used in the gospel, so 
much resembles a forensic justification, or justification 
by law, that the word is naturally, and by an easy trans- 
lation, adopted to express this act. 

The justification of a sinner under the gospel con- 
sists in the three following things : pardoning his sins; 
acquitting him from the punishment which they have de- 
served ; and entitling him to the rewards or blessings 
due by law to perfect obedience only. 

In order to form clear and satisfactory views of this 
subject, it will be useful to examine the situation of man, 
in his progress from apostasy to acceptance, as it is ex- 
hibited in the Scriptures. 

In the covenant of redemption, the Father promised 
Christ, that, ' if he should make his soul a propitiatory 
sacrifice for sin, he should see a seed which should pro- 
long their days ;' * or, as it is expressed by God in the 

» Isaiah liii. 10. Lowth. 



lxxxixtli Psalm, ' Kis seed should endure for ever, and 
his throne,' that is, his dominion over them, 'as the 
days of heaven.' In this covenant three things are 
promised to Christ, in consequence of his assumption 
and execution of the mediatorial office ; (I.) That a 
seed shall be given him ; (2.) That they shall endure 
and be happy for ever ; and, (3.) That his dominion 
over them shall be co-extended with their eternal being. 
It was then certain, antecedently to Christ's entrance 
upon the office of Mediator, that he should not assume 
nor execute it in vain ; but should receive a reward for 
all his labours and sufferings, such as he thought a suf- 
ficient one ; such as induced him to undertake this 
office, and to accomplish all the arduous duties which 
it involved. This reward was to be formed of rational 
and immortal beings originally apostate, but redeemed 
by him from their apostasy, through the atonement made 
for their sins by his sufferings, particularly his death ; 
and the honour which he rendered to the divine law by 
his personal obedience. All these redeemed apostates 
were to ' endure for ever' in a state of perfect holiness 
and happiness ; and both this holiness and happiness 
were to be for ever progressive, under his perfectly wise 
and benevolent administration. 

In this covenant, then, it is promised, that the per- 
sons here spoken of, and elsewhere declared to be ' a 
great multitude, which no man can number, of all na- 
tions, kindreds, and tongues,' should be ' the seed,' the 
children of Christ ; his property : and that not only in 
a peculiar, but in a singular sense ; not only created 
by him, as all other intelligent beings were, but re- 
deemed by him also, and that at the expense of his owp 
life. 

The least consideration, however, will clearly show 
us, that sinners can never become Christ's in any such 
sense as to be accepted by him, unless they are delivered 
from the sentence of condemnation pronounced against 
them by the law of God. This law, I have formerly- 
had occasion to observe, is unalterable. It is in itself 
perfect, and cannot be made better. God, the perfect 
and unchangeable being, cannot, without denying his 
perfection, consent to make it worse. Besides, he has 
declared, that the universe ' shall sooner pass away, than 
one jot or one tittle of the law shall pass, until all shall 
be fulfilled.' Yet if this sentence be universally exe- 
cuted, the reward promised to Christ in the covenant 
of redemption , viz. the immortal holiness and happiness 
of those who in that covenant were promised to him as 
his seed, must of necessity fail. This sentence, there- 
fore, will not be universally executed ; because such an 
execution would ' render the promise of God of none 
effect.' 

Farther: All who are involved in the execution of 
this sentence will not only suffer, but also sin for ever. 
But no words are necessary to prove, that a collection 
of sinners continuing to sin for ever, could in no sense 
constitute a reward to Christ, for his labours and suffer- 
ings in the work of redemption. From them he could 
receive neither love, gratitude, nor praise. In their 
character he could see nothing amiable, nothing to ex- 
cite his complacency. In his government of them, his 
goodness and mercy would find no employment, and 
achieve no glory. Nor could they ever be his, in the 
sense of the covenant of redemption. 

Thus it is beyond a doubt evident, that with regard to 
all those who are thus promised to Christ, the sentence 



su 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



,[S|£R. LX1Y. 



of the divine law will not, and cannot be executed ; and 
that when they appear at their final trial, they will be 
acquitted from the punishment due to their sins, and 
delivered from the moral turpitude of their character. 
All this is plainly indispensable to the fulfilment of the 
covenant of redemption. Accordingly, we find it all 
promised in the most definite manner, wherever the 
subject is mentioned in the gospel. 

The first step, in the final fulfilment of the promises 
contained in this covenant, towards those who are the 
seed of Christ, is the pardon of their sins. Sin, until it 
is pardoned, is still charged to the sinner's account. 
Hence, he is in this situation exposed to the punish- 
ment which it has deserved. The pardon of sin is, of 
course, attended by the exemption of the sinner from 
punishment ; so much of course, that these things are 
usually considered as but one. They are, however, 
separable, not only in thought, but in fact. We do not 
always nor necessarily punish offenders, whom we still 
do not forgive. The offender may have merited, and 
may continue to merit punishment, and yet sufficient 
reasons may exist, why he should not be punished, 
although they are not derived from his moral character. 
Forgiveness, in the full sense, supposes the offender 
penitent, and includes an approbation of his character 
as such, and a reconciliation to him of the person who 
forgives. But these things are not involved in a mere 
determination to exempt an offender from punishment. 
On the part of God, however, in his conduct towards 
returning sinners, these things are not, I confess, se- 
parable in fact. 

But the sinner might be forgiven, and acquitted from 
the punishment due to his sins, and yet not be rendered 
the subject of future blessings, much less of the bless- 
ings promised in the covenant of redemption. He 
might be annihilated. He might be placed in a state 
of happiness imperfect and mixed, like that of the pre- 
sent world ; or he might be placed in a state of happi- 
ness unmixed and perfect, and yet greatly inferior to 
that which will be actually enjoyed by the penitent 
children of Adam. Another step, therefore, indis- 
pensable to the complete fulfilment of the covenant of 
redemption, is entitling them to the very blessings 
which are here promised ; viz. the blessings of heaven ; 
the first blessings, as I may hereafter have occasion to 
show, in the kingdom of God. 

These three things, which I have specified as being 
involved in the justification of mankind, are all clearly 
included and promised in the covenant of redemption ; 
and the connexion of them, or of our justification with 
that work, as the only foundation on which our justifi- 
cation can rest, is, I think, too manifest, from what has 
been said, to be doubted. 

Having thus stated what I intend by justification un- 
der the gospel, I shall inquire, 

II. In what sense we are said to be justified freely by 
the grace of God. 

From what has been said in a former Discourse, con- 
cerning the impossibility of justification by our own 
obedience, it is, I trust, evident that our justification can 
in no sense nor degree be said, with truth, to be merit- 
ed by ourselves. In this respect, therefore, if it exist at 
all, it must of necessity be communicated freely. It 
will, however, be necessary to a satisfactory explanation 
of this subject, to examine it particularly, so as to pre- 
vent any misconception concerning its nature, ind so as 



to obviate any objections which may arise in the minds 
of those who hear me. To this examination it Mill be 
indispensable that I settle, in the beginning, the mean- 
ing which I annex to the term, ' grace,' on which the 
import of the proposition depends. 

The word ' grace' is used by the inspired writers in 
various senses. It denotes : 

(1.) A free gift ; which was, perhaps, its original 
meaning. 

(2.) The free, sovereign love of the Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost, the source of every such gift from God. 

(3.) The efficacious power of the Holy Ghost on the 
hearts of mankind ; 2 Cor. xii. 9. 

(4.) That state of reconciliation with God, which is 
enjoyed by Christians ; Rom. v. 2. 

(5.) Any virtue of the Christian character. 

(G.) Any particular favour communicated by God ; 
Eph. iii. 8. 

Besides these, in common use it denotes gracefulness 
of person, deportment, or character. 

In the text, it is manifestly used in the second sense ; 
and denotes the free, sovereign love of God ; the source 
of all our benefits : 

That we are 'justified freely by the grace of God,' 
thus understood, I will now attempt to show by the fol- 
lowing considerations : 

1. Under the influence, or in the indulgence of this 
love, God formed the original design of saving mankind. 

The law of God is a perfectly just law. But by this 
law man was condemned, and finally cast off. Justice, 
therefore, in no sense demanded the deliverance of man- 
kind from condemnation. Of course, this deliverance 
was proposed and planned by the mere sovereign mercy 
of God. 

2. The covenant of redemption was the result of the 
same mercy. 

In this covenant, God promised to Christ the eternal 
happiness of all his seed ; that is, his followers. Now it 
is certain, that no one of these obeyed the law of God. 
This was certainly foreknown by God ; and, with this 
foreknowledge, he was pleased to promise this glorious 
blessing concerning creatures who were only rebels and 
apostates, and who merited nothing but wrath and in- 
dignation. Sovereign love only could operate in favour 
of such beings as these. 

3. The same divine disposition executed the work of 
redemption. 

When Christ ' came to his own, his own received him 
not.' On the contrary, they hated, opposed, and per- 
secuted him through his life, and, with a spirit still more 
malignant and furious, put him to death. 

The very same spirit is inherent in the nature of all 
men. We ourselves, who condemn the Jews as mur- 
derers, still with the same pertinacity reject the Saviour. 
We neither believe, nor obey ; we neither repent of our 
sins, not forsake them ; we neither receive his instruc- 
tions, nor walk in his ordinances. Opposed to him in 
our hearts, we are opposed to him also in our lives. 

The same opposition prevails in the whole race of 
Adam. Nor is there recorded on the page of history, a 
single known instance in which it may be believed, even 
with remote probability, that man, from mere native 
propensity, or an original goodness of heart, has cor- 
dially accepted Christ. Certainly, nothing but the 
sovereign love of God could accomplish such a work asj 
that of redemption, for beings of this character. 



JUSTIFICATION BY FREE GRACE. 



345 



4. The mission and agency of the Divine Spirit were 
the result of this love only. 

In the human character, there is nothing to merit the 
interference of this glorious person on the behalf of 
mankind. Christ ' came to seek, and to' redeem man, 
because he ' was lost.' The Divine Spirit came to 
sanctify him, because without sanctification he was un- 
done. This, the very fact of his regeneration unanswer- 
ably proves. Regeneration is the commencement of 
virtue in the soul. ' Without ' evangelical ' love,' says 
St Paul, ' I am nothing :' that is, I am nothing in the 
kingdom of God ; I have no spiritual or virtuous exis- 
tence. From the necessity of regeneration then to man, 
and the fact, that he is regenerated, it is certain, that 
there is nothing in his nature, except his miserable 
condition, which could be an inducement to the Spirit 
of grace to interfere in human concerns. 

What is true of this act of the Divine Spirit is equally 
true of his agency in enlightening, quickening, purify- 
ing, and strengthening man in the Christian course, and 
conducting him finally to heaven. 

5. As all these steps, so plainly necessary to the jus- 
tification of man, are the result of the unmerited love of 
God ; so his justification itself flows entirely from the 
same love. 

Christ in his sufferings and death made a complete 
atonement for the sins of mankind. In other words, 
he rendered to the law, character, and government of 
God such peculiar honour, as to make it consistent with 
their unchangeable nature and glory, that sinners 
should, on the proper conditions, be forgiven. But the 
atonement inferred no obligation of justice on the part 
of God to forgive them. They were still sinners after 
the atonement, in the same sense and in the same de- 
gree as before. In no degree were they less guilty, or 
less deserving of punishment. 

The supposition, incautiously admitted by some di- 
vines, that Christ satisfied the demands of the law by his 
active and passive obedience, in the same manner as the 
payment of a debt satisfied the demands of a creditor 
has, if I mistake not, been heretofore proved to be un- 
founded in the Scriptures. We owed God our obedi- 
ence, and not our property ; and obedience in its own 
nature is due from the subject himself, and can never 
be rendered by another. In refusing to render it, we 
are criminal ; and for this criminality merit punishment. 
The guilt thus incurred is inherent in the criminal him- 
self, and cannot in the nature of things be transferred 
to another. All that in this case can be done by a sub- 
stitute, of whatever character, is to render it not impro- 
per for the lawgiver to pardon the transgressor. No 
substitute can by any possible effort make him cease to 
be guilty, or to deserve punishment. This (and I in- 
tend to say it with becoming reverence) is beyond the 
ability of omnipotence itself. The fact, that he is 
guilty, is past, and can never be recalled. 

Thus it is evident, that the sinner, when he comes be- 
fore God, comes in the character of a sinner only ; and 
must, if strict justice be done, be therefore condemned. 
If he escape condemnation, then, he can derive these 
blessings from mercy only, and in no degree from jus- 
tice. In other words, every blessing which he receives 
is a free gift. The pardon of his sins, his acquittal from 
condemnation, and his admission to the enjoyments of 
heaven, are all given to him freely and graciously, be- 
cause God regards him with infinite compassion, and is 



therefore pleased to communicate to him these unspeak- 
able favours. 

Should it be said, that God has promised these bless- 
ings to the penitent, in the covenant of redemption 
made with Christ, and in the covenant of grace made 
with the penitent ; and has thus brought himself under 
obligation to bestow them : I answer, that this is indeed 
true, but that it affects not the doctrine. The promise 
made in these covenants, is a gracious promise, origi- 
nated by the divine compassion. Certainly, this pro- 
cedure on the part of God is not the less free or gra- 
cious, because he was pleased to publish his own merci 
ful design of accepting penitent sinners, and to confirm 
it to them by a voluntary promise. As I have already 
remarked, every part of the divine conduct towards the 
sinner, every spiritual blessing which the sinner re- 
ceives antecedently to his justification, -is the result of 
grace only, or sovereign love. These preceding acts, 
therefore, being themselves absolutely gracious, can 
never render the act of justifying the sinner the less 
gracious, or render him the meritorious object of that 
justification, to which he could never have been en- 
titled but by means of these preceding acts of grace. 
The promise of justification was made, not to a merito- 
rious being, but to a sinner ; a guilty, miserable rebel, 
exposed by his rebellion to final perdition. The fulfil- 
ment of this promise is an act equally gracious with that 
of making the promise itself. 

Should it be said, that the sinner is renewed ante- 
cedently to his justification ; and, having thus become a 
holy or virtuous being, has also become, either wholly 
or partially, a meritorious object of justification ; I an- , 
swer, that the law of God condemns the sinner to death 
for the first transgression. Now, it will not be said, 
that the sanctified sinner is not chargeable with many 
transgressions, the guilt of which still lies at his door, 
and for which he may now be justly condemned, not- 
withstanding his repentance. This, it is believed, was 
made abundantly evident in a former Discourse, con- 
cerning the impossibility of justification by our own obe- 
dience. The sinner, therefore, although sanctified, still 
deserves the wrath of God for all his transgressions ; 
and according to the sentence of the law must, if con- 
sidered only as he is in himself, finally punished. 

That the penitent is not partially justified on account 
of his own merit after he is sanctified, must, I think, be 
acknowledged, if Ave attend to the following considera- 
tions : — 

(1.) It will be admitted, that all those who are sanc- 
tified, are also justified. 

' Whom he called, them he also justified ;' that is, he 
justified all those whom he ' called ' effectually, or 
' sanctified.' But it will not be denied, that some per- 
sons are sanctified on a dying bed, when they have no 
opportunity to perform any works of righteousness 
which might be the ground of their justification. The 
case of the penitent thief will, I suppose, be generally 
acknowledged to be substantially of this nature. It will 
not be denied, that some persons are ' sanctified from 
the womb,' as were Jeremiah and John the Baptist ; nor 
that of these some die, antecedently to that period of 
life when they become capable of directs acts of moral 
good and evil. The children of believing parents, de- 
dicated to God, and dying in their infancy, will, I sup- 
pose, be allowed to be, universally, instances of this 
kind. Concerning all the instances which exist of both 



3iG 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxiv. 



these classes, it must be acknowledged that, without 
exception, they are the subjects of justification ; and 
that they are in no sense justified on account of their 
own righteousness, but solely by the free grace of God, 
on account of the righteousness of Christ. If, then, 
others are justified partially, on account of their own 
righteousness, justification is given to some of mankind 
on one ground, or procuring cause, and to others on 
another, and very different ground. But no such doc- 
trine is any where taught, or even hinted at, in the 
Scriptures ; and I presume, that no intelligent man, ac- 
quainted with them, will pretend that any such diversi- 
ty exists in the justification of mankind. 

(2.) The Scripture nowhere teaches us, that we are 
justified partly on account of our own righteousness, and 
partly on account of the righteousness of Christ. 

St Paul, in the 27th verse of the context, pursuing 
the subject of justification by the free grace of God, 
says, ' Where is boasting, then ? It is excluded. By 
what law? Of works? Nay; but by the law of faith.' 
Here we are taught, that all boasting is absolutely ex- 
cluded ; and that it is excluded not by the law of works, 
but by the law of faith. But the same apostle says, that 
' to him that worketh the reward is reckoned, not of 
grace, but of debt :' that is, the reward of justification 
and its consequences, would be due to him who re- 
ceived it on account of his works. He then certainly 
might boast : that is, he might truly say that he had 
merited justification by his own works. If he had me- 
rited justification partly by his own works, he can truly 
boast of having merited that part of his justification. 
1 Boasting,' therefore, cannot, on this plan of justifica- 
tion, ' be excluded.' Yet the apostle elsewhere teaches 
us, that it was one end of the system of redemption, as 
established by God, ' that no flesh should glory in his 
presence,' but that ' he who glorieth,' should ' glory 
only in Christ.' 1 Cor. i. 29—31. 

Besides, it is incredible, if this doctrine be true, that 
no mention of it should be made in the Scriptures. I 
know of no passage in the Scriptures so much relied on 
by its abettors, as the discourse of St James, in the se- 
cond chapter of his Epistle. In a future Discourse I 
design to examine the account given of this subject by 
St James, and expect to show that he furnishes no sup- 
port to it. Should 1 succeed in this expectation, it will 
probably be admitted by those who hear me, that the 
doctrine finds no countenance in the Scriptures, and 
must therefore be given up. 

(3.) The works of the best men never fulfill the de- 
mands of the law ; and therefore cannot be the ground, 
either wholly or partially, of their justification. 

In the conclusion of the seventh chapter of the Epis- 
tle to the Romans, St Paul describes his own state, as 
it was when he wrote this Epistle ; or generally after 
his conversion. As this assertion has been doubted : 
and as respectable divines have supposed this discourse 
to be an account of St Paul's state before he was con- 
verted, I shall attempt to prove the truth of my asser- 
tion. This I shall do very summarily, in the three fol- 
lowing remarks : — 

[1.] St Paul observes, ver. 22, ' I delight in the law 
of God, after the inward man. This assertion was 
never true of any man, antecedently to his regenera- 
tion. St Paul does not say, that he approves of the 
law of God. This would have been a declaration con- 
cerning his reason, or his conscience. But he says^ ' I 



delight in the law of God.' This is a declaration con- 
cerning his feelings, his heart. The heart of an unre- 
generate man never yet delighted in the divine law. 

[2.] In the 24th verse, he exclaims, ' wretched 
man, that I am ! Who shall deliver me from the body 
of this death ?' 

From this exclamation it is certain, that the evil from 
which St Paul so passionately wished a deliverance, 
was existing at the time when the passage was ■written. 
But at the time when the passage was written, St Paul 
had been a convert many years. The evil existed, 
therefore^ after his conversion. 

[3.] In the 25th verse he says, 'So then, with the 
mind I myself serve the law of God.' 

This assertion could never be truly made concerning 
any unregenerate man. The mind of every such man, 
we know from the mouth of the same apostle, ' is en- 
mity against God ; not subject to his law, neither in- 
deed can be.' 

The account given by St Paul of himself in this chap- 
ter, is then an account of his moral state, at the time 
when the chapter was written. As St Paul, in all pro- 
bability, was inferior to no other mere man in moral 
excellence, he may be justly considered as having given 
us here a description of Christians in their very best 
state. 

But, if in this state there is ' a law in their members, 
warring against the law of their minds, and bringing 
them into captivity to the law of sin, which is in their 
members ;' if, ' when they would do good, evil is pre- 
sent with them ;' so that ' the good which they would, 
they do not ; and the evil which they would not, they 
do;' how plain is it that, instead of meriting justifica- 
tion by their works, they daily violate the law of God, 
provoke his anger, expose themselves to condemnation 
and stand in infinite need of the intercession of Christ, 
and the pardon of their sins, in order to their salvation ! 

Besides, the very best actions of regenerated men are 
imperfect, and fall short of the demands of the law. 
This position is so rarely contested, that I need not 
here allege arguments to evince its truth. But it can- 
not be pretended, that an obedience, which does not 
even answer the demands of the law in any case, but is 
invariably defective, and therefore in some degree sin- 
ful, can be the ground of justification to any man. 

I have now finished the observations which I intend- 
ed concerning this subject. If I mistake not, they fur- 
nish ample proof, that we are ' justified freely by the 
grace of God, through the redemption which is in 
Christ Jesus.' A few remarks shall conclude the Dis- 
course. S 



1. From what has been said, it is evident that the 
salvation of mankind is a glorious exhibition of the cha- 
racter, and particularly of the benevolence, of God. 

On this subject I cannot dwell ; and shall only ob- 
serve summarily, that the work of our salvation was 
contrived and accomplished, by God alone ; that the 
means by which it was accomplished, viz. the mediation 
of Christ, and the mission and agency of the Holy 
Ghost, far from lessening, only enhance our conceptions 
of the divine benevolence displayed in this work ; that 
the good-will manifested in doing any thing, is ever 
proportioned to the efforts which are made ; that, in the 
present case, the efforts actually made are the most 



DUTY OF BELIEVING. 



347 



wonderful which have been disclosed to the universe ; 
and that they, therefore, discover the good-will of the 
Creator to mankind, in a manner, and in a degree 
wholly unexampled. 

All this, at the same time, was done for beings entire- 
ly unnecessary to God. In himself, therefore, in his 
own compassion, must have existed the originating, 
powerful, and productive cause of this wonderful event. 
What must have been the good-mil of him, who sent 
his Son ' to seek and to save that which was lost ;' and 
to ' become obedient unto death, even the death of the 
cross,' that sinners and rebels might live ! 

2. The Socinian objection against the doctrine of the 
atonement, that it is opposed to the scriptural account 
of the exercise of grace in our justification, is here seen 
to be groundless. 

If the observations made in this Discourse are true, 
the doctrine of the atonement, instead of lessening or 
destroying the exercise of grace in our justification, 
only renders this act of God more eminently gracious. 
If all these things which have been mentioned, particu- 
larly the atonement of Christ, were necessary to be 
done in order to the salvation of mankind, the mercy 
which resolved on them all is far more strongly display- 
ed, than if nothing more had been necessary than bare- 
ly to forgive the sinner. 

3. If God be thus merciful, all the declarations of his 
mercy ought to be believed by us. 

The disposition, which could contrive and execute 
these things of its own mere choice, without any re- 
ward, without any expectation of any reward, for be- 
ings equally undeserving and unnecessary, can do all 
things which are kind and proper to be done. Espe- 
cially can this disposition carry the things which it has 
contrived and begun into complete execution. To do 
this is its own natural bent, the mere progress of its in- 
herent propensities. The declarations, therefore, which 
manifest the determination of him in whom this dispo- 
sition resides, to accomplish all things pertaining to 
this work, ought cordially as well as entirely to be be- 
lieved. To distrust them is equally absurd and guilty ; 



absurd, because they are supported by the most abun- 
dant evidence ; guilty, because the distrust springs from 
the heart, and not from the understanding. 

Why should God be disbelieved, when he declares, 
that ' he has no pleasure in the death of the sinner ?' or 
when he proclaims, ' Whosoever will, let him come, and 
take the water of life freely ? ' If he had "wished to 
punish mankind for the gratification of his own views 
or pleasure, could he not have done it with infinite 
ease ? To him it was certainly unnecessary to an- 
nounce the forgiveness of sin, to send his Son to die, 
or to give his Spirit and his word to sanctify and save. 
This immense preparation depended solely on his own 
mere pleasure. He might have suffered the law to 
take its course. He might have annihilated or punish- 
ed for ever the whole race of Adam ; and with a com- 
mand have raised up a new and better world of beings 
in their stead. Men are in no sense necessary to God. 
He might have filled the universe with angels at once ; 
perfect, obedient, excellent, and glorious beings ; and 
been loved, praised, and obeyed by them for ever. 
Why, then, but because he was desirous to save poor, 
guilty, perishing men, did he enter upon the work of 
their salvation ? Why did he give his Son to redeem 
them? Why did he send his Spirit to sanctify them? 
Why did he proclaim l glad tidings of great joy ' unto 
all people ? Why does he wait with infinite patience ; 
why has he always waited to be gracious, amid all the 
provocations and sins of this polluted world ? Why 
are the calls of mercy, after being so long and so ex- 
tensively rejected with scorn and insult, repeated 
through one age after another? Why, after all our 
unbelief, are they repeated to us ? Why are we, after 
all our transgressions, assembled this day to hear them ? 
The true, the only answer is, God is infinitely kind, 
merciful, and willing ' to save to the uttermost.' 

Let, then, this glorious Being be believed without dis- 
trust, without delay. Let every sinner boldly come to 
the throne of grace, to the door of life ; and be assured 
that, if he desires sincerely to enter, he will not be shut 
out. 



SERMON LXV. 






JUSTIFICATION THE DUTY OF BELIEVING. 



Therefore we conclude, that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law. 

More correctly rendered ; 

Therefore we conclude, that man is justified by faith without works of law.- — Rom. iii. 28. 



In the last Discourse I attempted to show, that in con- 
sequence of the redemption of Christ, man is justified 
freely by the grace of God. The grace of God is the 
source, the moving cause, of this blessing to mankind. 
The next subject of consideration before us, is the means 
by which man, in the economy of redemption, becomes 
entitled to this blessing. These in the text are summed 
up in the single article, faith, which is here declared to 
be the instrument of justification. To elucidate this 
truth is the design with which I have selected the pre- 
sent theme of discourse. 

But before I enter upon the doctrine in form, it will 



be necessary to remind you, that an objection is raised 
against it at the threshold, which if founded in truth, 
would seem to overthrow it at once. It is this : that 
faith is so far from being of amoral nature, as to be ne- 
cessary, and unavoidable ; man being absolutely passive 
in believing, and under a physical impossibility of doing 
otherwise than he actually does ; whether in believing, 
or disbelieving. Of course, it is farther urged, an attri- 
bute, governed wholly by physical necessity, can never 
recommend us to God : much less become the ground 
of so important a blessing, as justification.' 

It will be easily seen that, as long as this objection has 



348 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxv. 



its hold on the mind, and is allowed its full import, the 
doctrine of justification by faith can never be received, 
unless in a very imperfect and unsatisfactory manner. 
If faith is a thing over which we have no control ; if we 
believe only under the influence of a physical necessity, 
and, whether we believe or disbelieve, it is physically 
impossible for us to do otherwise ; then it is plain, that 
faith is so far from being praiseworthy, amiable, and 
capable of recommending us to God, as to merit and 
sustain no moral character at all. According to this 
scheme, therefore, faith and unbelief being equally 
and absolutely involuntary and unavoidable, can 
never constitute a moral distinction between men. Faith 
can never be an object of the approbation, nor unbelief 
of the disapprobation of God. Much less can we be 
praiseworthy in believing, or blamable in disbelieving. 
Still less can we on one of these grounds be rewarded, 
and on the other punished. Least of all can we, in con- 
sequence of our faith, be accepted, and blessed for ever ; 
and, in consequence of our unbelief, be rejected, and 
punished with endless misery. 

All these things, however, are directly and palpably 
contradictory to the whole tenor of the gospel. In this, 
faith is approved, commanded, and promised an eternal 
reward. Unbelief, on the contrary, is censured, for- 
bidden, and threatened with an everlasting punishment. 
Faith, therefore, is the hinge on which the whole evan- 
gelical system turns. ' If ye believe not that I am he, 
ye shall die in your sins.' 'He that believeth on the 
Son hath everlasting life ; and he that believeth not, 
shall not see life ;' are declarations which, while they 
cannot be mistaken, teach us that all the future interests 
of man are suspended on this faith ; and are, at the same 
time, declarations to which the whole evangelical system 
is exactly conformed. If then, our faith and disbelief 
are altogether involuntary, and the effect of mere phy^ 
sical necessity, God has annexed everlasting life and 
everlasting death, not to any moral character in man, 
but to the mere result of physical causes. A consequence 
so monstrous ought certainly not to be admitted. The 
Scriptures, therefore, must be given up, if this scheme is 
true. 

I have now, I presume, shown it to be necessary that, 
before I enter upon the discussion of the doctrine con- 
tained in the text, this objection should be thoroughly 
examined and removed. To do this, will be the busi- 
ness of the present discourse. 

In opposition to this objection, then, I assert, that 
faith, and its opposite, disbelief, are, in all moral cases, 
voluntary exercises of the mind ; are proper objects of 
commands and prohibitions ; and proper foundations 
of praise and blame, reward and punishment. This 
doctrine I shall endeavour to prove by the following ar- 
guments, derived both from reason and revelation ; be- 
cause the objection which I have been opposing has been 
incautiously admitted, at times, by Christians, as well 
as openly and triumphantly alleged by infidels. 

1. Faith is everywhere commanded in the Scriptures. 

' This is his commandment, that we believe on the 
name of his Son Jesus Christ,' 1 John iii. 23. ' Now 
after that John was put in prison, Jesus came into Gali- 
lee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and 
saying, The time is fulfilled ; and the kingdom of God 
is at hand. Repent ye and believe the gospel,' Mark 
i. 14, 15. In these two passages, we have the command 
to believe the gospel, delivered by Christ in form ; and 



the declaration of the evangelist, that it is ' the com- 
mandment of God, that we believe on the name of his 
Son Jesus Christ ' Whatever, then, we understand by 
faith, it is the object of a command, or law, which God 
has given to mankind ; a thing which may be justly re- 
quired, and, of course, a thing which they are able to 
render, as an act of obedience, at least in some circum- 
stances. God cannot require what man is not physically 
able to perform. But all obedience to God is voluntary. 
Nothing is or can be demanded by him, which is not in 
its nature voluntary, nor can any thing but the will of 
intelligent beings be the object of moral law. No man 
will say, that a brute, a stone, or a stream, can be the 
object of such law. Faith, therefore, being in the most 
express terms required by a law or command of God, 
must of course be a voluntary exercise of the mind, in 
such a sense, that it can be rightfully required. 

Farther : The language of the first of these passages 
most evidently denotes, that the command to ' believe 
on the name of Jesus Christ,' is one of peculiar aad pre- 
eminent importance. ' This is his commandment :' as 
if> there were no other ; or no other which in its impor- 
tance may be compared with this. Here St John 
teaches us, that faith is pre-eminently required by God 
in a manner distinct from that in which he requires 
other acts of obedience generally. Of course, faith is 
not only justly required of mankind by God, but is re- 
quired in a manner more solemn than many other acts 
universally acknowledged to be voluntary. 

Accordingly, a peculiar sanction is annexed to the 
law requiring our faith ; ' He that believeth shall be 
saved ; and he that believeth not shall be damned.' 

The reward and the penalty here announced, are the 
highest which exist in the universe ; and, therefore, 
directly indicate the obedience and the disobedience to 
be of supreme import. Nothing can be a stronger proof, 
that in the eye of God, faith and unbelief are voluntary, 
or moral exercises of man. 

But it may be alleged, that the faith enjoined in these 
commands, is not a mere speculative belief; and, there- 
fore, not the faith which, in the general objection op- 
posed by me, is asserted to be physically necessary and 
involuntary. I readily agree, that the faith here en- 
joined is saving faith ; and that this is not mere specu- 
lative belief. But such belief is an indispensable part 
of saving faith; and so absolutely inseparable from it, 
that without such belief saving faith cannot exist. Sav- 
ing faith is always a speculative belief, joined with a 
cordial consent to the truth, and a cordial approbation 
of the object which that truth respects. When, there- 
fore, saving faith is commanded, speculative belief, 
which is an inseparable part of it, is also commanded, j 
It is not, indeed, required to exist by itself ; or to be j 
rendered without the accordance of the heart. But j 
whenever saving faith is required, speculative belief is ij 
absolutely required. Of course speculative belief is, 
at least in some degree, in our power ; and may be ren- 1 
dered as an act of obedience to God. 

To him who believes in the inspiration of the Scrip- i 
tures, these passages, and many others like them, furnish 
complete proof, that faith, whether saving or specula- 
tive, is an act of the mind, which is in such a sense 
voluntary, as to be the proper object of a command or 
law ; that it may be justly required of mankind ; and 
that iteannot be either refused or neglected, without guili. 
2. The universal consent of mankind furnishes ample 



DUTY OP BELIEVING. 



349 



proof, that faith is, in many instances, a voluntary or 
moral exercise. 

The evidence which I propose to derive from this 
source, lies in the following general truth : That in all 
cases, where mankind have sufficient opportunity tho- 
roughly to understand any subject, and are under no 
inducement to judge with partiality, their universal judg- 
ment is right. As I presume this truth will not be 
doubted, I shall not attempt to illustrate it by any argu- 
ments. That the present case is included within this 
general truth is certain. Every man who thinks at all, 
knows by his own personal experience, and by his daily 
intercourse with other men, whether his own faith and 
theirs be voluntary in many instances, or not ; I say, in 
many instances ; because, if the assertion be admitted 
with this limitation, it will be sufficient for my purpose. 
If, then, mankind have determined, that faith is some- 
times voluntary, the doctrine against which I contend 
must be given up. 

The language of mankind very frequently expresses 
their real views in a manner much more exactly accor- 
dant with truth, than their philosophical discussions. 
Men make words only when they have ideas to be ex- 
pressed by those words, and just such ideas as the words 
are formed to express. If, then, we find words in any 
language denoting any ideas whatever, we know with 
certainty that such ideas have existed in the minds of 
those by whom the words were used. AVhenever these 
ideas have been derived from experience and observa- 
tion, we also know that they were real, and not fantas- 
tical ; and are founded, not in imagination, but in fact. 
In all languages are found words, denoting the same 
things with the English terms, candour, fairness, rea- 
sonableness, impartiality , and others, generally of the 
like import. The meaning of all these terms is clearly 
of this nature ; that the persons to whom they are justly 
applied, use their faculties in collecting, weighing, and 
admitting evidence, in a manner equitable and praise- 
worthy. Accordingly, all persons who do this are 
highly esteemed and greatly commended, as exhibiting 
no small excellence of moral character. 

In all languages, also, there are words answering to 
the English words, prejudice, partiality, unreasonable- 
ness, and unfairness. By these terms, when applied to 
this subject, we uniformly denote a voluntary employ- 
ment of our faculties in collecting, weighing, and ad- 
mitting evidence, conducted in a manner, inequitable 
and blameworthy. Accordingly, persons, to whom these 
terms are justly applied, that is, the very persons who 
employ their faculties in this manner, are universally 
disesteemed and condemned, as guilty and odious. 

All these words were formed to express ideas really 
existing in the human mind, and ideas derived from 
experience and observation. Of course, these ideas 
have a real foundation in nature and fact, and the words 
express that which is real. 

As the terms which I have mentioned are parts of 
the customary language of a great nation, and as other 
nations have, universally, corresponding terms, it is 
certain that these are the ideas of all men, everywhere 
presented by experience and observation, derived from 
facts, and grounded in reality. The common voice of 
mankind has, therefore, decided the question in a man- 
ner which, I apprehend, is incapable of error, and can 
never be impeached. 

In perfect accordance with these observations, we 



know, that voluntary blindness to evidence, argument, 
and truth, is customary phraseology in the daily con- 
versation of all men. In accordance with these obser- 
vations also, the declaration, that ' none are so blind, as 
they who will not see,' is proverbial, and regarded as a 
maxim. 

3. The mind is perfectly voluntary in the employment 
of collecting evidence, on every question which it dis- 
cusses. 

All questions are attended by more or less arguments, 
capable of being alleged on both sides. These argu- 
ments do not present themselves of course ; but must 
be sought for, and assembled by the activity of the 
mind. In this case, the mind can either resolve or re- 
fuse to collect arguments, and in this conduct is wholly 
voluntary, and capable, therefore, of being either vir- 
tuous or sinful, praiseworthy or blameworthy, reward- 
able or punishable. Wherever its duty and interest, 
wherever the commands of God, or lawful human autho- 
rity, or the well-being of ourselves, or our fellow men, 
demand that we collect such arguments, we are virtuous 
in obeying, and sinful in refusing. 

Sometimes we obey, often we refuse. Most frequently, 
when we perform this duty at all, we perform it partially. 
Concerning almost every question which is before us, 
we assemble some arguments, and refuse or neglect to 
gather others. In this employment the mind usually 
leans to one side of the question ; and labours not to 
find out truth or the means of illustrating it, but to 
possess itself of the arguments which will support the 
side to which it inclines, and weaken or overthrow that 
which it dislikes. Thus Ave collect all the arguments in 
our power, favourable to our own chosen doctrines, and 
oppose the contrary ones ; and of design, or through 
negligence, avoid searching for those which will weaken 
our own doctrines, or strengthen such as oppose them. 
In all this our inclinations are solely and supremely 
active, and govern the whole process. For this con- 
duct, therefore, we are deserving of blame ; and as the 
case may be, of punishment. 

4. The mind is equally voluntai - y in weighing, ad- 
mitting, or rejecting evidence, after it is collected. 

It is as easy, and as common, for the mind to turn its 
eye from the power of evidence, as from the evidence 
itself. I have already shown that we can at pleasure, 
either collect arguments, or refuse to collect them. 
With equal ease we can examine them after they are 
collected, or decline this examination ; and after such 
examination as we chose to make is completed, we can 
with the same ease either admit, or reject them. The 
grounds on which we can render the admission or re- 
jection satisfactory to ourselves, are numerous, and are 
always at hand. The arguments in question may op- 
pose or coincide with some unquestioned maxim, prin- 
ciple, or doctrine, preconceived by us, and regarded as 
fundamental ; and for these reasons may be at once 
admitted, or rejected. They may accord with the 
opinions of those whom we may think it pleasing, hon- 
ourable, safe, or useful to follow. We may hastily con- 
clude that they are all the arguments which favour the 
doctrine opposed to ours, and deem them wholly insuf- 
ficient to evince its truth. We may suppose, whenever 
they seem to conclude against us, that there is some 
latent error in them, discernible by others, if not by 
ourselves ; which, if discerned would destroy their force. 
We may determine, whenever the arguments in our 



350 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. lxv. 



possession are apprehended to be inconclusive in favour 
of our opinions, that there are others which, although 
not now in our possession, would, if discovered by us, 
determine the question in our favour. We may be- 
lieve, that the arguments before us will, if admitted, in- 
fer some remote consequence, in our apprehension 
grossly absurd, and on the ground of this distant con- 
sequence reject their immediate influence. Or the doc- 
trine to be proved may be so odious to us, as to induce 
us to believe that no arguments whatever can evince its 
truth. For these and the like reasons, we can weigh 
or not weigh, admit or reject, any arguments whatever ; 
and conclude in favour of either side of perhaps every 
moral question. 

A judge, in any cause which comes before him, can 
admit, or refuse to admit, witnesses on either side. 
After they have testified, he can consider or neglect 
their testimony, and can give it what degree of credit 
he pleases, or no credit at all. In all this he acts vo- 
luntarily; so perfectly so, that another judge, of a dif- 
ferent disposition, could and would, with the same means 
in his possession, draw up a directly opposite judgment 
concerning the cause. Facts of this nature are so fre- 
quent, as to be well known to mankind, acknowledged 
universally, and accounted a part of the ordinary course 
of things. The mind, in considering doctrines, is 
usually this partial judge ; and conducts itself towards 
its arguments, as the judge towards his witnesses. In 
this conduct it is altogether voluntary, and altogether 
sinful. 

In the contrary conduct of collecting arguments with 
a design to know the truth, in weighing them fairly, 
and in admitting readily their real import, it is equally 
voluntary ; and possesses and exhibits the contrary cha- 
racter of virtue, as really as in any case whatever. Ac- 
cordingly, all men, when employed in observing these 
two modes of acting in their fellow men, have pro- 
nounced the latter to be excellent and praiseworthy, 
and the former to be unjust, base, and deserving alike 
of their contempt and abhorrence. 

5. The doctrine which I am opposing, if true, ren- 
ders both virtue and vice, at least in a great proportion 
of instances, impossible. 

All virtue is nothing else but voluntary obedience to 
truth ; and all sin is nothing else but voluntary disobe- 
dience to truth, or voluntary obedience to error. Ac- 
cordingly, God has required nothing of mankind, but 
that they ' should obey truth ;' particularly, the truth ; 
or evangelical truth. Voluntary conformity to truth 
is, therefore, virtue in every possible instance. But we 
cannot voluntarily conform to truth, unless we believe 
it. If our faith, then, is wholly involuntary, and ne- 
cessary, it follows, of course, that we are never faulty 
nor punishable for not believing; since our faith, in 
every case where we do not believe, is physically im- 
possible. For not believing, therefore, we are not, and 
cannot be, blamable ; and as we cannot conform to 
truth, when we do not believe it to be truth, it follows 
that, whenever we do not believe, we are innocent in 
not obeying. 

For the same reason, whenever we believe error to 
be truth, our belief, according to this scheme, is com- 
pelled by the same physical necessity ; and we are guilt- 
less in every such instance of faith. All our future con- 
formity to such error is, of course, guiltless also. Thus 
he who believes in the existence and perfections, of Je- 



hovah, in the rectitude of his law and government, and 
in the duty of obeying him, and he who believes in the 
deity of Beelzebub, or a calf, or a stock, or a stone, 
while they respectively worship and serve these infin- 
itely different gods, are in the same degree virtuous, or 
in the same degree sinful. In other words, they are 
neither sinful nor virtuous. The faith of both is alike 
physically necessary ; and the conformity of both to 
their respective tenets follows their faith, of course. 

Should it be said that, although faith is thus neces- 
sary, our conformity or nonconformity to what we believe 
is still voluntary, and therefore is virtuous : I answer, 
that were I to allow this, as I am not very unwilling 
to do, to be true ; still the objector must acknowledge 
that a vast proportion of those human actions which 
have universally been esteemed the most horrid crimes, 
are, according to his own plan, completely justified. 
He cannot deny, that the heathen have almost universally 
believed their idols to be gods, and their idolatry the 
true religion. He cannot deny, that a great part of 
the wars which have existed in the world, have by those 
who have carried them on, been believed to be just ; that 
the persecutions of the Christians were, by the heathen, 
who were the authors of them, thought highly meritori- 
ous ; that the horrid cruelties of the Popish inquisition 
were, to a great extent, considered by the Catholics 
as * doing God service ;' and that all the Moham- 
medan butcheries were regarded by the disciples of the 
Koran as directly required by God himself. Nay, it 
cannot be denied by the objector, nor by any man who 
has considered the subject, that the Jews, in very great 
numbers, believed themselves warranted in rejecting, 
persecuting, and crucifying Christ. This is undoubtedly 
indicated by that terrible prediction of the Saviour, ' If 
ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins.' 
Let the objector then, and all who hold his opinions on 
this subject, henceforth be for ever silent concerning 
the guilt usually attributed to these several classes of 
men, and acknowledge them to have been compelled by 
a physical necessity to all these actions, lamentable in- 
deed, but wholly unstained by any criminality. 

At the same time, let it be observed, that the deter- 
mination of the will is always as the dictate of the 
understanding which precedes it. If then, this dictate 
of. the understanding is produced by a physical necessity, 
how can the decision of the will, which follows it of 
course, be in any sense free ? If faith be necessary in 
the physical sense, every other dictate of the under- 
standing must be equally necessary, and, of course, that 
which precedes every determination of the will. In 
what manner, then, can the determination of the will 
fail of being the mere result of the same necessity ? 

But if the determinations of the will are physically 
necessary, they cannot be either virtuous or sinful. If, 
therefore, these things are true, there can be, according 
to this scheme, neither virtue nor vice in man. 

6. This doctrine charges God with a great part, if 
not with all, the evil conduct of mankind. 

Whatever the system of things in this world is, it was 
contrived and created, and is continually ordered, by 
God. If mankind believe only under the coercion of 
physical necessity, then God has so constituted them, as 
to render their faith in this sense, necessary and 
unavoidable. Whenever they err, therefore, they err 
thus necessarily by the ordinance and irresistible power 
of God. Of course, as the state of things in this, as well 



DUTY OF BELIEVING. 



351 



as all other respects, is the result of his choice, he has 
chosen that they should err, and compelled them to err 
by the irresistible impulse of almighty power. In this 
case, we will suppose them to design faithfully to do 
their duty, or, in other words, to conform their conduct 
to the doctrines which they actually believe, and suppose 
to be truth. In thus acting, they either sin, or they do 
not. If they sin, God compels them to sin : if they do 
not, still all their conduct is productive of evil only : for 
conformity to error is, of course, productive only of evil. 
By this scheme, therefore, this mass of evil, immensely 
great and dreadful, is charged to God alone. 

At the same time, if in the same manner they embrace 
truth, their reception of it is equally compelled. Their 
conformity to it is, of course, no more commendable 
than their conformity to error ; and God has so consti- 
tuted things, that they cannot conform to it of choice, 
or from love to truth, as such ; but only from physical 
necessity. Or, if this should be questioned, they cannot 
conform to it from the apprehension that it is truth, 
because they have embraced it under the force of this 
necessity ; and must conform to every thing which they 
have embraced in one manner only. 

There are many other modes of disproving this doc- 
trine, on which I cannot now dwell ; and which cannot 
be necessary for the present purpose, if the arguments 
already advanced have the decisive influence which they 
appear to me to possess. I will only observe farther, that 
the scheme which I am opposing is directly at war with 
all the commands and exhortations given us to ' search 
the Scriptures,' to * receive the truth,' to ' seek for wis- 
dom,' to ' know God,' to ' believe in Christ,' and to 
' believe his word ;' and with the commendations and 
promises given to those who do, and the censures and 
threatenings denounced against those who do not, these 
things. Equally inconsistent are they with all our 
mutual exhortations to candour, to investigation, to 
impartial decision, and to all other conduct of the like 
nature : our commendation of those who pursue it, and 
our condemnation of those who do not. Both the Scrip- 
tures and common sense ought, if this scheme is well 
founded, to assume totally new language, if they would 
accord with truth. 

Should any person suppose that I have annexed too 
much importance to truth, in asserting, that virtue in all 
instances is nothing else but a voluntary conformity to 
truth ; and imagine that it ought to be defined, a volun- 
tary conformity to the divine precepts : he may gain 
complete satisfaction on this point, by merely changing 
a precept into a proposition. For example : the pre- 
cepts, ' Thou shalt have no other gods before me,' and 
' Thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother,' become 
truths, when written in this manner : — It is right, or it 
is thy duty, to have no other gods before ine ; or to 
honour thy father and thy mother. 

I have now, if I mistake not, clearly evinced the false- 
hood of the doctrine which I have opposed, and shown 
it to be equally contrary to the Scriptures, and to the 
common sense of mankind. 

Whenever this doctrine has been honestly imbibed, it 
has, I presume, been imbibed from a misapprehension 
of the influence of that acknowledged principle of philo- 
sophy, that in receiving impressions from all objects, 
the mind is passive only ; and, therefore, is necessitated 
to receive just such impressions as the objects presented 
to its view are fitted to make. No man, acquainted with 



the state of the human mind, will call this principle in 
question. But no man of this character can rationally 
imagine that it can at all affect the subject of this Dis- 
course, so as to furnish any support to the scheme which 
I am opposing. 

The amount of this principle is exactly this ; that 
God has so constituted the mind, and has formed ob- 
jects in such a manner, that they uniformily present to 
the mind their real state and nature, and not another. 
Were this not the structure of the mind, and the proper 
efficacy of the objects with which it is conversant, it 
would either be never able to see truly, or would never 
know when it saw in this manner. This constitution of 
things, then, is indispensable to our discernment of their 
true nature ; and without it we could never be able, 
satisfactorily, to distinguish truth from falsehood. 

But nothing is more evident than that this constitu- 
tion of things in no degree affects the subject in debate. 
In no sense is it true that, because we have such optics, 
and the things with which we are conversant such a 
nature, we are, therefore, obliged to turn our eyes to 
any given object, to view it on any given side, to ex- 
amine it in any given manner ; nor to connect it in our 
investigation with any other particular set of objects. 
Truth is the real agreement or disagreement of ideas 
asserted in propositions. The relations of these idea3 
are its basis. Now we can compare and connect what 
ideas we please, in what manner we please, and by the 
aid of any other intervening ideas which we choose. In 
this manner we can unite and separate them at pleasure ; 
and thus either come to the knowledge of truth, or the 
admission of falsehood, according to our inclinations. 
All these things, also, we can refuse to do ; and in both 
cases we act in a manner perfectly voluntary. Were we 
not passive in the mere reception of ideas, we should 
see to no purpose. Were we not active in comparing 
and connecting them, we should see only under the in- 
fluence of physical necessity. 

From these considerations it is evident, unless I am 
deceived, that this principle, so much relied on by those 
with whom I am contending, has not the least influence 
towards the support of their scheme. 



From these observations we learn, 

1. Why men in exactly the same circumstances, judge 
and believe very differently concerning the same objects. 

When a question or doctrine is proposed to the con- 
sideration of several men, in the same terms, with the 
same arguments, and at the same time, we, almost of 
course, find them judging and deciding concerning it in 
different manners. Were our judgment, or, what is 
here the same thing, our faith, the result of mere physical 
necessity ; this fact could never take place. But it is 
easily explained, as the natural course of things, where 
such judges as men are concerned. When a question 
is thus proposed, one declines or neglects to inquire al- 
together. Another listens only to the evidence on one 
side. A third, partially to that on both sides. A fourth, 
partially to that on one side, and wholly to that on the 
other. And a fifth, to all the evidence which he can 
find. One cares nothing about the question ; another 
is predetermined to give his decision on one side ; and 
another resolves to decide according to truth. One is 
too lazy, another too indifferent, another too biassed, 
and another too self-sufficient, to discover truth at all. 



352 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxvi. 



In all these, except the candid, thorough examiner, the 
conduct which they adopt on this subject is sin. Inclina- 
tion, choice, bias of mind, prevents them from ' coming 
to the knowledge of the truth.' If they loved truth, as 
their duty demands, they would easily and certainly 
find it. Their indifference to it, or their hatred of it 
is the true reason why they find it not ; and the real 
explanation of the strange manner in which they judge, 
and of their otherwise inexplicable faith in doctrines, 
not only absurd, but unsupported even by specious evi- 
dence. 

(2.) From these observations also it is evident, that 
faith may be a virtuous, and unbelief a sinful affection 
of the mind. 

Truth is the foundation of all good. On this, as their 
basis, rest the character, designs, government, and 
glory of the Creator, and all the happiness and virtue 
of the intelligent universe. But the only way in which 
truth can be useful to intelligent creatures, or the means 
of the divine glory, is by being believed. Every de- 
gree of happy influence which truth has, or can have, 
on the intelligent kingdom is, therefore, derived entire- 
ly from faith ; so far as absolute knowledge is not at- 
tainable. On faith, then, all these amazing interests 
wholly rest. That which is not believed, cannot be 
obeyed. The influence of truth cannot commence in 
our minds, until our faith in it has commenced. Uni- 
versal unbelief, therefore, would completely destroy 'the 
divine kingdom and the general happiness at once. Of 
course partial unbelief, the unbelief of many, a few, or 
one, aims directly at the same destruction. 

Since, then, faith is a voluntary exercise of the mind, 
it follows that, whenever it is exercised towards moral 
objects, it is virtuous ; is an effort of the mind directed 
to the promotion of this immense good which I have 



specified. To the degree in which it may be thus vir- 
tuous, no limits can be affixed ; but it may rise to such a 
height as to occupy all the supposable powers of any in- 
telligent creature. 

On the contrary, unbelief, when directed towards 
moral objects, being always voluntary, is always sinful. 
Its efficacy, as opposed to the glory of God and the good 
of the universe, has been already mentioned. Its inso 
lence towards the divine character is exhibited in the 
strongest terms by St John, in this memorable declara- 
tion, ' He that believeth not God, hath made him a liar.' 
What a reproach is this to the Creator ! What an im- 
pious expression of contempt to the infinitely blessed 
Jehovah ! The very insult offered to him by the old ser- 
pent in his seduction of our first parents ! Them this 
unbelief destroyed ; and, from that melancholy day, it 
has been the great instrument of perdition to their pos- 
terity. Faith is the only medium of our access to God. 
' To come to him,' we ' must believe that he is ;' for 
without such belief he would be to us a mere nihility. 
Atheism, therefore, cuts a man off from all access to 
God ; and consequently from all love, and all obedience. 
Were the universe atheistical, it would cease from all 
moral connexion with its Creator. Deism, though an 
humbler degree of the same spirit, produces exactly the 
same effects. ' He that believeth not the Son, hath not 
life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him.' Practical 
unbelief, the same spirit in a degree still inferior, is, 
however, followed by the same miserable consequences. 
A mere speculative belief leaves the heart and the life 
as it found them, opposed to God, and the objects of his 
indignation. The speculative believer, therefore, al- 
though advanced a step beyond the Deist, and two be- 
yond the Atheist, is still disobedient and rebellious, 
' without hope, and without God in the world.' 



SERMON LXVI. 

JUSTIFICATION THE NATURE OF FAITH. 



Therefore we conclude, that a man is justified by fait h, without works of law. — Rom. iii. 28. 



Is my last Discourse I attempted to show, that faith and 
unbelief are voluntary exercises of the mind, and may, 
therefore, be virtuous or sinful ; and to refute the ob- 
jections against this doctrine. This I did, without criti- 
cally examining the nature of faith, which I purposely 
reserved for a separate discussion. This is evidently 
the next object of'inquiry. I shall, therefore, endeavour 
in this Discourse to explain the faith of the gospel ; or 
the faith by which we are justified. 

I. Faith in this sense respects God as its object. 

' Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him 
for righteousness,' Gen. xv. 6, Rom. iv. 3, Gal. iii. 6, 
James ii. 23. ' Without faith it is impossible to please 
him : for he that cometh to God must believe that 
he is, and that he is the rewarder of them that dili- 
gently seek him,' Heb. xi. 6. ' Believe in the Lord 
your God ; so shall ye be established,' 2 Chron. ii. 20. 
' Who by him,' says St Peter to the Christians to 



whom he wrote, ' do believe in God, that raised him 
up from the dead and gave him glory, that your 
faith and hope might be in God,' 1 Peter i. 21. ' The 
jailer rejoiced, believing in God with all his house,' 
Acts xvi. 34. ' That they who have believed in God 
might be careful to maintain good works,' Tit. iii. 8. 
' Jesus answering, saith unto them, Believe in God,' 
Mark xi. 29. ' He that believeth on him that sent me 
hath everlasting life,' John v. 24. 

It will be unnecessary to multiply proofs any farther. 
I have made these numerous quotations to show that, 
in the common language of the Scriptures, faith in God 
is commanded ; is the universal characteristic of 
Christians ; is declared to be the object of divine ap- 
probation ; is ' counted to them for righteousness ;' and 
is entitled to an everlasting reward. 

II. The faith of the gospel especially respects Christ 
as Us object. 



NATURE OF FAITH. 



353 



' Ye believe in God,' says our Saviour to his apos- 
tles, ' believe also in me,' John xiv. 1. ' If ye believe 
not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins,' John viii. 
24. ' He that believeth on the Son, hath everlasting 
life ;' ' He that believeth not is condemned already,' 
John iii. 36, Johniii. 18, and John vi. 40. ' But to him 
that vvorketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth 
the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness,' 
Bom. iv. 5. In these passages it is evident, that to all 
such as are acquainted with the gospel, it is indispens- 
able that their faith respect Christ as its especial object ; 
that wherever this is the fact, they are assured of ' ever- 
lasting life ;' and wherever it is not, they will not 'see 
life, but the wrath of God abideth on them.' 

III. The faith of the gospel respects Christ particu- 
larly as the Son of God. 

■' He that believeth on the Son hath life,' John vi. 40, 
John iii. 36. ' And he that believeth not the Son, shall 
not see life.' ' Whosoever denieth the Son, the same 
hath not the Father,' 1 John ii. 23. ' He that believeth 
not is condemned already, because he believeth not 
on the name of the only-begotten Son of God,' John 
iii. 18. 

IV. The faith of the gospel respects Christ as its 
object, in all his offices, but especially in his priestly 
office. 

1. As a prophet, or the preacher of the gospel. 

' Then said Jesus to those Jews who believed on him, 
If ye continue in my word, ye are my disciples indeed. 
And ye shall know the truth ; and the truth shall make 
you free. He that receiveth not my words hath one 
that judgeth him,' John xii. 48. 'The words that I 
speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life,' John 
vi. 63. ' That they might all be damned, who believed 
not the truth,' 2 Thess. ii. 12. ' The gospel is the 
power of God unto salvation,' Rom. i. 16. ' In Christ 
Jesus I have begotten you through the gospel,' 1 Cor. 
iv. 1 5. 

2. As a priest. 

' Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation, 
through faith in his blood,' Rom. iii. 25. ' My blood 
is drink indeed,' John vi. 55. ' Whoso eateth my flesh, 
and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life,' John vi. 54 ; 
see also 53, 56, and 57. ' So many of us, as were bap- 
tized into Jesus Christ, were baptized into his death,' 
Rom. vi. 3. Generally, all those passages, which speak 
of mankind as justified and saved by the blood and by 
the death of Christ, indicate, in an unequivocal man- 
ner, that our faith especially respects this as its object ; 
because his death is especially the means of our salva- 
tion ; since by this he became ' a propitiation for the 
sins of the world.' 

3. As a king. 

' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved, thou and thy house.' Acts xvi. 31. 'No man 
can say, that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost,' 
I Cor. xii. 3. ' And they stoned Stephen, invocating, 
and saying, Lord Jesus receive my spirit ; and he cried 
with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge,' 
Acts vii. 59, 60. ' For I know in whom I have be- 
lieved ; and am persuaded, that he is able to keep that 
which I have committed unto him against that day.' 
In all these instances the faith referred to is evidently 
faith in Christ, as the Lord, or ' King in Zion.' The 
two last passages exhibit very strong examples of 
faith in Christ, as the sovereign disjjoser of all things. 



To ' deny the Lord, who bought us,' St Peter declares 
to be the means of ' bringing upon ourselves swift de- 
struction,' 2 Peter ii. 1. 

V. The faith of the gospel is an affection of trie 
heart. 

' With the heart,' says St Paul , ' man believeth unto 
righteousness,' Rom. x. 10. This passage would be 
more literally translated, ' With the heart faith exists 
unto righteousness ;' that is, the faith which is ' ac- 
counted to man for righteousness,' or which is produc- 
tive of righteousness in the life, hath its seat in the 
heart ; and the heart in this exercise co-operates with 
the understanding. In the former of these senses, the 
faith itself is called, Rom. iv. 13, ' the righteousness of 
faith ;' the faith itself being a righteous or virtuous ex- 
ercise. ' For the promise, that he should be heir of 
the world, was not to Abraham, or to his seed, through 
law, but through the righteousness of faith,' Rom. iv. 
13. 'If thou believest with all thine heart,' said Phi- 
lip to the eunuch, ' thou mayest be baptized,' Acts viii. 
37. The faith of the heart, therefore, was indispensa- 
ble to the eunuch, as the proper subject of baptism. 

VI. The faith of the gospel is the faith of Abraham. 
Both St Paul and St James have taught this doctrine 

so clearly and so abundantly, that I suppose no proof 
of this truth will be demanded. I shall only observe, 
therefore, that by St Paul the believing Gentiles are 
said to ' walk in the steps of the faith of Abraham ;' 
and to be ' the seed, which is of the faith of Abraham ;' 
and that on this account Abraham is called { the father 
of all them that believe,' in reference to the promise, 
that he should be ' the father of many nations,' Rom. 
iv. 11, 12, 16. 

Having established, as I hope, these several points 
by clear, unequivocal, scriptural decisions, I proceed 
to the main object of this Discom-se, to which all that 
has been said will be found to be intimately related 
and highly important, by every person who wishes to 
understand this supremely interesting subject ; viz. the 
nature of that exercise which thus respects God as its 
object ; which peculiarly respects Christ as its object ; 
which is an affection of the heart ; and which is of the 
very same nature with that faith, which ' was counted 
to Abraham for righteousness.' I assert, then, 

VII. That the faith of the gospel is that emotion of 
the mind, which is called trust, or confidence, exercised 
towards the moral character of God, and particularly 
of the Saviour. 

All those of my audience who have been accustomed 
to read theological writings must know, that few moral 
subjects have been so much debated as faith. The con- 
troversy concerning it began in the days of "the apostles, 
and has continued to the present time. Many writers 
have undoubtedly adopted views concerning this sub- 
ject which are not warranted by the Scriptures. Many 
others, who have been sufficiently orthodox, have yet 
appeared to me to leave the subject less clear and dis- 
tinct than I have wished. Few of their readers have, I 
suspect, left the persusal of what they have written with 
such satisfactory views concerning the nature of faith, 
as to leave their minds free from perplexity and doubt. 
Most of them would, I apprehend, wish to ask the 
writers a few questions at least, the answers to which 
would, in their view, probably remove several difficul- 
ties, and place the whole subject in a more distinct and 
obvious light. The difficulty which in my own researches 

2 Y 



354 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxvi. 



has appeared to attend many orthodox writings con- 
cerning it, has been this ; it has been connected with 
various other things, which, although contributing per- 
haps to the writer's particular purpose, have yet dis- 
tracted my attention, and prevented me from obtaining 
that clear and distinct view of faith which I wished. 
Like a man seen in a crowd, its appearance, although 
in many respects real and true, was yet obscure, indis- 
tinct, and unsatisfactory. I wished to see and survey it 
alone. 

It will not, I suppose, be doubted, that evangelical 
faith, whatever is its object, is in all instances one single 
exercise of the mind. This being admitted, I proceed 
to show, that this exercise is the confidence mentioned 
above, by the following arguments : — 

1. This confidence was the faith of Abraham. 

This position I shall illustrate from two passages of 
Scripture. 

The first is Heb. xi. 8, ' By faith Abraham, when he 
was called to go out into a place, wbich he should after 
receive for an inheritance, obeyed ; and he went out, 
not knowing whither he went.' In this passage of 
Scripture it is declared, that Abraham was called to go 
into a distant land ; and that, in obedience to this call, 
' he went out, not knowing whither he went.' It is 
farther declared, that ' he went by faith,' that is, the 
faith so often mentioned in this chapter. That this was 
evangelical or justifying faith is certain ; because, at the 
close of the preceding chapter, it is mentioned as the 
' faith by which the just shall live' (see ver. 38) ; be- 
cause it is styled the faith, ' without which it is impossi- 
ble to please God ;' the faith, with which ' Abraham 
offered up Isaac ;'* with which ' Moses esteemed the 
reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in 
Egypt ;' with which believers are said ' to desire a bet- 
ter country, that is, an heavenly ;' and on account of 
which, ' God is not ashamed to be called their God;' and 
to reward which he is said to have prepared for them 
a '. city ;' or in other words, heaven.f The faith, then, 
with which Abraham went out to the land of Canaan, 
was the faith of the gospel. 

The whole of the chapter is employed in unfolding 
the nature of this virtue. The manner in which this is 
done will, I am persuaded, be found upon a thorough 
examination to be singularly wise and happy. Faith is 
here described by its effects ; and by effects which it 
has actually produced. These are chosen with great 
felicity and success. The persons selected, are persons 
who lived long before the appearance of Christ. Of 
course they knew very little concerning this glorious 
person, in the strict sense of the term, knowing. Their 
faith was, therefore, not at all confused and obscured by 
any real or apprehended mixture of knowledge. It ex- 
isted simply, and by itself; and for that reason is seen 
apart from all other objects. In each of these persons 
it is seen in a new situation, and therefore, in some re- 
spects, in a new light. It appears in strong and effica- 
cious exercise ; and is therefore seen indubitably. It 
is exhibited as producing obedience in very many 
forms ; and is thus exhibited as the source of obedience 
in every form. It is seen in many situations, and those 
highly interesting and difficult ; and this therefore proved 
to be capable of producing obedience in every situation, 
and of enabling us to overcome every difficulty. In a 



See Jam. ii. 21—23. 



+ See Heb. xi. 6, 10, 17, 26. 



word, it is here proved beyond debate, that faith is, in 
all instances, ' the victory which overcometh the world.' 

The faith of Abraham exercised on this occasion was, 
then, the faith of the gospel. To understand its nature, 
as exhibited in this passage, it will be useful to consider 
the whole situation and conduct of Abraham, at the 
time specified. 

When Abraham was called to go out of his own land, 
he knew not whither he was going ; to what country, 
or to what kind of residence. He knew not whether 
the people would prove friends or enemies, kind or 
cruel, comfortable or uncomfortable neighbours to him ; 
nor whether his own situation, and that of his family, 
would be happy or unhappy. Wholly uninfluenced by 
these considerations, and all others, by which men are 
usually governed in their enterprises, he still adven- 
tured upon an undertaking in which his own temporal 
interests and those of his family were finally embarked. 
Why did he thus adventure ? The only answer to 
this question is, he was induced to go by a regard to the 
character of the person who called him. This regard 
was of a peculiar kind. It was not reverence, love, nor 
admiration. Neither of these is assigned by the apostle 
as the cause of his conduct. They might, they un- 
doubtedly did, exist in his mind ; but they did not 
govern his determination. 

The emotion, by which he was compelled to leave his 
home, was confidence. God summoned him to this 
hazardous and important expedition, and he readily 
obeyed the summons. The true and only reason was, 
he confided entirely in the character and directions of 
God. God, in his view, was a being of such a charac- 
ter, that it was safe, and in all respects desirable, for 
Abraham to trust himself implicitly to his guidance. 
Such were his views of this glorious Being, that to com- 
mit himself, and all his concerns, to the direction of 
God was, in his estimation, the best thing in his 
power ; best for him, and best for his family. He 
considered God as knowing better than he knew, and 
as choosing better than he could choose for himself. 
At the same time he experienced an exquisite plea- 
sure in yielding himself to the direction of God. 
The divine character was, to his eye, beautiful, glori- 
ous, and lovely ; and the emotion of confiding in it 
was delightful. Sweet in itself, it was approved by 
his conscience, approved by his Creator, and on both 
accounts doubly delightful. 

The prime object of this confidence was the moral 
character of God ; his goodness, mercy, faithfulness, and 
truth. Unpossessed of these attributes, he could never 
be trusted by us. His knowledge and power would, in 
this case, be merely objects of terror, and foundations 
of that dreadful suspense, which is finished misery. 
The confidence of Abraham therefore was, evidently 
confidence in the moral character of God. 

It ought here to be observed, that the person, to whom 
Abraham's confidence was immediately directed, was 
the Lord Jesus Christ. ' No man hath seen God,' the 
Father, ' at any time.' The person appearing under 
the name of God to the patriarchs, was the Lord Jesus 
Christ. This is decisively proved in many ways : and, 
particularly, by the direct declaration of St Paul, 1 Cor. 
x. 9, ' Neither let us tempt Christ, as some of them also 
tempted, and were destroyed of serpents.' The passage 
here referred to, and the only one in which this event 
is recorded by Moses, is Numb. xxi. 5, 6 : ' And the 



NATURE OF FAITH. 



355 



people spake against God, and against Moses ; Where- 
fore have ye brought us up out of Egypt, to die in the 
wilderness ? for there is no bread, neither is there any 
water ; and our soul loatheth this light bread. And Je- 
hovah sent fiery serpents among the people, and they 
bit the people, and much people of Israel died.' The 
God, the Jehovah, here mentioned, is unequivocally de- 
clared by St Paul to be Christ ; and that it was the same 
God who destroyed the Israelites on this occasion, that 
appeared throughout the Old Testament to the patri- 
archs and their descendants, will not be questioned. 
Christ, therefore, was the immediate object of confidence 
to Abraham. 

Let me endeavour to exhibit this subject with greater 
clearness by a familiar example. A parent sets out 
upon a journey, and takes with him one of his little 
children, always accustomed to receive benefits from his 
parental tenderness. The child plainly knows nothing 
of the destined journey ; of the place to which he is go- 
ing, of the people whom he will find, the entertainment 
which he will receive, the sufferings which he must un- 
dergo, or the pleasures which he may enjoy. Yet the 
child goes willingly, and with delight, Why ? not be- 
cause he is ignorant ; for ignorance by itself is a source 
to him of nothing but doubt and fear. Were a stranger 
to propose to him the same journey in the same terms, 
he would decline it at once, and could not be induced 
to enter upon it without compulsion. Yet his ignorance 
here would be at least equally great. He is wholly go- 
verned, as a rational being ought to be, by rational con- 
siderations. Confidence in his parent, whom he knows 
by experience to be only a benefactor to him, and in 
whose affection and tenderness he has always found 
safety and pleasure, is the sole ground of his cheerful 
acceptance of the proposed journey, and of all his sub- 
sequent conduct. In his parent's company he feels de- 
lighted, in his care safe. Separated from him, he is at 
once alarmed, anxious, and miserable. Nothing can 
easily restore him to peace, or comfort, or hope, but the 
return of his parent. In his own obedience and filial 
affection, and in his father's approbation and tenderness, 
care and guidance, he finds sufficient enjoyment, and 
feels satisfied and secure. He looks for no other motive 
than his father's choice, and his own confidence. The 
way which his father points out, although perfectly un- 
known to him, the entertainment which he provides, 
the places at which he chooses to stop, and the measures, 
universally, which he is pleased to take, are, in the view 
of the child, all proper, right, and good. For his pa- 
rent's pleasure, and for that only, he inquires ; and to 
this single object are confined all his views, and all his 
affections. 

No characteristic is by common sense esteemed more 
amiable or more useful in little children, more suited to 
their circumstances, their wants, and their character, 
than confidence. Nor is any parent ever better pleased 
with his own little children, than when they exhibit this 
characteristic. The pleasure of receiving it, and that of 
exercising it, are substantially the same. 

In adult years, men of every description reciprocate 
the same pleasure in mutual confidence, whenever it is 
exercised. Friends, husbands and wives, rulers and 
subjects, demand, experience, and enjoy, this affection 
in a manner generally corresponding with that I have 
described. 

The second passage, from which I propose to show 



that this confidence was the faith of Abraham, is Rom. 
iv. 20 — 22. ' He staggered not at the promise of God 
through unbelief, but was strong in faith, giving glory 
to God, and being fully persuaded, that what he had 
promised he was also able to perform ; and therefore it 
was imputed to him for righteousness.' The faith of 
Abraham here described, in which he was ' strong, giv- 
ing glory to God,' and which was imputed to him for 
righteousness,' was faith in the promise of God concern- 
ing the future birth of Isaac, through whom he was to 
become the progenitor of Christ, and the father of many 
nations, especially of believers of all ages. This faith 
was built on the moral character of the promiser. But 
faith in a promise, when it is directed to the disposition 
of the promiser, as is plainly the case here, because the 
fulfilment of the promise must depend entirely on this 
disposition, is the very confidence of which I have been 
speaking. 

2. This is the faith of the Old Testament. 

' Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,' says 
Job, chap. xiii. 1 5. — ' I will trust in the mercy of God 
for ever and ever,' Psal. lii. 8 ' I will trust in the co- 
vert of thy wings,' Psal. lxi. 4 ' The righteous shall 

be glad in the Lord, and shall trust in him,' Psal. lxiv. 

10 ' They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount 

Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever,* 

Psal. exxv. 1 ' Who is among you that fearetb the 

Lord ? — let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay 
upon his God,' Isa. 1. 10. — ' Cursed be the man that 
trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose 
heart departeth from the Lord. Blessed is the man 
that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is,' 
Jer. xvii. 5, 6. 

No person acquainted with the Scriptures can, I think, 
hesitate to admit, that the exercise of mind mentioned 
in these passages under the name trust, is the same with 
that which in the New Testament is called faith. It is 
the character of the same persons, viz. the righteous, 
and their peculiar and pre-eminent character. The im- 
portance and the obligations assigned to it are the same ; 
and the blessings promised to it are the same. All who 
possess and exercise it are pronounced ' blessed ;' and 
all who do not possess it are declared ' cursed.' 

In the verse following that last quoted from Jeremiah, 
the peculiar blessings of faith are declared to be the 
blessings of ' the man, who trusteth in the Lord. For 
he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that 
spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see 
when heat cometh ; but her leaf shall be green ; and 
shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither 
shall cease from yielding fruit.' The peculiar character 
as well as peculiar blessing of faith is, that he who is the 
subject of it, shall ' abound in the work of the Lord.' 

Such, precisely, is the glorious blessing here annexed 
to him who trusteth in the Lord; a blessing which is 
evidently the greatest of all blessings ; for our Saviour 
informs us, that ' it is more blessed to give, than to re- 
ceive ;' to communicate good, than to gain it at the 
hands of others : a declaration which St Paul appears 
to make the sum of all that Christ taught concerning 
this interesting subject. 

3. It is, I apprehend, the faith of the New Testament 
also. 

In various places in the New Testament this exersise 
of the mind is directly called by the names trust and 
confidence. 



356 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxvi. 



' In his name shall the Gentiles trust,' quoted from 
Isa. xlii. 4, where it is rendered, ' the isles shall wait for 
his law :' in Matt. xii. 21, and Rom. xv. 12. That the 
word ' trust,' used here, denotes the faith of the Gen- 
tiles in the name of Christ, will not be questioned. 

Eph. i. 12, St Paul says, ' that we ' (that is, himself 
and his fellow Christians), ' should be to the praise of 
his glory, who first trusted in Christ.' 

1 Tim. iv. 10, ' For therefore we both labour and 
suffer reproach, because we trust in the living God, 
who is the Saviour of all men, especially of those that 
believe.' 

2 Tim. i. 12, ' For I know whom I have believed.' 
The word srewwrsiixos is, by the translators, rendered 
' trusted,' in the margin. It is rendered also in the 
same manner by Cruden, and, I think, correctly. 

Heb. iii. 14, ' If we hold the beginning of our con- 
fidence steadfast unto the end ;' that is, our faith al- 
ready begun. 

Heb. xi. 1 , ' Faith is the confidence of things hoped 
for.' This may, perhaps be regarded as a general 
definition. The word war-neVa of which one of the 
meanings is trust , ought, I think, to be extensively ren- 
dered by this English term, in order to express the true 
senss of the original. The same thing may also be ob- 
served concerning its derivatives. 

But the proof which I especially mean to allege at 
the present time, is contained in the following things : 

(1.) The faith of Abraham is the faith of the New 
Testament : and this has, I flatter myself, been already 
proved to be the confidence above-mentioned. 

(2.) In that extensive account of faith which is given 
us in the eleventh chapter of the Hebrews, we are 
taught, that the faith exercised by the saints of the Old 
Testament, is the same with the faith of the gospel ; and 
this is not only generally called trust in the Old Testa- 
ment itself; but, as has been already proved in several 
instances, and, were there time or necessity, might be 
proved in all, is no other than the confidence which I 
have specified. All these persons confided in the pro- 
mise of God, and in the moral character of him by whom 
they were given. 

4. The nature of the case, and the situation of the 
penitent, when he exercises faith in Christ, clearly evince 
the truth of the doctrine. 

The sinner is condemned and ruined. By the law 
of God all hope of his recovery and salvation is pre- 
cluded. Left to himself, therefore, in his present situ- 
ation, he cannot be saved. While he is in this misera- 
ble condition, Christ declares that he is able, willing, 
and faithful to save him ; and that to this end the sin- 
ner must, indispensably, surrender himself into his 
hands, or give himself up to him, and consent to be 
saved by him in his own way. Now, what can induce 
the sinner, in a case of this infinite magnitude, thus to 
give himself into the hands of Christ? Nothing but an 
entire confidence in his character, as thus able, will- 
ing, and faithful to save. But how shall the sinner 
know this ? Or if he cannot know it, how shall he be 
persuaded of it ? Know it in the proper sense of know- 
ledge, he cannot ; for it is plainly not an object of sci- 
ence. The word of Christ is the only ultimate evi- 
dence by which he must be governed ; and this word 
depends, for all its veracity and convincing influence, 
(in the moral character of Christ ; on his goodness, 
faithfulness, and truth. Whenever the sinner, there- 



fore, gives himself to Christ, according to his proposal, 
and in obedience to his commands, he does it merely 
because he places an entire confidence in his moral 
character, and in the declarations which he has made. 
In these he confides, because they are the declarations 
of just such a person, possessing just such a moral cha- 
racter. On this he trusts himself, his soul, his eternal 
well-being. 

If he trusts in the instructions, precepts, and ordi- 
nances of Christ (for our faith is not unfrequently said 
to be exercised towards these), it is only because they 
are the instructions, precepts, and ordinances of such a 
person. Some of them, indeed, he may discern to be 
true and right in themselves ; but for the truth of others, 
and the wisdom and safety of obeying them all, he re- 
lies, and must rely, only on Christ's character as their 
author. If he believes in the righteousness of Christ, 
and the acceptableness of it to God, as the foundation 
of pardon and peace to sinners, he believes or trusts 
in it only because it is the righteousness of just such a 
person. 

The same things are true of his faith in the invita- 
tions, promises, resurrection, ascension, exaltation, go- 
vernment, intercession, presence, protection, and uni- 
versal blessings of the Redeemer. The faith of the 
Christian is exercised towards all these things. But all 
of them, separated from his moral character, are no- 
thing to the believer. 

From these considerations it is, I think, sufficiently 
evident, that the faith of the gospel, whatever may be 
its immediate object, is no other than confidence in the 
moral character of God, especially of the Redeemer. 

If I am asked, ' What is confidence in moral charac- 
ter ?' I answer, look into your own bosoms, and ex- 
amine what is that exercise of mind in which you trust 
a man for the sake of what he is ; a parent, for exam- 
ple, or a friend. In this exercise you will find a strong 
illustration of the faith of the gospel. 

Confidence, or trust, is a complex emotion of the 
mind, and involves good-will to its object. We cannot 
thus confide in any person, whom we do not love. 

It involves, also, complacency in the object, or appro- 
bation of his character. We cannot thus trust any per- 
son whom we do not esteem. 

It involves a conviction, that the attributes which awa- 
ken our confidence, really exist in the person whom we 
trust. 

It involves a persuasion, that, in the case, and on the 
terms proposed, 'the person in whom we confide is ready 
to befriend us. Until this is admitted by us, there will 
be nothing about which our confidence can be exer- 
cised. 

It involves a sincere delight in every exercise of 
it. No emotion yields higher enjoyment than confi- 
dence. 

It involves a cheerful devotion to the interests and 
pleasure of the object trusted ; a disposition to promote 
these interests, and to conform to that pleasure. To- 
wards a superior, it is thus the foundation of constant 
and ready obedience. 

Generally : It is the true and supreme attachment of 
a creature to his Creator ; in which he surrenders him- 
self entirely into his hands, to be disposed of by him at 
his pleasure, and to be made the instrument of his 
glory. 



NATURE OF FAITH. 



357 



1. This account of evangelical faith, if admitted, 
puts an end to all disputes concerning the question, Whe- 
ther faith is a moral virtue. 

So long as the nature of faith is unsettled, every 
question depending on it, must be unsettled also. If 
we do not determine what the faith of the gospel is, we 
are ill prepared to decide whether it is of a moral na« 
ture or not. If the faith of the gospel be a mere spe- 
culative assent to probable evidence, although we may 
indeed be virtuous in the disposition with which we at 
times exercise it, as was, I trust, proved in the preced- 
ing Discourse ; yet, clearly, it is not necessarily virtu- 
ous, nor, if the mind stop here, can be virtuous at all. 
In mere speculative belief, existing by itself, that is, in 
merely yielding our assent to probable evidence, we are, 
as I observed in the same Discourse, entirely passive, 
and in no sense virtuous. But if faith is confidence in 
God, of the nature here exhibited, it is beyond dispute 
virtue ; virtue of pre-eminent importance, and capable 
of existing in every possible degree. So far as I know, 
confidence in this sense, has ever been esteemed volun- 
tary, and acknowledged, therefore, to be of a moral na- 
ture. Plainly, this is its true character. Accordingly, 
it is approved, loved, and commended by all mankind ; 
and undoubtedly merits all the encomiums given to it, 
both in profane writings, and in revelation. 

One of the principal reasons why the faith of the gos- 
pel has been supposed to be a mere speculative belief, is 
probably this : speculative belief is the thing intended 
by the term, faith, in its original sense. It is not very 
unnatural, therefore, when we begin to read the Scrip- 
tures, to consider this as the meaning of the word in 
these writings ; nor is it very unnatural for men of a 
sanguine cast, men who have a system to defend, or men 
who change their opinions with reluctance, to retain an 
interpretation which they have once imbibed. We are 
not, therefore, to wonder that this opinion has been ex- 
tensively spread, or pertinaciously i-etained. 

But the Scriptures give no countenance to this doc- 
trine. ' With the heart man believeth unto righteous- 
ness,' is the sum of their instructions concerning this 
subject. He who can believe that a speculative assent 
to probable evidence, such as that which we yield to or- 
dinary historical testimony, produced the affects ascribed 
to faith in the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the 
Hebrews, can certainly believe any thing. 

2. This doctrine explains to us the manner in which 
faith is spoken of in the Scriptures. 

Particularly, we see abundant reason why it is spoken 
of as a virtue ; and is accordingly commanded in many 
forms, on many occasions, and to all persons ; and why 
it is promised a glorious and endless reward. At the 
same time we have explained to us, in the same satis- 
factory manner, the various scriptural accounts of its 
opposite, distrust, or unbelief ; and the reasons why it 
is pronounced to be sinful, is everywhere forbidden, 
and is threatened with endless punishment. This ex- 
hibition of faith also explains to us, in the most satisfac- 
tory manner, why faith is strongly and universally com- 
mended in the Scriptures, and why unbelief is repro- 
bated in a similar manner ; why saints are called be- 
lievers and faithful, these names being considered as 
equivalent to the names holy and virtuous ; and why 
unbelievers and infidels are terms used in the Scrip- 



tures as equivalent to sinful, wicked, and ungodly. We 
learn, farther, why faith, directed to the word, ordi- 
nances, and providence of God ; to the example, atone- 
ment, death, resurrection, and exaltation of Christ ; or 
directly to the character of God and the Redeemer, is 
considered in the Scriptures as substantially of the same 
nature, and as the same thing : the faith exercised being 
always the same moral act, springing from the same 
spirit, terminating in the same object, and producing 
the same effects. If, therefore, it exists with reference 
to one of these objects, it exists also in successive acts, 
invariably towards them all. Finally, we see the reason 
why faith in God, in Christ, or in divine truth, is ex- 
hibited as being, in a sense, the sum of all duty, and the 
foundation of all present and future spiritual good ; and 
why unbelief is presented to us as, in a sense, the sum 
of all disobedience, and the source of all spiritual evil 
both here and hereafter. 

These and the like representations are easily explain- 
ed, if by faith we intend confidence in the moral cha- 
racter of God and the Redeemer. This confidence is 
plainly the beginning and the continuance of union and 
attachment to our Creator ; while, on the other hand, 
distrust is a complete separation of the soul from the au- 
thor of its being. It is plainly impossible for him who 
distrusts God, to have any moral union to him, or any 
devotion to his pleasure. 

Confidence is also the highest honour which an in- 
telligent creature can render to his Creator. No act of 
such a creature can so clearly or so strongly declare his 
approbation of the divine character, or his devotion to 
the divine will, as committing ourselves entirely to him 
in this manner. In this act we declare, in the most de- 
cisive manner, the character of God to be formed of 
such attributes, as will secure our whole well-being, and 
fulfill all our vindicable desires. Whatever can be hoped 
for from supreme and infinite excellence, we declare 
ourselves to expect from the character of God ; and pro- 
nounce his pleasure to be, in our view, the sum of all 
that is excellent and desirable. In distrusting God, we 
declare in the same forcible manner precisely the oppo- 
site things ; and thus, so far as is in our power, dishonour 
his character, and impeach his designs. 

3. This account of faith strongly evinces the divinity 
of Christ. 

The faith which we are required to exercise in Christ, 
is as unqualified, as entire, and as extensive as that 
which we are required to exercise towards God. The 
blessings promised to it are the same, and the evils 
threatened to our refusal of it are also the same. No 
mark of difference with respect to these particulars is 
even hinted at in the Scriptures. This must, I think, 
be inexplicable, unless the attributes to which alone the 
faith is directed, and which alone render it our duty to 
exercise it, are in each case the same. 

Besides, it is incredible that an intelligent being, 
rationally employed, should confide himself, his ever- 
lasting interests, his all, to any hands but those of in 
finite perfection. Stephen, ' full of the Holy Ghost,' 
could not, I think, as he was leaving the world, have 
said to any creature, ' Lord Jesus, into thy hands I 
commend my spirit.' No man in the possession of a 
sound mind, could, as it seems to me, say this even to 
Cabriel himself. 

4. AVe learn from these observations, that the faith of 
the gospel will exist for ever. 



358 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxvii. 



We often speak of faith, as hereafter to be swallowed 
up in vision, and intend by this that it will cease to exist 
an the future world. In a qualified sense it is undoubt- 
edly true ; for many things which we now believe only, 
we shall hereafter know with certainty. But confidence 
in God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, will 
exist for ever. Moral character seeins not in its nature 
to be an object of science, properly so called. Spi- 
rits by every eye, except the omniscient, are discerned 
only through the medium of their actions, which are 
proofs of the'r natural attributes, and expressions of 
their moral character. Moral character is the amount 
of all the volitions of a moral agent. As these are free 
and independent, they are incapable of being known, 
but by the voluntary manifestations of the agent him- 
self. United, they form and exhibit the whole moral 
character. In parts, though they denote it truly, they 
denote it imperfectly. 

In every age of eternity it will be true that, in the phy- 
sical sense, it is possible for God to oppress or destroy 
even his obedient creatures. The proofs that he will not, 
are found only in the disclosure of his moral character ; 
and on these disclosures his virtuous creatures will 
for ever rely with undoubting confidence, and with the 
utmost propriety and wisdom. Knowledge, or science, 



in the strict sense, they will not I think be ever able to 
obtain of this immensely important subject, nor would 
they be benefited, were they able. Science is in no de- 
gree of a moral nature, nor of course attended by vir- 
tuous affections, nor followed by virtuous conduct. But 
confidence is in itself moral and virtuous, and capa- 
ble of being the highest virtue of a rational creature. 
Amiable and excellent in itself, it is approved and 
loved by God ; the foundation of delight in his charac- 
ter, the source of uninterrupted obedience to his will, 
an endearing and immovable union to him, a similar 
union to the virtuous universe, and the basis of ever- 
lasting friendship and beneficence, in all their mutual 
intercourse. 

It will therefore revive beyond the grave, and with 
new vigour and perfection. With every new display 
of divine excellence and created worth, it will rise 
higher and higher without end. The mind in which it 
exists, will in every stage of its progress become wiser, 
nobler, better, and happier. Heaven in all its concerns, 
its inhabitants, and dispensations, will from its influence 
assume without intermission a brighter aspect, and the 
immense, eternal kingdom of Jehovah continually be- 
come a more and more perfect mirror, reflecting with 
increasing splendour his supreme excellence and glory. 



SERMON LXVII. 

JUSTIFICATION THE INFLUENCE OF FAITH IN OUR JUSTIFICATION. 



Therefore we conclude, that man is justified by faith without works of law. — Rom. iii. 28. 



Having shown that we are justified freely by the grace 
of God, proved the duty of believing, and explained the 
nature of evangelical faith, in the three preceding Dis- 
courses ; I shall now proceed to examine the connexion 
of faith with our justification. The first of these Dis- 
courses was employed in discussing that which is done 
in our justification on the part of God ; in this Dis- 
course I shall examine the nature and influence of that 
which is done on the part of man, towards the accom- 
plishment of this important event. We are justified 
freely, or gratuitously. Yet we are justified condition- 
ally ; not in our natural, corrupt, and universal state ; 
but in consequence of a new and peculiar state, denoted 
by the word faith. 

In discussing this subject, I shall include the observa- 
tions which I think it necessary to make under the fol- 
lowing heads : 

I. The manner, in which faith becomes ; and, 

II. The propriety with which it is constituted the 
means of our justification. 

I. / shall attempt to describe the manner in which 
faith becomes the means of our justification. 

To exhibit this subject in the clearest light, it will be 
useful to return again to the covenant of redemption, 
in which the justification of mankind was originally 
promised. You will perhaps remember, that there are, 
as was formerly stated, three distinct promises contained 
in this covenant, beside the general one, which involves 
them all ; that ' Christ shall see (or possess) a seed ;' 



that ' this seed shall prolong their days ' (or endure, or 
be happy, for ever) ; and that ' the throne (or domin- 
ion) of Christ' over them ' shall be as the days of 
heaven ' (or, in other words, eternal). The first of 
these promises, on which the other two are founded, is, 
' that Christ shall see (or possess) a seed :' that is, he 
shall have a number, elsewhere said to be very great, of 
children, disciples or followers, in consequence of making 
his soul an offering for sin :' or ' a propitiatory sacrifice.' 
The great question naturally arising in this place is, 
In what manner do apostate men, of whom his followers 
were to consist, become his seed ? To this question I 
answer, By faith. In explaining the true and full im- 
port of this answer, every thing may be said which is 
necessary to the object under consideration. To this 
end, it will be proper to observe, 

1. That mankind do not become the children of Christ 
by creation. 

By creation all men are equally his children. But 
all men are not his children in the sense of this cove- 
nant. In this sense, those only are his seed, who are 
his disciples. But we know from innumerable passages 
of Scripture, that all men are not his disciples. 

2. Men do not become the children of Christ by their 
obedience to the law. 

No man has obeyed the law ; and, therefore, ' by 
works of law no flesh can be justified.' 

3. Men do not become the children of Christ merely 
by his atonement. 



INFLUENCE OF FAITH IN JUSTIFICATION. 



359 



Christ was ' a propitiation for the sins of the whole 
world,' as well as for his disciples. But the whole world 
is not included in the number of his disciples. 

4. Mankind do not become the children of Christ by 
their obedience wrought after they believe in him. 

No man ever obeys, in the scriptural sense, until 
after he has believed. But men are children of Christ 
whenever they believe, and that, Avhether they live to 
perform acts of obedience, or not. Multitudes, there 
is every reason to suppose, die so soon after believing, 
as to render it impossible for them to perform any acts 
of obedience whatever. All these are disciples of 
Christ. Men, therefore, ' are justified by faith, without 
works of law.' 

As these are all the modes in which mankind have 
ever been supposed to become disciples of Christ, beside 
that which is the main subject of this Discourse, the 
necessary conclusion from these observations will be, 
that men become his children by faith, according to the 
meaning of this covenant. 

At the same time, the nature of the case furnishes 
the most conclusive evidence to this position. Men in 
their original state are ruined and helpless. In this 
state Christ offers himself to them as a Saviour, on the 
condition that they will become his ; or that they will 
' come to him ;' or that they will give themselves up to 
him ; or, in other words, voluntarily become his. In 
the seventeenth chapter of John, ver. 2, Christ says, 
in his intercessory prayer to God, ' As thou hast given 
him.' (that is Christ) ' power over all flesh ; that he 
should give eternal life to as many as thou hast given 
him.' In the ninth verse he says, ' I pray not for the 
world, but for them which thou hast given me ; for 
they are thine. And all mine are thine, and thine are 
mine ; and I am glorified in them.' In these passages 
we learn that the Father gave to Christ, originally, 
some of the human race ; that all these are Christ's ; 
that he is glorified in them ; and that he gives them 
eternal life. 

The covenant of grace made between God and man- 
kind, is contained in these words, ' I will be your God, 
and ye shall be my people.' In this covenant God is 
pleased to engage on his part, to be the God of all who 
will be his ; and man, on his part, gives himself up to 
God, engaging to be his. Accordingly mankind are 
commanded to yield themselves to God. ' Yield your- 
selves,' says St Paul to the Romans, ' unto God, as 
those that are alive from the dead,' Rom. vi. 13. 'Be 
ye not stiff-necked,' says Hezekiah to the Israelites, ' as 
your fathers were ; but yield yourselves unto the Lord ; 
and serve the Lord, that the fierceness of his wrath may 
turn away from you.' 

According to this scheme, which is everywhere the 
scheme of the Scriptures, those who are children of 
Christ, become such first, by being given to him of the 
Father ; next, by giving themselves to him ; and then 
by being received by him. ' Him that cometh unto me 
I will in no wise cast out,' John vi. 37. Thus it is evi- 
dent, that that which on the part of mankind makes 
them Christ's children, is their own voluntary gift of 
themselves to him. Accordingly St Paul, speaking in 
the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, of the Macedo- 
nian Christians, says, that ' they first gave their own- 
selves to the Lord,' chap. viii. 5. 

The act by which this voluntary surrender of our- 
selves to Christ is accomplished, is the faith or confi- 



dence of the gospel. When Christ proposes himself to 
us as a Saviour, it is plain that we have no other securi- 
ty of the salvation which he promises, beside the pro- 
mise itself, and this furnishes no security beside what is 
contained in his character. Confidence then, in his 
character, and in his promise as founded on it, is that 
act of the mind by which alone it renders itself to 
Christ, and becomes his ; one of his children, his dis- 
ciple, his follower. Unless the soul confide in him, it 
is plainly impossible that it should confide or yield it- 
self to him ; and, unless it yield itself to him, it cannot 
become his. But the act of confiding in him is, in the 
case specified, the act also of confiding itself to him. 

When the soul thus renders itself into the hands of 
Christ, it does it on his own terms. It casts off all for- 
mer dependence on its own righteousness, whether ap- 
prehended or real, for acceptance with God, for for- 
giveness and justification. Conscious of its entire un- 
worthiness, and desert of the divine anger, the reality 
and greatness of its guilt, the justice of its condemnation, 
and the impossibility of expiating its own sins, it casts 
itself at the footstool of his mercy, as a suppliant for 
mere pardon, and welcomes him as the glorious, effica- 
cious, and all-sufficient atonement for sins, and inter- 
cessor for sinners. With these views and affections, it 
yields itself up to him as a free will offering, with an 
entire confidence in all that he hath taught, and done, 
and suffered in the divine character of Mediator be- 
tween God and man. In this manner it becomes his, 
here and for ever. 

As his it is acknowledged, in accordance with that 
glorious promise, ' Him that cometh unto me I will in 
no wise cast out.' As his, its ' name is written in the 
Lamb's book of life ;' and it is invested with a sure, in- 
defeasible title to all the promises of the gospel ; par- 
ticularly to those recorded in the second and third chap- 
ters of the Apocalypse ; and to ' the inheritance which 
is undefiled, and fadeth not away.' 

It has been often debated, whether mankind are jus- 
tified, in the full and proper-sense, in this world, or in 
that which is to come. To the great question, concern- 
ing the manner of our justification, this point appears to 
me to be of little importance. Whenever a man thus 
gives himself into the hands of Christ, he becomes his, 
in the sense of the covenant of redemption ; and his 
title to justification in this character is complete. When- 
ever, therefore, he enters into the future world, and ap- 
pears before the judge of the quick and the dead, he 
comes in a character acknowledged in the covenant of 
redemption, with a title to acceptance founded on the , 
promise of the Father contained in that covenant ; and 
pleads, with certain prevalence, his own performance oi 
the condition on his part ; viz. faith in the Redeemer, 
as having brought him within the limits of that promise. 
As Christ'si then, and as Christ's alone, as one of ins 
seed, he is acknowledged, forgiven, acquitted, and re- 
ceived to the heavenly inheritance. 

It is here to be observed, and always to be remem- 
bered, that the believer is not thus accepted on account 
of his faith, considered as merit ; or as furnishing a 
claim, in the nature of a work of righteousness, suffi- 
ciently excellent to deserve justification, either wholly 
or partially. Considered in every other light, except 
that of being one of Christ's children, or, in other 
words, considered merely as a moral being, he merits 
nothing at the hand of God but anger and punishment. 



360 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxvii. 



If he were to be 'judged according to his works,' in 
this sense, he would be ruined. For although many of 
his actions are, in a greater or less degree, really virtu- 
ous, yet his sins also are many and very great ; en- 
hanced by all the light which he has enjoyed, the grace 
which he has received, and the covenant which he has 
made. In this case, he would come before God as a 
mere subject of law; no 'jot or tittle' of which has 
ceased to bind him with its original obligatory force, 
or to demand from him, with all its original authority, 
exact obedience. Such obedience can here be the only 
possible ground of justification ; and this obedience was. 
never rendered by any child of Adam. 

II. J will endeavour to show the propriety with which 
faith is constituted the means of our justification. 

It has been already shown, that we are not justified 
by faith because it renders us deserving of this favour 
at the hand of God. Still there is, I apprehend, an 
evident propriety in constituting faith the means of our 
justification. If returning sinners are to be justified at 
all, it will, I suppose, be acknowledged, that it must be 
proper for God to justify them, in such a manner as 
shall most contribute to his glory, and their good. This 
I shall endeavour to prove to be the real consequence of 
the manner in which they are actually justified. 

It contributes peculiarly to the glory of God, in the 
following, among other particulars. 

1. It is a dispensation of grace merely. 
Every thing pertaining to this dispensation on the 
part of God, is the result of mere sovereign, unmerited 
love. This attribute, thus considered, is by the divine 
writers everywhere spoken of as the peculiar glory of 
the divine character. Whenever they have occasion to 
mention it, they rise above themselves, utter their sen- 
timents with a kind of rapture, and adopt the style of 
exclamation, rather than that of sober description, ' Who 
art thou,' says Zechariah, ' great mountain ? Before 
Zerubbabel thou shalfc become a plain ; and he shall 
bring forth the head stone thereof with shoutings ; cry- 
ing, Grace, grace unto it.' — ' Behold, what manner of 
love,' says St John, ' the Father hath bestowed on us, 
that we should be called the sons of God !' — ' For this 
cause,' says St Paul, ' I bow my knees unto the Father 
of our Lord Jesus Christ — that ye, being rooted and 
grounded in love, may be able to comprehend, with all 
saints, what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and 
height ; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth 
knowledge.' — ' Having predestinated us,' says the same 
apostle, ' unto the adoption of Children by Jesus Christ 
to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, to 
the praise of the glory of his grace ; wherein he hath 
made us accepted in the beloved : in whom we have re- 
demption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, ac- 
cording to the riches of his grace. ' — ' Praise the Lord,' 
says David, ' for he is good, for his mercy endureth for 
ever !' In this manner the subject is always considered, 
and always spoken of, by the divine writers. I shall 
only add, that the angels themselves appear to entertain 
similar thoughts concerning it ; as was abundantly mani- 
fested when, at the birth of the Saviour, they sang, 
' Glory to God in the highest ; and on earth peace : 
good-will towards men.' 

All men will probably agree, that love exercised to- 
wards enemies is the fairest and most illustrious speci- 
men of good-will, of which we have any knowledge. 
Exercised by God towards sinners, not only his ene- 



mies, not only lost and ruined, but eminently vile and 
guilty enemies, it is certainly seen in its consummation. 
In justifying mankind through faith in the Redeemer, 
this manifestation of love is seen in its fairest and most 
finished form. All the previous steps, indispensable to 
its accomplishment, and beyond measure wonderful, 
were dictated and carried into execution by mere grace. 
By mere grace, when all these things are done, is the 
sinner accepted, without any merit of his own, and only 
in the character of one who has confidentially given 
himself to Christ. In this dispensation, then, this most 
glorious attribute of God is seen in the fairest light. 

2. It is fitted to produce the greatest degree of grati- 
tude in man. 

In Luke vii. 40, we are told that Simon the Pharisee, 
at whose house our Saviour was sitting at meat, cen- 
sured him for suffering a poor sinful woman to anoint 
him with precious ointment ; and that Christ said un- 
to him, ' Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And 
he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor, 
who had two debtors ; the one owed five hundred pence, 
and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, 
he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, 
which of them will love him most. Simon answered 
and said, I suppose, that he to whom he forgave most. 
And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged.' 

From this passage of Scripture it is evident, that for- 
giveness confers a peculiar obligation and inspires pe- 
culiar gratitude ; and that this obligation and gratitude 
are great, in proportion to the number and guilt of the 
sins which are forgiven. But the scheme of justification 
by faith, being a scheme of mere forgiveness, without 
any consideration of merit on the part of those who are 
justified, and the number and guilt of the sins forgiven 
being very great, the fairest foundation is laid here for 
the highest possible gratitude. This emotion, and its 
effects, will extend through eternity ; and constitute no 
small part of the character, usefulness, and felicity, of 
the redeemed ; and no small part of their loveliness in 
the sight of their Creator. Had mankind been justified 
by works, either wholly or partially, this affection, and 
its consequences, could not have existed in the same 
manner, nor in the same degree. 

3. This dispensation is eminently honourable to Christ. 

St Paul, in 1 Cor. chap. i. quoting from Jer. ix. de- 
livers it as a precept intended universally to regulate the 
conduct of mankind, that ' he who glorieth should glory 
only in the Lord ;' because ' he is made unto us wisdom, 
righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.' In con- 
formity to this rule of conduct, we find it asserted, in the 
fifth of the Revelation, that the four living ones, and 
the four-and-twenty elders, fell down before the Lamb, 
and sang a new song ; saying, ' Thou art worthy to take 
the book, and to open the seals thereof; for thou wast 
slain ; and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out 
of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation ; 
and hast made us unto our God kings and priests : and 
we shall reign on the earth.' Immediately upon this, the 
whole host of heaven exclaimed with a loud voice, 
' Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, 
and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and 
glory, and blessing.' Finally, both heaven and earth 
are exhibited as uniting with one voice in this sublime 
ascription, ' Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, 
be unto him that sitteth on the throne, and unto the 
Lamb, for ever and ever.' At the close of this act of 



INFLUENCE OF FAITH IN JUSTIFICATION. 



361 



celestial worship, the four living ones subjoin their so- 
lemn ' Amen !' This passage needs no comment. 

In the scheme of justification by faith, it is evident 
that all the glory of saving sinners from endless guilt 
and misery, and of raising them to immortal happiness 
and virtue, centres in the Redeemer ; and that, accord- 
ing to his own declaration, he is eminently glorified in 
this manner, in those who are given to him by the Fa- 
ther as his children. John xvii. 10. 

4. It is honourable to God that he should annex jus- 
tification to virtue, and not to any thing of a different 
nature. 

Faith is virtue. But the works of mankind, wrought 
before the existence of faith in the soul, are in no sense 
virtuous. Faith is also the commencement of virtue in 
man. It is highly honourable to God that he should 
annex justification to the first appearance of virtue in 
the human character. In this manner he exhibits, in 
the strongest degree, his readiness to forgive, accept, 
and save the returning sinner ; the greatness of his 
mercy which, at the sight of the returning prodigal, has- 
tens to meet and welcome him, guilty as he has been, in 
all his rags, and dirt, and shame, merely because he has 
set his face in earnest towards his father's house ; and the 
sublime and glorious pleasure which he enjoys in ' find- 
ing ' a son who.' was lost' to all good, and in seeing him, 
once ' dead, alive again ' to useful and divine purposes. 

5. It is honourable to God, that he should annex our 
justification to that attribute which is the true source of 
virtuous obedience. 

That faith is the true source of such obedience, in all 
its forms and degrees, is so completely proved by St 
Paul in the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the He- 
brews, as to admit of no debate, and to demand no farther 
illustration. He declares directly and universally, that 
' without faith it is impossible to please God ' in any act 
whatever ; and that ' by faith Enoch ' in his obedience 
' pleased God.' By necessary consequence, all the other 
worthies mentioned in that chapter pleased him also, 
for the same reason. On account of their faith he teaches 
us, that ' God is not ashamed to be called their God ;' 
and ' has prepared them a city,' an everlasting residence, 
a final home in the heavenly world. Finally, he shows 
that faith is the real and only source of that obedience 
which is the most arduous, self-denying, honourable to 
the human character, and eminently pleasing to God. 
In a word, every thing truly glorious which can be 
achieved by man, he declares, in the latter part of the 
chapter, to be achieved by faith alone. 

St John also assures us, that ' faith is the victory, 
which overcometh the world ;' the real power by which, 
on our part, temptations are effectually resisted, snares 
escaped, enemies overthrown, and heaven with all its 
blessings, finally won. 

While this scheme of justification therefore strips man 
of all pretensions to merit, and gives the whole glory of 
his salvation to his Maker, it furnishes the most effica- 
cious means and the most absolute assurance of his 
future obedience, his perpetual improvement in holiness, 
and his certain advancement towards the best character 
which he will ever be capable of sustaining. The 
obedience springing from faith is voluntary, filial, and 
lovely. All other obedience is mercenary, and of no 
moral worth. It will not be denied, that a dispensa- 
tion of which these are the consequences, is highly hon- 
ourable to the character of its author. 



Every person who has attended to these observations 
must clearly see that they illustrate, in various parti- 
culars, the usefulness of this dispensation to man : all of 
them plainly involving personal advantages, and those 
very great, to the justified ; as well as peculiar glory to 
the justifier. Two additional observations will contain 
all that is necessary to the farther illustration of this 
part of the subject. 

(1.) This dispensation is profitable to mankind, as it 
renders their justification easy and certain. 

Had our justification been made to depend on a 
course of obedience, it is not difficult to see that we 
should have been involved in many perplexities and 
dangers. Repentance at late periods of life would, par- 
ticularly, have been exceedingly discouraged. It will 
not be denied that such repentance exists, nor, however 
rare we may suppose it, that it exists upon the whole in 
many instances. Nor can any man of common humanity 
avoid wishing, that the number of these instances may be 
greatly increased. Such instances exist even on a dying 
bed, and, as there is good reason to believe, in consid- 
erable numbers. But how discouraging to such persons 
would it be, to know that their justification was depend- 
ent on their own obedience ! Is there not every reason 
to believe that most, if not all, persons in these circum- 
stances would be discouraged from every effort, and lay 
aside the attempt as hopeless ? What, in this case also, 
would become of children dying in their infancy? and 
what of persons perishing by shipwreck, the sword, and 
innumerable other causes, which terminate life by a 
sudden, unexpected dissolution ? 

Farther : If justification were annexed to our obedi- 
ence, how should the nature and degree of obedience be 
estimated ? How pure must it be ? What degree of con- 
tamination might it admit, and still answer the end? 
With what degree of uniformity must it be continued ? 
With what proportion of lapses, and in what degree ex- 
isting, might it be intermixed ? These questions seem 
not to have been answered in the Scriptures. Who is 
able to answer them ? 

Again : From what principle in man shall this obe- 
dience spring ? From the mere wish to gain heaven by 
it ? or from a virtuous principle ? From a virtuous 
principle, it will probably be answered. In reply, it 
may be asked, from what virtuous principle ? I pre- 
sume it will be said, From love to God. But it ought 
to be remembered that, where there is no confidence, 
there is no love, and therefore, no virtue. Consequently, 
there is in this case nothing from which virtuous obedi- 
ence can spring. How then can man be justified by his 
obedience ? 

But by the annexing justification to faith, God has 
removed all these difficulties and dangers. It is ren- 
dered as easy as possible to our attainment. For the 
first act of virtuous regard to God which is exercised, 
or can be exercised, by a returning sinner, is faith. If 
then, he can do any thing which is praise-worthy or vir- 
tuous, he can exercise faith. As his justification is in- 
separably annexed to this exercise by the promise of 
God, it is as certain as that promise is sure. 

(2.) This scheme provides most effectually for the 
happiness of man. Evangelical faith is an emotion of 
the mind, delightful in itself, and delightful in all 
its consequences. Faith is a ' well-spring of water ' 
flowing out * unto everlasting life.' All the streams 
which proceed from it in the soul of the believer 
2* 



362 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. LXV1II. 



are sweet, refreshing, and life-giving. Faith, fixing its 
eye on the unmerited and boundless goodness of (Jod, 
sees in the great act of justification, faithfulness, 
truth, and mercy displayed, to which it neither finds 
nor wishes to find limits. The soul, in the contem- 
plation of what itself has been, and what it has re- 
ceived, becomes fitted through this confidence for 
every thing excellent, and every thing desirable. Peace, 
and hope, and love, and joy rise up spontaneously under 
its happy influence ; and flourish, unfavourable as the 
climate and soil are, with a verdure and strength un- 
withering and unfading. All the gratitude which can 
exist in such a soul is awakened by the strong conscious- 
ness of immense and undeserved blessings, and all the 
obedience prompted which can be found in such a life. 
Good of a celestial kind, and superior to every thing 
which this world can give, is really and at times delight- 
fully enjoyed, and supporting anticipations are acquired 
of more perfect good beyond the grave. 

This extensive and all-important subject is the prin- 
cipal theme of St Paul's discourse in the seven first 
chapters of the Epistle to the Romans. In the eighth 
chapter he derives from it a train of more sublime and in- 
teresting reflections than can be found in any other pas- 
sage of Scripture of equal extent. He commences them 
with this triumphant conclusion from what he had before 
said: ' There is, therefore, now no condemnation to them 
•who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the 
flesh, but after the spirit.' He then goes on to dis- 
play, in a series of delightful consequences, the 
remedial influence of the gospel upon a world ruined 
by sin, and condemned by the law of God ; marks 
the immense difference between the native character 
of man, as a disobedient subject of law, and his re- 
newed character, as an immediate subject of grace ; and 
discloses particularly the agency of the Spirit of truth 
in regenerating, quickening, purifying, and guiding the 
soul in its progress towards heaven. The consequences 
of this agency he then describes with unrivalled ' feli- 
city and splendour ; and animates the universe with 
anxious expectation to see the day in which these blessed 
consequences shall be completely discovered. On the 



consequences themselves he expatiates in language won- 
derfully lofty, and with images superlatively magni- 
ficent. ' What shall we then say to these things ?' he 
exclaims ; ' If God be for us, who can be against us ? 
He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up 
for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us 
all things? Who shall lay any thing to the charge of 
God's elect ? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that 
condemneth ? It is Christ that died ; yea, rather that 
is risen again ; who is even at the right hand of God ; 
who also maketh intercession for us. Who shall se- 
parate us from the love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, 
or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or 
peril, or sword ? Nay, in all these things, we are more 
than conquerors, through him that loved us. For I am 
persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor 
principalities, nor powers, northings present, nor things 
to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, whicli 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' 

Such ought to be the thoughts of all who read, and pe- 
culiarly of all who have embraced, the Gospel. Here 
we find the true application of this doctrine, the proper 
inferences to which it conducts us. We could not have 
originated them, but we can imbibe and apply them. 
A scene is here opened without limits, and without end. 
On all the blessings here disclosed, eternity is inscribed 
by the divine hand. We are here assured an eternal 
residence of immortal virtue, immortal happiness, and 
immortal glory ; of intelligence for ever enlarging, of 
affections for ever rising, and of conduct for ever refin- 
ing towards perfection. Whatever the thoughts can 
comprehend, whatever the heart can wish, nay, abun- 
dantly ' more than we can ask or think,' is here by the 
voice of God promised to every man who possesses the 
faith of the gospel. When we remember that all these 
blessings were purchased by the humiliation, life, and 
death of the Son of God, can we fail to exclaim in the 
language of Heaven, ' Worthy is the Lamb that was 
slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and 
strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing i Amen.' 



SERMON LXVIII. 



JUSTIFICATION — RECONCILIATION OF PAUL AND JAMES.- 

JUSTIFIED BY WORKS. 



IN WHAT SENSE MANKIND ARE 



Ye see then how that a man is justified by works, and not by faith only. — James ii. 24. 



This passage of Scripture, together with a part of the 
context, is directly opposed, in terms, to the doctrine 
which has been derived, in several preceding Discourses, 
from St Paul's Epistle to the Romans. Infidels, and 
particularly Voltaire, have seized the occasion which 
they have supposed themselves to find here, to sneer 
against the Scriptures ; and have triumphantly asserted 
that St James and St Paul contradict each other in their 
doctrine, as well as their phraseology. Nor are infidels 
the only persons to whom this passage has been a stum- 
bling-block. Divines, in a multitude of instances, have 
found in it difficulties which they have plainly felt, and 



have differed not a little concerning the manner in 
which it is to be interpreted. 

Some divines, among whom was the first President 
Edwards, have taught, that St James speaks of justifi- 
cation in the sight of men only ; while St Paul speaks 
of justification in the sight of Uod. This, I think, can- 
not be a just opinion. It is plain from the 21 — 23d 
verses, that St James speaks of the same justification 
which Abraham received, and in which ' his faith was 
counted unto him for righteousness.' It is also evi- 
dent from the 14th verse, in the question, 'Can failh 
save him ?' From this it is plain that St James had his 



IN WHAT SENSE WORKS JUSTIFY. 



363 



eye upon the justification to which salvation is an- 
nexed. 

Another class of divines have supposed, that St James 
teaches here, a legal or meritorious justification ; and 
that this is the true doctrine of the gospel concerning 
this subject. St Paul, they therefore conclude, is to be 
so understood as to be reconcilable with St James in 
this doctrine. 

Others, among whom are the late Bishop Home and 
Dr Macknight, suppose, that St James speaks of our 
justification, as accomplished in part by those good 
works which are produced by faith ; and this they main- 
tain also to be the doctrine of St Paul. It is believed 
that this scheme has been already proved to be un- 
sound ; but as it is true that St James really speaks of 
such works, it will be necessary to consider the manner 
in which he speaks of them more particularly hereafter. 

Others, and among them Poole (whose comment on 
this chapter is excellent), suppose, that St Paul speaks 
of justification properly so called ; and St James of the 
manifestation, or proof, of that justification. That in 
this sense the apostles are perfectly reconcilable, I am 
ready to admit ; but am inclined to doubt whether this 
is the sense in which St James is really to be understood. 

By this time it must be evident to those who hear me, 
that there is some real difficulty in a comparison of this 
passage of St James with the writings of St Paul. By 
a real difficulty I do not intend that there is any incon- 
sistency between these two apostles ; for, I apprehend, 
there is none ; but I intend, that there is so much ob- 
scurity in this discourse of St James, as to have led 
divines of great respectability and worth to understand 
his words in very different manners ; and prevented 
them from agreeing, even when harmonious enough as 
to their general systems, in any one interpretation of 
the apostle's expressions. Even this is not all. Luther 
went so far as, on account of this very chapter, to deny 
the inspiration of St James ; and one of Luther's fol- 
lowers was so displeased with it, as to charge this apostle 
with willful falsehood. 

St James has been called, with more boldness than 
accuracy, a writer of paradoxes. This character was, I 
presume, given' of him from the pithy, sententious, and 
figurative manner in which he delivers his thoughts. 
This manner of writing, very common among the Asi- 
atics, seems to have been originally derived from their 
poetry. The most perfect example of it, in the poetical 
form, found in the Scriptures, is a part of the book of 
Proverbs, commencing with the tenth chapter, and end- 
ing with the twenty-ninth. Here, except in a few in- 
stances, there is no connexion intended nor formed 
between the successive sentences. The nine first chap- 
ters, the Book of Job, and Ecclesiastes, are examples of 
the nearest approximation to this unconnected manner 
of writing in continued discourses, which the Scriptures 
exhibit. In all these, although a particular subject is 
pursued through a considerable length, yet the con- 
nexion will be found, almost invariably, to lie in the 
thought only. The transitions are, accordingly, bold 
and abrupt ; and frequently demand no small degree of 
attention, in order to understand them. Probably, they 
are more obscure to us than they were to the Asiatic 
nations, to whom this mode of writing was familiar ; 
since we have learned from the Greeks to exhibit the 
connexions and transitions of thought, universally, in 
words ; and to indicate them clearly in the forms of ex- 



pression. The wisdom of the Son of Sirach is another 
example of the same nature, which maybe fairly classed 
with those already mentioned ; as may also the prophecy 
of Hosea. Every person, in reading these writings, 
must perceive a degree of obscurity, arising not only 
from the concise and figurative language, but from the 
abruptness of the transitions also, which at times ren- 
ders it extremely difficult to trace the connexion of the 
thoughts. 

St James approaches nearer to this manner of writ- 
ing, than any other prosaic writer in the Old or New 
Testament. He is bolder, more figurative, more con- 
cise, and more abrupt. That there should be some dif- 
ficulty in understanding him satisfactorily, ought to be 
expected as a thing of course. We cannot wonder then, 
that different meanings should be annexed to the writ- 
ings of this apostle ; and from this source only, as I be- 
lieve, are these different interpretations derived. 

Having premised these observations, of which the 
use may easily be perceived, I now assert, that both 
apostles speak of the same justification, that which is 
before God ; and that they are perfectly harmonious in 
holding the doctrine of justification by faith without 
works. 

To elucidate the truth of this assertion, it will be 
necessary to remark, that there are two totally different 
kinds of faith spoken of in the Scriptures : one, a 
speculative belief or mere assent to probable evidence ; 
the other, the confidence which has been already de- 
scribed in these Discourses. From the former of these 
obedience to God never sprang, and cannot spring. 
The latter is the source of all obedience. As both, how- 
ever, are called by the same name, each has, in its turn, 
been declared to be the faith to which justification is 
annexed. To both, this character was challenged in the 
days of the apostles. That doctrine of antinomianism, 
from which the name is derived, began in the days of 
the apostles : viz. that we are released by the gospel 
from obedience to the law. Of course, whoever em- 
braced this doctrine believed his faith to be sufficient 
for his justification, without any works of righteousness. 
Against this error, I believe with Doddridge and others, 
the apostle James directed this discourse. The question 
which he discusses, was not whether we were justified by 
evangelical faith only ; or, partially by that faith, and 
partially by the works which it produces ; but whether 
we are justified by a faith in its nature unproductive of 
works ; viz. mere speculative belief; or whether we are 
justified by the faith of the gospel, from which all works 
of righteousness flow of course. That this account of 
this subject is true, I shall now attempt to prove. 

St James introduces his discussion of this subject 
with these questions : ' What doth it profit, my brethren, 
though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? 
Can faith save him?' In the original it is »j irwcts; the 
faith, which the. man declares himself to have ; or, as it 
is correctly rendered by Macknight, and various other 
commentators, this faith. ' Can this faith save him ?' 
Undoubtedly it can, if it can justify him ; but this is no- 
where asserted in the Scriptures. The justifying faith 
of St Paul is ' the faith which worketh by love ;' the 
faith of ' the heart,' with which alone ' man believed 
unto righteousness.' 

The uselessness of this faith St James then elucidates 
by an allusion to that inactive and worthless benevo- 
lence, so celebrated in modern times by Godwin and 



3Gi 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxvih. 



other philosopliers. ' If a brother or sister be naked, 
and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto 
them, Depart in peace ; be ye warmed and be ye filled : 
notwithstanding, ye give them not those things which 
are needful to the body ; what doth it profit ?' As this 
philanthropy is not only of no use, and therefore of no 
value, but a reproach to him who professes it, because 
his conduct gives the lie to his professions ; so the faith 
of him who believes the gospel, and whose life is not 
governed by the all-important doctrines and precepts 
which it contains, is equally destitute of worth, and 
equally reproachful to his character. In the words of 
the apostle in the following verse, ' it is dead, being 
alone ;' or, as in the Greek, ' by itself.' 

In the eighteenth verse, he proves in the strongest 
manner, that such a faith is not the faith of Christians. 
' Yea, a man ' (that is, a Christian,) ' may say, Thou 
hast faith, and I have works : show me thy faith with- 
out thy works, and I will show thee my faith by my 
works.' Christ taught the great doctrine, that Chris- 
tians were to ' be known by their fruits ' only ; and that 
these were the true, regular, and invariable proofs of 
that faith by which they were constituted Christians. 
But the faith which is without works is incapable of hav- 
ing its existence proved at all. This, therefore, cannot 
be the faith of Christians. 

In the twentieth verse he exhibits this subject in a 
manner which puts the account here given beyond all 
reasonable controversy. ' Thou believest that there is one 
God ; thou doest well : the devils also believe and trem- 
ble.' The devils (rx ^at^ovix, the demons) are, and by 
St James are declared to be, the subjects of speculative 
belief; but it will not be pretended that they can be the 
subjects of justifying faith. But St James teaches us, 
that the faith of which he is speaking is the same with 
that of the devils. 

With the same precision he exhibits the same thing, 
under a different form, in the twentieth verse. ' But 
wilt thou know, O vain man ! that faith without works 
is dead ?' The Greek words for ' vain man' are xv&Qa-Kz 
kzvi, properly rendered false man, or hypocrite. But 
surely the faith of a hypocrite is not the faith of the gos- 
pel. The last part of this verse would be better trans- 
lated, ' a faith without works is dead,' that is, a faith 
which is without works. 

In the four following verses, St James illustrates this 
subject by a comparison of this faith of the hypocrite 
with that of Abraham. ' Was not Abraham our father 
justified by works, when he had offered Isaac his son 
upon the altar ? Seest thou how faith wrought with his 
' works, and by works was faith made perfect ? And the 
, Scripture was fulfilled, which saith, Abraham believed 
God ; and it was imputed unto him for righteousness. 
And he was called the friend of God. Ye see, then, 
how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith 
only.' 

In this part of the chapter all the real difficulty lies. 
To explain the true import of it, let St James be his own 
commentator. After having given us the declaration, 
that Abraham was justified by works, when he ' offered,' 
or, as in the original, lifted up, ' Isaac upon the altai-,' 
and taught us, that 'faith co-operated with his works ;' 
and that ' by works his faith was perfected; he says, in 
the twenty-third verse, that ' the Scripture was fulfilled,' 
that is, confirmed, * which saith, Abraham believed God, 
and it was counted to him lor righteousness : and he 



was called the friend of God.' This passage of Scrip- 
ture is found in Genesis xv. 6. That which he believed 
was these two declarations : ' This shall not be thine 
heir;' viz. Eliezer of Damascus; 'but he who shall come 
forth out of thine own bowels, shall be thine heir.' And 
again ; ' Look now towards heaven, and tell the stars, if 
thou be able to number them ; and he said unto him, So 
shall thy seed be.' Confiding in these promises was that 
act of Abraham concerning which it is said in the follow- 
ing verse, ' He believed in Jehovah, and he counted it 
to him for righteousness.' The act of lifting up Isaac up- 
on the altar, by which St James says, ' the Scripture was 
fulfilled,' that is, confirmed, existed more than twenty 
years afterward. In what sense, then, did that act confirm 
this declaration of Scripture ? Plainly in this ; it showed 
that the faith of Abraham was the genuine faith of the 
gospel ; a real, operative confidence in the promises of 
God. This it showed in a very forcible light, because 
the obedience was singularly great and self-denying. 
Exclusively of this, it will be difficult to find any sense 
in which the declaration can be true. That Abraham 
was justified by faith, and by that very act of faith here 
recited, is expressly declared by St Paul, Rom. iv. and 
Gal. iii. ; and therefore cannot be disputed. It is of no 
significance, here, to say, that Abraham's justification 
was not completed in this world, but will be completed 
at the final trial ; or that it was completed, when he en- 
tered the future world. It is sufficient for the present 
purpose, that his title to justification was complete and 
certain, when ' his faith was counted to him for right- 
eousness.' Had he then died, he would have been ac- 
cepted of God, his sins would have been forgiven, and 
his soul made happy for ever. He to whom all things 
are present, makes no new determinations concerning 
this subject. It is plain, then, that an act of obedience 
existing a long time afterward, could not alter that 
which was past ; nor affect in any manner the justifica- 
tion of Abraham, which was already made certain. 

From these observations it is, I trust, sufficiently evi- 
dent, that this very case put by St James is a clear 
proof, unless we are willing to deny an express declara- 
tion of Scripture as quoted by him, and written by 
Moses, that we are not justified, either partially or 
wholly, by works, in the common meaning of that 
phraseology ; and that the true doctrine of St James is 
no other, than that Ave are not justified by a speculative 
belief which is without works, but by the faith of the 
gospel ' which worketh by love.' 

This is farther evident from the last clause of the 23d 
verse ; ' And he was called the friend of God.' That 
which made him the friend of God, was his faith, his 
confidence in God. The act of offering Isaac could in 
no sense make him the friend of God ; but was merely 
a signal and glorious proof of his confidence, and the 
friendship which it involved and produced. 

If these observations be admitted as just, it will be 
unnecessary to dwell on the two remaining verses. The 
case of Rahab, in the following verse, is perfectly ex- 
plained by that of Abraham. In the conluding verse 
St James solemnly repeats the groat doctrine of this 
passage, which, by repeating it in three different instan- 
ces, he clearly proves to be the main thing on which he 
meant to insist in these concise and emphatical words ; 
' For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith 
without works is dead also ;' or, as I should render it, ' a 
. faith without works ;' that is, 6uch a faith as is without 



IN WHAT SENSE WORKS JUSTIFY. 



365 



works. The meaning of St James is, not that evangeli- 
cal faith when it is without works is dead, for it cannot 
exist without producing good works ; but that such a 
faith as is unproductive of good works, viz. a mere 
speculative belief, is dead ; and, like a corpse from which 
the soul has fled, is absolutely useless and loathsome to 
every beholder. 

Having finished the remarks which I proposed to 
make on this passage of St James, I shall now proceed 
to show the real influence of good works on the justifi- 
cation of mankind. 

1. When we confide ourselves to Christ, we do it ac- 
cording to his own terms. 

Among these he has required us to ' do all things 
whatsoever he hath commanded us ;' and ' to walk as he 
also walked.' But his commands involve every good 
work, and his example has presented to us a universal 
system of good works actually done by himself. To 
obey him, and to be like him, is therefore to perform 
every good work. 

All this also he has required us to do voluntarily, 
faithfully, and alway. When, therefore, we confide in 
Christ, we surrender ourselves into his hands with a 
fixed intention, a cordial choice of universal obedience, 
as our whole future conduct. 

2. The faith of the gospel cannot exist without good 
works. 

To the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the He- 
brews I appeal as a complete proof of this position. 
That principle in the soul which produced the many 
various, difficult, and exalted acts of obedience record- 
ed in this chapter, is beyond a debate the well-spring of 
all obedience. The connexion between these things is 
inseparable ; and where the one does not exist, the other 
cannot. In this sense, then, a man is truly said to be 
justified by works ; that he who has the good works 
which spring from the faith of the gospel will be justifi- 
ed, and he who has them not will not be justified. The 
title of the believer to justification is certain and com- 
plete so soon as he believes, because he will never cease 
to believe, and his faith will never cease to operate in 
universal obedience. But were we to suppose a case 
which never existed, and cannot exist, viz. that a man 
should believe with the faith of the gospel, and should 
afterward cease to perform good works, that man, un- 
doubtedly, would never obtain justification. On the 
contrary, he would become a final apostate, and an out- 
cast from the kingdom of God. Thus have I expressed 
my own views of the doctrine contained in this discourse 
of St James, and shall only add, that this is equally the 
doctrine of St Paul, of Christ, and of the whole Bible. 
The observations made in this Discourse naturally 
suggest the following 



1. It is evident, from this discourse of St James, that 
no attribute or principle is of any value, except as it 
produces good works. 

By good works I intend here, and throughout this 
Sermon, all acts of piety, benevolence, and self-govern- 
ment. Two of these, faith and benevolence, are ex- 
amined in form by St James : viz. the faith of Antino- 
mians, and the philanthropy of modern infidels ; and 
both are proved, irresistibly, to be useless and worth- 
less. What is true of these, is true of all other princi- 
ples and opinions sustaining the same general character. 



The end of all thinking and feeling is action. Whatever 
terminates not in this is a mere cheat, a mass of rubbish, 
a nuisance to ourselves, and to mankind. All the good 
done in the universe is done by action. The most 
perfect and glorious principles which belong to the in- 
telligent character ; those which constituted the bliss of 
paradise ; those which constitute the superior bliss of 
heaven, would be shorn of almost all their radiance, 
were they to cease from their activity. There is, I ac- 
knowledge, in the reception of truth, and the indulgence 
of virtuous affections, an inherent value, a delightful- 
ness interwoven in their own nature. The subject of 
them, if he were prevented by accidental circumstances 
from doing good, would, I acknowledge, still find real 
delight in the things themselves. But, were he to cease 
from doing good when it was in his power, he would be 
stripped of all his virtue and glory, and of almost all 
his enjoyment. ' To him,' says St James, ' that know- 
eth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.' Good 
actions only are blessings to the kingdom of God, and 
the only proofs of excellence of character. 

In this great particular the Scriptures differ bound- 
lessly from the favourite philosophy of modern times. 
Philosophy is satisfied with good words, and good wishes. 
The Scriptures, while they require these, demand with 
infinite authority, as indispensable to our acceptance with 
God, what is inestimably mere valuable, good actions. 
Philosophy is satisfied to say, with coolness and compo- 
sure, to the naked, starving wretch, *■ Depart in peace : 
be thou warmed ; and be thou filled.' The Scriptures, 
with a divine compassion for the sufferer, and with an 
equal concern for the true interest of him who possesses 
the means of relief, compel us by infinite authority and 
an infinite example, to clothe, to feed, and to bless, so 
far as is within our power, all the children of want and 
woe. Beyond this, they require all useful conduct, 
whether it immediately respects God, our fellow-crea- 
tures, or ourselves ; and in this manner provide effectu- 
ally for the happiness of mankind in the present world, 
and for their immortal good in the world to come. 

2. We here see that the Scriptures, and the Scriptures 
only, furnish us with an effectual source of good works. 
No obedience is of any worth in the sight of God or 
man, except that which is voluntary. ' God loveth the 
cheerful giver ; and with his views those of mankind 
perfectly coincide. No obedience of our children or 
servants, no offices of our friends or neighbours, are of 
any value in our estimation, besides those which spring 
from the heart. 

Of this obedience the Scriptures inform us, evangeli- 
cal faith is the genuine spring, and the only spring in 
the present world. The faith of the gospel, as I have 
frequently had occasion to observe, is an affectionate 
confidence in the character of Christ, in which it sur- 
renders itself to him on his own conditions, to be his, 
and to be employed wholly and for ever in his service. 
To the mind, under the influence of this spirit, Christ 
together with all his pleasure, commands, ordinances, 
and instructions, becomes supremely delightful. Obe- 
dience to his commands is to such a mind, of course, 
voluntary, cheerful, and perpetual. Its faith is the 
commencement, and in a fallen creature the only com- 
mencement, as well as the future support and soul of 
the virtuous character. 

In the experience of mankind, this great truth has 
been abundantly proved. The faith of the gospel, and 



366 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxvui. 



that alone, transformed the first Christians from idola- 
ters into saints ; beautified their minds with every grace, 
and adorned their lives with every amiable action. 
Faith alone induced them boldly to renounce idols, and 
to worship the only living and eternal God. Faith 
withdrew them from impiety, deceit, fraud, cruelty, 
revenge, intemperance, and impurity, and rendered 
them pious, sincere, just, kind, forgiving, temperate, and 
chaste. Faith, finally, enabled them to overcome all 
worldly considerations and affections, and to meet the 
rack, the faggot, and the cross, in the lively hope, the 
supporting assurance, of being approved by their Maker, 
and receiving from his hand a crown of immortal glory. 
In faith and its effects all real goodness of character in 
the race of man, all that is pleasing in the sight of God, 
has from that time, nay, from the beginning of the world 
to the present hour, been found. Nor is there any other 
entrance upon a life of virtue, nor any other foundation 
of persevering in real excellence. 

In this all-important particular the Scriptures differ 
infinitely from the efforts of philosophy. Philosophy 
never made '* single man really virtuous, or really ami- 
able in the sight of God. Cicero, who Avas himself one 
of the greatest and most learned of the heathen philoso- 
phers, declares in an unqualified manner, that they, so far 
asheknew,had never, even in a single instance, reformed 
either themselves or their disciples. Those who are 
extensively acquainted with modern infidels, perfectly 
know that their principles have been equally unproduc- 
tive of any proofs of a virtuous character. 

But the Scriptures in the hands of the Spirit of God 
have, in an endless multitude of instances, effectuated 
this glorious reformation of man. Long before the canon 
was begun by Moses, a vast number of the human race, 
by embracing the doctrines and precepts now published 
in the Scriptures, and then communicated by occasional 
revelations, became the subjects of holiness, and the 
heirs of endless life. In all these, through every age 
and every country, the same faith was the sole source of 
all their excellent and honourable conduct towards God 
and towards mankind. ' By faith,' saith St Paul, ' Abel 
offered a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain. By faith 
Enoch was translated, that he should not see death. By 
faith Noah, moved with fear, prepared an ark. By faith 
Abraham, being called to God to go out into a place, 
which he should after receive as an inheritance, went 
out, not knowing whither he went.' This is a testimony 
of God himself concerning these worthies; and they in 
this respect are representatives of all the good men whom 
the world has ever seen. Their faith was the faith of 
all such men ; and all the virtuous conduct of such 
men sprang from the same source, whence theirs was de- 
rived. 

3. From these things it is evident, that no religion 
except Christianity is of any value. 

The end of all doctrines and systems which profess 
to be useful, is no other than to make men virtuous. 
This end Christianity accomplishes; but it has been 
accomplished by no religion beside. While the religion 
of the Old Testament continued to be the only religion 
established by God, it was in substance and, as under- 
stood by the saints of that period, the same with the 
religion of the New. The chief difference was, that 
lliey believed in a Messiah then future, and Christians 
believe in a Messiah who has actually appeared. To 
them ' the gospel was preached, as well as to' Abraham ; 



and they all believed in the Lord, who appeared unto 
Abraham ; ' and it was counted to' them ' for righteous- 
ness.' With Abraham, they ' rejoiced to see the day 
of Christ afar off;' and ' saw it, and were glad.' With 
Job, they knew, that their ' Redeemer lived, and that he 
would stand at the latter day upon the earth : and that 
though after their skin, worms would destroy their 
bodies, yet in their flesh they should see God.' 

But there is not the least reason to believe, that any 
other religion has contributed at all to make men virtu- 
ous. Some truths have been found in every religion : 
but they have universally so abounded in falsehoods, and 
those falsehoods have been so absolutely believed and 
obeyed, that no moral good appears to have been pro- 
duced by them. On the contrary, they have warranted 
and effectuated evils which cannot be measured, sins 
without bounds, and miseries without number. Those 
who believed them most sincerely, and obeyed them 
with the greatest zeal, were among the most profligate 
of their votaries. 

4. It is evident from this discourse ofSt James's, that 
the religious character of all men is to be estimated by 
their works. 

' Show me thy faith without thy works,' that is, if 
thou canst : and ' I will show thee my faith by my 
works.' A faith without works is nothing in the 
Christian scheme, and can be shown neither to our- 
selves nor to others. Let us, then, be just to our- 
selves, and try ourselves as God will try us hereafter. 
Let us place no confidence, no hope, in a faith which 
is without works, nor ever dream that it is the faith 
of the gospel. By our fruits, he ' who searcheth the 
hearts and trieth the reins ' has declared our charac- 
ters are to be known. By this great rule of decision, 
then, ought every one to examine himself. If our 
' faith worketh by love ;' if it ' hath its fruit unto holi- 
ness, its end will be everlasting life ;' if not, it will 
only become ' the way to hell, going down to the 
chambers of death.' In what a dreadful manner will 
the speculative believer be disappointed, to find that 
the foundation on which he built was nothing but sand ; 
and how will he feel when he sees that building swept 
away by the final tempest ! How will it embitter even 
perdition itself, to have been in this world secure of 
eternal life, to have gone to the grave with peace 
and hope, believing ourselves to be true disciples of 
Christ, children of the covenant, and heirs of a blessed 
immortality ; and to be first awakened out of this pleas- 
ing, flattering, delusive dream by the condemning voice 
of the Judge ! Oh that we were wise, that we under- 
stood these things, that we would consider our latter 
end ! 



OBEDIENCE OBLIGATORY BY FAITH. 



367 



SERMON LXIX. 

JUSTIFICATION JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH DOES NOT LESSEN THE OBLIGATIONS 

OR THE MOTIVES TO OBEDIENCE. 



Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid : yea, we establish the law. — Rom. iii. 31. 



In a series of Discourses I have endeavoured to explain 
and prove the doctrine of Justification by faith, without 
works. 

Beside the direct opposition made to this doctrine, it 
has been opposed on account of its apprehended conse- 
quences, particularly, on account of this important con- 
sequence, that it renders the law of God useless, as a 
rule of obedience. This objection St Paul foresaw, and 
thought proper to anticipate in this passage of Scrip- 
ture ; ' Do we then make void the law through faith ? 
God forbid : yea, we establish the law.' As if he had 
said, from the doctrine of justification by faith without 
works, which I have here asserted to be the true doc- 
trine of the gospel, I foresee it will be objected, that I 
render the law of God, as a rule of obedience, useless. 
This, however, is so far from being true, that the doc- 
trine which I have taught in reality establishes the law. 

So peremptory a declaration of the apostle might, 
one would think, have been amply sufficient to silence 
the objectors, and to have persuaded them that this 
opinion of theirs was totally unfounded, and precluded 
the necessity of any future effort to establish the doc- 
trine. The fact, however, has been otherwise. The 
objection has been maintained ever since the apostle 
wrote. Even at the present time, it is a favourite and 
popular objection in the mouths of multitudes, and is 
alleged with triumphant confidence, in defiance, as I 
apprehend, of both reason and revelation. 

It is remarkable, that the doctrine contained in the 
objection, has been strenuously holden by men of to- 
tally opposite principles ; those who assert, and those 
who deny, justification by faith. The former class are 
called Antinomians, the latter Arminians ; with whom 
are united in this particular, Arians, Socinians, Pela- 
gians, and many others. It ought, however, to be ob- 
served, that Arminius himself, and many of his follow- 
ers, have agreed in admitting without hesitation the 
doctrine of justification by faith. 

As the scheme opposed in the text has been adopted 
by these two opposite classes of men, so it has been 
adopted with precisely contrary views. The former 
admit the doctrine that the law is made void by faith, 
as true ; and yet hold that we are justified by faith. Of 
course, they consider it is a part of the design of God 
to make the law void, and hold themselves to be under 
no obligations to obey its precepts. In their view, the 
fact, that the doctrine of justification by faith makes 
void the law, is so far from being an objection to it, 
that it is an original part of the evangelical system ; a 
thing in itself proper, right, and good. The latter class 
bring this consequence as a direct and formidable ob- 
jection against the doctrine of justification by faith, 
from which they suppose the consequence certainly and 
necessarily flows. Were they right in this supposition, 
I cannot, I confess, answer the objection ; nor should I 
know how, consistently with the Scriptures, to admit 



any doctrine which renders the law of God useless, < r 
in the least degree impairs its authority. 

These two different modes of considering this sub- 
ject demand different answers. These I shall give un- 
der the following scheme ; viz. that the doctrine of jus- 
tification by faith lessens not in any degree, but esta- 
blishes in the most effectual manner, 

I. The obligations, and 

II. The motives to obedience. 

Under the first of these heads I shall direct my argu- 
ments against the Antinomian, and under the second 
against the Arminian scheme concerning this subject. 

I. This doctrine does not lessen, but establishes the 
obligations which mankind are under to obey the law of 
God. 

In proof of this position I observe, 

1. The law is a transcript of the divine character. 

By this I intend, that to ' love God with all the heart, 
and our neighbour as ourselves,' is to love God and our 
neighbour in the very manner in which he loves both ; 
that is, so far as creatures are capable of resembling 
their Creator. In other words, it is to be perfectly be- 
nevolent. 'Beloved,' says the apostle John, 'let us 
love one another : for love is of God ; and every one 
that loveth is bcrn of God, and knoweth God. He that 
loveth not knoweth not God ; for God is love.' In this 
passage St John refers, as he does also in the 1 2th and 
1 3th verses of the first chapter of his Gospel, to two ob- 
servations of Christ : ' Except a man be born of water, 
and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of 
God.' ' And this is life eternal ; that they might know 
thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou 
hast sent.' ' Every one that loveth,' he here informs 
us, is thus ' born of God, and knows God,' in such a 
sense as is ' life eternal.' On the other hand, he far- 
ther declares, that ' he who loveth not knows not God,' 
in this sense. Hence it is plain, that he who is not the 
subject of this love, is not a child of God, nor an heir 
of eternal life. Of course, he is not the subject of 
justification, nor of the faith to which it is annexed. 
Finally, St John asserts that ' God is love ;' or that 
love is his whole moral character and essence. He, 
therefore, who is not the subject of this love, is not like 
God, has not the same moral character, or, in other 
words, is not ' renewed after the image of God.' 

Again, the apostle observes in the 16th verse, 'He 
who dwelleth,' or continueth, ' in love, dwelleth in God, 
and God in him.' Of course, he who does not dwell 
or continue in love, does not dwell in God, nor God 
in him. 

But ' love, is the fulfilling of the law.' To fulfill the 
law, then, is to be ' born of God,' to ' know God,' to 
' dwell in God,' and to have ' God dwell in us.' Not to 
fulfill the law is, of course, to be destitute of all these 
characteristics and blessings. Thus the law expresses 
to us, and requires in us the very same moral character 



368 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. I.K1X. 



which is the essence and glory of God. That such a 
law should cease from any part of its obligatory force 
is plainly impossible. 

2. The law is a perfect rule of righteousness. 
It is perfect, as it requires nothing but righteousness. 
To love God with all the heart, and our neighbour as 
ourselves, can never be in any degree or manner wrong. 
This will not be disputed. 

It is perfect, as it requires all possible acts of right- 
eousness. However high, however low, any moral being 
is, the law of God reaches, and controls all his possible 
moral conduct. Angels, on the one hand, and little 
children on the other, can do nothing which is good, 
. which at the same time is not required by this bound- 
less rule of rectitude. 

It is perfect, as it prohibits everything sinful ; that 
is, everything of the nature of moral evil. ' Sin,' says 
the apostle, ' is a transgression of the law.' In this de- 
claration is involved, not only that every transgression 
of the law is sin, but that the ' commandment is so ex- 
ceedingly broad,' as to prohibit everything which is of 
the nature of moral evil. But we need no testimonies 
on this subject. A little consideration will make it 
evident, that to ' love God with all the heart, and our 
neighbour as ourselves,' is necessarily incompatible 
with the existence of sin in the heart or life of him in 
whom this love is found ; and that, as ' love worketh no 
ill to his neighbour,' so it works no ill towards God. 

If, then, we are released by the doctrine of justifica- 
tion by faith from our obligations to obey the law, we 
are released from our obligations to conform to a per- 
fect rule of righteousness, to a law, ' a commandment,' 
which is absolutely ' holy, just, and good.' Can God 
be supposed to consent to this release ? Can it be ra- 
tionally wished by man ? Must it not be regarded as 
a dreadful calamity by every good man ? To what 
would it amount ? To nothing more nor less than be- 
ing released from all obligations to be virtuous. 

3. This doctrine is completely disproved by Christ. 
He denied it to be any part of the end of his mission. 
' Think not, that I am come to destroy the law, or the 
prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil.' 
That there may be no doubt concerning the connexion 
between the phrase, ' the law and the prophets,' and 
the object here in view, let it be observed, that Christ, 
having recited the two great commands which I have 
mentioned, says, ' On these two hang all the. law and 
the prophets.' If, then, he came not to destroy the law 
and the prophets, but to fulfil them, it was certainly no 
part of the end of his mission to destroy in any degree 
the two commands on which they are entirely suspend- 
ed. He has declared the thing to be impossible. 
' Sooner,' saith he, ' shall heaven and earth pass away, 
than one jot or one tittle of the law shall pass, until all 
be fulfilled.' This is no other than a declaration that 
God will sooner annihilate the whole creation, than 
consent to give up his law. Nor is this doctrine at all 
unbecoming the divine character. To create new hea- 
vens and a new earth is a thing easy to him, and can 
be accomplished by a command. Cut were he to give 
up his law in any instance, and with respect to any 
being, he must recede from governing the universe by 
a perfect rule and in a perfect manner. This would be 
to deny himself, for it would be no other than declar- 
ing, by a most solemn act, that he was willing tbat the 
universe should no longer be governed by a perfect 



rule ; and that he would henceforth, either not govern 
it at all, or govern it by an imperfect rule. The injury 
thus done to his character would be infinite ; nor can 
any bounds be set to the mischiefs which in such a case 
would accrue to the universe. 

4. This doctrine is everywhere denied by St Paul. 

In the sixth chapter of the epistle to the Romans, St 
Paul declares that Christians ' are not under law, but 
under grace.' The Antinomians, totally mistaking the 
meaning of this declaration, have supposed, that Chris- 
tians are not under the law as a rule of obedience ; 
whereas the apostle meant only that they are not under 
the law as a sentence of condemnation. In the very 
next verse he says, ' What then? shall we sin, because 
we are not under the law, but under grace ? God for- 
bid.' But not to obey the law is to sin. Again, in the 
first verse of the same chapter, he asks, ' What shall we 
say then ? shall we continue in sin, that grace may 
abound ? God forbid. How shall we that are dead to 
sin live any longer therein ? Let not sin, therefore, 
reign in your mortal body.' Of himself he says, ' I 
delight in the law of God after the inward man ; and 
with the mind I myself serve the law of God.' He also 
declares it to be the great end for which ' God sent his 
own Son in the likeness of human flesh and as a. sin-of- 
fering, to condemn sin in the flesh, that the righteous- 
ness of the law might be fulfilled in ' Christians, who 
' walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.' If, 
then, Christians do not fulfil the righteousness of the 
law, that is, obey it, this great end of Christ's mediation 
must be frustrated. The same apostle declares, that 
' circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing ; 
but keeping the commandments of God :' and that 
' circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing ; 
but faith which worketh by love :' and that ' circumci' 
sion is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing ; but a 
new creature.' From these three passages it is evi- 
dent, among other things, that he who ' keepeth the 
commandments of God,' is the same person in all in- 
stances with him who is possessed of the ' faith which 
worketh by love,' and who is ' a new creature.' So far, 
then, is faith from making void the law, that it is exhi- 
bited by the apostle as the very spirit with which its 
commandments are kept, and which thus becomes the 
means of establishing the law. 

Finally : The same apostle says, ' Without holiness 
no man shall see the Lord.' Holiness, every person 
at all acquainted with the Scriptures knows, is nothing 
but obedience to the law. Without this obedience, then, 
a person who is the subject of faith, and of consequent 
justification, if we were to suppose such a case, would 
never ' see the Lord.' These passages, which I have 
selected without any labour, are ample proof of the 
falsity of this doctrine. Without any labour also many 
more might be easily added, which are equally explicit 
and unambiguous, from every part of the New Testa- 
ment. The decision of St James ,has been heretofore 
recited, as it exists in one passage ; but his whole Epis- 
tle, and the whole united voice of the Scriptures, is 
against this scheme. In truth, I am astonished that it 
should have been adopted by any sober man, who has 
read his Bible. 

\ Let me ask the Antinomian, from which part of the 
I law he considers himself as released ; or whether from 
j the whole. Is he released from his obligation to love 
I God ? or to love mankind ? or from restraining those 



OBEDIENCE OBLIGATORY BY FAITH. 



369 



passions which, if indulged, will prevent him from lov- 
ing either ? Or is he released from them all ? In the 
former case he is released from being virtuous in part. 
In the latter he is released from all virtue. In other 
words, the doctrine of justification by faith has become 
to him a license to hate or forget the God that made 
him, to hate or disregard his neighbour, and to give the 
reins to those passions which thus indulged will conduct 
him to absolute profligacy. 

II. The doctrine of justification by faith does not de- 
stroy or lessen the motives to obedience. 

Those with whom we have hitherto contended, it will 
be remembered, hold the doctrine of justification by 
faith, and admit this objection in its full force ; while 
they believe that, instead of lessening the evidence of 
the doctrine, the objection as well as the doctrine is an 
original part of the evangelical system. Those with 
whom we are now to contend, on the contrary, deny 
the doctrine of justification by faith ; and allege this 
objection as primary evidence of its falsehood. The 
argumentation, therefore, must now take a different 
course from that which has been already adopted, and 
in most respects proceed on different principles. The 
chief design hitherto has been, to take the doctrine of 
justification by faith as granted, because it is in fact 
granted by our antagonists ; and with this admission to 
show that the law remains in full force, as an obliga- 
tory rule of obedience. The design will now be to 
show that the objection against the doctrine, that it les- 
sens the motives to obedience, is destitute of validity, 
because it is destitute of truth. For this purpose, I ob- 
serve, 

1. That the obedience which precedes the existence of 
faith is destitute of any virtuous character. 

' Without faith it is impossible to please God.' The 
external acts of conformity to the law of God are fre- 
quently called by the name of obedience ; and for this 
reason only have I given them that name. But, in my 
own view, the gospel considers them as utterly unde- 
serving of such a title. They are there always exhibit- 
ed as proceeding from ' an evil heart of unbelief;' and 
we are decisively taught, that ' out of the evil treasure ' 
of such a heart ' evil things only proceed.' 

It is undoubtedly our duty ' to lay hold on eternal 
life,' and a gross sin to be negligent of this duty. But it 
cannot be pretended, that the mere pursuit of this good, 
■without any relish for its moral nature, and without any 
voluntary conformity to the will of God concerning it, 
is virtuous. In this case, it is pursued with the same 
spirit and the same views with which we labour to ob- 
tain property, office, or reputation ; and the mind is no 
les3 selfish in the one case, than in the other. No man 
is more scrupulous or more exact in external religious 
observances, than the superstitious man. Yet no other 
person beside himself dreams that his observances are 
virtuous. The Pharisees with great care ' tithed mint, 
anise, and cummin ;' and this they did with an inten- 
tion to procure immortal life by what they esteemed 
obedience. For the same end they washed their hands, 
cups, pots, and other vessels ; ' made long prayers, gave 
alms, fasted often, and did many other things of an ex- 
ternal nature with great care and exactness. So exact, 
so scrupulous were they in their outward religious con- 
duct, that they were highly respected by the people at 
large, as good men. Still, they are pronounced by our 
Lord to be ' a generation of vipers,' and ' children of 



hell.' All their external offices of religion then, though 
directed, generally at least, to the attainment of eternal 
life, and performed with a strong expectation of secur- 
ing it to themselves, were utterly destitute of virtue, 
and failed altogether of rendering them acceptable to 
God. 

The young man who came to Christ to know ' what 
good thing he should do to inherit eternal life',' appears, 
in his original character, to have been more than usual- 
ly amiable : for ' Jesus, beholding him, loved him.' 
The account which he gave of his own external obe- 
dience, appears to me to have been sincerely given. 
There is good reason to believe, that he really and with 
uncommon care had, in the external sense, obeyed the 
commands of the decalogue. Still, he ' lacked one 
thing ;•' and that was ' the one thing needful ;' viz. real 
or evangelical virtue. 

From these examples, thus considered, it is evident 
that men may proceed far (it is difficult to say how far), 
in external obedience, and yet be destitute of the evan- 
gelical character, and of every recommendation to God. 
Hence it cannot but be seen that external religious ob- 
servances, existing in the highest degree, and perform- 
ed primarily for the purpose of obtaining eternal life, 
are not in themselves, nor for this reason, virtuous, nor 
recommendations to the divine favour. If, then, the 
doctrine of justification by faith should in fact lessen 
the motives to this kind of obedience, as performed 
merely with these views, it cannot therefore with any 
truth be said to ' make void the law ;' or to lessen the 
motives to evangelical obedience. 

The dictates of reason perfectly accord with those of 
the Scriptures concerning this subject. That service, 
which is emphatically called mercenary, or which, in 
other words, is performed solely for the sake of a per- 
sonal reward, is never considered by mankind as being 
virtuous, however exactly performed. Hence the very 
term mercenary, though originally indicating nothing 
immoral, has in the most common use acquired a bad 
signification, and is customarily used and regarded as a 
term of reproach. Voluntary service only, in which 
good-will is exercised about the employment and to- 
wards the object which it respects, is acknowledged by 
mankind to be virtuous. Those who love us, merely 
because we love them, and who do good to us, merely 
because we do good to them, are considered by common 
sense, as well as by Christ, as no better than ' publicans 
and sinners.' They may be, they usually are, conve- 
nient to us, and we may love them with the same spirit 
with which they love us; but it is impossible for us 
rationally to esteem them virtuous in this conduct. 

2. The obligations of the law are not lessened by this 
doctrine ; and therefore, the motives to obedience de- 
rived from this source continue the same. 

The nature of the law, its rewards and penalties, and 
the character and authority of the lawgiver, the rela- 
tions which we sustain towards him, as creatures, and 
as subjects of law, are certainly in no respect changed 
by the scheme of evangelical justification. If there is 
a hint of this nature contained in the gospel, I have 
never been able to find it. Until such a hint shall be 
produced, I shall take it for granted that there is none. 

I know of nothing of this nature which can be al- 
leged, even with plausibility, unless it is this ; that the 
believer, being justified by faith, and having his title to 
justification secured, from the commencement of faith 
3i 



370 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. LXiy. 



in his mind, the penalty of the law becomes to him a 
nullity. As I suppose this to be the chief thing aimed 
at by those who make the objection under consideration, 
and that in which the real difficulty is supposed to lie, 
I shall examine it with some degree of attention. 

1. The penalty of the law exists as truly against the 
Christian as against the sinner ; although in a differ- 
ent sense. 

The law denounces its penalty against ' every soul of 
man that doeth evil.' — ' Without holiness no man shall 
see the Lord.' 

But it will be said, that those who hold the doctrine 
of justification by faith, hold also that of the final perse- 
verance of the saints ; and by consequence deny that 
the penalty of the law will ever be executed on any of 
those who become the subjects of faith. As this is fairly 
said, because it is said with truth, particularly so far as 
I am concerned, I feel myself bound to give it a fail- 
consideration. 

Let it be observed, then, that the security which those 
who are the subjects of faith possess of eternal life, is 
not, in my view, connected with the first act of faith in 
this manner ; that they are the subjects of this single 
act of faith, and will afterward be the subjects of 
habitual and characteristical disobedience : but in this 
manner ; that, having once exercised faith, they will 
continue henceforth to practise an habitual and charac- 
teristical obedience to the end of life. ' If a man abide 
not in me,' saith our Saviour, ' he is cast forth as a 
branch, and is withered ; and men gather them, and 
cast them into the fire ; and they are burned. If ye 
keep my commandments ye shall abide in my love ', 
even as I have kept my Father's commandments, and 
abide in his love.' — ' He that endureth to the end, the 
same shall be saved.' — ' For we are made partakers of 
Christ, if we hold the beginning of our confidence stead- 
fast unto the end.' In every one of these passages the 
doctrine which I have specified is declared in terms so 
plain and unequivocal as to need no comment. I shall 
only add one more, although multitudes might be easily 
added. ' But I keep under my body, and bring it into 
subjection ; lest that by any means, when I have preach- 
ed to others, I myself should be a cast away.' If St 
Paul, whose words these are, felt himself in any manner 
exposed to be finally cast away, and considered it as 
absolutely necessary to make these efforts in order to 
avoid this dreadful evil, and the Spirit of Truth dictated 
to him this doctrine and this conduct, nothing can be 
necessary to prove that all other Christians are, at least 
in an equal degree, exposed to the same evil, and need 
the same means to ensure their escape. 

The perseverance of Christians is, in my own view, 
completely secured by the promise of God ; but it is not 
secured by any compulsory or coercive act of almighty 
power. It. is accomplished by means and motives em- 
ployed for this purpose, and rendered effectual by their 
own efforts, and the sanctifying energy of the Divine 
Spirit. If they were not to act, means would be fur- 
nished and motives addressed to them in vain. If they 
were not aided by the energy of the Divine Spirit, their 
efforts would be ineffectual. 

The providence, word, and ordinances of God, are 
these means. Among the motives addressed to them 
for this purpose, are the promises of the gospel, and the 
threatenings of the law ; by which I intend every thing 
contained in the word of God, calculated either to 



encourage, or to alarm. The promises assure the Chris- 
tian, that he shall persevere ; but they do not assure 
him of this blessing on the supposition, that he ceases to 
obey, and yields himself again 'a servant to corruption.' 
On the contrary, they make it secure to him condition- 
ally in this sense, that he never turns back, and refuses 
or neglects to ' walk any more with Christ :' that, on 
the contrary, he ' yields himself a living sacrifice to 
God,' and thenceforth ' walks in newness of life,' not 
perfectly, but habitually and perseveringly unto the end. 
At the same time, they give him certain assurance that, 
by the grace of God, he will be enabled thus to perse- 
vere. The threatenings, on the other hand, continually 
hold out to him the most awful denunciations against 
apostasy ; the most solemn alarms concerning sloth, 
worldliness, and backsliding ; and the most terrifying 
assurance, that, if he does not endure in his duty unto 
the end, in the manner specified, he cannot be saved. 
Thus, while the event is made certain on the one hand, 
the means are made indispensable to it on the other. 
A well known passage of Scripture will sufficiently illus- 
trate this position, The angel of the Lord assured Paul 
that not one of his companions in the ship should perish. 
Yet Paul afterwards declared to the centurion, and to 
the soldiers, that ' except' the seamen ' abode in the ship, 
they could not be saved.' In this part of the subject 
thus explained, it will, I think, be impossible to find any 
thing which lessens in the view of a Christian his mo- 
tives to obedience. 

In the mean time, it is to be remembered, the Chris- 
tian is very rarely assured of his own salvation, because 
he is very rarely assured that he is a Christian. Did 
he know from the commencement of his Christian- 
ity that he was certainly a Christian, I freely confess 
that, in my own view, he would in ordinary cases be in 
no small danger of the evils intended in this objection. 
In the infant state of Christianity in the mind, there is 
usually so little religious knowledge, so little strength 
of affection, so infirm a state of virtuous habits, and 
consequently so little stability of religious character, 
while there is also so much remaining sin, so riveted a 
predominance of evil habits, and so imperfect a preva- 
lence of divine grace over them, that this interesting 
discovery might, in my own view, prove in no small 
degree detrimental to him, by producing in his mind a 
dangerous quiet, and a mischievous if not a fatal se- 
curity. 

Such, however, is not the fact. The state of the 
Christian, either by the nature of things, or by the di- 
vine constitution, or by both, is such, that in ordinary 
cases, though I acknowledge not always, the evidence 
which he possesses of being a Christian is in a good 
measure proportioned to the degree of his Christianity. 
When religion is feeble in the mind, when it is inter- 
rupted, when it is intruded upon by passion, appetite, 
temptation, care, error, or perplexity, its proofs become 
of course few, scattered, dim, and doubtful, and not irn- 
frequently disappear. In the contrary circumstance, 
luminous seasons are enjoyed, evidences of grace mul- 
tiply, and the soul is refreshed with alternations of hope, 
and peace, and joy. In his ordinary state, the utmost 
of which the Christian can boast, if I may rely upon the 
testimony of such Christians as I have conversed with, 
is a prevailing hope, or a comfortable persuasion that 
he is a disciple of Christ. In this situation the hope 
which he enjoys, allures and encourages him to obedi- 



OBEDIENCE OBLIGATORY BY FAITH. 



371 



ence, while it also prevents him from despondency. 
Numerous fears at the same time intervene, alarm him 
concerning the uncertainty of his condition, and compel 
him to new and more vigorous exertions for the per- 
formance of his duty. Thus he is preserved alike from 
the dangers of both despondency and security ; and is 
kept, so far as such a being can be supposed to be kept, 
in a progressive and improving course of obedience. 
His 'path is like the shining light,' which, however 
dim and dusky, still ' shines more and more unto the 
perfect day.' 

Whenever a Christian becomes possessed of the faith 
or hope of assurance, he is also so far advanced in vir- 
tue, that he is prepared to feel the influence of virtuous 
motives, to realize the glory and excellency of his 
Creator and Redeemer, the loveliness of virtuous affec- 
tions and conduct, and the hatefulness of sin, sufficiently 
to need little assistance from the influence of fear. ' Per- 
fect love casteth out fear ;' and in this state a moral 
being is perfectly safe, without the aid of fear ; per- 
fectly inclined to do his duty, and perfectly guarded 
against the danger of backsliding. The assured Chris- 
tian approximates towards this state, and is proportion- 
ally safe from the moral dangers of the present life. 

In the like manner the inhabitants of heaven are 
unalterably assured of their eternal perseverance in 
obedience, and in the same general manner are enabled 
to persevere. They love God too intensely, they de- 
light too absolutely in virtuous conduct, they hate sin 
too cordially, and are too efficaciously influenced by the 
Spirit of grace, ever to forsake holiness and relapse into 
sin. The assured Christian is chiefly kept alive in his 
obedience in the same manner, and differs from them 
principally in the degree of his sanctification. 

3. The scheme of justification by faith in Christ fur- 
nishes new, peculiar, and very powerful motives to obe- 
dience. 

This position will not be questioned. The whole pur- 
pose for which man is redeemed is, so far as himself is 
concerned, that he should ' walk in newness of life ;' or 
that he should obey anew the law of God. To this 
great end he is now urged by motives of which the law 
knew nothing. God, unasked and undesired, has sent 
his Son into the world to redeem him. That glorious 
person became incarnate, lived, died, rose again, and 
ascended to heaven, where he reigns and intercedes, to 
accomplish his salvation. The Spirit of grace has sanc- 
tified him ; the Father of all mercies has forgiven his 
sins. He has become a child of mercy, an heir of the 
divine favour, a member of the family which is named 
after Christ, has his ' name written in the Lamb's book 
of life,' and is entitled to a glorious immortality. When 
he remembers what he was, and to what he was doomed, 
considers what he now is, and to what he is destined, 
and realizes these wonderful efforts by which the infi- 
nitely happy change made both in his character and 
in his destiny is accomplished, he cannot as a Chris- 
tian, the subject of an ingenuous, virtuous, and grateful 
disposition, fail to feel that motives wholly new, entirely 
peculiar, and wonderfully great, demand of him the 
most constant and exact obedience to the law of God. 
In this great particular, ' the law,' instead of being 
' made void,' is, according to the language of the apos- 
tle, ' established ' by the scheme of justification by faith. 

4. The faith of the Christian is the real source of 
evangelical obedience. 



The truth of this assertion has been already sufficient- 
ly proved, and can never be rationally questioned, 
while the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the He- 
brews remains a part of the word of God. There it is 
shown that faith is the direct source of obedience in all 
its forms, and all its degrees ; of great attainments in 
Christian excellence, and of all attainments of this na- 
ture ; of working righteousness, and inheriting pro- 
mises ; of pleasing God, and securing a title to the hea- 
venly country. It is exhibited as the energy by which 
we vigorously act in the service of God, patiently submit, 
and firmly endure. It is exhibited as ' the victory, by 
which we overcome the world ;' and ' the shield,' with 
which we become able to ' quench all the fiery darts of 
the adversary.' 

Faith, then, is the spirit, the disposition, with which 
the Christian feels, and without which he cannot feel 
the various motives to obedience furnished by the law 
of God ; motives presented by the excellence of the law 
itself, and of the government founded on it, the great- 
ness of its sanction, and the glory of its Author. In an 
eminent degree, also, is it the spirit which feels the pe- 
culiar motives presented by the evangelical scheme of 
justification, and mentioned under the last head. These, 
it hardly needs to be observed, can be realized by no 
other disposition. The mind, under the expectation of 
meriting justification, either wholly or partially, by its 
own righteousness, proportionally recedes from just and 
affecting views of the excellency of Christ's righteous- 
ness, and its infinite importance to itself. Its sense of 
obligation, and its motives to gratitude, are proportion- 
ally lessened, and in the same proportion are diminished 
its inducements to obey, and its actual obedience. In 
this all-important sense also faith is the only real esta- 
blishment of the law. 

5. Those who have holden this doctrine have been the 
most exact and exemplary observers of the law. 

If this be admitted, it must be allowed to put the 
question out of debate ; for it cannot be denied that the 
scheme of those who obey the law most faithfully in their 
lives, is the scheme which most influences and ensures 
obedience. It is my business then, to prove this posi- 
tion. For this purpose I refer you generally to those 
discourses in which I impeached the doctrine and the 
conduct of the Unitarians, and to the Letters of the Rev. 
Andrew Fuller on the moral tendency of the Calvinistic 
and Socinian systems. Your attention, at the present 
time, is requested particularly to the following argu- 
ments, which I shall only state, and leave to your con- 
sideration. 

(1.) Their antagonists have extensively acknowledg- 
ed this position to be true. The confession of an adver- 
sary, in a practical case, may be usually assumed as de- 
cisive evidence. 

(2.) Those who have held this doctrine, have by the 
same adversaries been censured, despised, and ridiculed, 
as being unnecessarily exact and rigidly scrupulous in 
their observance of the duties of a religious life : while 
their adversaries have styled themselves, by way of dis- 
tinction, liberal and rational Christians. This could 
not have existed, had not these people thus censured 
been really exact, so far as the human eye could judge, 
in obeying the commands of God. 

(3.) The sermons of ministers holding this doctrine 
have, with scarcely any exception, urged stricter morality 
on their hearers, than those of their adversaries. This 



372 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



["Ser. lxx. 



any man may know who will read both, even to a mo- 
derate extent. But this could not have taken place, had 
not the doctrine itself been peculiarly favourable to obe- 
dience. 

(4.) Those who have holden this doctrine have much 
more generally and punctiliously frequented the house 
of God, and observed the duties of the sabbath, than 
their adversaries. This fact is acknowledged by both 
parties ; and therefore cannot be mistaken. 

(5.) Those who have holden this doctrine have, among 
Protestants, been almost the only persons who have 
originated, supported, and executed missions for the 
purpose of spreading the gospel among mankind. This 



fact cannot be questioned. I shall leave you to judge 
of the evidence which it contains ; and shall only ob- 
serve that the Papists have, indeed, prosecuted missions 
with great- zeal ; but that any one who will read the 
histories of them, will readily discern the end of their 
efforts to have been the extension of power, and the 
accumulation of wealth ; not the diffusion of religion. 

(6.) The Papists have very generally holden the 
doctrine of justification by works ; while the Reformers, 
almost to a man, hold that of'justification by faith. The 
comparative morality of these two classes of men can- 
not here need any illustration. 



SERMON LXX. 

REGENERATION THE AGENT IN EFFECTING IT THE HOLY GHOST: HIS CHARACTER. 



Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing 
of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost Tit. iii. 5. 



In the six preceding Sermons, I have considered the 
manner in which we become interested in the redemp- 
tion of Christ ; through free grace on the part of God, 
and on our part by evangelical faith. The manner in 
which we become possessed of this faith, is the next 
great subject of investigation in a System of Theology. 

The text, after denying that we are saved by works 
of righteousness, and declaring that our salvation is 
according to the mercy of God, or through his free 
grace, asserts, that this salvation is accomplished by the 
washing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy 
Ghost. 

There has been no small dispute among divines about 
the meaning of the third phrase in this passage ; ' the 
washing of regeneration.' Some have supposed it to 
denote baptism ; and some to denote the same thing 
with the following phrase, ' the renewing of the Holy 
Ghost.' Others have interpreted it in other manners. 
The second interpretation which I have mentioned is, 
in my apprehension, the true one. If baptism be in- 
tended, the passage is equivalent to the declaration of 
our Saviour to Nicodemus, ' Except a man be born of 
water, and of the spirit, he cannot see the kingdom of 
God.' He is ' born of water,' or baptised, indispen- 
sably, in order to his admission into the visible king- 
dom of God ; and * of the Spirit,' indispensably also, 
in order to his admission into the invisible and eternal 
kingdom of God. As his admission into the former is 
a symbol of his admission into the latter, so baptism, 
the means of his admission into the former, is a symbol 
of regeneration, the means of his admission into the 
latter. The difference between the two interpretations 
which I have specified, will therefore be found ulti- 
mately to be immaterial ; the one referring the phrase 
to the type, and the other to the thing typified. On 
either scheme it must be admitted that the apostle de- 
clares mankind to be saved by regeneration. Regene- 
ration is therefore that event in the gracious providence 
of Ood, by which we become the subjects of faith, 



entitled to justification, and consequently heirs of sal- 
vation. 

In the consideration of this subject, two things are 
in the text presented to our inquiry : 

I. The agent in this work. 

II. The work itself. 

The agent in the work of renewing the human mind, 
is declared in this passage to be the Holy Ghost. Two 
things are naturally presented to us by the mention of 
a person sustaining so important a part in the economy 
of salvation ; a part, without which all that has preceded 
would be wholly defective, and exist to no valuable 
purpose. 

I. His character. 

II. His agency. 

The former of these shall now engage our attention ; 
and my own views concerning it will be sufficiently ex- 
pressed in this position : 

THE HOLY GHOST IS A DIVINE PERSON. 

It is well known to those who hear me, that various 
classes of men, who profess to receive the Bible as the 
rule of their faith, have denied this proposition ; viz. 
those who deny the Deity of our Saviour. The scheme 
of denial, however, has in this case been materially dif- 
ferent from that in the other. In that, Deity was the 
object denied ; in this, personality. On all hands it is 
agreed, that the Holy Ghost is acknowledged by Tri- 
nitarians to be a divine person ; but by Unitarians only 
a divine attribute, asserted some times to be the wisdom, 
but usually the power of God. The chief subject of de- 
bate, therefore, between us and the Unitarians, that is, 
those with whom we have the chief concern, viz. the 
Arians and Socinians, is whether the Holy Ghost be a 
person, or an attribute. In support of the Trinitarian 
doctrine concerning this subject, I observe, 

1. The supposition that the Spirit of God is an at- 
tribute, renders the language of the Scriptures unin- 
telligible and unmeaning. 



REGENERATION.— THE HOLY GHOST. 



173 



I have had occasion to take some notice of this fact 
formerly ; it will be proper, however, to bring it up to 
view at this time. For example, then, it is said in 
Acts x. 38, ' God anointed Jesus with the Holy Ghost, 
and with power.' This passage, read according to its 
real meaning as interpreted by the Unitarians, would 
stand thus : ' God anointed Jesus with the holy power 
of God, and with power.' Rom. xv. 13, ' Now the God 
of peace fill you with all joy and peace, in believing ; 
that ye may abound in hope through the power of the 
Holy Ghost ;' that is, that ye may abound in hope 
through the power of the holy power of God ! Ver. 19. 
' Through mighty signs and wonders, by the power of 
the Spirit of God ;' that is, mighty signs and wonders, 
by the power of the power of God ! 1 Cor. ii. 4, ' In 
demonstration of the Spirit and of power ;' that is, in 
demonstration of power and of power ! 

I will not intrude upon your patience by repeating 
similar passages any farther, as these are abundantly 
sufficient for my purpose. It cannot be necessary to 
bring proofs that the infinitely wise God can never have 
directed his own word to be written in this manner. No 
sober man ever wrote in this manner. Nay, it may be 
confidently asserted, that such a mode of writing was 
never adopted by any man of any character whatever. 

2. This scheme renders our Saviour's account of the 
blasphemy against the Holy Ghost unmeaning and in- 
credible. 

This account is given us in various places ; parti- 
cularly Matt. xii. 31, ' All manner of sin and blasphemy 
shall be forgiven unto men ; but the blasphemy against 
the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men.'' Con- 
cerning this I observe, 

(I.) That blasphemy cannot be directed against an 
attribute. Evil-speaking, or speaking in a manner de- 
rogatory to character, can be directed only against a 
percipient being ; because such a being only is capable 
of perceiving, or being in any way affected by the evil 
intended. When mankind speak evil against the word, 
sabbaths, ordinances, works, names, or titles of God, the 
evil is nothingj except as it is directed against God 
himself; because he alone, and not the things imme- 
diately blasphemed, can perceive or be affected with the 
evil which is spoken. In this manner all men have 
understood the subject. 

It cannot be therefore that the Unitarians, when they 
read this passage, suppose the blasphemy in question to 
be directed against the power of God. They un- 
doubtedly consider it as directed against God himself, 
through the medium of this attribute. I observe, there- 
fire, 

(2.) It is inconceivable that blasphemy against God, 
universally and in all other forms should be forgiven, 
while the blasphemy against his power can never be 
forgiven. 

In the attribute of power there is plainly nothing 
which is peculiarly sacred. It is shared alike by good 
and evil beings: and does not contribute at all to dis- 
tinguish their character, as moral beings, or to render 
them either good or evil. It is in no sense the foundation, 
nor an ingredient, of worth or moral excellence. It is 
not, and cannot be, the object of love, nor praise. It 
is therefore incredible, and certainly inexplicable, that 
' all manner of blasphemy ' against the whole character 
of God, particularly against his moral character, should 
be forgiven ; and yet the blasphemy against this single 



natural attribute should never be forgiven. So far as 
the human understanding can discern, blasphemy against 
the holiness, faithfulness, truth, goodness, and mercy of 
God would be more expressive of malignant opposition 
and of guilt in the blasphemer, than blasphemy merely 
against his power. St John has declared, that ' God is 
love.' That is, love is the essence, sum, and glory of 
his moral character, and of himself. Blasphemy against 
this perfection, we should, I think, irresistibly conclude 
to be more heinous than against any other attribute. 
But according to this scheme, blasphemy against the 
power of God, a natural attribute, is so much more 
heinous than that which is directed against all the other 
divine attributes, nay, than that which is directed 
against God himself, and his whole character, including 
this very attribute of power, together with all others, as 
to be absolutely unpardonable ; while all other blas- 
phemy can and will be forgiven. This, to say the least, 
is incredible. 

If the Holy Ghost be a divine person, it would seem 
probable that, if any sin is incapable of being forgiven, 
blasphemy against the Holy Ghost would be that sin. 
The Holy Ghost is God employed in his most benevo- 
lent and wonderful work, that of restoring holiness to 
the soul of man ; in his most glorious character, that of 
the sanctifier ; in a work, demanding the supreme grati- 
tude of mankind ; in a character, demanding their su- 
preme reverence and love. 

3. That the Holy Ghost is not an attribute, is evident 
from Acts v. 3. ' But Peter said, Ananias, why hath 
Satan filled thy heart, to lie unto the Holy Ghost ?' 

A lie is a wilful deception, and can be told only to 
intelligent beings ; because such beings only can per- 
ceive the meaning of the declaration with which the liar 
intends to deceive ; or, in other words, because such 
beings only can receive the lie at his mouth. A child 
perfectly knows that he cannot lie to a tree or an ox, 
because they must be unconscious of what he says. But 
an attribute is as unconscious as a tree, or an ox ; and 
although God perceives all things, yet his power per- 
ceives nothing. A lie therefore cannot, in the physical 
sense of possibility, be told to the power of God. 

4. All the attributes and actions of a person are 
ascribed to the Holy Spirit. 

These are so numerous, and the varieties in which 
they are mentioned are so numerous also, that I shall 
only specify them in the most summary manner. 

The Spirit of God is said to strive. ' My Spirit shall 
not always strive with man,' Gen. vi. 3. 

To be sent forth. ' Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, 
and they are created,' Psal. civ. 30. ' God hath sent 
forth the Spirit of his Son,' Gal. iv. 6. ' The Com- 
forter, whom I will send unto you from the Father,' 
John xv. 26". 

To trove. ' The Spirit of God .is.oved upon the face 
of the waters,' Gen. i. 2. 

To know. ' The Spirit searcheth all things, even the 
deep things of God. For what man knowefh the things 
of a man, save the spirit of a man which is within him ? 
Even so the things of God knoweth no one, but the 
Spirit of God,' 1 Cor. ii. 10, II. 

Here let me ask, whether any man can conceive, that 
knowledge, one essential attribute of God, can with any 
meaning be said to be an attribute of power, which is 
another ? Or whether power can, in any words that 
have meaning, be said to know any thing ? 



374 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxx. 



The Spirit of God is said to speak. ' He shall not 
speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that 
shall he speak,' John xvi. 13. ' Then the Spirit said 
to Peter,' Acts x. 19. ' The Spirit said to Philip,' Acts 
viii. 20. ' Let him that hath an ear hear what the Spirit 
saith unto the churches,' Rev. ii. 7. ' The Spirit and 
the bride say, come,' Rev. xxii. 17. 

To guide. ' He will guide you into all truth,' John 
xvi. 13. 

To lead. ' For as many as are led by the Spirit of 
God, they are the sons of God,' Rom. viii. 14. 

To help. ' The Spirit helpeth our infirmities,' Rom. 
viii. 26. 

To testify. ' The Spirit itself beareth witness with 
our spirit, that we are the children of God,' Rom. viii. 
16. ' But when the Comforter is come, even the Spirit 
of truth, he shall testify of me,' John xv. 26. 

To reveal. ' As it is now revealed unto his holy 
prophets and apostles by the Spirit,' Eph. iii. 5. ' But 
the Comforter shall teach you all things, and bring all 
things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said 
unto you,' John xiv. 26. 

To search. ' The Spirit searcheth all things,' 1 Cor. 
ii. 10. 

To have a mind, or pleasure. ' He that searcheth 
the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit,' 
Rom. viii. 27. 

To prophesy. ' He shall show you things to come,' 
John xvi. 13. ' Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that 
in the latter times some shall depart from the faith,' 
1 Tim. iv. 1. 

To intercede. ' The Spirit maketh intercession for 
uswith groanings which cannot be uttered,' Rom. viii. 26. 

To give gifts. ' For to one is given by the Spirit the 
word of wisdom ; to another, the word of knowledge ; to 
another, faith ; to another, the gifts of healing ; to 
another, the working of miracles,' &c. 1 Cor. xii. 
8—10. 

To work in the soul of man. ' All these worketh one 
and the same Spirit, dividing to every man as he will,' 
1 Cor. xii. 11. 

To work miracles. ' Through mighty signs and won- 
ders, by the power of the Spirit of God,' Rom. xv. 19. 

To sanctify. ' Ye are sanctified by the Spirit of our 
God,' 1 Cor. vi. 11. 

To quicken, or give life. ' It is the Spirit that quick- 
ened,' John vi. 63. « Put to death in the flesh, but 
quickened by the Spirit.' This is spoken of Christ, I 
Peter iii. 1 8. 

To be pleased. ' It seemed good to the Holy Ghost, 
and to us,' Acts xv. 28. 

To be vexed. ' They rebelled, and vexed his Holy 
Spirit,' Isa. lxiii. 10. 

To be provoked, to be resisted, and to be grieved. 

That all these things should be said of an attribute, 
particularly of the attribute of power, will I believe be 
acknowledged to be incredible. That they should be 
dictated by God himself, and be the common language 
in which this attribute, or any attribute, is described 
in his word, is I think impossible. The language of 
the Scriptures is in all other cases, except those in 
which it involves the Deity of the Son and the Spirit, 
the language of common sense, the plain, artless lan- 
guage of nature. Why should it not be so here ? Why 
should these two cases be, uniformly and solely, excep- 
tions to that law by which all the remaining language 



of Scripture is governed ? Why should the scriptural 
writers, whenever these subjects come before them, and 
then only, desert their native style, that which alone 
they use on all other occasions, and adopt one totally 
new and singular ? Why should this be done by any 
writer? Such a case, it is presumed, cannot be found 
in the world, except in these two instances. Why 
should it be found in so many of these writers ? Why 
should it be found in every scriptural writer ? Why, 
above all, should it be found in the language of Christ 
himself? Still more ; whence could these writers be 
induced to depart from their customary style whenever 
they had occasion to speak of these two subjects, and 
adopt such language as renders their real meaning ob- 
scure, and not only obscure, but unintelligible ; and 
not only unintelligible, but so utterly lost in the strange- 
ness of their phraseology, that almost all their readers, 
and among them the great body of the wisest and best, 
have totally mistaken the real meaning, and derived 
from this very phraseology a meaning infinitely differ- 
ent ? Can this be supposed to have been accomplished 
by the immediate providence of God himself, when dis- 
closing his will to mankind concerning subjects of in- 
finite importance ? Yet the Unitarians must suppose 
all this, or give up their scheme. 

But, it is replied, ' The language of the Scriptures is 
highly figurative; and among the figures used, bold 
personifications hold a distinguished place. Among 
these we find the attributes of God personified. For 
example, in the Proverbs of Solomon, particularly in 
the eighth chapter, we find the divine wisdom repre- 
sented as a living agent, possessing a variety of other 
attributes, and performing such actions as are elsewhere 
ascribed to the Spirit of God, 

This answer is the only specious one which has been, 
or, it is presumed, can be made to the arguments al- 
leged above. I shall therefore consider it particularly ; 
and reply, 

(1.) This personification of wisdom is exhibited in 
animated and sublime poetry. 

In such poetry, and in the loftier strains of eloquence, 
we are to look, if any where, for bold, figurative lan- 
guage. The whole tenor of the discourse here proceeds 
from an enkindled imagination and ardent feelings. 
In this state of mind nature instinctively adopts figura- 
tive language and bold images, and readily imparts life, 
thought, and action to those objects, the contemplation 
of which has excited the peculiar elevation. With the 
writer, the reader in all such cases readily coincides. 
The dullest man in the dullest frame easily catches the 
inspiration, and not only admits without hesitation the 
propriety of this language and these images, but regards 
them as the only things which are proper, natural, and 
suited to the strain of thought. 

But on ordinary occasions, which furnish nothing to 
raise the mind above its common cool level, such a 
mode of writing is perfectly unnatural, is at war with 
the whole tenor of thought, and can be the result of no- 
thing but an inexplicable determination to write extra- 
vagance, and produce wonder. Not an example of 
this nature can be found in the Scriptures, unless it be 
this which is now in debate. 

Here this language and these images are adopted, if 
they are in fact adopted at all, on the most ordinary 
occasions ; inferring the most tranquil, even, uninter- 
ested state of the writer; in the simplest narratives 



REGENERATION.— THE HOLY GHOST. 



375 



and the most quiet discussions. Who would look for 
a personification in such instances as the following-? 
'The Spirit said unto Peter' — 'The Spirit said unto 
Philip' — 'The Spirit caught away Philip' — ' Now the 
Spirit speaketh expressly ' — ' It seemed good to the 
Holy Ghost, and to us ;' together with a vast multitude 
of others, exactly resembling these in their nature? 
If personifications are to be used in such cases, in what 
cases are they not to be used ? And in what cases are 
we to use simple language ? 

To complete the strangeness of this representation, 
the Greek masculine pronouns and relatives are, in a 
multitude of instances, made to agree with the neuter 
substantive, ILi/tv/aa, Spirit ; a mode of personification 
in all other cases absurd, and here, to say the least, in- 
explicable. 

(2.) The wisdom spoken of in the Proverbs is also a 
real person, and not an attribute ; viz. the Lord Jesus 
Christ 

This has been the unwavering opinion of the great 
body of divines ; of most, I believe, if not all, who are 
not Unitarians. Christ, as I apprehend, challenges this 
character to himself, Matt. xL 19, ' Wisdom is justified 
of her children.' St Paul, in 1 Cor. i. 24, attributes it 
to him directly, when he says, ' Christ the wisdom of 
God ;' and in ver. 30, when he says, ' Who of God is 
become unto us wisdom;' and in Col. ii. 3, where he 
says of Christ, ' In whom are hid all the treasures of 
wisdom.' 

That the attribute wisdom is not meant by Solomon 
in this chapter, is completely evident from the 14th 
verse ; ' Counsel is mine, and sound wisdom.' Now, it 
is impossible that wisdom should possess wisdom ; the 
possessor, and the thing possessed, being, by physical 
necessity, two things distinct from each other. It is 
also evident from the whole tenor of this chapter, as 
well as from several other parts of the discourse in the 
beginning of this book, particularly chap. i. 20 — 33, 
on which, however, I can dwell no longer at the present 
time. 

(3.) Should it be still supposed, that the attribute of 
wisdom, and not Christ, is intended by Solomon ; the 
passage, even if it were not poetical, would not involve 
such absurdities and difficulties as are involved in the 
supposition that the Holy Ghost is an attribute personi- 
fied. As extensive comparison of these two subjects 
cannot be expected on the present occasion. Suffice 
it to say, that wisdom is not said to appear ' in a bodily 
shape ;' is not introduced in form, as an agent in the 
common concerns of life ; is not spoken of by one liv- 
ing being, when discoursing of another living being, 
as a third living being, united with the other two in the 
transaction of real business ; is never introduced in the 
Scriptures, in plain prose, as speaking, hearing, com- 
manding, guiding, sanctifying, and universally doing 
such things as can be attributed only to a living person. 
Yet it must strike every person that, as wisdom is an 
i attribute, involving consciousness and perception, all 
these things, and others like them, might be attributed 
to it with much more propriety than to the attribute of 
power. 

5. The Holy Ghost is a divine person. 

There will probably be little dispute concerning this 

declaration among those who acknowledge that the 

Holy Ghost is a person. The things which are said 

concerning the Spirit of God are so plainly such as 



evince infinite perfection, that few persons, probably 
none, who admit the personality of the Spirit, will deny 
his Deity. Still, it will be useful on this occasion to 
exhibit several proofs of this truth. 

(1.) The names of God are given to the Holy Ghost 
in the Scriptures. ' Now the Lord is that' Spirit,' 2 
Cor. viii. 17. This is a direct affirmation of St Paul, 
that the Spirit is God. 

' For who hath known the mind of the Lord ? and 
who has been his counsellor?' Rom. xi. 34. ' For 
who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he may in- 
struct him ?' 1 Cor. ii. 16. Both these passages are 
quoted from Isaiah xl. 13, ' Who hath directed the 
Spirit of the Lord? or, being his counsellor, hath taught 
him?' 

' And the Lord direct your hearts into the love of 
God, and into the patient waiting for Christ,' 2 Thess. 
iii. 5. Here the person addressed in prayer, is plainly 
a distinct person from those mentioned by the names 
God and Christ, and of course is the Spirit of God ; to 
whom throughout the Scriptures the office of directing 
the hearts of Christians to their duty, is everywhere 
ascribed. 

Peter says to Ananias, Acts v. 3, 4, ' AVhy hath Satan 
filled thine heart to lie unto the Holy Ghost ? Why 
hast thou conceived this in thine heart ? Thou hast not 
lied unto men, but unto God.' Here the Holy Ghost 
is called God by the apostles, in as direct terms as are 
conceivable. 

Acts iv. 24, 25, ' They lifted up their voice to God 
with one accord, and said, Lord, thou art God, who hast 
made heaven and earth, and the sea, and all that in 
them is. Who by the mouth of thy servant David hast 
said, Why did the heathen rage, and the people imagine 
a vain thing ? 

Acts i. 16, Peter says, ' This Scripture must needs 
have been fulfilled, which the Holy Ghost spake by the 
mouth of David.' The Holy Ghost is, therefore, the 
Lord God who spoke by the mouth of David. 

(2.) The attributes of God are ascribed to the Holy 
Ghost. 

Eternity. — ' Christ, who through the eternal Spirit 
once offered himself to God.' Heb. ix. 14. 

Omnipresence. — ' Whither shall I go from thy Spirit ? 
Whither shall I flee from thy presence ?' Psalm cxxxix. 
7. ' Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost ;' that 
is, the bodies of all Christians, I Cor. vi. 9. 

Omniscience ' The Spirit searcheth all things, even 

the deep things of God,' 1 Cor. ii. 10. ' Even so, 
the things of God knoweth no one, but the Spirit of 
God,' 1 Cor. ii. 11. 

Holiness 'The Holy Ghost,' 'the Holy Spirit;' 

' the Spirit of holiness. ' Passim. 

Grace ' Hath done despite to the Spirit of grace,' 

Heb. ix. 29 ; see also Zech. xii. 10. 

Truth ' The Comforter, the Spirit of truth,' John 

xiv. 17. 

Glory — ' The Spirit of glory and of God resteth on 
you,' 1 Pet. iv. 14. 

Goodness. — 'Thy good Spirit,' Neh. ix. 20. 'Thy 
Spirit is good,' Psalm cxliii. 10. 

Power. — ' The power of God,' as exerted in working 
signs and wonders, is ascribed to the Holy Ghost 
throughout the New Testament. 

(3.) The actions of God are ascribed to the Holy 
Ghost. 



376 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxi. 



Creation ' By his Spirit he garnished the heavens.' 

Job xxvi. 1 3. ' The Spirit of God hath made me,' Job 
xxxiii. 4 : see also Acts i. 24, 25, compared with Acts 
i. 16. 

Working miracles, — which, as you know, is either a 
suspension or counteraction of the laws of nature, or of 
the divine agency operating conformably to these laws, 
and is therefore, with peculiar evidence, an act of God 
himself This, as I have already remarked concerning 
the power exerted in it, is throughout the New Testa- 
ment ascribed to the Holy Ghost. 

Inspiration ' Holy men of God spake as they were 

moved by the Holy Ghost,' 2 Pet. i. 21. 

Giving life. — ' It is the Spirit that quickeneth,' John 
vi. 63. ' Put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the 
Spirit,' 1 Pet. iii. 1 8. ' He that raised up Christ from ; 
the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies, by his 
Spirit that dwelleth in you,' Rom. viii. 11. 

Sanctification This also is ascribed to the Holy 

Ghost appropriately, throughout the New Testament. 

Instances of the same general nature might be easily 
increased in numbers, and the proofs might be easily 
multiplied to a great extent ; but as discourses so exten- 
sively made up of detached passages of Scripture are 
apt to be less interesting than could be wished, I shall 
desist. 

(4.) The Holy Ghost is a divine person , because he is 
united with the Father and the Son in the baptismal ser- 
vice, and in the blessing pronounced upon Christians by 
St Paul. 

I have mentioned these subjects together, because 
they have some things in common. Yet there are also 
some things in which they differ. ' Go and teach all 
nations,' said our Saviour to his apostles, ' baptizing 
them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
the Holy Ghost' 

' The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,' says St Paul, 
to the Corinthian church, and through them to all 
Christians, ' and the love of God, and the communion 
of the Holy Ghost, be with you all. Amen.' 

In the commission here given by Christ to his apos- 
tles, it is impossible that an attribute should with pro- 
priety or meaning be joined with persons, or a creature 
with one or more divine persons. No absurdity can 
strike the mind with more force, than that Christ should 



direct the apostles to baptize in the name of God the 
Father, and of the Son, and of the divine power ! No- 
thing but impiety can, so far as I see, be contained in a 
direction to baptize in the name of God and of the 
creature. What creature would dare to associate him- 
self with God in such an act of authority, and thus pre- 
sume to ascend the throne of his Maker ? The same 
things are equally true concerning the form of blessing 
above recited. Can St Paul be supposed to have united 
either a creature or an attribute with the eternal God 
in this solemn service? What blessings could either of 
these bestow? Both the creature and the attribute, con- 
sidered by themselves, are in this view nothing. 

But this form of blessing is a prayer, and is addressed 
equally to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. 
Can St Paul have addressed a prayer, either to an attri- 
bute or to a creature ? 

Farther : the blessing prayed for from the Holy 
Ghost is communion, or fellowship. The request for 
this blessing involves therefore the declaration, that the 
Holy Ghost will, if the prayer be granted, b(5 present 
with all those for whom this communion is supplicated, 
and present with that influence which is the source of 
spiritual and immortal life. In other words, the Holy 
Ghost is here exhibited as omnipresent : and as every 
where possessing, and at his pleasure communicating, 
life here, as the commencement of life hereafter. 

I shall conclude this discourse with observing, that 
the divinity of the Spirit of truth furnishes Christians 
with the most solid foundation for gratitude and joy. 
It will be seen, in the progress of these Discourses, that 
he is the sum of all the moral blessings introduced into 
this world by the mediation of Christ. He sanctifies 
the soul ; ' brings it out of darkness into marvellous 
light ; improves it in holiness ; conducts it through the 
temptations and dangers of this life ; furnishes it with 
every gift and grace ; prompts it to all virtue and ex- 
cellence ; and fills it with all spiritual enjoyment. For 
this great work he is abundantly qualified by the pos- 
session of infinite perfection ; of all that is great, and 
all that is good. In this world he commences and car- 
ries it on. In the future world he advances it to ab- 
solute perfection. Through the ages of eternity he will 
supply, enrich, and adorn the soul with endless virtue, 
as the means of endless happiness and glory. 



SERMON LXXI. 

TESTIMONIES TO THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRINITY, FROM THE ANCIENT CHRISTIANS, JEWS, 

AND HEATHENS. 



Come ye near unto me ; here ye this : I have not spoken 
there am I ; and now the Lord God and 

In the last Discourse, I considered the personality and 
divinity of the Spirit of God. In a series of Dis- 
courses formerly delivered, I considered the divinity of 
Christ. If the arguments alleged in those Discourses 
are as conclusive as they appear to me, they prove the 
existence of a trinity, or three persons and one God. 



in secret from the beginning : from the time that it was, 
his Spirit hath sent me Isa. xlviii. 16. 

The proof of this doctrine must unquestionably be 
derived from the Scriptures alone. But when a doc- 
trine of this extraordinary nature is presented to the 
mind, we naturally feel a strong curiosity to know the 
manner in which the same doctrine has been regarded 
by others ; particularly by such as have lived before us 



TESTIMONIES TO THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRINITY. 



377 



and peculiarly bv the ancient members of the Jewish 
and Christian churches. Nor is this a matter of mere 
curiosity. If the doctrine of the Trinity were now first 
discovered by mankind to be contained in the Scrip- 
tures, the words being supposed to have remained al- 
ways the same, we should undoubtedly be surprised to 
find, that those passages which in our view clearly con- 
tain this doctrine, had never been understood by others 
in the same manner as by ourselves. Particularly, we 
should be inclined to doubt the soundness of our own 
interpretations, if we found the Jews construing such 
passages in the Old Testament, and the early Chris- 
tians in the New, in a, manner totally different from 
ours. Were such the fact, we should, I think, very na- 
turally suspect our own mode of constructing ; for we 
could not easily believe that the Jewish Church was al- 
ways ignorant of this doctrine, if it was really taught by 
the prophets, nor the early Christian Church, if it was 
decisively communicated by the apostles. It will be 
easily seen, that the time in which those lived, to whom 
an appeal of this nature is made, must be important, as 
well as the character of the witnesses. The more an- 
cient the witnesses are, other things being equal, the 
more valuable must be their testimony ; and such testi- 
mony, if really ancient, and at the same time explicit 
and decisive, cannot fail of yielding material satisfac- 
tion to every rational inquirer. 

Nor is the testimony even of heathens concerning 
this subject to be disregarded. If we find that the an- 
cient heathen nations generally, or in most or all 
instances, independently of any acquaintance with the 
Scriptures, have holden the doctrine of a triad constitu- 
ing a monad, that is, a supreme uod, who was one in 
one sense, and three in another, we cannot easily avoid 
the conclusion, that they derived this doctrine from a 
6ingle source, and that that source was revelation. The 
doctrine plainly lies wholly out of the course, I think I 
may say out of the reach, of human thought. There is, 
therefore, no reason why we should believe it to have 
been invented by man. Much less is there any reason 
to suppose it invented by men in so many different na- 
tions, and in such circumstances of barbarism as almost 
preclude the invention of any philosophical doctrine. 
The source of the doctrine must, therefore, have been 
one, and that a revelation, existing before these nations 
were separated from each other. 

In the text a person declares concerning himself, ' I 
have not spoken in secret from the beginning ; from 
the time that it was, there am I : and now the Lord 
God (in the original the Lord Jehovah), and his Spirit 
hath sent me.' The person speaking in this verse, is in 
the 2nd verse called ' Jehovah of Hosts.' or ' Jehovah 
God of hosts.' And in the 12th verse he says, ' I am 
he • I am the first : I also am the last. Mine hand also 
hath laid the foundation of the earth ; my right hand 
hath spanned the heavens. When I call unto them 
they stand up together.' The person speaking in the 
text is then ' Jehovah of Hosts ;'• — ' the first and the 
last ;' — ' the Creator of the earth and the heavens. And 
this person says, ' And now the Lord Jehovah and his 
Spirit hath sent me :' or, more properly, ' The Lord 
Jehovah hath sent me and his Spirit.' Origen, as quot- 
ed by Bishop Lowth, comments on this passage in this 
manner: " Who is it, that saith in Isaiah, • And now 
the Lord hath sent me and his Spirit?' in which, as 
the expression is ambiguous, is it the Father and the 



Holy Spirit, who hath sent Jesus ? or the Father, who 
hath sent both Christ and the Holy Spirit ? The latter 
is the true interpretation." This opinion of Origen 
appears to be just : because we nowhere read in the 
Scriptures, that Christ was sent by the Spirit : but, every 
where, that both Christ and the Spirit were sent by the 
Father, called in the text ' the Lord God.' To the pre- 
sent purpose, however, this difference of interpretation 
is wholly immaterial. Whether the Spirit send, or be 
sent, he is equally determined to be a living agent ; 
since in the physical sense it is impossible that any other 
being should either send, or be sent. In the text, then, 
the doctrine of a Trinity is directly declared by a per- 
son styled ' Jehovah of Hosts.' Let us now see w hat 
countenance this doctrine receives from the sources 
which I have specified above. 

It will not be imagined, that in the compass of such 
a discourse, any thing more can be done, than merely 
to make a moderate selection of the testimonies referred 
to. For those, which 1 shall mention, I am chiefly in- 
debted to Bishop Bull, Dr Jarnieson, Mr Maurice, and 
the Asiatic Researches : and it is believed that they 
will be sufficiently numerous, and sufficiently explicit, 
to satisfy a mind willing to receive the truth. 

1. To the pre-existence of Christ the following testi- 
monies must, I think, be regarded as complete. 

1. Justin Martyr, who flourished in the year 140, 
and was born about the close of the first century, de- 
clares Christ to have been the person who appeared to 
Abraham under the oak of Manure ; and asserts that 
the person here called Lord, or Jehovah, to whom 
Abraham prays for Sodom, and who, in the next chap- 
ter, is said to rain fire and brimstone on the cities of 
the plain, was no other than Christ. He also asserts 
that Christ appeared to Moses in the bush. 

2. Ireneeus, who flourished in the year 178, declares 
that Christ, as God, was adored by the prophets ; was 
' the God of the living; and the living God;' that he 
spoke to Mcses in the bush ; and that afterward the 
same person refuted the doctrine of the Sadducees con- 
cerning the resurrection of the dead. He farther says, 
that Abraham learned divine truth from the Logos, or 
Word of God. 

3. 'Theophilus of Antioch, who flourished in the year 
181, declares that Christ, assuming to Tgoaonro!/ rov 
ira-TQo;, the character of the Father, that is, the divine 
character, came to paradise in the appearance of God, 
and conversed with Adam. 

4. Clemens Aiexandrinus, who flourished in the year 
194, exhibits Christ as the author of the former pre- 
cepts, and of the latter ; that is, of the Scriptures of the 
Old Testament, and of the New ; deriving both from 
one fountain. 

5. Tertullian declares that it was the Son of God 
who spoke to Moses, and ».vho appeared (that is, as 
God) at all times ; that he overthrew the tower of 
Babel ; confounded the languages of men ; and rained 
fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah. He calls 
him ' Dominus a domino ;' and says, that ' he only, 
and always, conversed with men, from Adam down to 
the patriarchs and prophets, in visions and dreams ; 
and that no other God conversed with men beside the 
Word, who was aftefcvard to be made flesh.' 

II. That Christ was the Creator of the ivorld, in the 
view of the ancient church, the following testimonies 
satisfactorily prove. 

3 B 



378 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxxi. 



1. Barnabas, who, as you well know, was a companion 
of the apostles, and could not but know their views of 
this subject, says, in an epistle of his, yet remaining-, 
' The sun in the heavens was the work of the Son of 
God.' 

2. Hernias, also a companion of the apostles, says, 
' The Son of God was more ancient than any creature ; 
seeing he was present with the Father at the creation 
of the world.' 

3. Athenagoras, who flourished in the year 178, says, 
' By Christ, and through Christ, all things were created ; 
since the Father and the Son are 'm, one thing ; — one 
substance.' 

4. Justin Martyr declares, that " More than one di- 
vine person are denoted by the phrase, ' The man is 
become as one of us;' and that one of these is Christ." 

5. Clemens Alexandrinus says, ' The Logos is the 
universal architect ;' that is, the Maker of all things. 
He farther says, ' The Logos is the Creator of all men, 
and of the world.' He also speaks of the Logos, as 
the universal ruler and instructor. 

III. That Christ was truly God, in the view of the 
ancient church, will fully appear from the following 
testimonies. 

1. Clement of Rome, who was a companion of the 
apostles, calls Christ ' the sceptre of the greatness of 
God ;' and says, ' He had it in his power to have come 
with pomp and magnificence, but would not.' 

2. Polycarp, a disciple of St John, when at the stake, 
addressed a prayer to God, which he concluded in this 
manner ; ' For all things I praise thee ; I bless thee ; I 
glorify thee ; together with the eternal and heavenly 
Jesus Christ ; with whom, unto thee, and the Holy 
Spirit, be glory, both now and for ever, world without 
end. Amen.' 

3. Justin Martyr declares, that ' Christ, the first-born 
Word of God, exists as God ; that he is Lord and God, 
as being the Son of God ; and that he was the God of 
Israel.' 

He also says, ' We adore and love the Word of the 
unbegotten and invisible God.' And again, 'Him 
(the Father of righteousness), and that Son who hath 
proceeded from him, and the prophetical Spirit (that 
is, the Spirit of inspiration), we worship and adore.' 

This doctrine also Trypho, his Jewish antagonist, 
admits as the doctrine of the Gentile Christians gene- 
rally. 

4. The church of Symrna, in their epistle to the other 
churches concerning the martyrdom of Polycarp, in 
which the above-mentioned doxology is quoted, says, 
? We can never forsake Christ, nor worship any other : 
for we worship him as being the Son of God.' 

5. Athenagoras says, ' The Now? kxi Aayo; (Mind 
and Word of God,) is the Son of God ;' and, ' We 
who preach God, preach God the Father, God the Son, 
and God the Holy Ghost ; and the Father, the Son, and 
the Holy Ghost are one.' 

6. Tatian, bishop of Antioch, who flourished in the 
year 172, says, 'We declare,' that God was born in 
human form.' 

7. Melito, bishop of Sardis, who flourished in the 
year 177, says, ' We are worshippers of one God, who 
is before all, and in all, in his Christ, who is truly God, 
the eternal Word.' 

8. Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, says, ' The three 
days before the creation of the heavenly luminaries, 



represent the Trinity ; God, and his Word, and his 
Wisdom.' 

9. Clemens Alexandrinus prays to Christ to be pro- 
pitious, and says, ' Son and Father, both one Lord, 
grant that we may praise the Son, and the Father, with 
the Holy Ghost, all in one ; in whom are all things, 
through whom are all things in one, through him is 
eternity, of whom we are all members, to him, who is in 
all things good, in all things beautiful, universally wise 
and just ; to whom be glory, both now and for ever. 
Amen.' He also says, ' Gather together thy children, 
to praise in a holy manner, to celebrate without guile, 
Christ, eternal Logos, infinite age, eternal light, foun- 
tain of mercy.' 

10. Tertullian says, ' The name of Christ is every- 
where believed, and everywhere worshiped, by all 
the nations mentioned above. He reigns everywhere, 
and is everywhere adored. He is alike to all a King, 
and to all a Judge, and to all a God and a Lord.' 

Again : ' Behold all nations henceforth emerging- 
from the gulf of error, to the Lord God the Creator, 
and to God his Christ.' 

Tertullian also declares, that ' Tiberius received ac- 
counts from Palestine, of the things which manifested 
the truth of Christ's divinity.' 

To these Christian testimonies, all of -the two first 
centuries, I shall subjoin a few others, out of multitudes, 
which belong to a later period. 

The testimony of Origen, in his comment on the 
text, has been already seen. He also says, f We 
(Christians) worship one God, the Father, and the Son.' 

He farther says, " Now, that you may know the om- 
nipotence of the Father and the Son to be one and the 
same, as he is one and the same God and Lord with the 
Father ; hear what St John hath said, in the Revela- 
tion : ' These things saith the Lord, which is, and 
which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.' For 
who is the Almighty that is to come, but Christ ?" 

He also mentions the Christians, as saying, ' The 
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, are one God ;' 
and speaks of this as a difficult and perplexing doctrine 
to such as hear not with faith, or are not Christians. 

Again, he says, ' When we come to the grace of bap- 
tism we acknowledge one God only, the Father, the 
Son, and the Holy Ghost.' 

Origen flourished in the year 230. 

Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, who flourished in the 
year 248, says, f Christ is our God ; that is, not of all ; 
but of the faithful and believing.' 

The council of Antioch, which sat about the year 
264, in their epistle say, ' In the whole church he is be- 
lieved to be God ; who emptied himself indeed of a state 
of equality with God, and man, of the seed of David 
according to the flesh.' 

Eusebius, the celebrated ecclesiastical historian, who 
flourished in the year 315, declares that Pilate, in his 
letter to Tiberius concerning the miracles of Christ, 
says, that ' he was raised from the dead ; and that he 
was already believed by the body of the people to be 
God.' 

This part of the subject I shall conclude with the fol- 
lowing heathen testimonies. 

Pliny the younger, in his letter to the emperor Tra- 
jan, from the province of Bithynia, whither he went 
with proconsular authority, writes, that ' Certain Chris- 
tians whom he had examined, affirmed that they were 



TESTIMONIES TO THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRINITY. 



379 



wont to meet together on a stated day, before it was 
light, and sing among themselves, alternately, a hymn 
to Christ, as to some God.' This letter is, with the 
highest probability, placed in year 107. 

Celsus, an eminent Epicurean philosopher, and ad- 
versary of the Christians, charges them with wor- 
shipping Christ, ' who,' he says, ' has appeared of late ; 
and whom he calls, ' The minister of God.' Celsus 
floui-ished in the year 176. 

At the same time flourished Lucian, the celebrated 
writer of Dialogues, and a philosopher of the same sect. 
In the ' Philopatris,' a dialogue frequently attributed to 
him, Tryphon represents the Christians as ' swearing by 
the most high God ; the great, immortal, celestial Son 
of the Father ; the Spirit, proceeding from the Father ; 
one of three, and three of one.' 

Hierocles, who flourished about the year 303, a 
heathen philosopher also, says, that ' the Christians, 
on account of a few miracles, proclaim Christ to be 
God.' 

On these testimonies I shall only ask a single ques- 
tion. Can any person who has them before him, doubt 
for a moment, that the Christian church in its earliest 
ages acknowledged and worshiped the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost, as the only living and true God ? 
To the testimony of the Christian church I shall now 
add that of the Jewish church. 

Philo, the celebrated Jew of Alexandria, who lived 
before the birth of our Saviour, calls the Logos the 
eternal Logos, or Word ; and says, that ' he is neces- 
sarily eternal, and the image of the invisible God.' 

Farther, he says, ' He who is, on each side attended 
by his nearest powers ; of which one is creative, and 
the other kingly. The creative is God, by which he 
founded and adorned the universe. The kingly is 
Lord. He who is in the middle, being thus attended 
by both his powers, exhibits to the discerning mind the 
appearance sometimes of one, and sometimes of three.' 
Of the Logos he says, ' He who is the begotten, imi- 
tating the ways of his Father, and observing his arche- 
typal patterns, produces forms ;' that is, material things. 
He often calls the Logos, the Divine Logos ; and repre- 
sents him as the manager, or ruler of the world. He 
farther says, that ' God governs all things according to 
the strictest justice, having set over them his righteous 
Logos, his first begotten Son.' The duration of created 
things he ascribes to this cause ; ' that they were framed 
jy him who remains, and who is never in any respect 
changed — the Divine Logos. 7 Finally, he calls the 
Logos ' an Angel ; the Name of God ; a man ; the Be- 
ginning ; the Eternal Image ; the most ancient Angel ; 
,he Archangel of many names ; and the High Priest of 
.his world ;' and says, ' His head is anointed with oil.' 
The Chaldee paraphrasts, and other Jewish commen- 
tators, speak of this subject in a similar manner. 

They speak of the Mimra, the Hebrew term render- 
ed in the Greek Aoyo;, and in the English Word, as 
' the Word from before the Lord,' or which is before 
the Lord ; as a Redeemer, as only-begotten, as the 
Creator. They say, The Word of the Lord said, ' Be- 
hold Adam, whom I have created, as the only begotten 
in the world, as I am the only begotten in the highest 
heavens.' They paraphrased the text, Gen. iii. 8. 
' And they heard the voice of the Lord God, walking 
in the garden,' thus: ' They heard the Word of the 
Lord God,' &c. 



Several Jewish commentators say, that ' it was the 
Voice which was walking.' 

One of them says, that ' Our first parents before their 
sin, saw the Glory of God speaking to them ; but after 
their sin, they only heard the Voice walking.' 

Philo and Jonathan both say, ' that it was the Word 
of God which appeared unto Hagar.' 

Jonathan says, ' God will receive the prayer of Israel 
by his Word.' Paraphrasing Jer. xxix. 14, he says, 'I 
will be sought by you in my Word.' 

The Jerusalem Targum, or Paraphrase, says, ' Abra- 
ham prayed in the name of the Word of the Lord, the 
God of the world.' 

Jonathan says also, ' God will atone by his Word for 
his land, and for his people ; even a people saved by 
the Word of the Lord.' 

Psalm ex. 1. They paraphrase, ' The Lord said un- 
to his Word,' instead of my I,ord, as in the original. 

The Jewish commentators say, ' there are three de- 
grees in the mystery of Aleim, or Elohim ;' and these 
degrees they call Persons. They say, ' They are all 
one, and cannot be separated.' 

Deut. vi. 4. ' Hear, O Israel ! Jehovah, or Aleim, is 
one Jehovah,' is thus rendered by the author of the 
Jewish book Zohar; ' The Lord, and our God, and the 
Lord, are one.' In his comment on this passage the 
author says, " The Lord, or Jehovah, is the beginning 
of all things, and perfection of all things, and he is 
called the Father. The other, or our God, is the depth 
or the fountain of sciences ; and is called the Son. 
The other, or Lord, he is the Holy Ghost, who pro- 
ceeds from them both, &c. Therefore he says, ' Hear, 
O Israel!' that is, join together this Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost, and make them one essence, one 
substance : for whatever is in the one is in the other. 
He hath been the whole ; he is the whole ; and he will 
be the whole." 

Again : " What is the name of King Messiah ? 
Rabbi Akiba hath said, Jehovah is his name. As it is 
declared, Jer. xxiii. 6, ' And this is his name by which 
they shall call him, Jehovah, our righteousness.'" 

These commentators also call him the Branch ; the 
Comforter ; Gracious ; Luminous, &c. 

And again; "The Holy God calls the King Mes- 
siah by his name : Jehovah is his name ; for it is said, 
Exod. vii. 1 , ' The Lord is a man of war ; Jehovah is 
his name.' " 

To these explicit and unquestionable testimonies I 
shall now add a collection of others, of a different na- 
ture, but scarcely less decisive. 

In the concise history of the creation Moses says, 
more than thirty times, ' Aleim (that is, Gods) created ;' 
the noun being plural, and the verb singular, in every 
instance. These the Jewish paraphrasts explain by Je- 
hovah ; his Word, that is, his Son ; and his Wisdom or 
Holy Spirit, which they call three degrees. These three, 
they assert, are one ; and declare them to be one inse- 
parable Jehovah. This doctrine the Jews have exhibited 
in a variety of methods, clear, convincing, and impres- 
sive. These I shall now proceed to exhibit, after hav- 
ing premised a remarkable sentence from Rabbi Judah 
Hakkadosh, or Judah the Holy, in which the doctrine 
of the Jewish church is declared in the most explicit, 
manner. ' God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
Holy Spirit, three in unity, one in trinity.' Thi? 
Rabbi flourished in the second century. 



380 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxi. 



With this preface I observe, 

(1.) That the form of blessing used by the Jewish 
priests, and the mode of administering- it, when they 
blessed the congregation, strongly exhibited the doctrine 
of the Trinity. 

This form of blessing is prescribed in Numb, vi. 24 
— 26. ' Jehovah bless thee, and keep thee. Jehovah 
make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious to 
thee. Jehovah lift up his countenance upon thee, and 
give thee peace.' 

This blessing, according to Rabbi Menachen, was pro- 
nounced in a different accent, during the utterance of 
each part ; and, according to the account given hy two 
other Rabbies, with the hand lifted up, and the three 
first fingers of the hand extended ; the little finger being 
at the same time closed. This, they say, was done to 
express a triad, or trinity, in the Godhead. 

(2.) The Jews anciently used a solemn symbol of the 
Deity, which they called Sephiroth ; a word commonly 
signifying enumerations, but used by their learned men 
to denote splendours. These are sometimes exhibited 
in the form of a tree with its branches extended, and 
sometimes by ten concentric circles, that figure being 
the symbol of perfection. All these splendours are re- 
presented as issuing from the supreme and infinite 
Source, as light from the sun. 

Of this tree Rabbi Schabte says, ' There are three 
degrees ; the root, the stem, and the branches ; and these 
three are one.' By this he intends, that the infinite 
source, and the other two degrees, are one and insepar- 
able. 

In the symbol of the circles, the three superior circles 
are called the Crown, Wisdom, and Understanding. 
' These,' Rabbi Isaac, a famous and learned Jew, says, 
' are the highest numerations, which possess one throne, 
on which sits the holy, holy, holy Lord God of Hosts.' 
Two other celebrated Jewish doctors say, ' These are 
the Voice, the Spirit, and the Word ; and these are one.' 
And Eambam, the most celebrated of them all, says, 
' The crown is the primordial Spirit of the living 
Aleim ; and his Wisdom is a Spirit from the Spirit ; 
and the Understanding, Waters from the Spirit ; and 
between these, though thus distinguished, there is no 
distinction in essence; because the end is annexed to 
the beginning, and the beginning to the end, and the 
middle is comprehended by them.' 

The remaining Sephiroth denoted the attributes of 
God. 

The ancient Jews applied the three first letters of the 
incommunicable name Jehovah, to denote the three su- 
perior splendours, viz. jod, he, vau; and the second he, 
or the last letter, denoted, according to them, the two 
natures of the second splendour, or person. 

(3.) The ancient Jews wrote the name of God symbo- 
lically, by including three jods within a circle, and sub- 
scribing under the jods and within the circle, the vowel 
kametz. 

The circle was the figure denoting perfection. The 
three jods were the beginning letter of the word Jeho- 
vah, thrice repeated, to denote the three persons in the 
Godhead. The kametz was the point of perfection, and 
denoted the same thing with the circle, and the unity of 
the divine essence. 

(4.) Another method, used by the Jews to denote 
God, was to include in a square three radii, or points, 
dispcsed in the form of a crown. The crown seems to 



have denoted the dignity and supremacy of the object 
designed, and the number three, the three persons of 
the Godhead. 

(5.) The letter schin was another emblem of the Most 
High, in use among the Jews. 

This letter, which is the first in the word Shaddai, 
the Almighty, one of the scriptural names of God, is 
formed of three branches, alike in size and figure, espe- 
cially as written in the ancient or Samaritan character, 
and united in one stem. This letter was distinctly writ- 
ten on those phylacteries which the Jews wore upon 
their heads. 

(6.) The equilateral triangle, with three small circles 
at the angles, and the letter jod inscribed over against 
the upper angle, was another Jewish symbol of the 
Deity. The three signs indicated the three persons of 
the Godhead ; and the equal length of the sides their 
equality ; while the jod was a direct proof that Jehovah 
was intended by the emblem. The three circles proba- 
bly denoted the perfection of the three Persons. 

(7.) The Jews also delineated the sphere, or represen- 
tation of the universe, as holden by three hands ; two at 
the sides and one at the bottom. Near the hands were 
inscribed the three Hebrew letters, aleph, daleth, and 
schin ; the initials of the three Hebrew words for truth, 
judgment, and peace. The same letters were also in- 
scribed immediately above the sphere. 

Such is the testimony of the Jewish church concerning 
this subject, composed on the one hand of direct decla- 
rations, and on the other of symbols equally definite and 
certain ; especially as explained by their own commen- 
tators. These prove beyond a reasonable debate, that 
the ancient Jewish church held uniformly the doctrine 
of the Trinity. The later Jews have indeed denied it ; 
but to this denial they have been led merely by their 
hatred to Christianity. 

I shall now proceed to mention the opinion of the 
heathen nations concerning this subject. 

(1.) The Hindoos have, from the most remote anti- 
quity, holden a triad in the divine nature. 

The name of the Godhead among these people is 
Brahme. The names of the three persons in the God- 
head are Brahma, Veeshnu, and Seeva. Brahma they 
considered as the Father, or supreme Source ; Veeshnu 
as the Mediator, whom they assert to have been incar- 
nate ; and Seeva as the Destroyer and Regenerator : 
destruction being in their view nothing but the dissolu- 
tion of preceding forms, for the purpose of reviving the 
same being in new ones. 

The three faces of Brahma, Veeshnu, and Seeva, they 
always formed on one body, having six hands, or two to 
each person. This method of delineating the Godhead 
is ancient beyond tradition, universal, uncontroverted, 
and carved everywhere in their places of worship ; par- 
ticularly in the celebrated cavern in the island of Ele- 
phanta. 

(2.) Equally well known is the Persian triad ; the 
names of which were Ormusd, Mithr, and Ahriman ; 
called by the Greeks, Oromasdes, Mithras, and Ari- 
manius. Mithras was commonly styled Tg/xAaevoj. 
Among them, as well as among the Hindoos, the 
second person in the triad was called, The Mediator, 
and regarded as the great agent in the present world. 

In the Oracles ascribed to Zerdusht, or Zoroaster, 
the famous Persian philosopher, are the following de- 
clarations : 



TESTIMONIES TO THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRINITY. 



381 



' Where the eternal monad is, it amplifies itself, and 
generates a duality.' 

' A triad of Deity shines forth throughout the whole 
world, of which a monad is the head.' 

' For the mind of the Father said, that all things 
should be divided into three ; whose will assented, and 
all things were divided.' 

' And there appeared in this triad, Virtue, Wisdom, 
and Truth, who knew all things.' 

' The Father performed all things, and delivered them 
over to the second mind, whom the nations of men com- 
monly suppose to be the first.' 

The third person, speaking of himself says, ' I Psyche, 
or Soul, dwell next to the paternal mind, animating all 
things.' 

(3.) The Egyptians also acknowledged a triad, from 
the earliest antiquity, whom they named originally 
Osiris, Cneph, and Phtha ; and afterward Osiris, Isis, 
and Typhon. These persons they denoted by the sym- 
bols light, fire, and spirit. They represented them also 
on the doors and other parts of their sacred buildings, 
in the three figures of a globe, a wing, and a serpent. 
Abenephius, an Arabian writer, says that ' by these the 
Egyptians shadowed ®iou T^iftoQtyov, or God in three 
forms.' 

One of the Egyptian fundamental axioms of theology, 
as given by Damascius, and cited by Cudworth, is, 
' There is one principle of all things, praised under the 
name of the Unknown Darkness, and this thrice re- 
peated.' 

In the books attributed to Hermes Trismegistus, is 
the following passage : 

' There hath ever been one great intelligent light, 
which has always illumined the mind ; and their union is 
nothing else but the Spirit, which is the bond of all 
things.' 

Here light and mind are spoken of as two persons, 
and the spirit as the third, ; all declared to be eternal. 

Jamblichus, a platonic philosopher, styled by Proclus, 
the Divine, declares, that ' Hermes speaks of Eicton as 
the first of intelligences, and the first intelligible ; and 
of Gneph, or Emeph, as the prince of the celestial gods ; 
and of the demiurgic, or creating mind, as a third to 
these.' Jamblichus calls these the demiurgic mind, the 
guardian of truth, and wisdom. 

(4.) The Orphic theology, the most ancient recorded 
in Grecian history, taught the same doctrine. 

In the abridgment of this theology by Timotheus, the 
Chronographer, are found its most important and cha- 
racteristical doctrines. Of these the fundamental one is, 
that an eternal, incomprehensible being exists, who is 
the creator of all things. This supreme and eternal 
being is styled in this theology, <bug, Bov'Kti, Zan, light, 
counsel, life. 

Suidas speaking of these three, says, ' they express 
only one and the same power.' Timotheus says farther, 
that Orpheus declared ' All things to have been made by 
one Godhead in three names ; or rather by these names 
of one Godhead ; and that this Godhead is all things.' 

Proclus, a platonic philosopher already mentioned, 
says, that Orpheus taught ' the existence of one God, 
who is the ruler over all "things; and that this one God 
is three minds, three kings ; he who is ; he who has, or 
possesses ; and he who beholds.' These three minds he 
declares to be the snme with the triad of Orpheus; viz. 
l'hanes, Uranus, and Chronus. 



(5.) The Greek philosophers also extensively acknow- 
ledged a triad. 

Particularly, Pythagoras styled God to in or, The 
Unity; and ftova.;, or, That which is alone ; and also 
to A-yoidov, or, The Good. 

' From this eternal monad,' says Pythagoras, ' there 
sprang an infinite duality ; that is, from him who existed 
alone, two proceeded, who were infinite.' 

Plato also held a triad ; and named them to AyxSoi/, 
the Good ; Nouj, or Aoyoj, Mind, or Word ; and ->pvx,yi 
xoofiov, the Soul of the world. The to AyuSou he also 
calls 7T(>aTo; Qeo;, and (ieytaro; ®so{. 

Parmenides, the founder of the Eleatic philosophy, 
says, The Deity is in kcu ■xoh'ha,, one and many. Sim- 
plicius, commenting on Plato's exhibition of the doc- 
trines of Parmenides, says, that ' these words were a 
description of the avrov Ovrog,' the true or original ex- 
istence ; and Plotinus says, that Parmenides acknow- 
ledged three divine unities subordinated. The first unity 
he calls the most perfectly and properly One ; the se- 
cond, One many ; and the third, One and many. Plo- 
tinus farther says, that Parmenides acknowledged a 
triad of original persons. Plotinus speaks of God as 
being ' The One, the Mind, and the Soul;' which he 
calls, the original or principal persons. Amelius calls 
these persons three Kings, and three Creators. 

Numenius, a famous Pythagorean, acknowledged a triad. 

The second person he calls the Son of the first ; and the 
third he speaks of as proceeding also from the first. 

(6.) In the empires of Thibet and Tangut, a triune 
God is constantly acknowledged in the popular religion. 
Medals, having the image of such a God stamped on 
them, are given to the people by the Delai Lama, to be 
suspended as holy around their necks, or otherwise used 
in their worship. These people also worshiped an 
idol which was the representation of a threefold God. 

(7.) A medal, now in the cabinet of the Emperor of 
Russia, was found near the river Kemptschyk, a branch 
of the Jenisea, in Siberia, of the following description : 
A human figure is formed on one side, having one 
body and three heads. This person sits upon the cup 
of the lotus ; the common accompaniment of the God- 
head in various eastern countries ; and on a sofa, in the 
manner of eastern kings. On the other side is the fol- 
lowing inscription : ' The bright and sacred image of 
the Deity, conspicuous in three figures. Gather the 
holy purpose of God from them ; love him.' A heathen 
could not more justly or strongly describe a trinity. 

(8.) The ancient Scandinavians acknowledged a triad ; 
whom they styled Odin, Frea, and Thor. In the Edda, 
the most remarkable monument of Scandinavian theo- 
logy, Gangler, a prince of Sweden, is exhibited as be- 
ing introduced into the hall or palace of the gods. 
Here he saw three thrones raised one above another, 
and on each throne a sacred person. These persons 
were thus described to him by his guide : ' He, who sils 
on the lowest throne, is Har, or the Lofty One. The 
second is Jafn Har, or Equal to the Lofty One. He 
who sits on the highest throne is Thridi, or the Third.' 

(9.) The Romans, Germans, and Gauls, acknowledged 
a triad, amd worshiped a triad in various manners. 

The Romans and Germans worshiped the Mairia? ; 
three goddesses inseparable, and always united in their 
worship, temples, and honours. 

The Romans also, together with the Greeks and 
Egyptians, worshiped the Cabiri, or three Mighty ones. 



382 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxh. 



■ The Diana of the Romans, is stamped on a medal 
as having three faces on three distinct heads, united 
to one form. On the reverse is the image of a man, 
holding his hand to his lips ; under whom is this in- 
scription : ' Be silent ; it is a mystery.' 

The German goddess, Trygla, was drawn in the same 
manner. 

The Gauls also united their gods in triple groups, 
in a manner generally similar, as is evident from sculp- 
tures either now or lately remaining. 

(10.) The Japanese and Chinese anciently acknow- 
ledged a triad. 

The great image of the Japanese is one form, with 
tlree heads ; generally resembling that of Brahma, 
Veeshnu, and Seeva, already described as worshiped 
by the Hindoos. The Chinese worshiped in ancient 
times one supreme God without images, or symbols of 
any kind. This worship lasted until after the death of 
Confucius, about five hundred years before the birth of 
Christ. 

Lao Kiun, the celebrated founder of one of the philo- 
sophical or religious sects in China, delivered this as 
die great leading doctrine of his philosophy, ' That the 
eternal Reason produced one ; one produced two ; two 
produced three ; and three produced all things.' 

(11.) The American nations also have in several 
instances acknowledged a triad. 

The Iroquois hold, that before the creation three 
spirits existed, all of whom were employed in creating 
mankind. 

The Peruvians adored a triad, whom they styled, The 
Father and lord Sun, the son Sun and the brother Sun. 



In Cuquisaco, a province of Peru, the inhabitants wor- 
shiped an image named Tangatanga, which in their lan- 
guage signifies, One in three, and three in one. 

Thus have I finished this numerous collection of tes- 
timonies to the great Scriptural doctrine of the Trinity. 
The labour employed in making it has, I hope, not been 
useless. In a serious mind it cannot, I think, fail to 
produce, not conviction only, but astonishment and 
delight, to see the wonderful manner in which God has 
diffused and perpetuated the evidence of this doctrine 
throughout the successive periods of time. The testi- 
monies of the Jewish and Christian churches are complete 
and irresistible. We are not to expect that, amid all 
the ignorance of heathenism, correct and unobjection- 
able ideas of God should be found in any nation. 

But when we consider that the doctrine of a triad has 
been so evidently received without a question in all the 
four quarters of the globe, and by so many different na- 
tions ; that it wasreceivedamongalmostall those who were 
ancient ; that it was received independently of the Scrip- 
tures ; that it was expressed in so many forms, and those 
completely decisive as to the real meaning ; that the 
scheme in all these forms was unanswerably the union 
of three divine beings (or persons) in one ; and that this 
scheme was so often and so definitely explained in mul- 
tiplied and very various modes of expression, modes of 
expression too which are incapable of being miscon- 
strued ; we cannot, I think, fail to determine, that the 
doctrine of the Trinity was originally revealed to the 
human race ; and has almost everywhere been con- 
veyed down, both in their worship and their sacred 
traditions. 



SERMON LXXII. 

REGENERATION.— THE AGENT: HIS AGENCY. 



Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of 
regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost. — Titus iii. 5. 



In a preceding Discourse, I proposed to enter upon an 
inquiry into the great subject of Regeneration under 
two principal heads : — 

The agent in this work. 
I. The work itself. 

The former of these subjects I proposed to discuss 
under these heads : — 

I. The character of the Agent. 

il. His agency. 

The character of the agent I have already examined. 

In investigating his agency I propose to consider, 

I. The fact. 

II. Its nature. 

III. Its necessity. 

IV. The objections to it. 

It will be observed that I here take it for granted, 
that mankind are, in some instances, really regenerated ; 
reserving the proof of this doctrine to a future occasion, 
when I shall come to the discussion of the second thing 
originally proposed : viz. The work of regeneration. In 
discoursing on collateral subjects of theology, or of any 



other science, it is, not very unfrequently, necessary to 
suppose one or more of them for the time allowed, to 
preclude useless embarrassment in the discussion of the 
others. This, however, is to be done only for the time, 
and only for the purpose which has been specified. It 
is no part of my design in this system to take any point 
in theology for granted : nor to expect the belief of any 
doctrine alleged by me, unless the arguments adduced 
to support it shall be found solid and convincing. Nor 
do I ever intend to consider any thing as granted by 
those who differ from me, unless I suppose it to be 
really granted by them. If there be found in this sys- 
tem "of discourses any thing contrary to these principles, 
I hope it will be considered as the result of inattention 
and error on my own part ; for no departure from them 
will receive any justification from me. 

With these things premised, I shall now proceed to 
a consideration of — 

The fact, that the Holy Ghost is the agent in the 
regeneration of man. 

It will be easily seen that the proof of this position 



REGENERATION THE AGENT: HIS AGENCY. 



383 



must be derived from the Scriptures ; and that all the 
evidence concerning it furnished by reason and expe- 
rience must be merely auxiliary, and cannot, in the 
nature of the case, be decisive. From the Scriptures 
then I shall proceed to allege such proofs of this doc- 
trine, as to me appear satisfactory. 

1. I argue this doctrine from declarations of the 
Scriptures. 

The text is one of these declarations. 

In this passage we are said to be ' saved by the wash- 
ing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy 
Ghost' The word ' renewing' is an exact translation 
of the original word in this place. To renew signifies, 
as you well know, to make new, or to make over again. 
This operation is here ascribed to the Holy Ghost in 
as simple and unambiguous terms as are possible. 

John i. 12, 13, is another example of the same na- 
ture. ' But to as many as received him, to them gave 
he power to become the Sons of God ; even to them 
that believe on his name. Which were born, not of 
blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of 
man, but of God.' 

In this passage of Scripture it is asserted, that the 
birth by which mankind become the sons of God, is de- 
rived ' not from blood,' or natural descent ; ' nor from 
the will of the flesh ; nor from the will of man ;' that 
is, not from human contrivance and determination in 
any form ; ' but from God.' It is difficult to conceive 
how this doctrine could be more clearly asserted. But 
if those who sustain this character are born of God, 
they are born of the Spirit of God. For our Saviour, 
discoursing on this subject in chap. iii. ver. 5, 6, says, 
' Except a man be born of water, and of the Spirit, he 
cannot see the kingdom of God. That which is born 
of the flesh, is flesh ; and that which is born of the Spi- 
rit, is spirit.' Here the persons said in the former 
passage to be born of God, are declared by our Saviour 
to be born of the Spirit ; and that which is born of the 
Spirit is declared alone to be spiritual. So far as I 
can see, these passages in the most decisive manner 
assert regeneration to be exclusively the work of the 
Spirit of God. 

In this passage also, ' that which is born of the flesh 
is ' declared to be ' flesh ;' that is, whatever proceeds 
from a fleshly source partakes of its fleshly nature. 
The word ' flesh ' is customarily used in the Scriptures 
to denote the native character of man. In this sense 
' the carnal,' or fleshly ' mind ' is declared by St Paul 
to be ' enmity against God, not subject to his law, nei- 
ther indeed capable of being subject to it.' In the same 
sense, the same apostle says, ' In me, that is, in my 
flesh,' or natural character, ' dwelleih no good thing.' 

A contrast is studiously run between that which pro- 
ceeds from the Spirit, and that which proceeds from 
the flesh ; or, to use the words of our Saviour, in the 
passage above quoted, between that which is flesh, and 
that which is spirit, in several passages of Scripture. 
' To be carnally minded,' says St Paul, 'is death ; but 
to be spiritually minded is life and peace,' Rom. viii. 6. 
In the original, ' The minding of the flesh is death ; but 
the minding of the Spirit is life and peace.' And again, 
Gal. v. 19 — 23, 'Now the works of the flesh are mani- 
fest, which are these ; adultery, fornication, uncleanness, 
lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, 
emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, 
murders, drunkenness, revelings, and such like ; of 



the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in 
time past, that they which do such things shall not in- 
herit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit 
is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, 
faith, meekness, temperance.' In these passages, the 
different natures of the fleshly and spiritual character 
are too strongly marked to need a comment. All that 
is sinful, odious to God, and the object of his wrath, 
plainly belongs to the former ; and all that is holy, 
lovely in the sight of God, and the object of his favour, 
belongs to the latter. But ' that which is born of the 
flesh is flesh ;' is of this odious, guilty nature ; while 
' that which is born of the Spirit is ' alone ' spirit.' In 
other words, whatever is good and acceptable before God 
in the character of man is produced by the Holy Ghost. 

In 2 Thess. ii. 13, St Paul says, ' God hath from the 
beginning chosen you to salvation, through the sancti- 
fication of the Holy Ghost.' The Thessalonian church 
then was chosen to salvation : How ? Through the 
sanctification of the Holy Ghost. The sanctification of 
these persons then was a part of the original purpose of 
God, and a pre-requisite to their salvation. The Thes- 
salonians, therefore, were renewed or regenerated by 
the Holy Ghost ; and, by necessary conclusion, all 
others who become the subjects of regeneration. 

1 Cor. vi. 11, ' But ye are sanctified by the Spirit of 
God.' In the two preceding verses, St Paul mentions 
several classes of men, who, he declares ' shall not in- 
herit the kingdom of God.' Then he subjoins, ' Such. 
were some of you. But,' he adds, ' ye are sanctified by 
the Spirit of God.' Formerly these Corinthians were 
of the number of those who, continuing in their proper 
character, could ' not inherit the kingdom of God.' 
That which now made them of a new and opposite char- 
acter was, that they were ' sanctified by the Spirit of God.' 

In Ezek. xxxvi. 26, 27, God says, ' A new heart also 
will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you : 
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, 
and I will give you a heart of flesh. And I will put 
my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my sta- 
tutes ; and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them.' 
Here, giving these Israelites ' a new heart,' and ' a new 
spirit,' is plainly and exactly equivalent to the import 
of this declaration, ' I will put my Spirit within you ;' 
as the consequence of which, it is declared, that they 
' shall walk in the statutes of God, and keep his judg- 
ments.' The disposition, therefore, with which man- 
kind keep the statutes or obey the law of God, is pro- 
duced in them by God himself, and is effectuated by 
his Spirit. 

In the following chapter God says, ver. 13, 14, to 
the house of Israel, represented as spiritually dead, ' Ye 
shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall put my 
Spirit in you, and ye shall live.' Here spiritual life is 
exhibited as the immediate effect of the agency of the 
Spirit of God. 

To these passages of Scripture I shall subjoin a few 
more out of a great multitude, to the same purpose. 
' For the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by 
the Holy Ghost,' Rom. v. 5. ' Your body is the tem- 
ple of the Holy Ghost,' 1 Cor. vi. 19. 'No man can 
say that Jesus is Lord, but by the Holy Ghost,' 1 Cor. xii. 
3. ' For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they 
are the sons of God,' Rom. viii. 14. 'I will pour my 
Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine off- 
spring,' Isa. xliv. 3. The direct consequence of this 



384 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxxii. 



effusion of the Spirit is declared in ver. 5 : ' One shall 
say, I am the Lord's, and another shall call himself by 
the name of Jacob.' 

2. The same doctrine is taught us by facts contained 
in the Scriptures. 

Our Saviour preached to the Jewish nation at least 
three years and a half, if not more than four years. It 
will be admitted that he was the best of all preachers ; 
and that his preaching was more perfectly calculated 
than any other to produce holiness in the hearts of 
those who heard him. Yet it will also be admitted 
that he was not a very successful preacher. We natur- 
ally ask, Why was he not successful ? The apostles, on 
the contrary, though certainly and greatly inferior to 
Christ in wisdom and persuasiveness, preached still 
with wonderful success. St Peter, by the first sermon 
which he delivered to the Jews, probably converted 
more to the faith and obedience of the gospel, than 
Christ during the whole of his ministry. We naturally 
ask also, Whence arose this wonderfully different effi- 
• cacy in the preaching of St Peter and that of his Mas- 
ter. The persons whom they both addressed were the 
same. They had been witnesses of the miracles of 
both. Why then were they perfectly dead to the 
preaching of Christ ; and ' pricked to the heart,' and 
turned to God , by that of St Peter ? The cause was 
not in the preaching. It was not in the hearers; for 
they were the very same persons. It was then an ex- 
traneous cause. The event was not derived ' from the 
will of the flesh, nor from the will of man, but from 
God.' 

St Paul preached at Philippi ' many days.' It seems 
clear, that the jailer must frequently have heard him. 
Yet his words made no impression upon the jailer's 
heart until that night in which he was converted. Yet 
then, in a moment, upon Paul's calling to him to do 
himself no harm ; he hastened into the prison, and 
cried out to Paul and Silas, ' Sirs, what must I do to 
be saved?' A cause adequate to this change in the 
jailer, must be admitted here : and this can have been 
no other, than that ' the Lord opened his heart,' as he 
had before done that of Lydia, in the same place. 

Generally, to what other cause can be assigned the 
universal success of the apostles in preaching the gos- 
pel ? St Peter has taught us to attribute this wonder- 
ful event to the peculiar and remarkable effusion of the 
Holy Ghost ' in the last days,' or days of the gospel, 
predicted by the prophet Joel, and begun to be accom- 
plished on the day of Pentecost. If this be not admit- 
ted as the true cause, it will, I apprehend, be very diffi- 
cult to assign another, which will be found adequate 
to the effect, or which will in any measure satisfy a so- 
ber inquirer. 

II. The nature of this agency next demands our con- 
sideration. 

Concerning this I observe, 

1 . That it is the result of the mere good pleasure of 
God. Whatever other reasons may exist for the com- 
munication of this essential blessing (and that the best 
reasons do exist can never be seriously questioned), it 
is plainly impossible that it should be merited by any 
child of Adam. The very supposition, that we are re- 
generated, involves the necessity of our regeneration. 
But this necessity is the result of our sinfulness only : 
and this character plainly precludes, wherever it is 
found, the possibility of meriting to be regenerated. 



The agency of the divine Spirit in this work is, there- 
fore, on the one hand sovereign, and on the other gra- 
cious ; or, in other words, flows from the sovereign and 
unmerited mercy of our divine Benefactor. 

2. It is unresisted. . 

It has often been called irresistible. This language 
has given rise to very extensive, and, as I apprehend, 
to very unwarrantable controversies in the Christian 
church. Others, and among them men of great respec- 
tability, have more sanguine expectations concerning 
the issue of debates about metaphysical subjects, than I 
am able to form ; and perhaps I should be unwarranted 
in saying that they are not more just. But, so far as , 
my acquaintance with the views and reasonings of men 
extends, I entertain very faint hopes of seeing any so- 
lid good spring from the speculations concerning the na- 
ture of causes, and the modes of their operation. The 
facts, that such and such causes exist ; and that they 
operate to the production of such and such effects, we 
in many instances well understand. But the nature of 
the cause itself, and the nature and manner of its effi- 
ciency, are, in most instances, too subtle, or too entire- 
ly hidden from our view, either to be perceived at all, 
or to be so perceived as to become the materials of real 
and useful knowledge. Hence, probably, has been de- 
rived the fact, that speculations on such subjects, though 
often satisfactory to the philosopher himself, and to his 
own immediate friends and followers, have rarely satis- 
fied others, or produced any lasting effects on mankind. 
The schoolmen were perhaps as able investigators of 
such subjects as the world has ever seen, and their spe- 
culations were at times proofs of sagacity and discri- 
mination not inferior to what has been displayed in the 
most boasted efforts of succeeding ages. Yet how little 
are they studied or remembered at the present time ! 
Scarcely are they mentioned, unless with pity or con- 
tempt ; or as sources of astonishment, awakened by the 
sight of talents misapplied. 

The success of these men should, one would think, 
furnish a lesson to such as follow after them. They 
too had their day of reputation and splendour ; of splen- 
dour, far superior to any thing which modern writers 
can boast, or modern times will ever be disposed to 
give. But it ' was a vapour which appeared for a lit- 
tle time, and then vanished away.' ' The morning 
clouds ' of the present day will appear for a period still 
less ; and the system which for the moment attracts 
many eyes, will in another moment be forgotten. Neither 
the fame acquired by the author, nor the stability attri- 
buted to his system by his followers, should therefore 
induce us to rely on the desert of the one, or the per- 
manency of the other. 

When it is said, that the agency of the Divine Spi- 
rit in renewing the heart of man is irresistible, it is 
probably said, because this agency being an exertion of 
omnipotence, is concluded, of course, to be irresistible 
by human power. This seems not, however, to be said 
on solid grounds. That agency of the Holy Ghost, 
which St Stephen informs us was resisted by the Jews, 
and by their fathers, was an exertion of the same om- , 
nipotence, and was yet resisted by human power. I 
know of nothing in the regenerating agency of the 
same Spirit, except the fact, that it is never resisted, ■ 
which proves it to be irresistible, any more than that 
which the Jews actually resisted. That the Spirit of 
God can do any thing with man, and constitute man 



REGENERATION—THE AGENT: HIS AGENCY. 



385 



any thing which he pleases, cannot be questioned. But 
that he will exert a regenerating agency on the human 
mind which man has not a natural power to resist, or 
which roan could not resist if he would, is far from be- 
ing satisfactorily evident to me. Indeed, I am ready 
to question whether this very language does not lead 
the mind to views concerning this subject which are 
radically erroneous. 

In the cxth Psalm, in which we have an account of 
Christ's being constituted ' a priest for ever after the 
order of Melchisedek,' we have in the third verse this 
remarkable promise made to Christ, ' Thy people shall 
be willing in the day of thy power.' This promise re- 
spects the very subject now under consideration ; and 
is, I suspect, a more accurate account of it than can be 
found in the language which I am opposing. In the 
day of Christ's power his people are willing. The in- 
fluence which he exerts on them by his Spirit, is of 
such a nature that their wills, instead of attempting any 
resistance to it, coincide with it readily and cheerfully, 
without any force or constraint on his part, or any op- 
position on their own. That it is an unresisted agency, 
in all cases, is unquestionable : that it is irresistible in 
any, does not appear. 

III. The necessity of this agency will, if I mistake 
not, be evident from the following considerations : — 

1. It is declared in the Scriptures. 

' No man,' saith our Saviour, ' can come unto me, ex- 
cept the Father who hath sent me draw him.' This 
declaration will, I suppose, be allowed by the warmest 
opposers of this doctrine to have a meaning. There 
are but two meanings which it can possibly have. One 
is, that it is physically impossible for any man to come to 
Christ, unless drawn by the Father : the other is, that 
it is morally impossible. The former of these will be de- 
nied by both parties ; the latter must, therefore, be con- 
ceded. In other words, it must be acknowledged that 
mankind are so opposed to Christ in their inclinations, 
that they will never come to him, that is, believe on him, 
unless drawn by the Father, or (which is the same 
thing,) renewed by his Spirit. It will be remembered, 
that God is nowhere in the Scriptures exhibited as draw- 
ing mankind to Christ in any other manner, than by 
the influence of the Holy Ghost. 

' Except a man be born of the Spirit,' says our Sa- 
viour, ' he cannot see the kingdom of God.' Here it is 
obvious, that to be ' born of the Spirit is declared to 
be an event without which it is impossible for men ' to 
see the kingdom of God.' The necessity of the agency 
of the Spirit cannot be more strongly exhibited than in 
the declaration, that without it, it is impossible to see 
the kingdom of God. 

' The natural man receiveth not the things of the 
Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him ; nei- 
ther can he know them, because they are spiritually 
discerned.' If the natural man cannot receive the 
things of the Spirit of God ; if he cannot know them ; 
if they are foolishness to him, so long as he continues 
in his natural state ; if they are spiritually discerned, 
and therefore incapable of being discerned without a 
spiritual taste and character ; if, at the same time, the 
discernment and knowledge of spiritual things is indis- 
pensably necessary to our attainment of salvation ; then 
the agency of the Spirit of God in our regeneration is 
absolutely necessary to us, in the same sense and de- 
gree in which our salvation is necessary. Our Saviour 



declares to Nicodemus, that ' that (only) which is born 
of the Spirit, is spirit,' or spiritual ; while ' that which 
is born of the flesh,' viz. all that is in man, and all that 
belongs to his natural character, ' is flesh ;' that is, is 
of this very natural character ' which receiveth not the 
things of the Spirit of God.' 

2. Reason teaches the same doctrine. 

The question has been often asked, ' Why, since a 
holy mind can become sinful, a sinful mind may not 
also become holy. No preternatural agency,' it is ob- 
served, ' is necessary to accomplish the former change ; 
why is any such agency necessary to accomplish the 
latter? The extent of the change in both instances is 
exactly the same ; the one being merely the converse 
of the other. It would seem, then, that the same 
physical powers which are sufficient for the accomplish- 
ment of the former, must be sufficient also for the ac- 
complishment of the latter. But by most men it is ac- 
knowledged that the physical powers of the same being 
when holy, are exactly the same as when sinful : both 
the understanding and the will remaining, in the physi- 
cal sense, unaltered. Where, then, lies the impossibility, 
or even the difficulty of the supposition, that man can 
regenerate himself; or which is the same thing, turn of 
his own accord from sin to holiness ?' 

All these questions are in my view fairly asked, and 
all the principles suggested, true. Still, the conclusion 
is unsound, and will not follow. This, however, I am 
bound to prove in a manner equally fair, and the more 
especially as a great multitude of serious, and, I hope, 
good men have found, and still find, no little difficulty 
in their contemplations on this subject. 

That a holy being should be capable of sinning, 
seems not, in the nature of the case, to be a supposition 
attended with any great difficulty. All beings, holy 
and sinful alike, relish and desire natural good, or 
happiness. This can be found in an endless multitude 
of objects. Of these some may be enjoyed lawfully, or 
consistently with the will of God ; while others cannot. 
These, however, so far as they are supposed capable of 
communicating happiness, are still naturally the objects 
of desire to holy beings, as truly as to sinful ones. All 
natural good when perceived is, by itself considered, 
desired of course by every percipient being. Now it is 
plain, that this good may, in a given case, appear so 
great to a holy being, may so engross his whole atten- 
tion, may so far exclude from his mind other considera- 
tions, and among them those of his duty, as to induce 
him to seek the good in view at the expense of his duty. 
In this manner, 1 apprehend, the angels who fell violated 
their duty ; and our first parents, theirs. Nor do I see 
how holy beings, so long as they love natural good, and 
are placed in a world where it is variously and amply 
provided, can fail of being exposed to temptations from 
this source ; nor, if these temptations be supposed to 
possess a given degree of power, or, which is the same 
thing, to contain a given degree of natural good, and 
to be set fully and exclusively before the mind, how 
such beings can fail, without peculiar divine assistance, 
of being exposed to fall. 

In all this, however, there is nothing to countenance 
the supposition that a sinner will in the same manner 
turn from sin to holiness. A sinner has no relish for 
spiritual good ; that is, for the enjoyment furnished by 
virtuous affections and virtuous conduct. To apply the 
words of Isaiah concerning Christ as regarded by the 
3c 



386 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxii. 



Jews, to this good as regarded by sinners, ' When they 
see it, there is no beauty in it, that they should desire 
it,' Isa. liii. 2. Whenever this good, therefore, becomes 
an object of the sinner's contemplation, as his mind is 
wholly destitute of any relish for it, he will never desire 
it for its own sake; and will never make any such efforts 
to gain it, as are absolutely necessary to accomplish the 
renovation of his heart. The relish for spiritual good 
is that state of mind out of which all virtuous volitions 
spring. No volition is ever excited but by good, and 
by good actually perceived and relished. As spiritual 
good is never thus perceived by a sinner, it will not ex- 
cite a single volition in his mind towards the attain- 
ment of it ; but will operate upon him as little as har- 
mony upon the deaf, or beautiful colours upon the 
blind. 

But the relish for spiritual good is the characteristical 
distinction of holy beings ; their essential characteristic, 
without which they would cease to be holy. The want 
of it, on the contrary, is a primary characteristic of sin- 
ful beings. In this lies the real difficulty of regenerat- 
ing ourselves, and not in the want of sufficient natural 
powers : and so long as this continues, an extraneous 
agency must be absolutely necessary for our regenera- 
tion. 

IV. The objections to the agency of the Divine Spirit 
in this work shall now be briefly considered. 

1. It is objected, that this doctrine infers partiality 
in the conduct of God. 

That in the conduct of God in this case there are 
mysterious and difficult things, which I cannot explain, 
I readily acknowledge. What the particular reasons 
are, by which God is influenced in this dispensation, he 
has not been pleased to reveal ; and we, therefore, are 
wholly unable to determine. It is sufficient for us, that 
we know all his conduct, in this and every other case, 
to be directed by the best reasons. 

But this case presents no more difficulty than a thou- 
sand others, in which we do not even think of starting 
this objection. We might as well complain of the com- 
mon dispensations of God's providence, as of this. ' Why,' 
we might ask, '. was one child born of Popish parents, and 
educated in all the ignorance and superstition of the 
Romish religion ; and another born of Protestant pa- 
rents, and educated under the light and blessings of the 
Reformed religion ? Why is one man destined by his 
birth to be a savage ; and another to be a member of 
civilized, enlightened, and religious society? Why is 
one man a native of Sennaar ; and another of New Eng- 
land ; one a beggar ; another a prince ; one deaf and 
dumb ; another endowed with hearing and speech ? 
Why are there any beggars ; any savages ? Nay, why 
are there any men ; and why are we not all angels ?' 

To apply the question to the very case in hand. Why, 
on the supposition that we regenerate ourselves, is one 
man furnished with those endowments both of under- 
standing and will, and with those advantages, all of 
which united, terminate in his regeneration ; and an- 
other, not ? 

It will be easily seen from these questions, that the 
objection of partiality lies with the same force against 
all inequalities of distribution in the divine government, 
as against this dispensation. Indeed, the only way to 
remove this objection must be to make all beings ex- 
actly alike, and to confer on them exactly the same dis- 
tributions. In other words, God, in order to remove 



this objection, must make all his conduct a mere repeti- 
tion of exactly the same actions towards every creature. 

2. It is objected also, that this doctrine supposes man 
not to be a free agent in his regeneration. 

To this objection I answer, that, if it be true, and be 
seen by us to be true, our knowledge of its truth must 
be derived either from some declaration of the Scrip- 
tures, or from the nature of the subject, philosophically 
investigated. From the former of these sources we can- 
not derive this knowledge ; because no declaration of 
Scripture asserts any thing of this nature. All our 
knowledge with regard to it, therefore, must of course 
be derived from the latter. I ask, then, what know- 
ledge does the nature of this subject furnish us of the 
truth of the objection ? Is it derived from the fact, that 
this agency has been called irresistible ? With the ar- 
guments derived from the use of this term, on either 
side, I have no concern. It is not used in the Scrip- 
tures, nor do I either discern or admit the propriety of 
using it. The task of defending the use of it, there- 
fore, I shall leave to those who do. 

Is it derived from the fact, that this agency is extrane- 
ous ? It will not be pretended that all extraneous influ- 
ence on the mind destroys its freedom. We act upon 
the minds of each other, and often with complete effi- 
cacy ; yet it will not be said, that we destroy each other's 
freedom of acting. God, for ought that appears, may 
act also on our minds, and with an influence which shall 
be decisive : and yet not destroy, nor even lessen, our 
freedom. 

Does the truth of the objection appear in the particu- 
lar kind of agency here used. Let me ask the objector, 
what is this particular kind of agency ? The only ac- 
count of the subject in the Scriptures is, that it is reno- 
vating, regenerating, or sanctifying. So far as my 
knowledge extends, neither the friends nor the adver- 
saries of the doctrine have added any thing to this ac- 
count which explains the subject any farther. But can 
it be said even with plausibility, that God cannot sanc- 
tify any intelligent creature without infringing on his 
freedom ? If it be said, it should also be proved ; and 
this, so far as my knowledge extends, has not hitherto 
been done. Until it shall be done, the mere assertion 
of our opponents may be fairly answered by a contrary 
assertion. 

When God created man, he created him in his own 
image. This, St Paul informs us, consists ' in know- 
ledge, righteousness, and true holiness.' But if God, 
without destroying or rather preventing his freedom of 
agency, could create him in this image, it would be dif- 
ficult to prove, or to conceive, that he cannot restore to 
his descendants the same image, after it has been lost, 
without destroying their freedom. The thing given is 
the same ; and the agency by which it is given is the 
same. Its influence on the freedom of the creature 
must, therefore, be exactly the same. Its whole influ- 
ence, in both cases alike, is successive to the agency it- 
self; and must, of course, affect the freedom of the 
creature in precisely the same manner. 

Does our experience furnish any knowledge of this 
nature ? Ask any Christian, and he will tell you, if com- 
petent to answer the question, that he is conscious of 
no loss nor change in his own freedom of acting ; that 
on the contrary, he chose and acted in the same man- 
ner as before, and with the same full possession of all 
his powers ; and that the only difference between his 



REGENERATION.— ITS NECESSITY AND REALITY. 



387 



former and present state is, that he now loves God, and 
obeys him voluntarily ; whereas he formerly hated him, 
and voluntarily disobeyed him. 

The truth is, this objection is not derived from re- 
velation, nor from fact. It owes its existence only to 
the philosophical scheme of agency, which makes the 
freedom of moral beings consist in self-determination, 
indifference, and contingency ; a scheme, in its own na- 
ture impossible and self-contradictory ; as any person 
may see completely evinced in an inquiry concerning 
this subject by the first President Edwards. 



Upon the whole, the plain declarations of the Scrip- 
tures are not to be set aside by the philosophy of men. 
Especially is this not to be done where the subject of 
investigation lies, as in the present case, beyond our 
reach. What the precise nature of the agency of the 
Holy Ghost in regenerating mankind is, in the meta- 
physical sense, man cannot know. It becomes all men , 
therefore, to be satisfied with the declarations of God 
who does know ; who cannot deceive us ; and who has, 
of course, declared to us the truth. 



SERMON LXXIII. 

REGENERATION ITS NECESSITY AND REALITY. 



Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see 

the kingdom of God. — John. iii. 3. 



Having considered the character of the Holy Ghost, 
and his agency in the work of regeneration, I shall 
now proceed, according to the plan originally proposed, 
to examine the work itself, under the three following 
heads : — 

I. The necessity, 

II. The reality, 

III. The nature of regeneration. 

I. J shall consider the necessity of the work of rege- 
neration, 

In the preceding Discourse I took the fact, that some 
men are regenerated, for granted ; and on this ground 
attempted to prove that the agency of the Spirit of 
God was necessary for the accomplishment of our re- 
generation. The question concerning the necessity of 
regeneration itself, and the question concerning the 
necessity of that agency in producing it, are entirely 
distinct. Yet it will be readily perceived, that the ar- 
guments adduced under the latter question in the pre- 
ceding Discourse, may with unabated force be, in 
several instances, applied to the former ; that which is 
now under consideration. Particularly is this true con- 
cerning several passages of Scripture, then adduced. 
For example, John iii. 5, G ; Rom. viii. 6, 7 ; Gal. v. 
19 — 23 ; 2 Thess. ii. 13 ; 1 Cor. vi. 11, connected with 
the context ; are all, together with several others, of 
this nature. On these, to avoid wearying my audience 
with repetitions, I shall not at present insist. 

At the same time, the certainty that there is nothing 
in our moral character which will lead us to regenerate 
ourselves, as exhibited in that Discourse, is one, and an 
important one, among the reasons which evince, in con- 
nexion with other arguments, the necessity of our re- 
generation ; and is therefore with propriety recalled to 
your remembrance on the present occasion. 

But the great proof of the necessity of regeneration 
is found in the depravity of our nature. The univer- 
sality and the degree of this corruption have been 
shown, if I am not deceived, in a manner too evident 
to be rationally called in question. In the Discourses 



which I formerly delivered on these subjects,* I pro- 
duced a long train of passages of Scripture, in which the 
natural character of man is, in the most unequivocal 
terms, declaimed to be corrupt, sinful, and abominable in 
the sight of God. This truth I elucidated also by ar- 
guments drawn from reason and experience, which to 
my own view were unanswerable. Among these I 
specified the opposition made by mankind to the gospel ; 
the testimonies which mankind have themselves given 
concerning this subject, in their laws, their religion, 
their history, their conversation, and their conduct, both 
in amusements and in the serious business of life. 
From these, and several other things, I derived it as a 
consequence flowing in my own view irresistibly from 
the premises, that f in our flesh,' or native character, 
' there dwelleth no good thing.' 

This doctrine St Paul teaches in the most explicit 
manner in the three first chapters of the Epistle to the 
Romans ; and, commenting on his own words, says, ' We 
have proved both Jews and Gentiles, that they are all 
under sin.' 

I shall consider this point as being actually proved ; 
and on this basis shall found the following arguments, 
designed to show the necessity of regeneration. 

1. It is unreasonable to suppose that God can admit 
sinners to the blessings of heaven. 

God is perfectly holy, and therefore regards sin only 
with hatred and abhorrence. Every sinner opposes his 
whole character, law, designs, and government ; loves 
what he hates, hates what he loves, and labours to dis- 
honour his name, and to frustrate his purposes. The de- 
signs of God involve the supreme and eternal good of the 
universe. In the accomplishment of this divine purpose 
his glory is entirely manifested, because the best of all 
characters is thus displayed in the most perfect degree. 
But these designs, and the character discovered in ac- 
complishing them, the sinner steadily hates, and opposes. 
Were it in his power, he would frustrate their accoin- 

* bee Stfinons xxix. tu xxxiv. inclusive. 



388 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. LXXIIf, 



plishment ; and prevent the glory of God, and the 
supreme good of the creation. 

This character of the sinner God discerns with clear 
and unerring certainty. Both his guilt and his desert 
are naked to the omniscient eye. It is impossible, there- 
fore, that he should not regard it with abhorrence. To 
suppose him then to approve of and love such a charac- 
ter, is to suppose him to approve of that which he sees 
to be deserving of his absolute reprobation ; and to love 
that which he knows merits nothing but his hatred. 
Should he in fact do this, he would invert his whole 
system of dispensations towards the universe ; and ex- 
hibit to his intelligent creatures a character totally new, 
and directly opposite to that which he has displayed 
hitherto in his law and government, especially in the 
work of redemption. Of course, he would not only 
cease to be unchangeable, but would become a being 
of a totally opposite character to that perfect one 
which he has hitherto challenged to himself. He 
would renounce his Deity ; and cease to sustain the 
excellence involved in the incommunicable name, Je- 
hovah. 

Farther : Should God, without approving of a sinful 
character, confer upon the unregenerated sinner the 
blessings which are the proper rewards of virtuous 
creatures, he would equally desert his character and 
government, and overthrow the wisdom, equity, and 
end of his designs. Every external favour shown to 
guilty beings after their probation is ended, is a testi- 
mony on the part of God, that he approves of their con- 
duct during the probationary state, and a reward for 
that conduct. It is a definitive testimony ; a testimony 
given when all their conduct is before him ; a solemn, 
judicial testimony ; a testimony of action, the surest in- 
terpreter of the thoughts. In the present case, it would 
be the highest and most solemn of all testimonies, be- 
cause he would bestow on them the greatest of all re- 
wards, the blessings of heaven. 

If, then, he did not feel this approbation, he would, in 
the case supposed, declare the grossest possible false- 
hood to the universe ; viz. that impenitent sinners mer- 
ited the highest rewards which it was in his power to 
bestow. He would declare that such sinners deserved 
the same proofs of his favour as his obedient children, 
and were therefore of the same character ; that rebels 
were faithful subjects ; that enemies were friends ; and 
that, although he had heretofore denounced them as 
subjects of his wrath, they were still the objects of his 
infinite complacency. This would be no other than a 
final declaration on his part, that right and wrong, holi- 
ness and sin, were the same things ; that his law, and 
the government founded on it, were introduced to no 
purpose, unless to excite wonder and fear in his intelli- 
gent creatures, that the redemption of Christ was ac- 
complished to no end ; and that all the divine conduct 
solemn, awful, and sublime as it has appeared, was 
wholly destitute of any object, and really of no impor- 
tance in the view of the infinite mind. 

2. This change of heart is absolutely necessary for the 
sinner himself, in order to make him capable of the hap- 
piness of heaven. 

Heaven is the seat of supreme and unmingled happi- 
ness ; of enjoyment, solid, sincere, and eternal. The 
foundation on which, so far as creatures are concerned, 
this happiness ultimately rests, is their holy or virtuous 
character. All their affections, all their pursuits, all 



their enjoyments, are virtuous without a mixture, Hence 
heaven is called ' the high and holy place ;' and, from 
the dispensations of God towards these unspotted being's, 
is termed, ' the habitation of his holiness.' With such 
companions a sinner could not accord, such affections 
he could not exercise, in such pursuits he could not 
unite, in such enjoyments he could not share. This is 
easily and familiarly demonstrated. Sinners do not 
love virtuous persons here, exercise no virtuous affec- 
tions, engage in no virtuous pursuits, and relish no vir- 
tuous enjoyments. Sinners in the present world love 
not God, trust not in the Redeemer, delight not in 
Christians, and regard neither the law of God nor the 
gospel of his'Son with complacency of heart. Sinners 
in this world find no pleasure in the Sabbath, nor in 
the sanctuary, and never cordially unite either in the 
prayers or the praises then and there offered up to their 
Maker. 

How then could sinners find happiness in heaven ? 
That glorious world is one vast sanctuary, and the end- 
less succession of ages which roll over its happy inhabi- 
tants are an everlasting sabbath. Their great and com- 
manding employment is unceasing and eternal worship. 
' They rest not day nor night, saying, Holy, holy, holy, 
Lord God Almighty, who wast, who art, and who art to 
come !' 

As the worship of God is uniformly burdensome to 
sinners here, the same worship must be at least equally 
burdensome to them there. Nay, it must be far more 
burdensome. The more holy, the more spiritual any 
thing is in the world, the more loathsome, the more 
painful is it to the mind of a sinner. But all the em- 
ployments of heaven are supereminently holy and 
spiritual. These then must be far more disgusting than 
any thing which religion, or its worship, can present to 
his view in the present world. In heaven, therefore, he- 
would be far less happy that he is here. Every thing 
with which he was conversant would more oppose his 
taste, contravene his wishes, and disappoint his expecta- 
tions. Nothing would give him pleasure ; every thing- 
would give him pain. 

If then a sinner is to be admitted into heaven, it is 
absolutely necessary that he should have a new heart, 
a new disposition. Otherwise, it is plain, that, amid all 
the blessings of that delightful world, he would find 
nothing but disgust, mortification, and sorrow. 

3. Such a change is necessary for the sinner also, in 
order to his becoming a useful inhabitant of heaven. 

All the inhabitants of that happy world are formed 
to do good as well as to enjoy it. Their enjoyment it- 
self is supremely the result of a disposition to do good, 
and of conduct in which this disposition is completely 
carried into efficacious practice. There is realized in 
the most absolute manner the whole nature of that per- 
fect rule of righteousness delivered by our Saviour, that 
' it is more blessed to give, than to receive :' to do good, 
than to gain it from others. Virtuous beings are as- 
sembled here for the very purpose of exhibiting in their 
conduct the divine nature, and transcendant effects, of 
this evangelical rule of righteousness ; and from their 
united efforts flows in streams continually enlarging, 
universal, unceasing, and immortal good. 

The good here enjoyed is a common or public good ; 
in which one great and general interest is proposed and 
pursued, and to which all private, personal interests are 
cheerfully subordinated. No selfish affection operates 



REGENERATION ITS NECESSITY AND REALITY. 



389 



here ; no selfish purpose exists. Every mind is expand- 
ed with affections all embracing the common interest 
Every design is elevated to a happiness rendered noble 
and supreme, because it is universal. To this object 
every pulse beats, every heart thrills, every tongue vi- 
brates. On it, as if magnetically influenced, every eye 
is fixed, to it every hand is turned. 

But every sinner would feel that ' all these things 
were against him.' His affections are only selfish, and 
his designs concentre solely in private, separate ends, 
and in interests opposed to the general welfare. His 
only scheme of happiness also is to gain enjoyment from 
others, and never to find it in doing good to others. 
This is a subject of which, as a source of enjoyment, he 
forms not a single conception. All his plans for hap- 
piness are matters of mere bargain and sale, in every 
instance of which, he intends to get the advantage of 
those with whom he deals. Good to him is good only 
when it is separate and selfish, and he knows not what 
it is to see his own happiness enlarged by the general 
participation. 

In the great, commanding, and sole pursuit of the 
heavenly world, a sinner would be unable to unite at all. 
Every wish of his heart must oppose the wishes and de- 
signs of all around him, and the great object for which 
heaven itself was formed by the Creator, which renders 
it delightful in his eyes, and for which he has gathered 
into it the ' assembly of the first-born.' Of course, he 
would be alone, separated from his companions by a 
character totally opposite to theirs, hostile to them in 
all his wishes and pursuits, marked by them as an alien, 
despised as useless and worthless, pitied as miserable, 
and loathed as sinful ! 

Sin is the real and only cause of the wretchedness 
experienced in the present world, and the immediate as 
well as the original cause of the woes experienced in 
the regions of perdition. Were sinners admitted into 
heaven, the same lust, fraud, and cruelty, the same in- 
justice, oppression, and violence, in a word, the same 
wickedness and woe which prevail in this world, would 
revive in that. Of course, the whole system of happi- 
ness begun there, and intended to be carried on through- 
out eternity, would be either prevented or destroyed 
That God should permit these evils to exist, is incredi- 
ble, and in my view impossible. 

4. It is absolutely necessary that this change should 
be accomplished in this present world. 

The present state is to man the only state of proba- 
tion. All beyond the grave is a state of reward. The 
reward ought plainly to be such as to suit the character 
of every probationer ; a true testimony of God to his 
real character ; a reward such as he has merited, and 
such as a righteous God may be expected to bestow. 
Of course, the testimony actually given, must be a testi- 
mony to the character with which he leaves this world 
of probation, and with which he goes to the judgment. 

Besides, man enters that world with the very same 
character with which he leaves this. Death makes no 
moral change in man, but is a mere passage from one 
state of being to another ; a mere dismission from this 
world to that, of the probationer from his probation. A 
simple termination of the animal functions, a mere se- 
paration of the soul from the body, plainly cannot alter 
the moral state of the soul, or change at all its views, 
affections, or character. Of this truth the Scriptures 
furnish abundant evidence. ' Do,' says Solomon, ' what- 



ever thy hand findeth to do with thy might ; for there 
is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in 
slieol (the world of departed spirits,) whither thou go- 
est' ' The night cometh,' saith our Saviour, that is, the 
night of death, ' in which no man can work.' Both 
these are direct declarations, that both the work and the 
state of probation are terminated by the grave, and will 
never exist in the future world. Accordingly, no change 
in the character of man, either in the articles of death, 
or at any succeeding period of existence, is indicated in 
the Scriptures. Of course, every man will appear at 
the judgment with the very character which he has 
when he leaves the present world ; and in this charac- 
ter only will he be rewarded. 

Accordingly the Scriptures teach us, that we shall be 
judged ' according to the deeds done in the body ;' and 
' rewarded according to our works,' accomplished on 
this side the grave. It is plain, then, that if men enter 
the future world without being regenerated in this, they 
enter with all their sins upon their heads, and must be 
rewarded for their sins only. But a reward for sin can 
never be happiness. If, then, sinners are to be admit- 
ted into heaven at all, they must undergo this great 
change of moral character here ; if sinners must be- 
come holy ; must cease from their rebellion and disobe- 
dience ; must bow their wills to the will of God ; and 
must yield themselves to him as voluntary instruments 
of his glory. 

II. The reality of this change in man may be satis- 
factorily evinced in the following manner. 

1. It is declared in the Scriptures. 

Beside the evidence derived to the reality of rege- 
neration from the absolute necessity of it to mankind, 
the Scriptures declare the existence of it in a great 
variety of forms. ' Of his mercy he saved us,' says St 
Paul, ' by the washing of regeneration, and the renew- 
ing of the Holy Ghost. But of him are ye in Christ 
Jesus, who is made unto us, of God, wisdom, righteous- 
ness, sanctification, and redemption.' To be sanctified 
is to be regenerated ; and here it is declared, that Christ 
is become ' of God, sanctification ' to all his children. 
' Ye have put off the old man with his deeds,' says St 
Paul to the Colossians, ' and have put on the new man, 
which is renewed in knowledge, after the image of 
him that created him.' ' Put off,' says the same apostle 
to the Ephesians, ' the old man, which is corrupt, ac- 
cording to the deceitful lusts ; and be renewed in the 
spirit of your mind ; and put on the new man, which, 
after God, is created in righteousness, and. true holi- 
ness.' In these passages of Scripture we are plainly 
taught the following things : — 

(1.) That the natural character is considered by the 
apostle as differing from the regenerated, according to 
the full import of these two names, ' the old man,' and 
' the new man.' 

(2.) That the regenerated character is a new character. 

(3.) That the assumption of this new character h 
equivalent to ' being renewed,' or ' created anew :' both 
of these expressions being used to denote it. 

(4.) That the former character, or ' old man,' is a 
corrupt character, conformed to ' deceitful lusts,' or un- 
der the influence of such lusts. 

(5.) That ' the new man,' or new character, ' is creat- 
ed after (or in) the image of God.' 

(6.) That this image consists ' in knowledge, riglit- 
eoisnes3, and true holiness.' 



390 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxih. 



* For we are liis workmanship ; created in Christ 
Jesus unto good works,' Eph. ii. 10. Here the Ephe- 
sian Christians are declared to be ' the workmanship of 
<iod,' as to their Christian character ; and to be ' created 
in (or through) Christ Jesus unto good works.' 

' But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love, 
wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, 
hath made us alive together with Christ ;' or rather, by 
Christ. Here the former state of the Ephesians is de- 
clared to have been a state of ' death in sin ;' and their 
new state is declared to be a state of ' life ;' and this 
they are said to have derived from God. But St Paul 
himself explains the import of this passage, if it needs 
explanation, by informing us that *, to be carnally 
minded is death,' and that ' to be spiritually minded 
is life and peace.' Saints also are said to be ' sanc- 
tified,' to be 'washed,' to be * purified,' by the spirit of 
God. 

It is impossible that the reality, or the greatness, or 
the importance of this change should be expressed in 
stronger or more definite terms. Those who are the 
subjects of it, are said to be ' made clean, pure, and 
holy;' to have ' a new heart, a right spirit;' to be 're- 
newed ;' to be ' born again ;' to be ' born of God ;' to 
be ' born of the Spirit of God ;' to be ' made alive from 
the dead ;' to be ' created anew ;' and to be ' new crea- 
tures.' Can any language more strongly declare that a 
real change is made in the moral character of man ? 
That he becomes the subject of a character altogether 
new, and never belonging to him before? As a child 
when born has a new state of existence, so he who is 
born of God has also a state of existence, equally new 
to him. As a thing when created begins then first to 
have existence, so he who is created anew begins then 
to have spiritual existence. Accordingly, St Paul says, 
1 Cor. xiii. 2, ' Without love I am nothing ;' that is, 
without holiness, the love of the gospel, I have no spiri- 
tual being ; no existence in the spiritual creation, or 
kingdom of God. 

2. The reality of regeneration is clearly proved by the 
scriptural accounts of the first Christians. 

Of the conversion of these Christians, and their con- 
sequent character, we have ample accounts in the Acts 
and the Epistles. Those who were Jews, we know be- 
yond a doubt, were bitter and obstinate enemies and 
furious persecutors of Christ and his apostles ; hated 
the religion which they taught ; were bigotted votaries 
of a religion consisting in mere external services ; chil- 
dren of wrath, and children of disobedience. What the 
Gentiles were is amply unfolded in the first chapter of 
the Epistle to the Romans, where they are declared by 
St Paul to be lost in absolute abandonment and profli- 
gacy of character. Yet, in consequence of the preaching 
of the apostles, these same Jews and Gentiles assumed an 
entirely new character ; and continued to exhibit it with 
increasing beauty throughout the remainder of their 
lives. Instead of their former fleshly works, enumer- 
ated by St Paul, Gal. v. 19 — 21, they showed in all 
their conversation, ' love, joy, peace, long-suffering, 
gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, and temperance ; 
the divine and delightful ' fruits of the Spirit ' of grace. 
Instead of persecuting Christians, they exhibited to- 
wards them all acts of kindness, and suffered persecu- 
tion with them for the sake of the same glorious Re- 
deemer. Instead of their former empty and merely cere- 
monious religion, they embraced the genuine pielv and 



pure morality of the gospel. All their intemperance, 
impurity, deceit, injustice, pride, and bigotry, they re- 
nounced ; and in their place substituted permanently 
the sober, chaste, sincere, equitable, candid, and bene- 
volent spirit of the Christian system. Through life 
they exhibited this spirit in every amiable form ; and at 
death sealed this unquestionable testimony with their 
blood. 

Now it is certain, that ' an evil man out of the evil 
treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things ; and a 
good man out of the g.ood treasure of his heart bringeth 
forth good things.' It is certain, that ' a good tree 
cannot bring forth evil fruit, nor a corrupt tree good 
fruit.' In other words, the heart will always characterize 
the conduct. Whence then, let me ask, was the differ- 
ence in the conduct of these Jews and Gentiles, before 
and after their conversion to Christianity ? The only 
answer which can be given consistently with these decla- 
rations of Christ is, that their hearts, before corrupt, 
and proving themselves to be so by a life distinguished 
by all kinds of wickedness, were now made holy ; and 
were proved to be so, by a life adorned with every good 
work. To add to this decisive evidence, if it can be 
added to, it may be observed, that all the remaining 
Jews and Gentiles, who were pot the subjects of this 
conversion, continued still to exhibit the same wick- 
edness which their countrymen had also before exhibit- 
ed, and were just as odious in the sight of God and of 
man. 

3. The same truth is abundantly evident in the pre- 
sent experience of mankind. 

It cannot be asserted, to the satisfaction of a rational 
inquirer, that the external, visible change in the con- 
duct of a man, who, before his regeneration, has, with a 
good degree of uniformity, exhibited a conscientious, 
becoming, and amiable life, is, after his regeneration, 
so great as to convince the mind that he has experienced 
this radical alteration of character. Converse, how- 
ever, even with such men in a course of intimate Chris- 
tian familiarity, and you will always find a radical dif- 
ference in their views, sentiments, and conduct ; a, 
difference realized by themselves, and obvious to you. 
On this subject a minister of the gospel ought to be al- 
lowed to possess peculiar knowledge, because he has 
peculiar advantages for acquiring it. Ministers con- 
verse in this manner more extensively than any other 
class of mankind, and have therefore more various and 
more abundant opportunities of gaining an acquaintance 
with facts of this nature. These opportunities I have 
myself enjoyed, and have here declared nothing but 
what I have often witnessed. 

Yet these are not the cases which ought to be here in- 
sisted on. Instances, less liable to doubt and miscon- 
struction, exist in numbers amply sufficient to place 
the point in debate beyond every reasonable objection. 
Wherever known infidels, or other open and gross sin^ 
ners, have suddenly and finally renounced not only their i 
false opinions, but their evil practices, and have conti- [ 1 
nued through life to profess uniformly the doctrines, and 
to exhibit regularly and unceasingly the duties of Chris- j 
tianity, the case becomes decisive ; and must, unless we 
cease to reason concerning human nature and human |: 
conduct upon known and established principles, satisfy 
every candid inquirer. The conduct in both cases pro- 
ceeds from the heart. The state of the heart, there- 
fore, or its moral character, was in (lie one case as 






REGENERATION ITS NECESSITY AND REALITY. 



391 



opposite to what it was in the other, as the conduct. 
The evil conduct proceeded from an evil heart ; the 
good conduct from a good heart ; and this change of 
the heart from evil to good, or from sin to holiness, is 
the very change which in the Scriptures is styled re- 
generation. 

Among instances of this nature Colonel Gardiner 
may be mentioned as one, and the Rev. John Newton 
as another ; both extraordinary, convincing, and, so far 
as I can see, unexceptionable. I have known a con- 
siderable number of instances scarcely less extraordin- 
ary ; some of them by unquestionable information, 
others by personal acquaintance. Two of these were 
examples of habitual drunkenness, perhaps the most 
hopeless of all evil habits ; and the reformation was so 
entire, and the piety so evident, uniform, and long con- 
tinued, as to leave no doubts in the minds of sober men 
acquainted with the facts. A third instance, well mer- 
iting to be mentioned, was a young man of superior 
talents, formerly educated by me in this seminary. He 
devoted himself to the profession of medicine, and 
entered upon the practice with advantage. This youth 
was not only a determined infidel, but an open scoffer 
at the Bible, Christianity, Christians, and most other 
subjects of a religious nature. All these he exposed 
with a pungency of wit and keenness of satire which 
few men are capable of employing, and which very few 
are willing to employ in the same open, gross manner. 
After some years spent in this violent course of wick- 
edness, he became seriously alarmed (I know not on 
what occasion) concerning his sinful character and 
future destiny. If I remember right, he almost or 
entirely despaired of the mercy of God, and considered 
his perdition as sealed. At length, however, he acquir- 
ed hopes of salvation, and manifested in his conduct 
the spirit of Christianity so evidently and uniformly, 
as to excite a settled conviction in the minds of those 
around him that he was sincerely a Christian. With 
entirely new views and purposes, he then quitted the 
medical profession, and entered upon the study of 
theology. After some time he was regularly inducted 
into the ministry of the gospel ; and sustained to his 
death, which happened about twelve or fifteen years 
afterward, the character of an able, faithful, and un- 
blamable minister of Christ. 

Instances of this nature generally I could multiply 
extensively : but the time forbids me to proceed any 
farther in this part of my subject. 

4. The state of Christianity in the world at large 
may be fairly adduced as a convincing proof of the 
reality of this change. 

The history of real Christianity is not to be sought for 
in the accounts given us of the life, policy, ambition, 
and violence of such rulers, statesmen, and warriors as 
have assumed the Christian name. The real nature and 
influence of the religion of Christ are not to be sought 
for in camps and cabinets, in courts and palaces. These 
are the seats of pride and luxury, ambition and cunning, 
wrath and revenge. Christianity here is only put on 
as an upper garment, to adorn the character, to comport 
with the fashion, or to cover unchristian designs. 1 do 
not intend that this is always the case. There are un- 
doubtedly good men to be found even here. But I 
mean, that it is much more generally the case than a 
good man would wish, or be willing it should be. When 
infidels take their accounts of Christianity from the pro- 



ceedings of the great, from their luxury, state-craft, 
conquests, and persecutions, they do not, and probably 
intend not, to do any justice to the subject. In these 
accounts they impose on their readers, and perhaps on 
themselves. But they deceive no man of common can- 
dour and tolerable information. 

The real effects of Christianity on mankind, are to 
be sought and found in still life, quiet society, peaceful 
neighbourhoods, and well-ordered families. Here a 
thousand kind offices are done, and a thousand excel- 
lencies manifested, of which the great and splendid 
rarely form a conception ; and which, nevertheless, pre- 
sent the human character to the view of the mind with 
an aspect incomparably more lovely than any other. 

But even on the great scale of examination, Chris- 
tianity has meliorated the affairs of this unhappy world 
in such a degree as, if thoroughly examined, strongly 
to evince the truth of this doctrine. If we compare the 
state of the Christian nations, especially the most en- 
lightened and virtuous of them, with that of the most 
improved heathen nations, the only fair mode of insti- 
tuting a comparison, we shall see ample proof of such a 
melioration of the human character as can be justly 
attributed to nothing but this important change of the 
human heart. Christianity has removed from among 
the nations who profess it, polygamy, the selling of chil- 
dren as slaves by their parents, the general and brutal 
degradation of women, the belief of the rectitude of 
slavery, the supposed right of masters to kill their 
slaves, the exposure of parents in their old age to be 
devoured by wild beasts, the same exposure of children 
by their parents, the sacrificing of human victims, the 
wanton destruction of human life for amusement in 
public games, the impure, brutal, and sanguinary wor- 
ship practised in the regions of idolatry, together with 
many of the horrors of war and captivity, and many 
other enormous evils of a similar nature. At the same 
time it has introduced milder and more equitable 
government ; established equitable laws, by which na- 
tions have, in a considerable degree, regulated their 
intercourse, given a new sanction to treaties, provided 
legal support for the poor and suffering, secured the 
rights of strangers, erected hospitals for the sick, and 
alms-houses for the indigent, formed with great expense 
a rich variety of institutions for the preservation and 
education of orphans, the instruction of poor children, 
the suppression of vice, the amendment of the vicious, 
and the consolation of the afflicted. It has made better 
rulers, and better subjects ; better husbands, and better 
wives; better parents, and better children ; better neigh- 
bours, and better friends. It has established the ra- 
tional worship of the one living and true God; built 
churches, in which all men do or may worship him, and 
learn their duty ; and with immense expense has sent, 
and is sending, these blessings to the ends of the earth. 
Whence this difference? Not from the difference of 
light. The Greeks and Romans were sufficiently en- 
lightened at least to have begun this progress. But 
they did not take a single step towards real reformation. 
All that can be said is, their wickedness was a little 
more polished than that of their barbarian neighbours. 
No, it has sprung from that ' honest and good heart,' 
which is not in man by nature, but is given him by the 
Spirit of God. Such hearts, found here and there, like 
dispersed stars seen through the interstices of a cloudy 
sky, diffuse a feeble radiance over Christian countries, 



392 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxiv*. 



and prevent the otherwise absolute darkness. Howard, 
intensely illumined with the benevolence of the gospel, 
shed a lustre over the whole Christian world. Inferior 
lights are everywhere scattered, and their combined 
influence is everywhere felt. Were the same character 
that of all men, the change in human affairs would be 
such as to demand no arguments to prove a change of 



heart. As the state of things is, it is plain that the 
spirit of the martyrs was not in their persecutors ; the 
spirit of Howard was not in Voltaire ; the spirit of Al- 
fred was not in Frederic II. He who cannot see this, 
is unable because he will not ; and may be well assured 
that, under the influence of his present temper, he has 
lost the power of moral discrimination. 



SERMON LXXIV. 



REGENERATION ITS NATURE. 



Jesus answered and said unto Mm, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again lie cannot see 

the kingdom of God. — John iii. 3. 



Having in the preceding discourse considered the ne- 
cessity and the reality of regeneration, I shall now 
proceed, according to the plan proposed, to examine its 
nature. 

1, This change of heart consists in a relish for spiri- 
tual objects, communicated to it by the power of the 
Holy Ghost. 

By spiritual objects, I intend the Creator, the Re- 
deemer, the Sanctifier, heaven, angels, the word and 
the worship of God, virtuous men, virtuous affections, 
virtuous conduct, and all the kinds of enjoyment found 
in the contemplation of these objects ; the exercise of 
these affections, and the practice of this conduct. The 
existence of these objects every man admits ; and every 
man at all conversant with human life, must admit that 
a part of mankind profess to relish them, and to find in 
them real and sincere pleasure. A sober man must 
farther admit, that as the Creator of all things is infin- 
itely more excellent than any other being, so his ex- 
cellence must be capable, in the nature of things, not 
only of being perceived, but also of being relished by 
intelligent creatures. No man who has any regard to 
his character, as a man of sound understanding, will 
acknowledge that excellence exists, and yet deny that 
it is capable of being perceived and relished. Nor will 
any such man deny, that intelligent creatures may per- 
ceive the excellence of the Creator to be plainly supe- 
rior to that of any other being, and may relish it ac- 
cordingly. It must also be easily and certainly seen 
that, if we relish the excellency of the Creator himself, 
we cannot fail to extend the same relish to every thing 
in which this excellence is displayed ; since this will be 
no other than relishing the excellence itself as it is 
manifested in different forms. It must be obvious 
therefore, that this relish for the divine excellence once 
existing, must of course be extended to all the objects 
in which it is displayed, and to all those intelligent be- 
ings by whom it is relished. 

It has been frequently supposed, that the Spirit of 
God regenerates man by immediately creating in him 
virtuous volitions. All the volitions of all moral agents 
are in my view, as will indeed be pre-supposed by those 
of my audience who remember the sermons which I de- 
livered on the nature of the human soul, the acts of the 



agents themselves. The Spirit of God does not, in my 
view, when he regenerates mankind, create in them 
any volitions whatever ; but merely communicates to 
them the relish for spiritual objects, which has been 
here mentioned. 

When God created Adam, there was a period of his 
existence, after he began to be, antecedent to that in 
which he exercised the first volition. Every man who 
believes the mind to be something beside ideas and 
exercises, and who does not admit the doctrine of ca- 
sualty, will acknowledge that in this period the mind 
of Adam was in such a state that he was propense to 
the exercise of virtuous volitions rather than of sinful 
ones. This state of mind has been commonly styled 
disposition, temper, inclination, heart, &c. In the 
Scriptures it usually bears the last of these names. I 
shall take the liberty to call it disposition. This dispo- 
sition in Adam was the cause whence his virtuous voli- 
tions proceeded ; the reason why they were virtuous, 
and not sinful. Of the metaphysical nature of this 
cause 1 am ignorant But its existence is, in my own 
view, certainly proved by its effects. If the volitions 
of man are not immediately created, they are either 
caused by something in man, or they are casual. But 
they were not casual, for nothing is casual. And even 
if some things were casual, these could not be ; because 
they were regularly and uniformly virtuous ; and it is 
impossible, that casualty should be the source of uni- 
formity or regularity. There was therefore in the 
mind of Adam, certainly a cause which gave birth to 
the fact, that his volitions were virtuous, and not sinful. 
This cause of necessity preceded these volitions, and 
therefore certainly existed in that state of mind which 
was previous to his first volition. This state of mind 
then, this disposition of Adam, existing antecedently 
to every volition, was the real cause why his volitions 
subsequently existing were virtuous. It ought to be re- 
marked here, that plain men, with truth, as well as with 
good sense, ascribe all the volitions of mankind to dispo- 
sition, the very thing here intended as their true cause. 

In regeneration the very same thing is done by the 
Spirit of God for the soul, which was done for Adam 
by the same divine agent at his creation. The soul of 
Adam was created with a relish for spiritual objects. 



REGENERATION—ITS NATURE. 



393 



The soul of every man who becomes a Christian is ' re- 
newed, by the communication of the same relish. In 
Adam this disposition produced virtuous- volitions. In 
every child of Adam who becomes the subject of virtue, 
it produces the same effects. 

It will, perhaps, be objected to this view of the sub- 
iect, that God is said ' to work in us both to will and to 
do, of his good pleasure,' Phil. ii. 1 3. Indeed, this pas- 
sage formerly appeared to me to indicate that God ex- 
ercised a different agency on the mind of man from that 
which has been here described. But an examination 
of the passage has convinced me, that my views of it at 
that time were erroneous. For, 

(1.) The communication of this relish is as truly fol- 
lowed by virtuous willing and doing, as the creative act 
would be, which might immediately give existence to 
our volitions and our conduct. If then God commu- 
nicates to us such a relish, or such a disposition, caus- 
ing in us holy volitions and actions ; he is as truly said 
to ' work in us' both these things, as he could be if he 
immediately created them. The only difference in this 
respect is, that they are now mediately, and would be 
then immediately, the effects of his agency. 

(2.) The word here translated ' worketh ' (in the 
Greek, enspyau, inworketh, which characterizes the na- 
ture of the agency) is in Eph. ii. 2, applied to Satan in 
this manner : ' Wherein in time past ye walked accord- 
ing to the course of this world, according to the prince 
of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in 
the children of disobedience.' Now it will not be said 
that Satan creates evil volitions in the minds of the 
' children of disobedience.' As the word is in both 
cases the same, it does not indicate of itself, in the ob- 
jected passage, that the immediate production of virtu- 
ous volitions by the power of God is the thing intended. 

I will only add on this subject, that the relish for 
spiritual objects, is that which in the Scriptures is called 
' a new heart,' ' a right spirit,' ' an honest and good 
heart,' ' a spiritual mind,' and denoted by several 
other names of a similar import Thus, ' a good man 
out of the good treasure of his heart' is said to ' bring 
forth good things.' Thus also, ' they who received the 
seed in good ground,' as exhibited in the parable of the 
sower, are said to be ' such as, in an honest and good 
heart, having received the word, keep it, and bring 
forth fruit with patience. In these and the like in- 
stances, the heart is exhibited as the source of all vir- 
tuous volitions, desires, and conduct. This relish for 
spiritual objects, is, I apprehend, this very source of 
these interesting things. 

2. This change of the heart is the commencement of 
holiness in the mind. 

' The carnal mind,' that is, the original, natural dis- 
position of man, 'is enmity against God; not subject 
to his law ; neither indeed can be.' Before this change 
therefore, there is no holiness in the character, no re- 
lish for spiritual good, no exercise of virtuous volitions, 
no pursuit of virtuous conduct. All these things begin 
to be chosen and to be practised after they begin to be 
relished ; and the first relish for them exists in this re- 
novation of the mind. 

3. This change is partial. 

After regeneration the native character of man still 

remains, his relish for sinful pursuits and enjoyments 

still continues, and his relish for spiritual pursuits and 

enjoyments is never perfected on this side of the grave. 

3 o 



In this state, man exhibits to the view of the uni- 
verse an object unlike any thing else which it has ever 
beheld. All other intelligent creatures, so far as we 
are informed, are either perfectly virtuous, or wholly 
destitute of real virtue. But regenerated man is really 
virtuous, and yet really sinful : his true and entire cha- 
racter being a mixture of moral good and evil. This 
mixed character is presented to us by St Paul in the 
seventh chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, by the 
phrases, ' the law in the members,' and ' the law of the 
mind.' These, he informs us, are totally contrary cha- 
racters, warring in the same soul against each other, 
and carrying on a continual controversy while life re- 
mains. We are, however, abundantly taught, that the 
holy or virtuous disposition, like the house of David, 
waxes ' stronger and stronger ;' and the sinful disposi- 
tion, like the house of Saul, ' weaker and weaker.' 
This increase of strength on the one hand, and this 
diminution of it on the other, is not indeed regular, 
constant, and always discernible ; but it is yet irregu- 
larly progressive to the end of life. There are seasons 
in which the ' law in the members brings the law of 
the mind into captivity.' David committed adultery 
with Bathsheba. Peter denied his Master ; and dis- 
sembled with the Jews that went to Antioch. John 
and James proposed to call for fire from heaven upon 
the inhabitants of a Samaritan village. The disciples, 
as a body, contended ' which of them should be the 
greatest,' and all ' forsook' their Master in the garden 
of Gethsemane, ' and fled.' Still all of them were bet- 
ter men near the close of life than at any preceding 
period. What was true of them is true of every good 
man. He will upon the whole improve through life ; 
and will ordinarily, year by year, though not without 
various interruptions and backslidings, become a better 
Christian. Yet perfection in holiness is never found 
in the present world. ' If we say we have no sin,' says 
St John, speaking of himself and all other Christians, 
I John i. 8, ' we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not 
in us.' 

4. Notwithstanding the partial nature of this change, 
it is still the foundation of perpetual holiness. 

' Verily, verily, I say unto you,' saith our Saviour, ' He 
that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent nie, 
hath everlasting life ; and shall not come into condemna- 
tion, but is passed from death unto life :' or, as it is in the 
original, ' hath passed,' that is, already, ' from death unto 
life.' It naturally seems mysterious, ' that imperfect holi- 
ness should in this case be perpetual ; when the perfect 
holiness of Adam, and the perfect holiness of angels was 
terminated by apostasy. The explanation of this mys- 
tery lies, it is presumed, in this peculiar fact, that those 
who are the subjects of this imperfect holiness are the seed 
promised to Christ in the covenant of redemption, as the 
reward of his labours and sufferings. It certainly is not 
in the nature of the holiness : for this in all the cases 
specified is the same. It is not in the degree : for that 
was greater in those who fell, than in those who endure. 
In those who fell, it was perfect so long as it continued. 
In those who endure it is always imperfect, and often 
interrupted by backsliding. It is not in the nature of 
the subjects. The angels who fell were superior in their 
nature to all men ; and the perfect nature of Adam was 
superior to that of his sanctified children. Yet the 
perseverance of every saint, remote as his character is 
from perfection, is secured by the promise of God, and 



394 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxxiv. 



carried into complete and final accomplishment by the 
power of the Spirit. Of this enduring holiness regenera- 
tion is the basis ; and the subject of it never ceases to 
be holy while he lives. 

5. This change is the source of new views of spiritual 
and divine subjects. 

These views united constitute what is often termed 
spiritual knowledge, divine knowledge, spiritual light, 
and divine light. As the opinions of divines, and 
other Christians, have been different concerning this 
subject, it will be proper to consider it with particular 
attention. 

It has been extensively supposed, that the Spirit of 
grace regenerates mankind by communicating to them 
new, clearer, and juster views of spiritual objects. The 
understanding being thus enlightened and convinced, 
the heart, it is supposed, yields itself to this conviction ; 
and the man spontaneously becomes under its influence 
a child of God. I shall not attempt here to describe 
the metaphysical nature of the work of regeneration ; 
nor to define precisely the manner in which it is accom- 
plished ; nor the exact bounds of the divine and human 
agency in this great concern. Of these subjects I have 
not sufficiently distinct and comprehensive views to un- 
dertake this employment with any satisfactory hope of 
success. Yet it appears to me clear, that the account 
which I have now given of this subject is not scriptural 
nor just. Without a relish for spiritual objects, I can- 
not see that any discoveries concerning them, however 
clear and bright, can render them pleasing to the soul. 
If they are unpleasing in their very nature, they can- 
not be made agreeable by having that nature unfolded 
more clearly. He who disrelishes the taste of wine, 
will not relish it the more, the more distinctly and per- 
fectly he perceives that taste. Nor will any account of 
its agreeableness to others, however clearly given, and 
with whatever evidence supported, render the taste 
agreeable to him. To enable him to relish it, it seems 
indispensable that his own taste should be changed, and 
in this manner fitted to realize the pleasantness of the 
wine. Light is either evidence, or the perception of 
it ; evidence of the true nature of the object which is 
contemplated, or the perception of that evidence. But 
the great difficulty in the present case is this : the na- 
ture of the object perceived is disrelished. The more 
then it is perceived, the more it must be disrelished of 
course, so long as the present taste continues. It seems 
therefore indispensable, that, in order to the usefulness 
of such superior light to the mind, its relish with re- 
spect to spiritual objects should first be changed. In 
this case, the clearer and brighter the views of such ob- 
jects are, the more pleasing they may be expected to 
become to the mind. 

This, I apprehend, is the true progress of this work 
in the human soul. A relish for all spiritual objects 
never before existing in him, is communicated to every 
man who is the subject of regeneration by the Spirit of 
God. Before this event, he disrelished all such objects ; 
now, he relishes them all. Before, he was an enemy 
to God ; now, he becomes a friend to God. Before, he 
loved nothing ; now he loves every thing, of a spiritual 
nature. He who has hitherto been an enemy to a good 
man, disrelishes every thing which pertains to him, his 
character, conduct, conversation, and opinions, his fa- 
mily, his friends, his very looks, nay, even the spot 
where he lives, and in a word, every thing which is his. 



If you undertake to convince him, while this disrelish 
continues, that the object of his dislike is undeserving 
of all this ; you may indeed present to him arguments 
which he cannot answer, and silence his objections by 
the irresistible force of proof. You may explain to 
him in the clearest manner the excellencies of this ob- 
ject, and set them in such a light that he may have no- 
thing left to say against it. Should all this have been 
done, his dislike, in the case supposed, would still con- 
tinue ; his views, though enlarged, would be of exactly 
the same general nature ; and his opposition to the 
hated object, instead of being diminished, would rather 
increase. We will now suppose this man to cease from 
his enmity, and to become a decided and sincere friend, 
A moment's thought will satisfy any mind, that, with 
the change of his relish, a universal change of his views 
also will take place. The very same things which for- 
merly disgusted him, will now please him. What was 
formerly odious, will now become amiable. The evi- 
dences of worth and excellence, which before silenced, 
will now satisfy him. His eye, no longer jaundiced, 
will see every thing in its proper native light, in its 
true character, importance, and desert ; and will discern 
in what was before unpleasing, deformed, or disgusting, 
a beauty, loveliness, and lustre wholly new. 

This allusion will distinctly explain my own views of 
both the source and the nature of spiritual light. When 
the relish for spiritual objects is communicated to the 
mind, the enmity of the man towards these objects is 
converted into good-will. He now becomes a friend to 
God and to his law, to truth and to duty. Over these, 
and all other objects of the same general nature, he 
sees a new character diffused, of which before he did 
not form a single conception. Where they were before 
disgusting, they are now pleasing. Where they were 
before tasteless, they are now relished. Where they 
were before deformed, they are now beautiful. Where 
they were before odious, they are now lovely. The 
reason is, he now beholds them with new eyes. Before, 
he saw them with the eyes of an enemy ; now, he sees 
them with those a friend. The optics which he for- 
merly possessed spread over them an adventitious and 
false colourings altogether foreign to their nature, and 
exhibiting that nature under a universal disguise. These 
optics are now purified, and he sees all these objects as 
they really are ; in their true colours, their native beau- 
ty, and their inherent splendour. This is what I un- 
derstand by the spiritual light derived from regenera- 
tion. 

6. This change is instantaneous. 

This position has been as much controverted as any 
of those advanced in this Discourse ; but, as it seems 
to me, with no solid support either from reason or re- 
velation. 

The scheme of those who oppose this doctrine ap- 
pears generally to have been this : The subject of rege- 
neration is supposed to begin, at some time or other, to 
turn his attention to spiritual concerns. He begins se- 
riously to think on them, to read concerning them ; to 
dwell upon them in the house of God, in his medita- 
tions, in his closet, and in his conversation. By de- 
grees he gains a more thorough acquaintance with the 
guilt and danger of sin, and the importance of holiness, 
pardon, acceptance, and salvation. By degrees, also, j 
he renounces one sinful practice and propensity after 
another; and thus finally arrives at a neutral character, 



REGENERATION ITS NATURE. 



395 



in which he is neither a sinner, in the absolute sense, 
nor yet a Christian. Advancing from this stage, he 
begins at length to entertain, in a small degree, virtu- 
ous affections, and to adopt virtuous conduct ; and thus 
proceeds from one virtuous attainment to another while 
he lives. Some of the facts here supposed, taken sepa- 
rately, are real ; for some of them undoubtedly take 
place in the minds and lives of those who become reli- 
gious men. But the whole, considered together, and as 
a scheme concerning this subject, is in my view entire- 
ly erroneous. 

Were we to allow the scheme to be correct and scrip- 
tural, still the consequence usually drawn from it, that 
regeneration is gradually accomplished, is untrue. Re- 
generation, according to every scheme, is the com- 
mencement of holiness in the mind. Without calling 
in question the doctrine, that man, in the moral sense, 
is ever neutral, it is intuitively certain, that a man is 
at every given period of his life, either holy or not holy. 
There is a period in which every man who becomes 
holy at all first becomes holy. At a period immediate- 
ly antecedent to this, whenever it takes place, he was 
not holy. The commencement of holiness in his mind 
was, therefore, instantaneous ; or began to exist at some 
given moment of time. Nor is it in the nature of things 
possible that the fact should be otherwise. All that can 
be truly said to be gradual with respect to this subject 
is, either that process of thought and affection which 
precedes regeneration, or that course of improvement 
in holiness by which it is followed. But neither of 
these things is intended in the scriptures, nor ought to 
be intended in the conversation and writings of Chris- 
tians, by the word regeneration. 

It is often objected to the instantaneousness of rege- 
neration, that the change is too great to be accom- 
plished in a moment. Most of the persons who make 
this objection, aim, I am persuaded, at what is custom- 
arily called by divines, the work of sanctification ; that 
is, the Christian's advancement in holiness after he is 
regenerated. This plainly is in fact, as it is exhibited 
in the Scriptures, a work which is progressive through 
life. It may well seem strange, for it certainly is un- 
true, that sanctification in this sense should be instan- 
taneous. 

By those who admit that agency of the Spirit of God 
in renewing mankind, which has been exhibited in 
these Discourses, the instantaneousness of this change 
has, it is believed, never been denied. The act of turn- 
ing from sin to holiness in the first instance, on the 
part of man, and the act of communicating a disposi- 
tion thus to turn, on the part of the Spirit of God, are 
in their own nature so obviously accomplished in a mo- 
ment, that it seems difficult to conceive how any per- 
son, considering them with attention, can have supposed 
them to be progressive. In the Scriptures, the accounts 
of this combined subject everywhere teach us, that it 
exists instantaneously. The phraseology by which it is 
chiefly denoted in the Scriptures, strongly indicates 
that this is its nature. It is exhibited to us under the 
expressions, being ' born again ;' being ' created anew ;' 
having ' a new heart and a right spirit created within 
us ;' ' turning to God ;' ' turning from darkness to light ;' 
and others of a like nature. All these expressions ori- 
ginally denote events instantaneously existing ; and in 
their figurative application indicate the instantaneous- 
ness of the fact to which they are applied. 



The same thing we are taught in the accounts given 
in the Scriptures of this fact, as having actually taken 
place. Thus the three thousand Jews who were con- 
verted by the first sermon of St Peter, yielded them- 
selves to God at that moment. Such, also, was the con- 
version of Dionysius, Damaris, Sergius Paulus, the 
jailer, and generally of the great multitudes whose con- 
version is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. Such, 
also, was that of the nobleman of Capernaum, the father 
of the epileptic child, the woman of Samaria and her 
fellow citizens, and the thief upon the cross. 

7. This change, as to the time and manner of its ex- 
istence, is ordinarily imperceptible by him who is the 
subject of it. 

There have not been wanting heretofore, there are 
not now wanting, persons holding the name of Chris- 
tians, and those in considerable numbers, who profess 
to know the time and manner of their regeneration, 
and to have been conscious at the time of the existence 
of this change in their moral character ; and who ac- 
cordingly recite all this to each other without any ap- 
parent doubt of the soundness of the recital ; nay, who 
make this a subject of public investigation with respect 
to all those who offer themselves as candidates for ad- 
mission into their churches. By such men the existence 
of this change is considered as so manifest whenever it 
takes place, that they are able to point out the day, the 
place, and all the attendant circumstances. From the 
confidence with which they speak on this subject it has 
perhaps arisen that many others, who do not go the 
same length, still go a part of it : and believe in an in- 
definite manner that these things may, at least, be dis- 
cerned and remembered with probability ; that they are 
to be sought for ; that the want of beixig conscious of 
them and of remembering them, is an unhappy event, 
not experienced by more favoured Christians, nay, by 
most Christians. Accordingly, the want of this know- 
ledge and remembrance is regarded by such men, how- 
ever exemplary their lives may be afterward, as involv- 
ing a defect in the proper evidence that they are 
Christians. "However good the fruit may be which they 
bring forth, instead of determining by the taste that it 
is good, they feel unsatisfied with this mode of 
proof ; and wish rather to rely on some discovery 
which they consider as practicable, of the time and 
the place at which the bough producing the fruit was 
ingrafted. 

All these are, I apprehend, opinions wholly unscrip- 
tural, and of course deceitful and dangerous. For, 

(1.) The Scriptures nowhere refer us to the time or 
manner of of our regeneration, for evidence that we are 
regenerated. If the time and manner of our regenera- 
tion were certainly known by us, it is intuitively evi- 
dent, that our regeneration itself would be equally well 
known. If this then were the case, it is incredible that 
the Scriptures should not, even in a single instance, re- 
fer us to so completely satisfactory a source of evidence, 
to determine us finally in this mighty concern ; but 
should at the same time direct us to the so much less 
perfect evidence, furnished by the subsequent state of 
our affections and conduct. ' By their fruits shall ye 
know them,' says our Saviour. ' Then are ye my dis- 
ciples indeed, if ye keep my commandments.' ' Not 
every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, but he, that 
doeth the will of my Father who is in heaven, is my 
disciple.' These are the rules, by which, together with 



396 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxiv. 



others of exactly the same nature, Ave are directed in 
the Scriptures to judge of our moral state. But these 
rules are not only superfluous, but useless, if the time, the 
manner, or the fact of our regeneration were ordinarily 
known by us. For these, and each of these, would fur- 
nish evidence of this subject completely decisive, as to 
the state of all men. He who knew these things would 
certainly know that he was a Christian : he who did not, 
would certainly know that he was not a Christian. No 
other rule, therefore, could ever be needed, or could ever 
be employed. According to this scheme, then, Christ 
and the apostles have devised an imperfect rule to direct 
us in our decisions concerning this interesting subject ; 
while uninspired men of modern times have by their 
ingenuity fortunately found out a perfect one. 

(2.) The relish for spiritual good, and the exercise of 
holy affections, are at their commencement certainly no 
more distinguishable, than the same relish and the same 
exercises in the same mind usually are afterward. Men 
sometimes seem to suppose, that in these first acts of a 
virtuous mind there is something extraordinary and pe- 
culiar. All that makes them extraordinary is, that they 
are the first. In the degree in which they exist they are 
usually among the least remarkable. There is of course 
nothing to make them distinguished, except the mere 
fact, that they are the first. 

Eut no person needs to be told, that the subsequent 
holy exercises are so far from being certainly known to 
be such, that they are ordinarily at the best believed, 
and in most instances merely hoped, to be of this char- 
acter. If, then, the first holy exercises are not more 
distinguishable than the subsequent ones, and the sub- 
sequent ones are only distinguished in such a degree as 
sometimes to be believed, and at most times merely 
hoped, to be of this character ; then it is certain, that 
the time, the manner, and even the fact of regeneration 
are so far from being clearly known in all ordinary 
cases, that they can never be relied on with safety, if 
considered by themselves only. Much less can they be 
regarded with undoubting confidence. 

(3.) Multitudes of those who have professed, with 
much apparent assurance, to know all these things con- 
cerning themselves, have afterwards fallen off, and be- 
come sometimes lukewarm professors of Christianity, 
and sometimes open apostates. This fact, which is by 
no means uncommon among persons holding the opinion 
here censured, clearly proves, that the reliance which is 
placed on the knowledge professed is often unfounded, 
and may be always. That which has frequently deceiv- 
ed our fellow men, ought ever to be supposed to be 
capable of deceiving us. 

The truth is, the infusion of a relish for divine things 
into the mind is ' a breathing of the Spirit of life on dry 
bones,' perceivable only by its effects : like the com- 
munication of the animating principle to the embryo 
real, yet not discernible in itself, but in the consequences 
which it produces. Were the case otherwise, St Paul 
could never have asked the Corinthian Christians 
' Know ye not your own selves ?' Nor directed them to 
' prove themselves, whether they were in the faith.' 
Were the contrary opinion just, this apostle would cer- 
tainly have appealed to the time, place, and manner of 
his own regeneration, which were probably better 
known to him than the same things ever were to any 
child of find, as proofs of the fact that he was regener- 
ated. But this he never does. On the contrary, tlte 



evidence on which he relied was furnished by the fruits 
of holiness apparent in his life. 



From these observations, which have been made con- 
cerning this subject, it is evident, that the work of re- 
generation is worthy of the Spirit of God. 

Kegeneration is a change of the temper or disposition, 
or, in other words, of the heart of man ; and, by conse- 
quence, of his whole character. The heart is the great 
controlling power of a rational being ; the whole of that 
energy by which he is moved to action. The moral 
nature of this power, therefore, will be the moral nature 
of the man. If this be virtuous, all his other faculties 
will be rendered means of virtue ; if sinful, the means of 
sin. Thus regeneration will affect the whole man, and 
govern all his character, powers, and conduct. 

Regeneration is of the highest importance to man, as 
a subject of the divine government. With his former 
disposition, he was a rebel against God : with this, he 
becomes cheerfully an obedient subject. Of an enemy 
he becomes a friend, of an apostate he becomes a child. 
His obedience is henceforth filial, accepted of God, and 
useful to the universe. From the debased, hateful, mis- 
erable character of sin he makes a final escape ; and be- 
gins the glorious and eternal career of virtue. The 
deformity, disgrace, and contempt, of which sin is the 
parent and the substance, he exchanges for moral ex- 
cellence, loveliness, and beauty. 

With his character his destination is equally changed. 
In his native condition he was a child of wrath, an ob- 
ject of abhorrence, and an heir of woe. Evil in an 
unceasing and interminable progress, was his lot ; the 
regions of sorrow and despair his everlasting home ; 
and fiends and fiend-like men his eternal companions. 
His own bosom was the house of remorse, while a con- 
science, unceasingly wounded by his sin, held up to his 
eye the image of guilt and the predictions of misery, 
and filled him with immoveable terror and amazement. 
On his character good beings looked with detestation, 
and on his ruin, with pity; while evil beings beheld 
both with that satanic pleasure which a reprobate mind 
can enjoy at the sight of companionship in turpitude 
and destruction. 

But when he becomes the subject of this great and 
happy change of character, all things connected with 
him are also changed. His unbelief, impenitence, ha- 
tred of God, rejection of Christ, and resistance to the 
Spirit of grace, he has voluntarily and ingenuously re- 
nounced. No more rebellious, impious, or ungrateful, 
he has assumed the amiable spirit of submission, repen- 
tance, confidence, hope, gratitude, and love. The image 
of his Maker is instamped on his mind, and begins 
there to shine with moral and eternal beauty. The 
seeds of immortality have there sprung up, as in a kind- 
ly soil, and, warmed by the life-giving beams of the Sun 
of righteousness, and refreshed by the dewy influence 
of the Spirit of grace, rise, and bloom, and flourish with 
increasing vigour. In him sin, and the flesh, and the 
world, daily decay, and daily announce their approach- 
ing dissolution ; while the soul continually assumes new 
life and virtue, and is animated with superior and un- 
dying energy. He is now a joint-heir with Christ, and 
the destined inhabitant of heaven. The gates of glory 
and of happiness are already open to receive him ; and 
the joy of saints and angels has been renewed over his 



REGENERATION.— ITS ANTECEDENTS. 



397 



repentance. All around him is peace ; all before him 
purity and transport. God is his Father, Christ his 
Redeemer, and the Spirit of truth his Sanctifier. 
Heaven is his eternal habitation ; virtue is his im- 
mortal character ; and seraphim, and cherubim, and 
all the children of light are his companions for ever. 
Henceforth he becomes of course a rich blessing to the 
universe. All good beings, nay, God himself, will re- 
joice in him for ever, as a valuable accession to the 
great kingdom of righteousness, as a real addition to 
the mass of created good, and as an humble but faithful 
and honourable instrument of the everlasting praise of 
heaven. He is a vessel of infinite mercy, an illustrious 
trophy of the cross, a gem in the crown of glory which 
adorns the Redeemer of mankind. 

Of all these sublime attainments, these exalted bless- 
ings, these divine allotments, regeneration is the be- 
ginning. What, then, can be more worthy of the Spirit 
of truth? What effort in creation, what event in pro- 
vidence, is more becoming his character ? The rise of 
an empire, the formation of a world, is a poor and 



humble display of infinite perfection, compared with the 
sanctification of an immortal mind. In the progress of 
eternity one such mind will enjoy more good, exercise 
more virtue, and display more excellency of character, 
than this great world of men has ever enjoyed, exer- 
cised, or displayed. Accordingly, God himself divine- 
ly characterizes this illustrious work in the following 
magnificent terms. ' For, behold ! I create new heavens 
and a new earth ; and the former shall not be remem- 
bered, neither come into mind. But be ye glad, and 
rejoice for ever, in that which I create ; for, behold ! I 
create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and my people a joy.' 
Of such importance and glory is the new creation or re- 
generation of the soul of man, that, in comparison with 
it, the original formation of the heavens and the earth 
is in the divine eye unworthy even of being remember- 
ed. It was, therefore, a work proper for God the Fa- 
ther to contrive, for God the Son to procure even with 
his own death, and for God the Holy Spirit to accom- 
plish with his life-giving and almighty power in the souls 
of the guilty, ruined, and perishing children of Adam. 



SERMON LXXV. 

REGENERATION ITS ANTECEDENTS. 



Then lie called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas : and 
brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved? — Acts xvi. 29, 30. 



Having in the two preceding Discourses considered the 
necessity, the reality, and the nature of regeneration, I 
shall now proceed to give a history of this important 
work as it usually exists in fact ; and shall attempt to 
exhibit its antecedents, its attendants, and its conse- 
quents. The first of these subjects shall occupy the 
present Discourse. 

The text is a part of the story of the jailer, to whose 
charge Paul and Silas were committed by the magis- 
trates of PhiJippi, with a particular direction, that he 
should ' keep them safely.' To comply with this direc- 
tion ' he thrust them into the inner prison, and made 
their feet fast in the stocks.' In this situation, at mid- 
night ' they prayed, and sang praises to God.' ' Sud- 
denly there was a great earthquake ; so that the foun- 
dations of the prison were shaken ; and immediately 
all the doors were opened, and every one's bands were 
loosed. And the keeper of the prison, awaking out of 
his sleep, and seeing the prison doors open, he drew 
out his sword, and would have killed himself, suppos- 
ing that the prisoners had been fled. But Paul cried 
with a loud voice, saying, Do thyself no harm; for we 
are all here. Then he called for a light, and sprang in, 
cind came trembling, and fell down before Paul and 
Silas ; and brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must 
I do to be saved?' 

The man who is the principal subject of this story 
had been educated a heathen, and, until a short time 
before the events specified in it took place, was totally 
ignorant of the Christian religion. Within this period 



he must have been present, and I think not unfre- 
quently at the preaching of Paul and Silas : otherwise 
he could not have known that there was such a thing 
as salvation. Probably he was induced, in common 
with his fellow citizens, to hear their discourses merely 
as a gratification of curiosity. Whatever was the mo- 
tive, it is plain he had gained some knowledge of a 
Saviour ; and had learned that through him, men might 
in some manner or other be saved. 

The things which he had known concerning these 
subjects seem not, however, to have made any very deep 
impressions on his mind. Before the extraordinary 
events recorded in the verses immediately preceding 
the text, he appears not to have conversed with these 
ministers about his religious concerns, nor to have felt 
any peculiar anxiety concerning his guilt or his danger. 
On the contrary, we cannot hesitate to consider him, as 
clearly proved by his severe treatment of them, to have 
been hitherto in a state of religious unconcern, a state 
of sinful coldness and quietude. 

But at this time a change was wrought in the man 
great and wonderful ; a change, manifested in his con- 
duct with the most unequivocal evidence. But by what 
was this change accomplished ? What was it that of a 
heathen made this man a Christian? Was the cause 
found in the miraculous events by which the change was 
immediately preceded? It would seem that many 
others who were equally witnesses of these events still 
continued to be heathen, and experienced no alteration 
of character. Beyond this it is evident from the story, 



398 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxv. 



that the jailer did not witness them at all ; and that he 
did not awake out of sleep until after the earthquake 
and all its alarming effects had terminated. Besides, 
when he had awakened, and concluded that the prison- 
ers had made their escape, he determined to kill himself; 
an effort which refutes the supposition that he had any 
just moral apprehensions, and proves him to have been 
solicitous only concerning his responsibility to the ma- 
gistrates. He had indeed heard Paul and Silas preach ; 
so had many others who still continued to be heathen. 
Preaching, therefore, did not alone accomplish this 
change ; otherwise it would have accomplished it in 
them also. An influence not common to others, must 
have been felt by him ; an influence never felt by him- 
self before must now have produced this mighty altera- 
tion in his character. 

The text presents him to us in the utmost agitation 
and distress, and as thus agitated and distressed con- 
cerning his salvation. ' He called for a light, and 
sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before 
Paul and Silas ; and said, Sirs, what must I do to be 
saved ?' A little before he had ' thrust them into the 
inner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks.' 
Immediately before he was on the point of committing 
suicide ; a gross and dreadful crime, which would have 
ruined him for ever. A little before, nay immediately 
before, he was a heathen ; regardless of salvation, a foe 
to Christianity, and the hard-hearted jailer of these 
ministers of the gospel. 

But now he bade adieu to all these dispositions and 
practices at once ; renounced his former heathenism and 
sin, and became a meek, humble, and pious follower of 
the Redeemer. Now he fell down at the feet of his 
prisoners, and relied implicitly on them for direction 
concerning his eternal well-being. 

A description of the state of this man's mind in the 
progress of his regeneration must, in substance, be a 
description of the state of every mind with respect to 
the same important subject. The events preceding the 
work of regeneration are substantially the same in every 
mind ; the work itself is the same ; and its consequences 
are the same. 

The first great division of this work, viz. what I have 
mentioned as the antecedents of regeneration, is com- 
monly called conviction of sin. Of this subject the 
text is a strong illustration, and will very naturally 
conduct our thoughts to every thing which will be 
necessary to it on the present occasion. The jailer 
plainly laboured under powerful and distressing con- 
viction of his own sin, and of the danger with which 
it was attended. Of this truth his conduct furnished 
the most affecting proof. The state of mind which 
he experienced, and which this passage of Scripture 
describes, it is the design of this Discourse to exhibit 
under the following heads : — 

I. The cause, 

II. The nature, 

III. The consequences of conviction of sin. 

I. The peculiar cause of this conviction is the law of 
God. ' By the law,' saith St Paul, ' is the knowledge 
of sin.' As sin is merely ' a transgression of the law ;' 
and as, ' where no law is, there is no transgression ;' it 
is clear beyond a question that all knowledge of sin 
must be derived from the law. To discern that we are 
sinful, we must of course know the rule of obedience ; 
and comparing our conduct with that rule, must see in 



this manner, that our conduct is not conformed to the 
rule. In this way all knowledge of sin is obtained. 

This, however, is not an account of the knowledge of 
sin intended by conviction, as that word is customarily 
used by divines. The great body of sinners under the 
gospel have in some degree at least, this knowledge ; 
and yet are not justly said to be convinced. 

Conviction of sin denotes something beyond the com- 
mon views of the mind concerning its sins ; and is al- 
ways a serious, solemn, heartfelt sense of their reality, 
greatness, guilt, and danger. This all sinners under the 
gospel have not ; as every man knows, who possesses a 
spirit of common observation ; and peculiarly every 
man who becomes a subject of this conviction. Every 
such man knows that in his former, ordinary state he 
had no such sense of sin. 

To explain this subject it is necessary to observe, 
that there is a total difference between merely seeing or 
understanding a subject, and feeling it. A man may 
contemplate, as a mere object of speculation and intel- 
lect, the downward progress of his own affairs towards 
bankruptcy and ruin, and have clear views of its nature 
and certainty ; and still regard it as an object of mere 
speculation. Should he afterward become a bankrupt, 
and thus be actually ruined, he will experience a state 
of mind entirely new, and altogether unlike any thing 
which he experienced before. He now feels the sub- 
ject : before he only thought on it with cool contempla- 
tion ; and, however clear his views were, they had no 
effect on his heart. His former views never moved 
him to a single effort for the prevention of his ruin ; 
those which he now possesses would have engaged him, 
had they existed at the proper time for this purpose, in 
the most vigorous exertions. Just such is the difference 
between the common views of sin, and those which are 
experienced under religious conviction. What before 
was only seen, is now realized and felt. 

This also is accomplished by the law, felt as well as 
understood ; brought home to the heart, and strongly 
realized by the sinner. This fact is thus forcibly de- 
scribed by St Paul : ' For I was alive without the law 
once ; but when the commandment came, sin revived, 
and I died.' He was ' alive,' that is, in his own feel- 
ings, while he was ' without the law ;' or while the law 
was no more realized than it is by mankind in their or- 
dinary state : while it is acknowledged to be the law of 
God, but not seriously regarded, applied to themselves, 
nor felt to be a rule of duty, obliging them indispensably 
to obey. 

| ' But when the commandment came.' — The command- 
ment was before at a distance, scarcely seen, and scarcely 
regarded ; but now came home to him, to his sober 
thoughts, his realizing apprehensions. 

' Sin revived.'- — Sin began then first to be perceived 
to be his true and distressing character. It arose out 
of the torpid state in which it had seemed to exist be- 
fore, and assumed new life, strength, and terror. Of 
consequence, he who had hitherto considered himself, 
while he was inattentive to the nature and extent of 
the divine law, as a just man, safe, and acceptable to 
God, now ' died;' now perceived himself to be a great 
and guilty sinner, condemned and perishing ; and all 
his former safety, righteousness, and life vanished in a 
moment. 

Under conviction of sin, the law is applied by the 
sinner to himself, and considered as the rule of his own 



REGENERATION.— ITS ANTECEDENTS. 



399 



duty ; the rule by which his character is hereafter to he 
tried, and the rule by which he himself is now to try it. 
Before this, no such views of the law had entered his 
mind ; no such trial had ever been made. In this trial 
the law is often, solemnly, critically, and effectually ex- 
amined. Both it precepts and penalties are brought 
home irresistibly to the heart. Before, they were 
things with which the sinner had little or no concern. 
Now, he finds them to be things with which he is more 
deeply concerned than with any other. 

II. The nature of this conviction may be unfolded in 
the following manner : — 

In the ordinary circumstances of the mind it is 
usually disposed to acknowledge, that there is such a 
thing as sin ; that it is in itself wrong, odious, mischiev- 
ous to mankind, dishonourable to God, and deserving 
in some degree of punishment. It is usually ready to 
acknowledge also, that itself is sinful, and of course ex- 
posed to the anger of God. With regard to sin, as with 
regard to the law, its views are often, perhaps generally 
just in a certain degree ; but are loose, careless, and in- 
efficacious ; having no other effect on the mind than to 
produce, at seasons rare and solitary, some reproaches 
of conscience, and a degree of regret and fear, feeble, 
momentary, and easily forgotten. 

But when the man becomes a subject of religious 
conviction, he feels for the first time that sin is a real 
and dreadful evil. For the first time the law of God is 
seen to be a righteous and reasonable law, demanding 
nothing but what ought to be demanded, and forbidding 
nothing but what ought to be forbidden. Its precepts 
and its penalties ai-e both yielded to, as just ; and God 
is acknowledged to be righteous in prescribing the for- 
mer and inflicting the latter. 

Himself he readily pronounces to be a sinner, uni- 
versally debased, utterly blamable, justly condemned, 
and justly to be punished. Instead of self-justification 
and self-flattery, he is now more ready to pronounce 
the sentence of condemnation on himself, than on any 
other person ; and is hardly brought to admit the pleas 
advanced by others in palliation of his guilt, or in the 
defence of his moral character. Sin, and his own sins 
especially, now appear as things new, strange, and won- 
derful ; as evils awfully serious and alarming. The 
law of God is now applied to himself as his own rule of 
duty ; and obedience to it is confessedto be reasonable, 
indispensable, and immensely important. Every viola- 
tion of its precepts, therefore, is regarded by him as a 
sore and dreadful evil ; as guilt which he perceives no 
means of wiping away, and as danger which he finds 
no opportunity of escaping. An accumulation of 
crimes innumerable and of guilt incomprehensible is 
thus seen to have been formed by the conduct of his 
whole life, which to the anxious and terrified eye of 
the criminal, has already swollen to the size of moun- 
tains, and ascended to the height of heaven. 

These views, it is to be remembered, are wholly new 
to the sinner. Their novelty, of course, greatly en- 
hances in his eye the terrifying and oppressive magni- 
tude of the subject. All new things affect us more 
when new, than when by frequent repetition they have 
become familiar. Before, he never in sober earnest 
believed himself to be a sinner. To find himself, there- 
fore, to be not only a sinner, but a sinner of so guilty 
and blamable a character, naturally overwhelms him 
with anguish and dismay. 



His mind also is now exceedingly alarmed and dis» 
tressed by this affecting discovery. On an agitated 
mind all things with which it is concerned make deep 
impressions, deeper far than when it is at ease ; and 
especially those things, which produced the agitation. 
Such, particularly, is the fact in this state of religious 
agitation. For both these reasons, as well as from the 
real greatness and nature of his guilt, the convinced 
man is often ready to believe that no sinner was ever 
so guilty as himself. 

It is not uncommon to hear persons of no singular de- 
pravity declare, that they are doubtful whether Judas 
was equally a transgressor with themselves. I have 
heard doubts expressed by persons of more than com- 
mon decency and amiableness, whether Satan was not 
less odious to God than they were : and this reason has 
been alleged for the doubt, that he had never sinned 
against forgiving and redeeming love. It is not to be 
wondered at, that the soul to which these awful sub- 
jects are thus new, and which is thus terrified by its 
first views of them, should be even excessive in its self- 
condemnation. 

With the greatness of its guilt, the greatness of its 
danger keeps an equal pace. Scarcely any thing more 
naturally or more commonly occurs to the mind in this 
situation, than doubts whether sucli guilt as itself has 
accumulated can be forgiven. ' The mercy of God/ 
which is declared in the Scriptures to be ' greater than 
our sins,' to be ' above the heavens,' ' to extend to all 
generations,' and to ' endure for ever,' is often doubted, 
so far as the sinner himself is concerned ; admitted 
easily with regard to others, and with regard to all or 
almost all others, it is still doubted so far as he is con- 
cerned, and is easily believed to be incapable of ex- 
tending to him. Often he is strongly tempted to be- 
lieve that he has committed the unpardonable sin ; and 
often and much is he busied in examining what is the 
nature of that sin. Instead of self-flattery, the only 
employment which he was formerly willing to pursue 
with respect to his spiritual concerns, and which he in- 
dulged in every foolish and excessive degree, he is now 
wholly engaged in the opposite career of self-condem- 
nation ; and not unfrequently pursues it to an excess 
equally unwarranted by the Scriptures. Nor is he at 
all prone to feel that he is now equally guilty of new 
sin in limiting the mercy of God, and in forming new 
kinds of unpardonable sins, as before, in presuming 
without warrant on the exercise of divine mercy to- 
wards his hardened heart. 

All these emotions are also greatly heightened by 
the remembrance of his former stupidity, unbelief, and 
hardness of heart, his light-mindedness and self-justifi- 
cation, his deafness to instruction, his insensibility to 
the calls of mercy, the reproofs of guilt, and the warn- 
ings of future woe. What before were his favourite 
pursuits he now considers as the means of his ruin ; 
what before was the object of his delight is now the ob- 
ject of his abhorrence. That which was once his sup- 
port is now his terror ; that which he accounted and 
boasted of, as his wisdom, he now considers as the mere 
madness of Bedlam. Nor can he explain to himself 
how such sottishness could ever have been his conduct 
or his character. 

The Bible now, its threatenings and promises, its 
doctrines, precepts, and ordinances, assume an aspect 
wholly new : for the first time real, solemn, important; 



400 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxxv. 



the only ground of his distress, anu the only source of 
his possible comfort. The same truth and reality, the 
same solemnity and importance, at once invest the pray- 
ers, sermons, and other religious instructions which he 
has heard from his parents, and ministers, and from other 
persons of piety. Why they did not always and of 
course wear these characteristics, is now his astonish- 
ment ; why he did not covet them, listen to them, and 
obey them. ' Madness,' entire and dreadful, he now 
readily acknowledges, ' was in his heart ' from the be- 
ginning, and has hitherto constituted his only moral 
character. 

It is not here to be supposed, that this is in form an 
exact account of the state of every convinced sinner. In 
substance it may be considered as universally just. Some 
such sinners are subjects of far more deep and distress- 
ing convictions than others ; convictions much longer 
continued, respecting some of these objects more and 
others less ; producing more erroneous conclusions, 
greater self-condemnation, deeper despondency, and 
universally more distressing agitation. Some minds 
are naturally more exquisitely capable of feeling than 
others, more prone to sink, less prepared to hope, to 
exert themselves, to reason, and to admit the conclu- 
sions which flow from reasoning ; less ready to receive 
consolation, and more ready to yield to these as well as 
other temptations. Some have been better instructed 
in early life, have been more conscientious, amiable, and 
exemplary, and have less to reproach themselves with 
in their past conduct. The Spirit of God also may 
choose to affect, and probably does affect different 
minds in different manners. Finally, some minds 
may be more surrounded by temptations and dangers, 
and at the same time furnished with friends less accessi- 
ble, counsels less wise, and directions less safe in this 
season of trial and sorrow. From these and many 
other concurring causes, it happens, that in form, de- 
gree, and continuance, convictions operate very differ- 
ently on different minds : nor can any human skill 
limit them in these respects. 

It ought by no means to be omitted here, that there 
are persons, especially of a steady serene disposition, 
educated in a careful, religious manner, and habitually 
of unblamable lives, in whom the process of conviction 
is conformed in a great degree to their general cha- 
racter. These persons, to the time of their conversion, 
have not uncommonly no remarkable fears or hopes, 
sorrows or joys. Conscientiously, but calmly, they 
oppose sin; evenly, but mildly, they sorrow for it; 
and steadily, but with no great ardour of feeling, they 
labour in the duties of a religious life. In the account 
which they give of their religious views and emotions, 
there is little to excite any peculiar degree of comfort 
in themselves, or of hope concerning them in others. 
Still their lives are often distinguished by uncommon 
excellence. Their progress is not that of a torrent 
now violent, now sluggish and stagnant, but that of a 
river, silently and uniformly moving onward, and never 
delaying its course a moment in its way towards the 
ocean. In these persons a critical eye may discern a 
fixed, unwarping love of their duty, a perpetual repeti- 
tion of good works, a continual advance towards the 
consummation of the Christian character. 

In substance, however, this work is the same in all 
minds. All really discern the importance, reasonable- 
ness, and justice of the divine law, their own violations 



of its precepts, the guilt which tney have in this man- 
ner incurred, the righteousness of God in punishing 
them for it, and the extreme danger to which they are 
therefore exposed. No sinner can turn from sin to 
holiness without seeing the evil and danger of the one, 
and the excellence and safety of the other. No sinner 
can turn from sin to holiness without knowing and ac- 
knowledging his own sin and danger, the reasonable- 
ness of the divine law, and the justice of God in pun- 
ishing his transgressions. 

III. The immediate consequences of this conviction, 
next demand our attention. 

On this subject it is necessary to observe in the be- 
ginning, that the sinner is still altogether a sinner. Tiie 
only difference between his present and former cha- 
racter is, that before he was an unconvinced, and now 
a convinced sinner. Before he was ignorant of his 
true character, now he understands it clearly. 

Hence, it will be remembered, all his resolutions, 
efforts, and conduct will partake of his general charac- 
ter, and will of course be sinful. Between his con- 
science and his affections there is now a more complete 
and open opposition than ever before. His conscience 
justifies God, approves of the divine law, and in spite 
of himself acquiesces in his condemnation ; but his 
heart is still utterly opposed to all these things, and 
usually more opposed to them than ever. 

He is indeed afraid to sin ; but it is because he 
dreads the punishment annexed to it, not because he 
hates the sin. Nor is it an unknown nor probably a 
very unfrequent case, that these very fears become to 
him motives to continue in sin, and even to give him- 
self up wholly to sinning. Under the influence of his 
fears he is not unfrequently disposed to conclude that 
there is no hope for him ; and that, therefore, he may 
as well, and even better, indulge himself in wickedness, 
than attempt a repentance and reformation which his 
deceitful heart, and probably all his spiritual enemies, 
represent as too late, and therefore fruitless. From 
this danger some, it is not improbable, never escape ; 
but ' return like the dog to his vomit, and like the sow 
that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.' Still I 
apprehend this is very far from being a common case. 
A very small number only, as I believe, compared with 
the whole, yield themselves up to ruin in this deplora- 
ble mannner. Perhaps no one who persisted in his 
efforts to gain eternal life, was ever finally deserted by 
the Spirit of grace. 

To such as perseveringly continue in their endea- 
vours, the next natural step in their progress, the first 
great consequence of conviction of sin, is to inquire 
most earnestly what they shall do to be saved. Of this 
anguish, produced by such conviction, the text fur- 
nishes us with a very forcible example. No picture 
was perhaps ever more striking than that which is given 
us of the extreme agitation of the jailer in the text. 
' He called for a light, and sprang in, and came trem- 
bling, and fell down before Paul and Silas; and said, 
Sirs, what must I do to be saved?' An agitation not 
unlike this frequently occupies the hearts of others, and 
prompts them with the same earnestness to make the 
same solemn and affecting inquiry. 

Antecedently to this period, the sinner has in many 
instances lived without a single sober thought of ask- 
ing this question at all. ' Go thy way for this time ; 
when I have a convenient season I will call for thee ;' 



REGENERATION ITS ANTECEDENTS. 



401 



has been his only language to repentance and reforma- 
tion. The subject has never become seriously interest- 
ing to him before. Before, he has never seen his 
guilt or his danger. Before, he has not wished for 
salvation ; has found good enough in the world, in sin, 
and in sense, to prevent all anxiety about future good ; 
considered this as present and real ; and regarded that 
as distant, doubtful, and imaginary. But now his dan- 
ger of ruin, and his necessity of deliverance, appear 
in their full strength. In this situation he makes this 
great inquiry with all possible solicitude. His happi- 
ness, his life, his soul, is in the utmost danger of being 
lost for ever, are felt to be suspended on the answer. 
He beholds God his own enemy, and an unchangeable 
enemy to sin and impenitence, now rising up to de- 
stroy him utterly, and to pour out upon him his wrath 
and indignation. In the deepest anguish he searches 
with prying eyes for a place of safety. 
' Here he first finds himself at a total loss concerning 
what he shall do. Here he first discovers his own 
ignorance of this great subject. Before, he was ' rich, 
and had need of nothing ;' had eyes, which saw clearly 
all wisdom ; understood all that he needed to know or 
do ; and wanted no instruction nor information from 
others. Now he first finds himself to be, and to have 
been, ' poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, 
and naked,' and in want of all things, Now, instead of 
deciding on questions of the greatest moment and diffi- 
culty in theology, and deciding roundly without exami- 
nation or knowledge, he is desirous of being instructed 
in small and plain things ; and instead of feeling his 
former contempt for those who are skilled in them, he 
becomes humble, docile, desirous of being taught, and 
disposed to regard with sincere respect such as are able 
to teach him. 

At the same time, he especially betakes himself to 
the source of all instruction in all things of this nature ; 
the word of God. This book he searches with all 
anxiety of mind to find information and hope. The 
threatenings and alarms which before hindered him 
from reading the Scriptures, now engage him to read 
them. His own danger and guilt he now labours tho- 
roughly to learn, and is impatient to know the worst of 
his case. Whatever he finds there recorded he readily 
admits, however painful, and employs himself no more 
either in doubting or finding fault. To the former he 
has bidden adieu ; the latter he knows to be fruitless. 
However guilty the Bible exhibits him, he is prepared 
to consider himself as being at least equally guilty. 
However dangerous it declares his case to be, he is 
prepared to acknowledge the danger. 

In this distress, it will be easily supposed, he also 
searches for the means of deliverance. For these he 
labours with the deepest concern. Hence he reads, 
examines, and ponders with an interest new and pecu- 
liar ; with fear and trembling, with critical attention to 
every sentiment, declaration, and word, with an earnest 
disposition to find relief and consolation in any and 
every passage where it can be found. The Bible is now 
no longer the neglected, forgotten, despised book which 
it formerly was, but his chief resort ; ' the man of his 
counsel,' the rule of his conduct. To him it has now 
become for the first time the word of God, and the 
means of eternal life. 

All the difficulties which heretofore prevented him 
from being present in the house of God, have now va- 



nished. The disagreeable weather, the personal indis- 
position, the indolence which seemed like an indis- 
position, the plainness of the preacher, the inelegance 
of the sermon, and the imperfection of the psalmody, 
keep him at home no more. In this solemn place he 
listens to all that is uttered, and watches all that is done. 
The preacher's words become ' as goads ; piercing to 
the dividing asunder of the soul and the spirit, of the 
joints and marrow.' 

At his former listlessness he is now amazed, as well 
as that which he still beholds in others around him. 
The sabbath, no longer a dull, wearisome day, of which 
the hours dragged heavily, and during which he could 
hardly find any tolerable means of passing the time, 
now becomes a season of activity and industry, unceas- 
ing and intense ; a season waited for with anxiety, and 
welcomed with hope and joy. '1 he sanctuary, no longer 
regarded as a place of mere confinement, as the scene 
of tedious, dull, unmeaning rites, where grave people 
were believed to assemble for scarcely any other pur- 
pose except to keep gay ones in order, has now become 
' the house of the living ' God, and the gate of heaven ;' 
the place where he expects to find, if he finds at all, an 
escape from death, and the way to eternal life. 

In the meantime, he cries mightily unto God for de- 
liverance from sin and ruin. Prayer, long, perhaps 
from the beginning of his life, unused, unknown, and 
unthought of, or if thought of at all and attempted, 
always a burden, now becomes his most natural conduct. 
He sees and feels that God alone can deliver him ; and 
therefore irresistibly looks to him for deliverance ; 
oftentimes indeed with fear even to pray, from the 
strong sense which he entertains of his absolute unwor- 
thiness, and his unfitness to perform this first, most na- 
tural, most reasonable of all religious services. Sensible 
how impure an appearance he must make before that 
God, ' in whose sight the heavens are unclean, and 
whose angels are charged with folly,' he feels unwilling, 
like the publican, even ' to lift up his eyes towards 
heaven : but smiting his breast,' cries out with impor- 
tunate anguish, ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' 

But he cannot be prevented from praying. His cries 
for mercy, and those at times involuntary and ejacula- 
tory, are forced from him by the sense of his guilt, and 
his fears of perdition. They often break out in his walks, 
in the course of his daily employments, and in his occa- 
sional journeyings ; they spring from his meditations ; 
they ascend from his pillow. The question, Whither a 
sinner shall be directed to pray, has become nugatory 
to him ; and has been decided, not by metaphysical dis- 
quisition, but by the controlling anguish of his heart. 

During this season of struggling for salvation, it is 
no unfrequent thing for his despondency to continue 
to return at intervals with more weight, and to sink him 
deeper in distress ; according to the different states of 
his mind, and the nature of the different subjects which 
occupy his thoughts. 

It is all along to be kept in view that, as I have here- 
tofore remarked, this state of things is very different in 
different persons ; varying almost endlessly in manner 
and degree ; in some instances comparatively calm, 
quiet, and of an even tenor ; in others disturbed, dis- 
tressed, and tumultuous. Still it is also to be remem- 
bered that substantially it is the same. 

During this state of mind, it is farther to be observed, 
the sinner forsakes, of course, many of his former fa- 
3 E 



402 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxxv. 



vourite objects, especially his diversions, his gayety, his 
loose companions, and his haunts of sin. These he 
now perceives and feels to be the seats and sources of 
temptation, danger, and sorrow. Hence he shuns them 
with vigilant care and lively dread, not from virtuous 
motives, but from the fear of rendering his case more 
dreadful and hopeless. 

But none of his efforts give him rest. Neither his 
affections, desires, nor labours, are virtuous in the evan- 
gelical sense, or commendable in the sight of God. His 
sense of danger only, and his apprehension of the ines- 
timable importance of escaping, originally asleep or 
dead, is now alive and awake. This feeling, and its 
necessary effects, constitute the only change in his con- 
dition. No real goodness, no moral excellence, nothing 
really acceptable to God, is yet begun in his mind, or 
supposed to be begun. To be sensible that we are sin- 
ners is not the result of virtue. There is no real good- 
ness in being afraid of the anger of God. There is not 
necessarily any thing holy in acknowledging that God 
is just in inflicting punishment which has been deserved. 
These things may all exist without any hatred of sin, 
any love to God, or any faith in the Redeemer. 

The prayers which he daily offers up to his Maker 
are not the offspring of piety, but of terror. The child 
who sees the rod brought out to view, and beholds cor- 
rection at the door, is ever ready to supplicate for pity 
and forgiveness, and to promise whatever may contri- 
bute to his escape from the impending danger. Yet he 
is not of course a dutiful child. 

Still these efforts of the sinner are useful to him. No 
unregenerated man was probably ever convinced, except 
by trying his own strength, that he was unable of him- 
self to perform virtuous actions, to pray, to serve, and 
to glorify God; unable, I mean, in this sense, that he 
has no heart, no inclination, to perforn these duties ; 
and that he will never possess a better disposition but 
by the renovating agency of the Spirit of God. The 
more he labours, however, the more clearly he will per- 
ceive his services to be all essentially defective, and 
really sinful. The more he prays, the more unworthy 
he pronounces his prayers. An unconvinced sinner 
always believes that he can pray in a manner acceptable 
to God; a convinced sinner readily declares, that he 
cannot pray in a manner acceptable, not to God, but 
even to himself. 

In the struggle thus continued, and thus earnestly 
conducted, he learns how obstinate his sinful disposi- 
tions are, and with what hopeless difficulty they are to 
be overcome. Convinced at length that all his efforts 
must, without the immediate assistance of God, prove 
entirely vain, he casts off all his dependence on himself, 
and turns his eyes to God with the feelings of Peter 
when beginning to sink, and cries out in his language, 
' Lord, save me, or I perish !' 



1. From these observations we learn the use and in- 
fluence of the law of God in promoting the work of con- 
version. 

The law evidently begins this work in the soul ; or, 
perhaps, in more accurate language, it begins and pro- 
duces that state of thought and affection in which the 
soul is usually turned to God. Without the terrors of 
the law, this state of mind would manifestly never be 
produced, unless the whole tenor of divine providence 



should be changed. Yet this, so far as we can see, is a 
natural and necessary pre-requisite to conversion. The 
sinner entirely needs thus to understand and feel his 
condition ; his guilt, his danger, his helplessness, and 
his absolute necessity of being renewed by the Spirit of 
grace. By the law alone is he enabled clearly to see, 
and strongly to feel, these interesting things. From 
the same source of instruction he learns the true nature 
of his own efforts ; for it is by a comparison of them 
with this standard of perfection that he sees how desti- 
tute they are of all real holiness, and how unavailing 
to recommend him to God. In a word, from the law 
only does he gain the knowledge that he is spiritually 
' sick,' and stands in infinite need of the divine ' phy- 
sician.' 

2. These observations also teach us the necessity as 
well as usefulness of that preaching which explains and 
enforces the nature of the law. 

It is not unfrequent to hear both preachers them- 
selves, and many other persons, condemn the preaching 
of the law. These persons dwell much on the endearing 
benevolence of the gospel, the riches of the divine 
goodness displayed in it, and the importance and wis- 
dom of winning sinners to embrace it. On the other 
hand, they censure with no small severity the preach- 
ing of the law, and those who in this manner attempt 
to alarm sinners concerning their moral condition. 
If the things which have been said in this Discourse, 
are admitted to be just, it must also be admitted that 
these persons know very little of the important 
subjects which they handle in this free and unhappy 
manner. They must plainly be ignorant of the nature 
both of the law and the gospel, of the sinner's danger 
and guilt, the means of his deliverance, the nature of 
both conviction and conversion, the use of convictions 
towards conversion, and the use of the law in exciting 
them. 

It has, I trust, been clearly shown, that the law is 
absolutely necessary to rouse the sinner from his sleep 
of death, to point out to him his danger, and to induce 
him to seek for relief. To the necessity of the law for 
this purpose, the necessity of preaching it is exactly 
proportioned. Nothing else will accomplish the end. 
So long as this is kept out of view, other things will 
only soothe the sinner. If he views God as merciful 
without any regard to his justice, as forgiving without 
solid reasons, without an atonement, and without the 
application of that atonement to himself, he will be 
fearfully deceived ; and trust in that mercy on terms 
and with views agreeably to which it can never be 
exercised. 

This method of decrying the divine law and the 
preaching of it, is a dangerous method of flattering sin- 
ners to destruction, and of 'sewing pillows under all 
arm-holes.' 

Christ, the prophets, and the apostles, acted in a very 
different manner. They stung sinners to the quick ; 
' pricked them to the heart' with strong, solemn, and 
affecting representations of their guilt, their danger, 
and their approaching damnation ; roused them from 
their slumbers, and forced them to listen, feel, and act. 

The nature of the case shows the reasonableness and 
excellency of their example, and the propriety and wis- 
dom of following it; while, at the same time, it holds 
out the folly of those who disuse, as well as those who 
censure, preaching of this nature. We need not be at 



REGENERATION ITS ATTENDANTS. 



403 



all afraid lest sinners in modern times should be more 
easily affected than they were in ancient times. Their 
hearts are by no means peculiarly tender ; but, like the 
hearts of those who lived in former days, resemble the 
' rock,' and need both ' the fire and the hammer,' to 
break them in pieces. 

Some persons are probably afraid to preach in this 
manner, lest they should give pain to their hearers, and 
hazard their own popularity. These men either destroy 
or prevent much good, by standing in the place of such 
preachers as, like Boanerges, would thunder an alarm 
in the ears of sleeping guilt, and rouse the torpid soul 
to a sense of its danger. 

3. From these observations Ave also learn the necessity 
of the gospel to the accomplishment of this great work. 

If the sinner were left wholly to the law he would 
sink and die; for it gives him neither encouragement 
nor hope. While the law is of mighty and indispensa- 



ble use, to rouse him from his sloth, and awaken him 
to vigorous exertions for his deliverance, the gospel is 
the only foundation of hope that these exertions will be 
of any use. Without this hope he would do nothing but 
despair. It is indispensable, therefore, that the gospel 
should follow the law in all sound preaching ; that, 
when the sinner is roused to inquire ' what he should 
do to be saved,' he may find encouragement in its glo- 
rious promises and invitations. In this manner he 
learns, on the one hand, his ruined condition by nature 
and by practice ; and, on the other, that safe and happy 
state, into which he may be introduced by the grace of 
God. Thus the adaptation and utility of the whole word 
of God to the purposes designed by it, are strongly 
manifest ; the wisdom of all things contained in it, as 
the word of life ; their excellency, their glory, and their 
resemblance to its Author. Thus also it is commend- 
ed to our study, contemplation, wonder, and praise. 



SERMON LXXVI. 



REGENERATION.— ITS ATTENDANTS, GENERALLY CONSIDERED. 



That ye put off, concerning the former conversation, the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful 
lusts ; and be renewed in the spirit of your -mind ; and that ye put on the new man, which after God is created 
in righteousness and true holiness. — Ephes. iv. 22 — 24. 



In the last Discourse I described the situation and 
conduct of a convinced sinner. It is now my intention 
to exhibit the conversion of the same sinner to God : 
or to exhibit what in that Discourse I called the atten- 
dants of regeneration. 

In the text, connected with the 1 7th verse, the Ephe- 
sians are commanded to ' put off the old man with his 
deeds, and to put on the new man ;' or, in a more strict 
accordance with the original language, ' to cast away 
the old, and be clothed with the new man.' It has 
been supposed, that the passage contains an allusion to 
the conduct of the new converts at their baptism ; who 
are said at this ordinance to have cast away their old 
garments, as a symbol of their renunciation of sin, and 
to have been clothed with new ones, as a token of their 
assumption of holiness. It has also been supposed, 
that the apostle alludes to the custom of actors, who 
changed their clothes whenever they changed their 
characters. The allusion is, however, so natural and 
familiar, that it seems unnecessary to look far for an 
explanation. 

To 'put off the old man,' and to 'put on the new 
man,' are in the text exhibited as equivalent to ' being 
renewed in the spirit of their mind,' that is, to being 
the subjects of regeneration. This doctrine is still far- 
ther illustrated in the declarations, that the ' old man 
is corrupt,' and that ' the new man is created, after 
God, in righteousness and true holiness.' That to re- 
nounce the former of these characters and to assume 
the latter, is the same thing with being regenerated, 
no person probably, who 13 acquainted with this sub- 
ject, will dispute. 



Under these two heads, then, I shall now consider 
the farther progress of this convinced sinner ; viz. 

I. His renunciation of sin. 

II, His assumption of holiness, as his future char- 
acter. 

As these co-exist in the mind, it will be unnecessary 
to consider them apart. 

When the convinced sinner has, by a succession of 
earnest efforts to save himself, proved his utter inabi- 
lity to accomplish this important work ; the next natu- 
ral step, and that which he then becomes convinced it 
is absolutely necessary for him to take, is to cast him- 
self wholly upon God. He sees himself perfectly- 
helpless ; and, if left to himself, utterly ruined. In 
the anguish of mind produced by this view of his situ- 
ation, he casts himself at the footstool of divine mercy, 
as a mere suppliant, as devoid of any recommendation 
to the favour of God, as a ruined, miserable creature, 
as justly condemned, as justly to be punished, as hav- 
ing no hope, but in mere forgiveness, as desiring sal- 
vation of mere grace and sovereign love, as without 
any power of atoning for his sins by any thing which 
he can do, as capable of being saved only on account 
of the atonement of Christ, and as incapable of renew- 
ing himself, or of being renewed, but by the power of 
the Holy Ghost. All these things are felt, and not 
merely understood ; not merely considered as being- 
proved, or capable of proof by sound argument. The 
several trials which the mind has made, have of them- 
selves become proofs of the highest kind, to which it 
now opposes neither objection nor doubt. Its vievs 
have been too clear to be denied or questioned ; and 



404 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxxvi. 



the frame of the mind, its anxiety and distress, render 
it even impatient of the suggestion of uncertainty. 

Self-righteousness is therefore now relinquished. 
The pride of saving himself, either wholly or partially, 
is now given up, and the sinner is humbly and easily 
satisfied to be saved by Christ To his atonement, 
to his infinite compassion, he looks for the aid which, 
though felt before to be unnecessary, he now regards 
as absolutely and infinitely necessary to prevent him 
from being lost. 

When the sinner has come to this state of views and 
disposition, God in his infinite mercy usually, perhaps 
always, communicates to him ' the new heart, the right 
spirit,' so often mentioned in the Scriptures. 

It will here be useful, and probably necessary, to 
guard the minds of those who hear me against a com- 
mon and very natural error concerning this important 
subject. 

It has often been supposed that in some part, or in 
the whole, of that process of the mind which has been 
here described, there is something done of a meritori- 
ous nature ; something so pleasing to God, that on ac- 
count of it he bestows this incomprehensible blessing. 
In my own view, this opinion is wholly unscriptural, 
and altogether dangerous. If God gives the virtuous 
disposition intended, then it did not exist in the mind 
before it was thus given ; and, as this disposition is the 
only source of virtuous action in the mind, it is per- 
fectly clear that there can be no such action before it 
is communicated. That God does in fact give it by 
his Spirit, has, 1 trust, been heretofore proved. Ante- 
cedently to regeneration then, there is no virtuous 
action in the mind, in the true and evangelical sense ; 
unless Ave are to suppose two distinct sources of virtue, 
and two different kinds of virtuous action. 

It will, here, be naturally asked, What, then, is the 
true nature of this subject? What is the use of convic- 
tion of sin ? \\ hy does God communicate such a dispo- 
sition to such sinners, as are effectually convinced of 
their sins, rather than to any others ? 

In answer to these reasonable questions I observe, 
that the use of such conviction is to bring the sinner 
to a just view of his own condition and character, as 
a sinner ; of the character of God as his Sovereign ; 
of the divine law, as the rule of his conduct ; of the 
character of Christ, as his Saviour; of the absolute 
necessity of an interest in his redemption for the at- 
tainment of salvation ; and of the excellency and im- 
portance of holiness, in all its branches, as a moral 
character indispensable to entitle him to the favour 
and approbation of God. Without these apprehen- 
sions it would be very difficult to conceive how a sinner 
could become the subject of those exercises, which be- 
long to the nature of conversion to God. For exam- 
ple : How can the sinner who does not clearly see the 
evil, odiousness, and malignity of sin, ever be supposed 
to hate sin, mourn for it, or abstain from it in future 
periods ? How, unless he discerned the excellency and 
obligation of the law as a rule of duty for himself, can 
he discern .either the guilt of his transgressions, or the 
necessity and value of his future obedience ? How, un- 
less he be fully convinced of the justice and glory of 
God in hating and condemning sin, can he acknowledge 
God to be a reasonable or righteous Sovereign? And 
how can he ingenuously and voluntarily turn to him at 
nil ? Finally, if he do not perceive his own helplessness, 



and his insufficiency to save himself, how can he betake 
himself at all to him for salvation ? How, if he does not 
realize the fitness of Christ to be trusted with his soul, 
and all its concerns, as ' able,' willing, and faithful ' to 
save to the uttermost all that will come unto God by 
him,' can he believe on him or trust in him for these 
infinite blessings ? 

When God bestows the new disposition on the sin- 
ner in the state above described, rather than in his or- 
dinary state, he does this, I apprehend, not because the 
sinner has merited this blessing, nor any other, at 
his hands ; but because he has now become possessed of 
such a character and such views as render the communi- 
cation of it fit and proper in itself. God never extends 
mercy to sinners because of their desert, or worth, but 
because they need his mercy. When he sent his Son 
into the world, to save the apostate race of Adam, it was 
not because these apostates had merited, but because 
they needed, such kindness at his hands. It was a mere 
act of grace, of free, sovereign love. The communi- 
cation of it was not a reward conferred on worth, for 
they plainly had none ; but a free gift to mere necessi- 
ty and distress. Christ ' came to seek and to save that 
which was lost;' and ' to call, not righteous beings, but 
sinners to repentance.' The father in the parable, did 
not admit the pi-odigal into his family and favour on 
account of any service which he had rendered, for he 
had rendered none ; but on account of the misery and 
ruin of his son pleading strongly with his own compas- 
sion. Such I conceive to be the case of every convicted 
sinner, when he is made the subject of the renewing 
grace of God. 

But there is a plain reason, why such sinners are 
made the objects of divine mercy when they have ar- 
rived at a complete view of their guilt, danger, and de- 
pendence on God for sanctification and deliverance, 
rather than while they were at ease in sin and self-justi- 
fied in their rebellion. In the latter situation they were 
utterly unprepared either to feel or understand the 
nature and extent of the divine goodness in bestowing 
these blessings, and of course to be thankful, obedient, 
humble, and universally virtuous to that degree which 
is necessary to their effectual preparation for heaven, 
and which seems incapable of being accomplished in 
any other manner than this which I have described. 
A deliverance is both understood and felt in proportion 
to the greatness of the sense which the person delivered 
has had of his danger. A new moral character is wel- 
comed in proportion to the feelings which have been 
experienced in the debasement and disadvantages of 
the character previously existing. Universally, every 
benefit is realized in proportion to the sense of our own 
necessity. Thus, by the sense of his guilt, danger, 
and need of salvation, experienced under the conviction 
of his sin, the sinner is prepared with the utmost advan- 
tage to receive his sanctification, justification, and final 
deliverance from eternal ruin. This is what I call the 
fitness of the sinner for the reception of these benefits ; 
a fitness which seems indispensable ; appearing plainly 
to render it proper that God should give these blessings 
to a convinced sinner, when it would be wholly im- 
proper to give them to the same sinner while uncon- 
vinced and insensible. Benefits are wisely conferred 
on those who are fitted thoroughly to understand, feel, 
and acknowledge them ; and unwisely on those who 
are not ; whose views are obscure, whose feelings are 



REGENERATION ITS ATTENDANTS. 



405 



blunt, and whose acknowledgments, if made at all, are 
wrung from them by the hard hand of necessity. In 
the former case, the benefits may be said to be laid out 
well ; in the latter, to little or no purpose. 

These observations may possibly throw some light 
on a subject which hitherto has been almost merely a 
topic of debate among theologians. This is the true 
nature and efficacy of the prayers of such persons as 
are under conviction of sin. Some divines have 
strongly encouraged, and others utterly discouraged 
convinced sinners from praying. Those of the latter 
class, founding their opinions on the declaration that 
' the prayers of the wicked are an abomination to the 
Lord,' observe, that the prayers of convinced sinners 
cannot be acceptable to God ; that they cannot reason- 
ably be expected to be either heard or answered ; and 
that therefore, it is unjustifiable to advise such sinners, 
or any sinners whatever, to pray at all. 

This subject will hereafter naturally offer itself for 
discussion, I shall now consider it only so far as my 
present purpose demands. According to the opinion 
which I have recited, no man can with any propriety 
pray for his regeneration. The sinner cannot pray 
for it, because his prayers are sinful and abominable. 
The saint cannot pray for it with propriety, because 
he is already regenerated, and cannot possibly either 
need or receive it. Thus the greatest blessing ever 
given to man, and that on which all other blessings 
depend, cannot be prayed for by him who receives it : 
and stands, therefore, on a ground totally diverse from 
that on which all other blessings rest ; viz. on such a 
ground that a man can never ask it for himself. 

The prayers of convinced sinners, it is said, are in- 
sincere, and therefore abominable to God. In answer 
to this objection, I observe, that a sinner, whether con- 
vinced or not, may undoubtedly pray with insincerity 
in all instances ; but there is no invincible necessity 
that his prayers should always be insincere, notwith- 
standing he is a sinner. A sinner may, from a sense 
of his danger and misery, pray as sincerely to be saved 
from that danger and misery, as a saint. His disposi- 
tion, I acknowledge, is still sinful ; and his prayers are 
wholly destitute of moral goodness. But the mere 
wish to be saved from suffering, is neither sinful nor 
holy. On the contrary, it is merely the instinctive de- 
sire of every percipient being; without which he would 
cease to be a percipient being. That there is any thing 
hateful to God in this wish, whether expressed in prayer 
or not, I cannot perceive, nor do I find it declared 
either by reason or revelation. It may, indeed, be 
united with other desires, and those either virtuous or 
sinful ; according to the prevailing character of the 
mind in which it exists ; and the whole state of the 
mind may be accordingly denominated virtuous or 
sinful. Still this desire is neither morally good, nor 
morally evil ; and therefore neither pleasing nor dis- 
pleasing, as such, in the sight of God. 

That God pities sinners as mere sufferers will not b< 
doubted ; otherwise he would not have sent his Son to 
j redeem them from sin and misery. That he p. ties them 
more when storngly affected with a sense of their guilt 
and misery, than when at ease concerning both, will, I 
| think, be readily believed. The sinner Is certainly not 
less an object of compassion, but much more, when he 
feels the evils in which he is involved; and I can see 
no reason why he may not be more an object of divine 



compassion on that account, as well as of ours. The 
cries of the sinner for mercy are not therefore in them- 
selves sinful ; and there is nothing to make the sinner 
less, but apparently much to make him more, an object 
of the divine pity. 

As the sinner knows that regeneration is the only 
possible mean of escape and safety, so he may, and 
plainly will, feel in the same degree the necessity of re- 
generation to him, as of safety. For regeneration, then, 
he will cry with the same ardour, and the same freedom 
from sinfulness in this prayer, considered by itself, as 
for salvation or deliverance from suffering. 

That the prayers of unregenerate men are not vir- 
tuous, must undoubtedly be admitted ; for nothing can 
be virtuous which does not proceed from a heart good 
in the evangelical sense. That they are sinful, so far 
as they are of a moral nature, must also be admitted, at 
least by me. The declaration of Solomon, that ' the 
prayers of the wicked are an abomination,' appears to 
me, together with others of the like import, to be a 
description of the prayers of wicked men as they are in 
their general nature ; and not as the mere cries of a 
suffering creature for mercy. In these, considered by 
themselves, I see nothing of a sinful nature. They are 
not indeed objects of the divine complacency ; and the 
sinner who offers them is clearly an object of the divine 
anger. But I see no evidence that the prayers of such 
a sinner may not be objects of the divine benevolence, 
and regarded by the infinite mind with compassion. To 
that compassion only are they addressed. The cries of 
a profligate vagrant in distress render him more pro- 
perly and more intensely an object of compassion, and 
more especially entitled to relief, although he is still 
profligate, from a good man, than he would be were he 
to continue insensible and hardened under his suffer- 
ings, and thus utterly unfitted to have any proper views 
of his need of relief, or the kindness of his benefactor 
in furnishing it. I see no reason why God may not 
regard suffering sinners in a similar manner. That he 
does in fact thus regard them is, I think, unanswerably 
evident; regeneration, regularly following such prayers, 
and being regularly communicated to the subjects of 
them in the course of God's providence, whenever it 
exists at all. That this is ordinarily, nay, that it is 
almost always the fact, cannot, I think, be questioned. 
All sinners under conviction pray ; and of such sinners 
all converts are made. To convinced sinners, crying 
to God for mercy, regeneration is communicated by the 
Spirit of God ; and we are not, I think, warranted to 
conclude that it is given to any others. As then the 
whole number of regenerated persons is formed of those 
who have been convinced of sin, and who have been 
diligently employed in prayer while under conviction, 
it is plain that their prayers are not abominable in such 
a iense as to prevent the blessing prayed for from de- 
scending upon them ; and therefore not in such a sense 
as rationally to discourage them from praying. 

The prayer of the publican is, in my view, a clear 
and strong illustration of the justice of these remarks. 
There is no proof, nor, in my opinion, any reason to be- 
lieve, that this man was regenerated. On the contrary, 
he declares himself in his prayer to God, to be a sinner. 
As this declaration is put into his mouth by our Saviour, 
it must, I think, be considered not only as a sincere 
declaration, but a correct one ; expressing with exact- 
ness the precise truth. He was also a convinced sinner ; 



406 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxvi. 



as is evident from his own words, and from the whole 
tenor of the parable. Yet he was ' justified rather than 
the Pharisee.' The Pharisee came before God with a 
false account of himself, with a lofty spirit of self-right- 
eousness, and with an unwarrantable contempt for other 
men, particularly for the publican. The publican came 
with a strong and full conviction of his sin, and his 
supreme need of deliverance. With these views, con- 
fessing himself to be a sinner merely, he earnestly be- 
sought God to have mercy on him. His sense of his 
character was plainly just ; and his prayer, being the 
result of his feelings was of course sincere. Thus far 
I consider him as justified, and no farther. If he was 
regenerated in consequence of his prayer, and justified 
in the evangelical sense, the parable becomes complete- 
ly decisive to my purpose, and furnishes all the encour- 
agement to convinced sinners to pray which can be 
asked. But this 1 will not at present insist on, because 
it is not expressly declared ; although in my own view, 
it is fairly and rationally inferred from the strain of the 
parable. 

These observations I have made at the present time, 
because the subject could scarcely fail of occurring to 
your minds, and because difficulties could scarcely fail 
of attending it, in the view of some persons at least, 
which it must be desirable to remove. Allow me, how- 
ever, to observe, that divines, so far as I may be per- 
mitted to judge, have insisted on the metaphysical na- 
ture of this and several other subjects in such a manner 
as rather to perplex than to instruct those who have 
heard them. To unfold or to limit exactly the agency 
of moral beings, seems to be a task imperfectly suited 
to such minds as ours. What the Scriptures have said 
concerning this subject we know, so far as we under- 
stand their meaning. We also know whatever is clearly 
taught us by experience. Beyond this our investiga- 
tions seem not to have proceeded very far ; and almost 
all the conclusions derived from reasoning a priori, have 
failed of satisfying minds not originally biased in their 
favour. 

From this disgression, which I hope has not been 
wholly without use, I now return to the general sub- 
ject. 

When the sinner has come to this state of discern- 
ment and feeling, in which his character, danger, and 
necessity of deliverance are thus realized ; and has thus 
cast himself, as a mere suppliant for mercy, at the foot- 
stool of divine grace, God, as has been already observed, 
gives him a new and virtuous disposition, styled in the 
Scriptures ' a new heart ;' ' a right spirit ;' an ' honest 
and good heart ;' ' the good treasure of a good heart ;' 
and by several other names of like import. That act 
of the Spirit of God by which this disposition is com- 
municated, that is, the act of regenerating man, and the 
disposition itself which is communicated, I cannot be 
expected to describe. Neither of these things can in 
the abstract be known, or even contemplated by such 
minds as ours. Not a single idea would ever be formed 
concerning the nature or existence of either, were they 
not discovered by their effects ; or, as they are called in 
the gospel, ' their fruits.' It may however be useful to 
repeat, that what I intend by this disposition, is the 
cause which, in the mind of man, produces all vir- 
tuous affections and volitions ; the state in which 
the mind is universally possessed of a tendency to 
the evangelical character; or the tendency itself of 



the mind towards all that which in the character is 
morally excellent. The existence of this disposition 
is proved by its effects ; and in these only can it be 
seen. As these are new, and before unknown, it 
follows irresistibly, that the cause is equally new. This 
is also abundantly taught by the Scriptures, in which 
the disposition itself is called ' a new heart ;' the man, 
who becomes a subject of it, ' a new creature ;' and the 
life proceeding from it, ' newness of life.' 

The first great effect of this disposition is the exer- 
cise of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. The convinced 
sinner, f.s I have repeatedly observed, deeply feels his 
own utter inability to atone for his sins, to satisfy the 
demands of the divine law, and to reconcile himself to 
God. 

All this, however, Christ informs him in the gospel 
he is able, willing, and faithful to do for him. In this 
situation, the sinner for the first times confides in these 
declarations of the Redeemer, and in that moral cha- 
racter which furnishes the evidence of their truth. The 
scheme of saving himself, either wholly or partially, he 
has now given up, and is satisfied and delighted to be 
saved by Christ alone. His self-righteousness, so dear 
and delightful to him before, he now discerns to be no- 
thing but gross spiritual pride, and so far from being 
praiseworthy, as to be the foundation of nothing but 
guilt and shame. Now he quits all designs of exalting 
and gratifying himself in this work ; and becomes 
highly pleased with exalting Christ by cheerfully ren- 
dering to him all the honour of his salvation. With 
these emotions he receives Christ with all the heart, 
and confides in him for acceptance with God, as the 
only and at the same time the most desirable atone- 
ment for sin. Now, if he could save himself, he would 
not choose to be thus saved ; but sees a beauty and 
glory in the salvation of sinners by Christ with which 
his heart wholly accords, and with which his soul is ex- 
ceedingly delighted. He surrenders himself, therefore, 
into the hands of this divine Redeemer confidentially, 
to be his here and for ever ; to be governed by his 
choice, and to do all his pleasure. 

The next effect of this disposition is that which in 
the Scriptures is called repentance unto life ; and in 
theological discourses, evangelical repentance. 

It has been already observed, that the convinced sin- 
ner is of course deeply affected with a realizing sense 
of his sins, as being guilty, deserving the wrath of God, 
and the sources of ruin to himself. After he is rege- 
nerated, he for the first time begins to hate his sins, as 
odious in their very nature ; as injurious to God, his 
fellow creatures, and himself; and to loathe himself as 
a sinner. Now for the first time he begins to feel that 
he has been an ungrateful, impious, and rebellious 
wretch, opposed in heart and life to the government of 
his Maker, a nuisance to his fellow creatures, and an 
enemy to himself. His character he perceives to be 
deeply debased, and himself to be ' unworthy of the 
least of all the mercies ' bestowed on him by his divine 
Benefactor. With all this is also united a strong sense 
of the odiousness and danger of every future sin, a 
sense which is continued through life. 

All these things, also, he spontaneously and ingenu- 
ously confesses before God. Him he has injured abo>e 
nil other beings, and to him he wishes especially to 
make whatever satisfaction is in his power. Willingly, 
therefore, he humbles himself before his Maker in dust 






REGENERATION ITS ATTENDANTS. 



407 



and ashes, and henceforth assumes lowliness of mind as 
his own most becoming and favourite character. 

The disobedience which he thus hates and loathes 
he necessarily wishes and labours to avoid. The obe- 
dience which he heretofore loathed he spontaneously 
assumes, in a manner not less necessary, as his own 
future character. Unwilling now to wound himself, to 
injure his fellow men, and to dishonour God by the in- 
dulgence of his former guilty inclinations, he resolves 
henceforth to do that and that only which will glorify 
his Maker, promote the happiness of his fellow crea- 
tures, and profit his own soul. To this great work, the 
end of all others, he consecrates himself with sincerity, 
zeal, and fixed determination. 

The next fruit of this disposition is love to God. 
When the soul is regenerated, it begins to behold its 
Maker's character with new optics; and therefore per- 
ceives the character itself to be new, so far as its own 
views are concerned. It is now seen to be formed of 
such attributes as wholly deserve and most reasonably 
claim the supreme love of every intelligent being. God 
becomes to the renewed man a welcome object of his 
daily thoughts and meditations ; an object great and 
awful indeed, but also lovely and delightful. These 
two great parts of the divine character being generally 
united in the view of the mind, produce in it that re- 
gard to God, compounded of fear and love, which is 
commonly named reverence ; the affection in which 
love is more frequently exercised than by itself. In 
the same mind also the sight of his wonderful works, 
and more wonderful agency, produces admiration ; a 
sense of his excellence, complacency ; and the recep- 
tion of his blessings, gratitude ; and with these are in- 
separably united all the other affections of piety, — 
dependence, confidence, resignation, hope, and joy. 
Of these, some prevail at one time, and some at an- 
other ; but all are inwrought into the very character of 
the soul, as primary parts of its moral nature. These 
three exercises constitute what in the Scriptures is called 
conversion, or turning from sin to God. 

The next fruit of this disposition is love to mankind. 
Evangelical love to our neighbour , that is, to all man- 
kind, whether friends or enemies, is a characteristic of 
the renewed mind, as really new, and really unexpe- 
rienced before its renovation, as repentance or faith. 
Whatever love it exercised to others antecedently to 
this period was either selfish or merely instinctive ; in 
the former case sinful, in the latter possessed of no 
moral character, any more than the affection of brutes 
to their offspring. Now the love which it exercises is 
impartial, generous, and noble. Under its influence 
the renewed man does that which is good, just, and 
sincere, because it is so, and because God has required 
these things in his law, and not from a regard to repu- 
tation or convenience. Now he finds the promotion of 
happiness to be desirable and delightful in itself, and 
independently of a separate reward ; to be done for its 
own sake, and not merely as it is done by publicans 
and sinners. The great question now becomes, how, 
when, and where good can be done ; and not what he 
shall gain by doing it. Now also he chooses to do 
good by rule, and from a spirit of obedience to the 
rightful lawgiver and all-wise director, and thus makes 
it the purpose of his life. Now, finally, he does good 
conscientiously, with contrivance and design ; not acci- 
dentally, loosely, and rarely. Towards Christians this 



love assumes a peculiar character, being made up of 
two great and distinguished exercises, the general be- 
nevolence exercised towards them in common with all 
men, arid that peculiar delight in their virtuous char- 
acter, commonly called conrplacency, and, in the gospel, 
' brotherly love.' This is the object of the new ' com- 
mandment ' given by Christ in the gospel, and made 
the touchstone by which they are proved to be his 
disciples. 

Of all these exercises of the mind it is to be observed, 
that they are active exertions, directed invariably and 
always towards the promotion of real good ; the spring 
of all excellent conduct within and without the soul. It 
is not to be understood, that they exist and act in such 
a separate manner, as to be distinguishable, as to the 
times and modes of their existence or operations ; nor 
that they actually take place in that order in which they 
have now been mentioned. Of this subject the Scrip- 
tures give us no distinct account ; and happily, as in- 
deed might fairly be concluded from their silence, it is 
of no serious importance to us. All which is really ne- 
cessary is, that they exist and increase in such a manner 
as is best in the sight of God. 

As the regenerated man discerns his own unceasing 
need of divine assistance, and his general propensity to 
stop and backslide in his religious course, he will ne- 
cessarily and instinctively look to God for assistance, 
strength, and success. Prayer will be the breath by 
which he will live, and grow, and thrive. The closet, 
the family, and the church will alternately be the scenes 
of his public and private devotions, the places where he 
will find hope, and peace, and joy, and where he will 
advance in all evangelical attainments. To the Scrip- 
tures also will he betake himself for the same aid. In 
them he finds God speaking to him, and declaring the 
very things which are necessary to enlighten his under- 
standing and to amend his heart. To the Scriptures, 
therefore, he will continually resort, and will make them 
the object of his investigation and reflection at all con- 
venient seasons. Nor will he be less employed in ex- 
ploring the recesses of his own heart ; that he may learn 
as far as may be the moral state of his mind ; his sins 
and dangers, the improvements which he has made in 
holiness, and the means of future safety. 

In the like manner will the renewed mind solicit, and 
lay hold on the company, conversation, and friendship 
of good men. Their views of the Scriptures, of the dan- 
ger of sin and temptation, and of the excellency and 
safety of holiness ; their own affections and conduct ; 
their example and prayers ; their sympathy, communion, 
and encouragement ; will prove ever-flowing springs of 
spiritual life and consolation. These are its own com- 
panions in the path of life, the disciples of its own Sa- 
viour, the children of its own heavenly Father. All its 
interests are theirs. One common cause unites, one 
common family embraces, one common spirit quickens, 
and one God, the Father, the Redeemer, and the Sanc- 
tifier of all, loves, purifies, conducts, supports, and brings 
to his own house both the regenerated man and his fel- 
low Christians. In them, therefore, he finds an interest, 
a friendship, a kindred character of soul, which binds 
him to them with an indissoluble attachment. With 
peculiar satisfaction he enjoys their company here, and 
with delightful hope anticipates their endless society 
hereafter. 

Thus have I endeavoured summarily to explain the 



403 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Shr. Lxxni. 



work of regeneration, and to describe those immediate 
fruits of it, by means of which alone it is discernible 
by man. As these apparently co-exist with the work 
itself, I have in general language called them, its attend- 
ants. The name, I confess, is not metaphysically exact, 



nor will I insist on the entire propriety of adopting it. 
Yet as it naturally coincides with the views formed on 
this subject by the mind in which it exists, it seems suf- 
ficiently descriptive of what was intended, for my pur- 
pose. 



SERMON LXXVIT. 

* 

REGENERATION ITS ATTENDANTS. FAITH. REPENTANCE. 



Then Judas, who had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again 
the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders ; saying, I have sinned, in that I have betrayed the 
innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us ? see'thouto that. And he cast down the pieces of silver 
in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself. — Matt, xxvii. 3 — 5. 



In my last Discourse, I gave an account of the work of 
regeneration, and particularly of its immediate effects on 
the mind, which, because they apparently co-exist with 
it, I styled its attendants. Of these I particularly men- 
tioned faith in Christ, repentance, love to God, and love 
to mankind. All these exercises of the renewed mind 
are of such importance in the scriptural scheme, as to 
demand a distinct and particular consideration. 

Faith, the first of them in the order which I have 
adopted, has heretofore been largely examined. In so 
complex a science as that of theology it is impossible 
not to anticipate particular subjects of discourse ; be- 
cause, among several things which are collateral and not 
regularly successive, and which are also variously con- 
nected, it becomes almost necessary to select (for rea- 
sons irresistibly occurring,) some one out of the several 
connexions, which will prove in a measure injurious to the 
consideration of others. On some accounts, the natural 
order would have induced me to discuss the subject of 
faith in this place ; on others, it seemed desirable to 
give it an earlier examination. As the mind can very 
easily transfer it to that period at which in the order of 
time it begins to exist, the disadvantage will be imma- 
terial, should it upon the whole be thought a disadvan- 
tage. 

The next subject of consideration is repentance unto 
life, usually called evangelical repentance. 

In the text, we are informed that Judas, after he had 
betrayed Christ, seeing that he ivas condemned, ' re- 
pented himself.' It is therefore certain that Judas was 
in some sense a penitent; yet it is equally certain that 
his repentance was not genuine ; or, in other words, was 
not the repentance which is required by the gospel. As 
one of the most useful methods of distinguishing that 
which is genuine from that which is spurious is to com- 
pare them, I shall in the discussion of this subject, 

I. Examine the repentance of Judas ; and 

I I. The nature of true repentance. 
Concerning the repentance of Judas, I observe, 
1. It was real. 

That Judas actually felt, and did in no sense counter- 
feit the sorrow which he professed for his treachery and 
its consequences, is evident beyond a possible doubt ; its 
existence being evinced by the highest of all proofs — 



its influence on his conduct. False repentance, therefore, 
by which I mean all that which is not evangelical, 
has a real and not merely a pretended existence. 
Of course it is not in this respect at all distinguished 
from the repentance of the gospel. 

2. It was deep and distressing. 

This also is equally evinced in the same manner. No 
person who was present to hear what Judas said, and 
to see the things which he did, could entertain a doubt 
that lie was exceedingly distressed by the remembrance 
of what he had done. False repentance may not only 
be real, but deeply distressing ; and cannot by this cir- 
cumstance be distinguished from that which is genuine. 

3. It was attended by a strong and full conviction of 
his guilt. 

This is also amply declared both in his words and in 
his actions, so as not to admit even of a question. False 
repentance, therefore, cannot be distinguished from the 
true by this circumstance. 

4. It was followed by a frank confession of his guilt. 

' I have sinned,' said this miserable man, ' in that I 
have betrayed the innocent blood.' This confession he 
made before those to whom we should naturally expect 
him last to make it ; viz. the very persons who had 
hired him to sin. It was also a confession extorted 
from him by a sense of his guilt alone, and not by any 
human persuasion, art, or violence. It was sincere; 
being not only really, but intentionally true; a frank 
declaration both of his views and his conduct. Such a 
confession therefore is no decisive proof that repentance 
is genuine. 

5. It was also followed, so far as was now possible, 
by a departure from his former conduct. 

Whatever motives of a different kind prompted Ju- 
das to his treachery, it is plain covetousness had its 
share of influence. The attainment of money, he him- 
self informs us, was an object primarily in his view. 
' What will you give me,' said he to the chief priests, 
' and I will deliver him unto you ?' The sum which 
they offered was indeed very small ; still it plainly 
operated with commanding force upon his mind. Nor 
need we wonder that he who, when he kept the bag 
which contained the little means of subsistence on 
which, when not supported by hospitality, Chi'ist and 



REGENERATION. -REPENTANCE. 



409 



Iiis apostles lived, could from time to time basely plun- 
der so small a part of it as not to be detected by his 
companions, should be induced to undertake a very base 
employment for thirty pieces of silver. But on the 
present occasion, covetous as he habitually was at all 
former times, he voluntarily returned the money which 
he had received to the chief priests, and in the anguish 
of his heart overcame for a season this ruining propen- 
sity. Beyond this, he was desirous to do justice to the 
character of Christ. ' I have sinned,' said he, ' in that 
I have betrayed the innocent blood.' 

6. It was followed by the voluntary infliction of great 
evils upon himself. 

Besides the voluntary surrender of the money, which, 
if we may judge from what the attainment of it cost 
him, must have been given up with great difficulty, 
he went immediately away, and put a violent end to 
his own life : thus choosing to encounter the greatest 
evil which can be suffered in the present life, rather 
than endure the anguish of heart produced by the 
dreadful sin of which he had been guilty in betraying 
his Lord. 

From this melancholy fact it is clearly evident, that 
no voluntary penance furnishes the least proof that the 
repentance which occasioned it was genuine. We may 
give ' all our goods to feed the poor,' nay, we may 
' give our bodies to be burned,' and yet it may * profit 
us nothing.' 

From these observations it is unanswerably evident, 
that a false repentance may wear many appearances 
of the true, that it may in many respects be followed 
by the same or similar conduct ; and that it may on the 
whole go very far in its resemblance ; and still not be 
evangelical. 

In other circumstances the false penitent may exhibit 
still farther such resemblances in his character. Thus 
Saul, when he pursued David to the cave of Engedi, 
and David, by cutting off the skirt of his robe while he 
slept, had proved to him that he had spared his life 
while it was in his power to have killed him, was strongly 
affected by a sense of David's superior righteousness 
and benevolence, and exhibited a deep conviction of 
his own inhumanity and injustice. Nor was he in a 
small degree grateful to David for preserving his life 
when so entirely in David's power. In the indulgence 
of this emotion he prayed, and, so far as we can judge, 
wished, for a blessing upon David. From this example 
it is evident, that under clear and strong views of sin, 
persons may exercise a species of repentance in which 
all these emotions shall exist, together with all the con- 
duct naturally springing from them, and yet their re- 
pentance may not be that of the gospel. 

In proportion as any counterfeit approximates to- 
wards that which it is designed to resemble, is the im- 
portance of the discrimination by which its real nature 
is to be distinguished. Since false repentance, there- 
fore, can in so many particulars approach towards the 
true, it is indispensably necessary to examine them both 
in such a manner as to acquire distinct apprehensions 
concerning their different natures. To complete this 
design, I now proceed, 

II. To examine the nature of true repentance. 

Of this important evangelical subject it may be ob- 
served, that it includes, 
1. Just views of sin. 

' Fools,' or wicked men, ' make a mock of siu ;' that 



is, they regard it as a thing destitute of any real im- 
portance ; as a trifle, about which they have no reason 
to be seriously concerned ; as an object of sport and di- 
version, rather than of solemn or even of sober thought. 
To these views of sin the convinced sinner, so long as 
his convictions continue, has bidden a final farewell. 
To his eye sin appears as a great and terrible evil, 
fraught with consequences of the most dreadful nature. 
But even his views are principally generated by an 
alarming sense of its dangerous consequences, rather 
than by any just emotions arising from its nature. The 
views formed by the penitent differ from both these. 
While he realizes all the apprehensions of the convinced 
sinner, he adds to them also a new and peculiar sense 
of the importance of sin, as an evil in itself. To him it 
appears as a great evil, primarily, as it respects God. 
The character of God is in his view so great and 6o 
good, and his commands are so reasonable, that obe- 
dience to him appears supremely excellent and desir- 
able, and disobedience supremely undesirable and un- 
worthy. Both are estimated by his eyes with a steady- 
reference to the glorious character of the Creator, the 
excellence and importance of the law by which he go- 
verns the universe, the auspicious efficacy of obedience 
to it, and the malignant influence of disobedience on 
the character and happiness of intelligent beings. 
Wherever God is concerned, all regard to creatures 
must be secondary and comparatively unimportant. 
But when we consider the number of intelligent crea- 
tures, the dignified nature of their faculties, the impor- 
tance of their actions in producing happiness or misery, 
and their capacity of enjoying happiness or suffering 
misery throughout eternity, their combined interests 
become an object to a created eye literally immense. 
The interest of one immortal mind, and the virtue of 
that mind living and operating throughout endless 
ages, severally transcend all finite estimation. Of this 
virtue and these interests sin is the absolute destruction. 
It will therefore necessarily seem to the penitent an evil 
which cannot be measured. 

As his own interests and virtue are concerned, he will 
feel this subject in a peculiar manner. These he natu- 
rally realizes in a stronger degree than he can realize 
the same thing as belonging to others. Particularly, he 
will be deeply affected by a consciousness of that 
debasement which sin has produced in his character ! 
He will feel himself brought low ; degraded benealh 
the proper level of a rational being, lost to all useful 
and honourable purposes, and active only to such as are 
unworthy and mischievous. Of course he regards him- 
self as having been a nuisance to the universe, and"* 
therefore justly loathsome in the sight of God, and con- 
temptible in that of all virtuous beings. Of necessity, 
therefore, he will be odious and contemptible in his own 
sight. 

To atone for an evil of such vast moment will appear 
to him utterly beyond his power. It will seem plainly 
impossible to him to repair in any manner the injury 
which he has done to God, the dishonour which lie has 
cast upon his law, and the injustice which he has been 
guilty of to the universe. That this should be done will 
appear to him indispensable, in order to his acceptance 
with God. The condescension of God, therefore, in 
providing, and the benevolence of Christ in accom- 
plishing, such an atonement, will seem to him vast, 
wonderful, and eminently divine. 
3 F 



410 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. 



2. True repentance involves in it hatred of sin. 

Under the influence of conviction, every. sinner hates 
sin in this sense, that he regards it as the source of 
future punishment ; that is, he dreads the suffering and 
hates the cause of it, as such ; and under the influence 
cf this feeling he will usually abstain from many, per- 
haps most, overt acts of transgression. But the penitent 
hates sin in its very nature. He does not merely dread 
the punishment, but the sin independently of the pun- 
ishment ; so that were there no punishment to follow, he 
would still carefully avoid the sin. In its own nature it 
is loathsome to his taste, just as certain kinds of food 
are disgusting to a particular taste, and are avoided, not 
because they are supposed to be injurious to the health, 
but merely because they are disgusting. 

It ought perhaps here to be observed, to prevent per- 
plexity in the minds of those who hear me, that I do not 
intend to represent the penitent as hating or loathing 
those kinds of enjoyment which in their nature may be 
lawful, and are sinful only by some attendant circum- 
stances with which they are at times enjoyed ; nor to 
represent him as hating the objects whence such enjoy- 
ment is derived.- Objects of this kind, and the enjoy- 
ments springing from them, are made agreeable to our 
nature by the Creator himself, are equally pleasing to 
the penitent and impenitent, and are in themselves law- 
ful when existing in the proper degree, and in the pro- 
per circumstances. Food and wine are both means of 
pleasure which may be lawfully enjoyed ; but they are 
also the means of gluttony and drunkenness. The peni- 
tent hates the gluttony and drunkenness, but he does 
not therefore hate the food and the wine, nor the plea- 
sure which they communicate when lawfully enjoyed. 
Nor has God required this at his hands. If, indeed, he 
has found them to be dangerous to him, as temptations 
to inordinate and sinful indulgence, he will dread and 
watch, and, as the case may be, shun them on this 
account. Yet the pleasure which they communicate 
when lawfully enjoyed, neither is nor is required to be 
the object of his hatred. The sin committed in an in- 
ordinate or otherwise unlawful use of the object will be 
hated by the penitent, and not the object itself. 

I have mentioned under the preceding head, that sin 
will be viewed by the penitent as being primarily evil, 
because it is an injury done to God. This considera- 
tion will peculiarly awaken his hatred of sin. An in- 
jury done to a Being so great and glorious will appear 
to him pre-eminently unreasonable and ill-deserving. 
He will remember with peculiar solemnity and lively 
affection, that this glorious Being has forbidden sin in 
every form and degree, and that every transgression is 
therefore an open, as well as causeless affront to his in- 
finite authority. Nor will he fail to recollect, that the 
same exalted Being is his own supreme Benefactor, 
and that every blessing which he has received has 
'come down from the Father of lights.' With this 
great consideration in view, he will be deeply pained 
by a sense of the ingratitude exercised towards his Cre- 
ator in every transgression. 

Nor will he be less deeply affected when he remem- 
bers, that sin alone occasioned all the sufferings of the 
Redeemer. That so glorious and excellent a person as 
Christ should suffer at all, and especially in so dreadful 
a manner, every penitent will feel to be of all things 
the most undesirable, and the most to be regretted. 
How evil then in its nature must be the cause of these 



sufferings, and how distressing to know that in. this evil 
his own sins have their share ! 

Besides, all his own sins have been committed in a 
full view of these sufferings, with an ample knowledge 
of their greatness and intensity, together with a com- 
plete discovery of Christ's excellence in consenting 
thus to suffer, and amid the very sound of those offers 
of mercy which Christ proclaimed through the agonies 
of the cross. By these considerations the penitent will 
feel his own unworthiness, particularly his ingratitude, 
mightily enhanced, and will ' abhor himself, repenting 
in dust and ashes.' 

Nor will the mischiefs occasioned by sin to his fel- 
low creatures fail to increase mightily his hatred of 
this dreadful evil. All the sufferings found throughout 
this great world, will be easily seen by him to have 
sprung from this cause only, and a great part of them 
to be its immediate effects. These being its proper 
fruits, exhibit in the clearest and most forcible manner 
the nature of the tree. In deceit, fraud, contention 
cruelty, oppression, and bloodshed, he will see por- 
trayed in living colours the detestable nature of the 
spirit which gives them birth. But this is not all. A 
much more important consideration will everywhere 
present itself to his view, and much more powerfully 
affect his heart. All his fellow men are immortal, and are 
capable of endless happiness or endless suffering. Nay, it 
will be the actual lot of every one of them to be happy or 
miserable for ever. Viewed in this light, their interests 
become infinitely valuable. Sin, the cause of all their 
future as well as present misery, is thus invested with 
an importance which to the eye of the penitent becomes 
literally immense. With deep concern and amaze- 
ment he will behold a vast multitude of rational beings, 
' bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh,' corrupted 
by this moral pollution in such a manner as to render 
them incapable of happiness, and to such a degree as to 
render it wholly improper for God to make them happy. 
Beyond this, he will see them not only cast off for ever 
by God, as wholly unfit to be members of the kingdom 
of happiness, and made objects of his wrath and indig- 
nation, but finally ruined, and made for ever wretched 
by the proper influence of the sin itself. The same 
malignant efficacy with which it produces the sufferings 
of the present world will produce similar sufferings in 
every other world where it predominates, greater always 
in proportion to the degree in which it prevails. In 
the world of perdition, therefore, being uniningled and 
perfect, it will produce finished ruin to all its wretched 
inhabitants. With these views of this mighty evil, he 
will behold it with the- deepest loathing and abhorrence. 
With these views he will regard that example which 
may tempt others to sin, those arguments which may 
perplex or bewilder them, those doctrines which may 
encourage or quiet them in disobedience, and generally 
all those motives which may slacken their course in the 
path of virtue, or quicken their progress in iniquity, 
only witli alarm and horror. Necessarily, therefore, will 
he refuse to become the instrument of setting these 
snares for the feet of his fellow men, and of digging 
the pit of destruction in their way. Anxiously will he 
watch, and strive, and pray that he may not become the 
means of leading immortal minds to final ruin. 

Nor will he fail to be deeply affected with the evils 
done by sin to himself. This part of the subject he will 
be able to understand more clearly, and to realize more 



REGENERATION REPENTANCE. 



411 



strongly, than perhaps any other. The debasement of 
his nature as a rational being, mentioned under the 
former head, will seem to him an evil of no secondary 
magnitude. The complete perversion of his noble 
faculties, the frustration of the end of his existence, the 
continual inroads made upon his peace, the prevention 
of his usefulness, together with his exposure to final 
perdition, all accomplished by this malignant cause, 
render it necessarily and supremely detestable in his 
sight. 

At the same time this hatred will be directed towards 
sin of every kind. The same odious nature is adherent 
in sins, whatever form they may assume, and in what- 
ever manner they may exist ; whether they are secret 
or open ; whether they exist in thought, word, or action; 
whether they immediately respect God or men, his fel- 
low man or himself ; whether they are reputable or dis- 
reputable ; whether productive of gain or followed by 
loss. In every one of these forms they have still the 
same evil, shameful, odious character ; and will there- 
fore universally awaken his hatred. 

Finally, he will hate sin in all persons ; in himself, 
his family, his friends, his felJow Christians, his country- 
men, and mankind. The only difference here will be, 
the nearer it comes home to him he will hate it the 
more. In his friends and fellow Christians, therefore, 
his family and himself, he will hate it more than in 
others ; especially as the expressions of his hatred to- 
wards their sins, and his opposition to his own, may 
have a peculiar efficacy in preventing future transgres- 
sions. Nor will the kindred or amiableness of any 
person prevent him from regarding his sins with disgust 
and abhorrence. 

3. True repentance involves in it a sincere sorrow for 
sin. 

A dutiful child who has disobeyed his father feels, 
after all the fears of punishment are over, a sincere re- 
gret because he has disobeyed. A good man when he 
has done an injury to a friend, even when the fact is 
unknown, and himself is secure from all possible detec- 
tion, laments secretly his unworthy conduct. A peni- 
tent feels a similar regret that he has offended God and 
injured his fellow men, not from the apprehension of 
their resentment or of the anger of God, merely, but 
also from the sense of the evil which he has done, from 
a realizing view of the unworthiness of which he has 
been guilty. With this view he will be ever ready to 
cry out with St Paul, ' wretched man that I am ! who 
shall deliver me from the body of this death ?' 

4. True repentance will prompt the subject of it freely 
to confess his sins before God. 

i Confession is the first, the proper, the natural lan- 
guage of repentance. In this manner Job confessed 
when God, appearing to him with divine glory, discov- 
ered to him the corruption of his heart and the guilti- 
ness of his life. ' I have heard of thee by the hear- 
ing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore 
I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.' In the 
■ same manner David also confessed; 'I acknowledge 
; my transgression, and my sin is ever before thee.' 
• Thus also Nehemiah and his companions, the captives 
i who had returned from Babylon, spent one-fourth part 
of the day of their public humiliation in confessing 
I their sins ; and said, ' Thou art just in all that is 
brought upon us ; for thou hast done right ; but we 
: have done wickedly.' Thus the Lamentations of Jere- 



miah are extensively occupied in this employment. 
Thus Daniel in strong terms declared to God the sii:s 
of himself and his people. Thus, finally, have all sin- 
cere penitents done in every age and in every • country. 
The heart, in the clear view of its sins, in the strong- 
apprehension of the wrongs which it has done to Cod 
and to mankind, is full and overflows ; and ' out of its 
abundance the mouth ' is compelled to ' speak.' Be- 
sides, confession is the first attempt towards making- 
amends for the injury ; and the penitent is ready to adopt 
every measure which may in his view contribute to the 
accomplishment of an end believed to be so important, 
and relished as so desirable. 

5. True repentance is followed by reformation. 

Every penitent will like Elihu pronounce concerning 
himself, as well as concerning others, ' Surely it is 
meet to be said unto God, I have borne chastisement ; 
I will not offend any more. Ihat which I see not 
teach thou me ; if I have done iniquity, 1 will do no 
more.' 

Amendment is the end of all repentance ; and this 
involves the twofold office of forsaking sin, and prac- 
tising holiness. It will easily be believed, that he who 
hates and mourns for his sins must, under the influence 
of this disposition, regard the future commission of them 
with dread, and proceed to it only under the influence 
of frailty, the occasional predominance of lust, or the 
powerful influence of external temptations. To forsake 
it will also be believed to be a commanding object of his 
designs and efforts. With this object is intimately con- 
nected a fixed and universal determination faithfully to 
practise future obedience. This is the sum of the divine 
pleasure concerning his remaining life ; the substance of 
all the precepts contained in the law of that glorious 
Being, to have offended whom excites his deepest sor- 
row, and to please whom is now the object of his most 
earnest desire. A general reformation of his life will 
therefore be the only conduct originated by the present 
temper of his heart. Against sin, against all sin, he 
will ' set his face as a flint' His passions henceforth 
will be subordinated to his conscience, and his con- 
science enlightened and directed by the Scriptures of 
truth. Every lust he will labour to subdue, every 
enemy to overcome, and every temptation to resist or 
escape. More and more continually will this be the 
purpose and employment of life. With increasing re- 
solution he will ' go from strength to strength,' improve 
in holiness as he increases in years, and become from 
time to time, more and more ' meet to be a partaker 
with the saints in light' in their communion and their 
joys. 



1. From these observations we learn, that a repentance 
may exist and go far, and yet not be evangelical. 

From the account already given of the repentance 
experienced by Judas, it is plain that he entertained 
such views and felt such emotions as are also felt by 
true penitents. There is nothing in the nature of the 
case which hinders all these, and others like them, from 
being experienced by any false penitent. From this 
fact it is clear, that false repentance may be easily mis- 
taken for the true ; and equally clear, that a careful 
discrimination is indispensably necessary to distinguish 
them from each other. Otherwise, the false penitent 
may be easily, and, for ought that appears, fatally de- 



112 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SER. LXXVlII. 



ceived. If the account here given of evangelical re- 
pentance be admitted, the distinction between this and 
all counterfeits is clear and decisive. The false peni- 
tent never forms just views of the nature of sin, never 
hates it as evil done to God and his fellow creatures, 
never in this view mourns for it, never confesses it in- 
genuously, and never faithfully forsakes it. He who 
cannot find these things in his heart and conduct may 
safely conclude that his repentance is not that of the 
gospel. 

2. The same observations prove that repentance is a 
spirit justly according with the real state of things. 

The penitent is really, as he pronounces himself to 
be, a sinner, guilty in the sight of God, and deserving 
of his wrath. Sin is really the great evil which he feels 
and acknowledges it to be ; and is therefore to be 
hated, lamented, confessed, and forsaken in the very 
manner determined on by himself. His situation is in 
all respects as bad, and his character as unworthy as he 
supposes them. The views which he entertains of him- 
self therefore are exactly agreeable to truth, and such 
as he is plainly bound to entertain. All views of him- 
self and of his condition which are discordant with these 
would be contrary to truth, and a mere mass of false- 
hood. Of the same nature are the affections involved 
in evangelical repentance. They are the very affections 
which necessarily arise out of these views, and the only 
affections which in the penitent's case correspond with 
truth. Of course, they are plain and indispensable 
parts of his duty. 

3. These observations teach us that repentance is ab- 
solutely necessary to salvation. 



Without repentance the sinner would still continue 
to be a sinner; an enemy to holiness and to God, to 
happiness and to heaven. If he did not hate sin it 
would be physically impossible that he should forsake 
it, that he should love or practise holiness, that he should 
be cordially reconciled to God, that he should relish the 
happiness of heaven, or that he should desire or enjoy 
the friendship of virtuous beings. It would be impos- 
sible that he should receive Christ as his Saviour, trust 
in his righteousness for acceptance, love his character, 
or welcome his mediation. At the same time it would 
be morally impossible that God should receive or justify 
the sinner, unite him to his family, or restore him to 
his favour. To all these things repentance is plainly 
and absolutely indispensable. 

The views which the penitent entertains of moral sub- 
jects, and the affections with which he regards them, pre- 
pare him, and are indispensably necessary to prepare 
him, to partake of the favour of God, the employments 
of holiness, and the blessings of redemption. Evangeli- 
cal repentance is the beginning of moral health in the 
soul. At the commencement of its existence, the former 
evil, morbid principles begin to lose their hold, and to 
have their power diminished. The divine Physician 
then first achieves his victory over the moral diseases 
which were before incurable, and the balm of Gilead 
begins to restore its decayed and ruined faculties, 
From this moment immortal health, the life of heaven, 
returns to the languishing mind, health that cannot de- 
cay, life that cannot terminate, the youth of angels 
which cannot grow old, but is formed to increase, and 
bloom, and flourish for ever. 



SERMON LXXVIII. 

REGENERATION ITS ATTENDANTS LOVE. 



But the fruit of the Spirit is love. — Gal. v. 22. 



Having considered in preceding Discourses, faith in 
Christ and repentance unto life, the two first of those 
moral attributes which I called the attendants of regen- 
eration ; I shall now go on to examine the nature of 
the third and fourth of these attributes, viz. love to God, 
and love to mankind. As both these are only exercises 
of the same disposition directed towards different ob- 
jects, I shall here consider them together ; reserving a 
separate discussion of them to a future occasion. St 
Paul informs us that ' Love,' viz. the disposition men- 
tioned in the text, • is the fulfilling of the law ;' that is, 
of the two great commands, ' Thou shalt love the Lord 
thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour as thy- 
self.' These commands constitute a primary part of a 
theological system, and will necessarily become a sub- 
ject of particular investigation in the progress of these 
Discourses. They will therefore furnish an ample op- 
portunity for the separate consideration of these two 
great exercises of love. 

In examining this subject at the present time, it is my 
design, 



I. -To exhibit the nature of thin love ; 

II. To prove its existence. 

I. / shall endeavour to exhibit the nature of evangeli- 
cal love. 

1. The love of the gospel is a delight in happiness : 
or, in other words, good-will towards percipient beings, 
as capable of happiness. 

Happiness is the object ultimately and always aimed 
at by the mind under the influence of this affection. As 
percipient beings are the only beings capable of happi- 
ness, the love of happiness is, of course, the love of per- 
cipient beings. Of these, intelligent beings are capa- 
ble of so much greater and more important happiness 
than meie animals, as scarcely to allow of any compari- 
son between them. The love of happiness, therefore, is 
supremely the love of intelligent beings. This accord- 
ingly has been assumed as a definition of love. It is not 
however metaphysically correct. ' A righteous ' or vir- 
tuous ' man will,' as such ' regard the life,' and of course 
the happiness universally, ' of his beast ;' and this, 
though a small, cannot fail to be a real object of his regard. 



REGENERATION LOVE. 



413 



A delight in happiness, metaphysically considered, sup- 
noses it enjoyed, or already in possession. When it is not 
enjoyed, and yet is supposed to be possible, the same 
affection becomes, and is styled the desire of happiness. 
Whatever we delight in when present and. possessed, we 
desire when absent, or unpossessed. The mind under 
the influence of this affection, therefore, while it rejoices 
in happiness actually enjoyed, necessarily wishes its ex- 
istence wherever it is capable of being enjoyed. 

1. This love of happiness is universal. 

This proposition follows unavoidably from the former. 
If the mind delights in happiness as such, it is plain 
that this delight will exist wherever the happiness is 
found. If it desire happiness as such, this desire will be 
extended to every case in which it perceives that hap- 
piness may be enjoyed. The delight, therefore, will be 
co-extended with the knowledge which the mind at any 
given time possesses on actual enjoyment ; and the de- 
sire, with its knowledge of possible enjoyment. So far 
then as the views of any mind in which this disposition 
exists extend, its love of happiness will be universal. 

3. This love of happiness is just. 

By this I intend, that the greater happiness, whether 
actual or possible, will be loved more, and the smaller 
happiness less. This also is inherent in the very nature 
of the affection. If the mind, delight in happiness, it 
follows necessarily that this delight must increase as 
the object of it increases. For example ; if it delight in 
the happiness of one being, it will equally delight in the 
same happiness of a second ; in the same manner in 
that of a third; of a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and so on 
in that of any given or supposable number. Or, should 
we suppose one of these beings to be happy in any 
given degree, and that happiness doubled, tripled, quad- 
rupled, or increased in any other degree, the delight of 
such a mind in this object would be increased in the 
same proportion. I do not here intend that this affec- 
tion will operate with the mathematical exactness here 
stated. I am well aware that such minds as ours are 
utterly incapable of operating with their affections in 
this perfect manner. This mode of illustration has been 
here used for the sake of exhibiting the general propo- 
sition in a manner clear and. decisive, and if I mistake 
not, it unanswerably evinces the truth of the proposi- 
tion. 

In entire accordance with this doctrine we are com- 
manded to ' love God with all the heart,' not only as an 
object of our complacency, but of our benevolence also. 
We are not only required to approve of his perfect 
character, but also to delight in his perfect happiness, 
or, as we more usually term it, blessedness. His per- 
fect character is the cause of which his perfect happiness 
is the effect. The former it is our duty to reward with 
supreme complacency, the latter it is equally our duty 
to regard with supreme benevolence. 

No less accordant with this disposition, also, is the 
second command of the same law. ' Our neighbour, 
that is, any and every individual of the human race, is 
the subject of the same happiness as ourselves. We are 
therefore required to ' love our neighbour as ourselves ;' 
viz. because his happiness is of the same importance as 
our own ; not indeed mathematically, but generally and 
indefinitely, as the words of the command import. 

It is to be observed here, that benevolence is the only 
object of this command. The greater part of those 
who are included here, under the word ' neighbour, 



are wholly destitute of virtue in the evangelical sense. 
But towards any and all of these it is physically impos- 
sible to exercise complacency : this affection being no 
other than the love of such virtue. 

4. This affection is disinterested. 

If the preceding positions be allowed, this follows of 
course. Nothing is more evident than that the mind 
which loves happiness wherever it is, and in proportion 
to the degree in which it exists, must of course be dis- 
interested. In other words, it must be without any par- 
tiality for its own enjoyment, or any preference of it to 
that of others. Its delight in the happiness enjoyed by 
others, will be the same with that which it finds in its 
own enjoyment ; so far as it is able to understand and 
realize it in the same manner. We cannot, I acknow- 
ledge, either understand or feel the concerns of others 
in the same degree as our own ; and from this imper- 
fection would arise, even if our benevolence were per- 
fect, a difference in our estimation of these objects, 
which so far as I see could not be avoided. But in 
cases not affected by this imperfect state of our minds, 
cases which even in this world are numerous, no reason 
can in my view be alleged why the estimation should 
not be the same. In a more perfect state of being, it 
is probable, the number of such cases may be so enlarg- 
ed as to comprehend almost all the interests of intelli- 
gent creatures. 

5. This love is an active principle. 

By this I intend, that in its nature it controls all the 
faculties in such a manner as to engage them supremely 
in the promotion of the great object in which it delights. 
Of this truth we have the most abundant proof in the 
scriptural exhibitions of the character of God, of the 
Redeemer, and of those saints whose history they re- 
cord, ' God,' saith St John, ' is love.' ' Every good 
gift,' saith St James, ' and every perfect gift, is from 
above ; and cometh down from the Father of lights.' 
' Nevertheless,' saith St Paul, ' he left himself not with- 
out witness ; in that he did good, giving us rain from 
heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food 
and gladness.' ' Thou art good,' says David, ' and dost 
good ; and thy tender mercies are over all thy works.' 
' Jesus Christ,' says St Peter, ' a man who went about 
doing good.' It is hardly necessary to observe, that the 
whole body of worthies presented to us in the Scrip- 
tures were in this respect ' followers of God, as dear 
children ;' or that ' the same mind ' was in them, ' which 
was also in Christ.' The Epistles of St Paul, particu- 
larly, and his whole history after his conversion, as giv- 
en to us by St Luke, are one continued proof that this 
was his ruling character. The love which exists ' in 
word, and in tongue,' the Scriptures reprobate, and ap- 
prove and enjoin that only which, in their emphatical 
language, exists ' in deed and truth.' We hardly need, 
however, look to this or any source for evidence con- 
cerning this subject. Love in all cases, so far as our 
experience extends, prompts him in whom it exists to 
promote the happiness of the object beloved. So plain 
is this to the eye of common sense, that no person be- 
lieves love to exist in any mind, which does not labour 
to accomplish happiness for the object which it professes 
to love. Thus a parent who neglects the happiness of 
his children is universally pronounced not to love them ; 
and thus persons professing friendship for others, and 
inattentive at the same time to their welfare, are with a 
single voice declared to be friends in pretence merely. 



414 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seii. lxxviii. 



What is true in this respect of tliese natural affections, 
is altogether true of evangelical love. Its proper char- 
acter is to ' do good as it has opportunity.' 

6. This principle is the only voluntary cause of hap- 
piness. 

The benevolence of intelligent creatures is the same 
in kind with the benevolence of God; and for this rea- 
son is styled ' the image of God.' But the benevolence 
of God is the single original cause, the sole as well as 
boundless source of all the happiness found in the crea- 
tion. In the great design of producing this happiness, he 
lias required intelligent creatures to co-operate with 
himself. Of their labours to this end, their own bene- 
volence is the only immediate cause. Benevolence, 
therefore, in (iod and his intelligent creatures, consi- 
dered as one united principle of action, is the only 
voluntary source of happiness in the universe. As, 
therefore, none but voluntary beings can produce or 
even contrive happiness, and as no voluntary beings 
except benevolent ones are active to this end, it is plain 
that happiness is ultimately derived from benevolence 
alone, and but for its exertions would never have ex- 
isted. 

7. This principle is one. 

By this 1 intend, that the same love is exercised by 
a virtuous mind towards God, towards its fellow crea- 
tures, and towards itself. The affection is one. The 
difference in its exercise springs only from the differ- 
ence of its objects. ' Love is the fulfilling of the law ;' 
that is, one affection, exercised towards God and to- 
wards man, is alternately the fulfilling both of the first 
and second commandments. He who is the subject of 
one of these exercises is of course a subject of the other 
also. He who loves God loves mankind ; he who loves 
mankind loves God. There are not two affections of 
the mind, in the strict and metaphysical sense, one of 
which is called love to God, or piety, and the other love 
to mankind, or benevolence : but there is one love, now 
exercised towards God, and now towards mankind. 

II. I shall now proceed to prove the existence of this 
principle. 

The evidence which I shall adduce for this purpose 
will be derived, 

1. From the Scriptures ; 

2. From reason. 

The first argument which 
Scriptures is the moral law 
Lord thy God with all thy heart ; and thy neighbour as 
thyself.' 

I have already observed that benevolence, or love to ' 
happiness, or to intelligent beings as capable of happi- j 
ness, is the object and the only object of the second of 
these commands. Should any doubt remain on this 
subject, it may easily be removed by the consideration, 
that our Saviour has taught us to consider our enemies, 
universally, as included under the word ' neighbour.' 
The enemies of a good man, knowing him to be such, 
are always wicked men ; and, having no holiness or 
evangelical virtue, cannot, in the physical sense, be 
loved with complacency, or the love of virtue. The 
love of happiness, therefore, or benevolence, is the prin- 
ciple especially, if not only, enjoined in this law. Ac- 
cordingly, our Saviour called the command, enjoining 
' brotherly love,' that is, the love of his disciples towards 
each other, or, in other words, complacency, a ' new 
commandment.' 



I shall allege from the 
' Thou shalt love the 



As the moral law, then, enjoins especially the love of 
happiness, that is, benevolence, so it evidently enjoins 
this disposition in a proportion corresponding with that 
which has been insisted on in this Discourse. We are 
required in it to ' love God with all our heart ; and our 
neighbour as ourselves.' In other words, Ave are re- 
quired to exercise this love proportionally to the im- 
portance or greatness of the object loved : supremely 
towards that object which is supremely great and im- 
portant, and equally towards those objects whose impor- 
tance is equal. 

With this view of the law perfectly accords our Sa- 
viour's practical comment on the second command : 
' Whatever ye would that men should do unto you, do 
ye even so to them ; for this is the law and the pro- 
phets.' In this command our own equitable wishes for 
good to be done to ourselves, are made the measure of 
the good which we are bound to do them. 

(2.) As another proof, I allege Luke vi. 32, 33, 35; 
' For if ye love them that love you, what thank have 
ye ? for sinners also love those that love them. But 
love ye your enemies ; and do good and lend, hoping 
for nothing again : and your reward shall be great ; 
and ye shall be the children of the Highest: for he is 
kind to the unthankful and to the evil.' 

In these declarations of our Saviour it is manifest, 
first, that the Jove which he enjoins, is disinterested 
love ; for it is productive of beneficence without refer- 
ence to a reward. Secondly ; we learn from them, 
that even this is not sufficient to constitute the disin- 
terestedness of the gospel : it is still farther required, 
that the benevolence shall operate towards enemies, 
overcoming all hostility towards those who hate us ; re- 
quiring us, instead of being enemies, to become friends 
to our enemies; to render good for their evil, and 
blessing for their cursing. Unless we do this, we are 
elsewhere informed in the gospel, that we are not, and 
cannot be, ' the children of our Father, who is in 
heaven.' Thirdly ; we are taught that the disposition 
with which we do good to others for the sake of gaining 
good at their hands, or the spirit with which we do 
good merely to those who do good to us, that is, selfish- 
ness in its fairest and most reputable form, neither 
merits nor will receive a reward, and is only the spirit 
of ' publicans and sinners.' 

(3.) I allege as another proof the declaration of the 
apostle, 1 Cor. xiii. 5, ' Love seeketh not her own.' 

In this declaration St Paul has asserted the disin- 
terestedness of evangelical love, not only in the most 
explicit manner, but with the force peculiar to himself. 
Literally, he declares that love does not seek her own 
interest at all ; but is so absorbed in her care for the 
common good, as to be wholly negligent of their per- 
sonal concerns. This, however, I do not suppose to 
have been the meaning of the apostle. But he plainly 
intends, that this spirit is wholly destitute of any selfish 
character. Less than this it will, I think, be impossi- 
ble to consider as meant by him in this passage. 

With these three passages the whole volume of the 
Scriptures accords ; and that these clearly determine 
the love required in the gospel to be the love of happi- 
ness — proportioned to the importance of the object 
loved — and disinterested in its nature, the points rela- 
tive to this subject which are chiefly disputed, cannot, I 
think, be denied without violence. 

To this decisive voice of revelation, reason adds its 



REGENERATION LOVE. 



415 



own unqualified testimony ; as I shall endeavour to 
show in the following observations : 

I. The benevolence, which I have described, is the 
only equitable spirit towards God and our fellow crea- 
tures. 

That the interests of God are inestimably more valu- 
able than our own, will not be questioned by any man. 
This being- allowed, it can no more be questioned that 
they deserve incomparably more regard than our own. 
Nor can it any more be doubted that the interests of 
our neighbour are, at a fair average, equally valuable 
with our own. The fact, that they are ours, certainly 
adds nothing to their value. For what then, it may be 
asked, can they be more valuable than those of our 
neighbour? God unquestionably regards them alike; 
and it will not be denied that he regards them equita- 
ble, and in the very manner in which we ought to re- 
gard them. 

A public or common good, therefore, is more valu- 
ably and ought to be more highly regarded than the 
good of an individual, for this plain reason, that it in- 
volves the good of many individuals. This has ever 
been the only doctrine of common sense. In free 
countries particularly, where men have had the power 
as well as the right to act according to their own judg- 
ment, a majority of votes has always constituted a law ; 
obviously because a majority of interests ought ever to 
be preferred to those of a minority, and still more to 
those of an individual. On the same principle, laws 
which consult the general good are ever pronounced to 
be right, although they may operate against the good 
of individuals. On the same principle only, are indi- 
viduals required to devote their labour, their property, 
and at times their lives, for the promotion or security 
of the general welfare. Selfishness, on the contrary, 
which always prefers private good to public, would, if 
permitted to operate, produce an entire subversion of 
public good. All the views, affections, and operations 
of selfishness, are unjust ; the interests of an individual 
being, invariably estimated more highly by this dispo- 
sition, and loved more intensely, than their comparative 
value can ever warrant. It can never be a just estima- 
tion which prefers the private good of one to the good 
of many, the interests of each of whom are just as valu- 
able as those of that one ; or which prefers the interests 
of man to those of God. If this estimation is right, 
and the regard with accompanies it, then God ought 
to give up his own kingdom, purposes, and pleasure, 
for the sake of the least of his intelligent creatures ; 
and the good of the universe ought to be sacrificed to 
the good of one. 

2. It is reasonable to suppose, that God would create, 
and that he has created intelligent creatures with this 
just disposition. 

That there should nowhere exist in the intelligent 
kingdom a disposition regarding things according to 
their value, is a supposition too absurd in itself, and 
too dishonourable to the Creator, to be made by a so- 
ber man. Such a disposition, it is plain, must be more 
estimable and lovely to the eye of the divine mind than 
any other which is supposable. If, then, God made his 
works with a design to take pleasure in them, or to be 
glorified by them, he could not fail to give existence to 
such a disposition, unless it was because he was unable. 
But this will not be pretended. Such a disposition, 
therefore, certainly exists. 



3. If there be no such disposition, there can be no pure 
or lasting happiness. 

(1.) There is no original cause of happiness, but the 
action of minds. Minds are the only active beings in the 
universe. Matter, if eternal, must have been eternally 
quiescent. But minds never act to the production of 
that which they do not love. If then they did not love 
happiness, they could not act to the production of it. Of 
course, if God had not been benevolent, that is, if he had 
not loved happiness, he never could have produced it ; 
nor created those beings who were to be made happy. 

(2.) Without the same disposition, intelligent crea- 
tures could never produce happiness for each other. 
Under the divine government, happiness, in an endless 
variety of forms, is produced by intelligent creatures for 
each other. The degree in which their benevolent offices 
accomplish good for each other, is, to a finite eye, lite- 
rally immense. But it is clearly evident, that if they wei-e 
not benevolent, no part of this good would ever exist. 

Should it be said, that creatures who are not benevo- 
lent do in fact produce happiness for each other in the 
present world ; as is unanswerably manifest in the pro- 
per influence of natural affection, and various other 
attributes of the human mind: I answer, first, that all 
this happiness, like all other, is ultimately derived from 
the benevolence of God, and would have had no exis- 
tence had he not possessed this disposition. Secondly, 
the happiness thus produced is far from being pure or 
lasting. Thirdly, natural affection is not an original 
and necessary attribute of a rational being, but has its 
origin and continuance in circumstances which may be 
termed accidental ; and accordingly has no existence 
where those circumstances are not found. Fourthly, 
natural affection is an attribute of a benevolent as well 
as of a selfish being, and is therefore no part of selfish- 
ness. Fifthly, the Scriptures teach us, that even this 
good is not derived from the proper tendency of our 
selfish nature, but from a particular restraining influ- 
ence of God on its proper operations, which either pre- 
vents their existence, or lessens their malignant efficacy. 
That the world is so comfortable as it actually is, is I 
apprehend the result of a mere act of mercy on the part 
of God, rather than of the genuine tendency of the hu- 
man character. Finally, should all be allowed to this 
source which is claimed for it, the happiness which it 
yields is so mixed and so transient, as to form an ex- 
ception to the doctrine which I am defending, too un- 
important to deserve any serious attention. 

(3.) There is no other disposition which is happy. 
The happiness inherent in a disposition is the enjoy- 
ment either experienced in the exercises of the dispo- 
sition itself; or springing from the consciousness of its 
excellence ; or resulting from a knowledge of the de- 
sirable nature of its consequences. Some of the exer- 
cises of selfishness are pleasant in themselves, and some 
in a knowledge of their consequences. Thus, pride is 
in a degree always pleasing to the proud man ; pleas- 
ing, I mean, in its very nature. The same thing may 
be said also of the sensual appetites, whenever they are 
gratified. Some of them also are pleasant in the know- 
ledge of their consequences; particularly those which 
respect fame, power, and property. But the pleasure 
furnished by all of them is in itself poor, transient, and 
mixed with no small pain and mortification. The pleasure 
furnished by our sensual appetites is also a part, not of 
a selfish, but of a merely animal nature ; and so far as 



416 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxvtii. 



it is temperately enjoyed, belongs equally to a benevo- 
lent as to a selfish being. Selfishness can here claim 
nothing as being peculiar to itself, except inordinate 
indulgence; and this is regularly a diminution of the 
enjoyment, and an accumulation of pain and sorrow. 
In the meantime, none of the affections of selfishness 
yield happiness from a consciousness of their nature 
and operations. They cannot be seen to be excellent, 
because they are all obviously evil and odious. They 
cannot be seen to be honourable, because they are all 
base and contemptible. Of course, the mind cannot 
approve of these affections, nor of itself while indulging 
them ; but must condemn both them and itself for che- 
rishing them as being vile and despicable. 

A great part of the happiness enjoyed by intelligent 
beings arises from the knowledge that they are esteemed 
and loved by other intelligent beings. This is an en- 
joyment to which selfishness can make no claim, for 
no being- can approve of selfishness. Whether it exists 
in himself or in others, it necessarily and always awak- 
ens contempt. The selfish man is therefore cut off by 
his very nature from this delightful enjoyment. 

At the same time, this spirit produces, of course, evils 
immense in their number, and surpassing all finite esti- 
mation in their degree. Self-condemnation, the hatred 
and contempt of others, contentions, oppression, tyran- 
ny, war, and bloodshed ; in a word, all the evils occa- 
sioned by man to himself, or to his fellow men, are 
uniformly and universally the effects of this disposition. 
No clearer proof can be reasonably demanded of its 
unhappy nature and miserable consequences, than the 
unceasing bitter complaints with which this world every- 
where resounds ; almost all of which terminate in the 
deplorable nature of this disposition, or its malignant 
efficacy on the interests of man. It cannot be believed, 
it cannot with decency be said, that God has formed a 
universe of intelligent creatures, and withheld from 
them all that disposition which alone is productive of 
happiness, and left them wholly to that which is the 
source of misery alone. That God made the universe 
with an intention to make it happy, and upon the whole 
to make it supremely happy, will be denied by gross 
infidels only. But it is plain that this end would be im- 
possible, unless he should give to intelligent creatures 
this disposition. 

4. This is the only disposition which can be approved 
or loved by God. 

(1.) It is the only disposition which is like that of God. 
Hut all beings approve and love that in others, which 
they approve and love in themselves. God approves 
and loves himself for his benevolence. Of course, he can- 
not but approve and love the same disposition in his in- 
telligent creatures; and, by unavoidable consequence, 
must equally hate that which is of an opposite nature. 

(2.) It is the only disposition which can voluntarily 
become the means of his glory. It has been already 
seen that benevolence is the only fulfillment of the law. 
It was formerly shown, and is abundantly evident that 
this disposition, and no other, voluntarily coincides 
with him in promoting the great end of all his works- 
viz. the happiness of his immense kingdom. But it is 
plain, that this voluntary coincidence of his intelli- 
gent creatures he must necessarily approve and love ; 
approbation and love being in every such case insepar- 
able from an intelligent nature. All beings, and God 
as truly as any other, love of course a voluntary coinci- 



dence with their favourite designs, and necessarily ap- 
prove of it also, whenever the designs themselves receive 
their approbation. 

(3.) It is the only amiable disposition. There is 
nothing amiable beside the voluntary promotion of hap- 
piness, and those minds which voluntarily promote it. 
But benevolence is the only disposition, and the minds 
in which it exists are the only beings, by which happi- 
ness is voluntarily promoted. These therefore are not 
only amiable, but the only things in the universe which 
are amiable in any serious degree. 

But to suppose that God has not created such beings 
in the universe as he can approve and love, such beings 
as voluntarily become the instruments of his glory, tuch 
beings as in their nature and efforts show, incomparably 
more than all others, his wisdom and goodness as the 
Creator of all things, is an absurdity too monstrous to 
be admitted by a sober man. 

I shall only add to the proofs already alleged, that 
the existence of this disposition is unanswerably evinced 
by facts, partly disclosed by revelation, and partly ob- 
vious to reason. 

God, as was shown in a former Discourse, is infinitely 
benevolent, and wholly disinterested. Christ has also 
been proved to sustain the same character. That ' the 
same mind ' was in the apostles, ' which was also in 
Christ,' cannot be disputed, nor can it reasonably be 
disputed that it is possessed by every good man, and is 
that which constitutes the excellence of his character. 



1 . If these things be true, it is manifest that evangelical 
religion is a very different thing from what it has been 
very frequently supposed. 

Evangelical benevolence is the sum and substance of 
evangelical religion : that which, entering into faith 
and repentance, renders them excellent and lovely in 
the sight of God. It has its seat in the heart only, and 
not in external conduct, nor in the understanding. It 
is therefore totally different from all the external wor- 
ship and the external actions sometimes termed moral, 
of the superstitious or merely moral man ; from the 
rhapsodies, visions, and pretended revelations of the en- 
thusiast ; and from the speculative faith and the en- 
larged understanding of the mere philosopher. 

2. From these observations also it is evident, that the 
religion of the Bible is as noble, .as divine, as could be 
expected in a revelation from God. 

The disposition required of mankind by their Crea- 
tor, as the amount of all that which he chooses them 
to be, must be supposed to accord in some good mea- 
sure with the excellence and dignity of his own nature. 
If therefore in a book professing to be a revelation from 
him, we should find the contrary character, viz. one 
which was chiefly useless, and destitute of dignity and 
worth, demanded as the sum of human duty, this fact 
would greatly weaken, nay, it would wholly destroy, its 
pretensions to be a revelation from God. But, if the 
character required in such a book should be wholly 
pure, noble, and excellent ; should this book be at the 
same time the only one which either disclosed or re- 
quired such a character, and should every thing con- 
tained in it perfectly accord with the requisition, strong 
presumption would be furnished in this manner, that it 
was indeed a revelation from God. Such is the cha- 
racter required in the Scriptures. 



REGENERATION—BENEVOLENCE. 



41T 



3 How desirable is that change of heart to which 
this disposition in man owes its existence. 

Who, with calm and just consideration of this subject, 
would not rejoice to be delivered from a narrow-minded, 
partial, bigoted, envious, proud, avaricious, malignant, 
temper ; and to become the subject of a benevolent, 
sincere, disinterested, pious, and expansive disposition, 
inclined to all good, and effectually prepared to love 
and to promote, as well as to enjoy it ? a disposition 
the same with that of the ' general assembly of the 
first born ;' the same with that of angels ; the same with 
that of Christ ; the same with that of God ? All real 
and enduring good commences within the soul. This 
disposition is itself that commencement, the beginning 
of all noble pursuits and dignified enjoyments, the 
means of insuring peace and joy within and without, 
of securing the love of all virtuous and excellent beings, 
and of gaining the favour and complacency of God. It 
fits us to live eternally, eternally to do good to our fel- 
low creatures, to improve and benefit ourselves, and to 
glorify our Maker and Redeemer for ever. Eternal 
life, beauty, and happiness, in itself, it is the source of 
all other happiness, and peculiarly of the happiness and 
glory of heaven. 

4. How manifest is the wisdom of God in effectuating 
and requiring this excellent disposition. 

Benevolence is to the intelligent universe what attrac- 
tion is to the material one ; the power which holds the 
parts together, and unites them in one immense and 
incomprehensible system. In accomplishing this end, 
it first forms them of such a character as renders them 
capable of this union ; a spirit expansive, harmonious, 
discerning the universal good, and delighting in it with 
complacency supreme and eternal. Each member of 
this great kingdom it attaches to each, and all to God. 
Each it prepares to understand and to love his own 
place, allotments, and enjoyments, and to be equally 
satisfied with the stations and circumstances of others. 
These universally he knows are determined by wisdom 
which cannot err, and by benevolence which cannot in- 
jure, in such a manner as most perfectly to accomplish, 
the supreme good of each and of all. This good he 
prefers to every other ; in this he unceasingly rejoices ; 
to the accomplishment of this he consecrates all his 
powers. Whatever coincides with it he approves, what- 
ever voluntarily promotes it he loves. To every such 
being he is bound by this great ' bond of perfection,' 
perfectly binding together all perfect beings. 



God, at the head of this amazing kingdom, he sees 
labouring with infinite power and goodness to accom- 
plish this mighty purpose, and rejoices that these per- 
fections insure its certain accomplishment. His vir- 
tuous creatures also he beholds honourably and delight- 
fully employed as voluntary agents and instruments in 
the same exalted designs. To love and do this is 
equally his glory, and their excellence and beauty. To 
both, therefore, he is inseparably and eternally united 
with an attachment which nothing can sunder, nothing 
weaken ; by bands which improve and strengthen for 
ever. 

This divine union includes alike every member of 
the great system of virtue. In Jehovah it unites him 
with infinite attachment to his children. In them, it 
unites all as one vast family to him, with an attachment 
occupying all the faculties of the soul. He is the sun ; 
they the worlds and systems, which with perfect har- 
mony move around him, attracting and being attracted, 
enlightening and reflecting light, enjoying and being 
enjoyed. With a perpetual emanation, his glory in- 
forms, pervades, and animates the whole ; while the 
respective stars, differing indeed from each other, are 
yet all really glorious, and shine with immortal beauty 
and lustre. 

This system of good, selfishness aims and attempts to 
destroy. The atoms which when joined together form- 
ed worlds and systems of usefulness and heauty, it final- 
ly separates by annihilating the attracting influence 
which held them together. No longer drawn to their 
great centre, no longer united to each other, they re- 
cede continually from God, and light, and good, and 
from all future connexion with the intelligent universe. 
The soul ceases from its union to its Maker, and be- 
comes a stranger to its fellow creatures. Deserting vo- 
luntarily all social beings, and by all deserted, it is 
henceforth alone, separated, and solitary in the uni- 
verse ; a wanderer beyond the limits of the virtuous 
creation, moves only to disorder, and operates only to 
mischief ; a dishonour henceforth to its Creator, and a 
nuisance to his intelligent kingdom. 

How infinitely important is it, then, that this glorious 
principle of love should exist ; that it should be effectu- 
ated by God ; and that it should be required by the 
solemn authority, the supreme sanctions of that law, by 
which, throughout immensity and eternity, he governs 
the universe of virtuous beings. 



SERMON LXXIX. 



REGENERATION.- 



-ITS ATTENDANTS — CONSISTENCY OF BENEVOLENCE WITH PROVIDING 
PECULIARLY FOR OUR OWN. 



Bid. if any provide not for his own, especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is 

worse than an infidel. — 1 Tim. v. 8. 

In the last Discourse I attempted to explain the nature, I have also been to every other peculiar doctrine of the 
and to prove the existence of disinterested love. To Scriptures. It is now my design to consider some of 
this doctrine there have been many objections, as there J the principal. 

3 a 



418 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. lxxix. 



None of these objections is more frequently made, or 
made with stronger appearances of confidence, than 
the following: " That, if we are required to love others 
as ourselves, we are of course, required also to do as 
much for them as for ourselves ; to make the same pro- 
vision for their wants, and to take the same effectual 
care of their concerns. The Scriptures," say the ob- 
jectors, " inform us, that love, existing merely ' in word 
and in tongue,' is not the love which they require, nor 
at all the object of their approbation ; that, as it is 
productive of no real good to others, it is clearly of no 
value. The love which they require, is that which 
exists ' in deed and in truth ;' which, being the source 
of solid good, is necessarily the object of rational es- 
teem. If, then, we are required to love, we are of 
course required to perform the actions which flow from 
love, and which prove its reality and sincerity. If 
therefore we are required to love in any given degree, 
we are required also to perform the actions which flow 
from it in that degree. If we are to love others as 
ourselves, we are bound to do for them the same things 
which we are bound to do for ourselves." 

I can easily suppose this objection to be made with 
soberness and conviction. The reasoning by which it 
is supported has a fair appearance, and cannot be de- 
nied to be specious. It deserves therefore a sober con- 
sideration, and a rational answer. Such an answer I 
will endeavour to give ; and will attempt to show, that 
the conclusion drawn from this reasoning by the ob- 
jector is disproved by the very principles on which it is 
founded ; by the very nature of disinterested love, when 
considered in connexion with the circumstances of the 
present world. To this end, I observe, 

I. That whenever the conduct proposed is physical- 
ly impossible, it cannot be our duty. 

This assertion will be denied by no man. It can no 
more be denied that it excludes from our active benefi- 
cence a very great proportion of the human race ; viz. 
all or almost all those who are remote from us, and a 
very great proportion of those who are near to us. 
From doing good to the former we are prevented by 
distance of place. From doing good to very many of 
the latter we are equally prevented by their multitude ; 
the number being so great that we cannot benefit all, 
unless we give up the duty of being really useful to 
any. 

It ought however to be here remarked, that all men 
can exercise a benevolent spirit towards all men, and 
can supplicate blessings for all in their prayers. It 
is also to be observed, that some persons can extend 
their acts of kindness very far, to distant nations and 
to distant ages; particularly those who are eminently 
qualified to instruct and inform mankind by their writ- 
ings; and those who regulate the affairs of nations, and 
thus seriously affect the state of the world. I need not 
say how few of the human race are included in both 
these classes. 

II. Wherever this conduct would frustrate the great 
end of benevolence by lessening human happiness, it 
cannot be our duty. 

It will not be pretended that the law which requires 
us to exercise benevolence, or the love of doing good, 
requires us also to act in such a manner as to prevent 
the existence of that good. That this would be neces- 
sarily the effect of the conduct proposed by the objector, 
will be evident from the following considerations :— 



1. If the affairs, interests, and duties of mankind 
were all thrown, as according to the objection they must 
be thrown, into a common stock, there would be little or 
no good done to any. 

The mass of concerns would be immense, could never 
be comprehended by the mind of man, and could there- 
fore never be arranged into any order or method. But 
without such arrangement there could he no knowledge 
of what would be necessary, useful, or desirable. With- 
out such knowledge the interests of men could never be 
so disposed as to be pursued with any advantage. With- 
out such knowledge the duties of men would never be 
wrought into such a system as to be understood by him 
who directed the efforts of others, much less could they 
be understood by those who are to make the efforts, or, 
in other words, to perform the active duties of society. 

A small mass of ideas easily becomes too complex an 
object for the mind distinctly to comprehend, until these 
ideas are arranged in a regular scheme. Without such 
arrangement, the human capacity is too limited to think 
with any clearness or success, wherever the objects of 
thought are even moderately numerous. But, in the 
case proposed, the number of objects in the affairs of a 
single town would be exceedingly numerous, and would 
wholly surpass the utmost comprehension of man. 

In consequence of our want of capacity to compre- 
hend and methodize these concerns, they would lie in a 
state of universal disorder and confusion, and all would 
of course go to ruin. Instead of the good which is now 
contrived and done, there would be comparatively no- 
thing done or contrived. Instead of the abundant food 
and raiment, instead of the comfortable habitations, the 
extensive instructions, and the multiplied kind offices, 
now furnished by mankind to themselves, and each 
other, none of these things would be supplied, nor any 
thing else which is useful, nor indeed any thing else 
which is necessary. Mankind, on the contrary, would 
be houseless, hungry, and naked, and in endless multi- 
tudes would perish with famine, heat, and frost. 

Besides, every kind of human business is imperfectly 
done, and to little purpose, when it is done in the gross, 
compared with what is accomplished when it is separated 
into parts, and these are severally distributed to differ- 
ent hands. In this case the whole business is rendered 
simple, easy to be understood, and easy to be accom- 
plished. In this manner every thing is done much 
more expeditiously and more perfectly. Much more is 
therefore done ; and that which is done, being better 
done, will answer a much better purpose. Such has 
been the regular progress of things in all civilized 
nations, and it has ever borne an exact proportion to 
the degree of their improvement. The business of life 
has thus been actually and sedulously divided, wherever 
considerable designs have been skilfully carried on. In 
this manner the effects of human industry (or the busi- 
ness actually done) have been increased beyond what 
the most sanguine mind could imagine. One man, for 
example, to whom the whole business of making so 
simple a thing as a pin was allotted, could hardly finish 
twenty in a day. Ten men, dividing the several parts 
of the business among them, can easily finish more than 
forty-eight thousand. What is true of this subject is 
true in different degrees of all human business, and 
extends to the ship, the manufactory, and the farm, 
with an influence generally the same. 

2. It is indispensable to the accomplishment of hu« 



REGENERATION BENEVOLEN GE. 



419 



man concerns, that the division of human industry 
should be voluntary. 

Force and pleasure are the only causes by which men 
have been induced to labour. Under a free govern- 
ment force cannot be applied to this end, nor except 
very imperfectly, under a despotic one. Even where it 
is thus applied, it is so far unavailing, as to reduce the 
quantity and value of that which is done by slaves, or 
men compelled to labour, to one-half, one-third, or one- 
fourth, of that which is voluntarily done by the same 
iiumber of freemen. A single family at the head of 
one hundred slaves will easily consume all that is pro- 
duced by the labour of those slaves ; while that of an 
equal number of freemen would amply support five-and- 
twenty families. From these observations it is plain, 
that if the voluntary industry now exerted were to 
cease, and forced labour to be substituted for it, one- 
half, two-thirds, or three-fourths, of human enjoyments 
now furnished by voluntary industry would at once be 
lost by mankind. 

Industry becomes voluntary only by the agreeableness 
of the employment chosen ; or on account of the reward 
which it secures; or, what is more commonly the fact, 
by both. The nature of the employment is often so 
important in this respect, that no reward can ever recon- 
cile many persons to the employments in which they are 
placed by their parents, or induce them to acquire the 
skill which is necessary to success. Were we generally 
forced to our employments, we should find this generally 
the fact, and the whip would be almost as necessary to 
compel our industry, as it ever has been to compel that 
of slaves. Were it possible to manage a world in this 
manner, the result would still be the general diffusion 
of poverty, suffering, and depopulation. On the con- 
trary, plenty, ease, and comfort, nay, convenience and 
even luxury are the regular result of voluntary industry 
in all countries enjoying the common blessings of Pro- 
vidence. 

3. In this very manner God has divided the business 
of mankind, by separating them into families. 

By the separation of mankind into families God has 
distributed their business in such a manner, that a little 
part is placed in every hand which is capable of manag- 
ing business at all ; such a part, and such only, as each 
can easily, comprehend, and easily accomplish. Human 
business is therefore so divided here, that it can be done, 
and done with ease, expedition, and success. 

At the same time the division is perfectly voluntary ; 
the employment in every case being ordinarily chosen 
by the individual for himself. The situation also in 
which he is placed, and the partner with which he is 
connected in life, are both objects of his choice ; and 
these facts, united with the common rewards of industry, 
furnish all the reasons which can usually exist to render 
it cheerful and efficacious. 

This division is the best possible, because it is the 
simplest and the easiest possible ; the result of mere 
nature, requiring the intervention of no force, law, or 
human contrivance ; because it extends throughout the 
world, over every age and nation, in the same easy and 
perfect manner ; because it exists every where through 
mere propensity, without any contention and without any 
difficulty. It is the best, because it has been thoroughly 
tried, and has been always found peacefully and happily 
to accomplish the end in view. No attack has been able 
to change its course, no circumstances to check its 



progress. It is the best, because it is the establishment 
of God himself; the result of his perfect wisdom and 
goodness : and an honourable proof of these attributes 
in its Author. In perfect accordance with these obser- 
vations it has ever proved the means of producing ne- 
cessaries to the whole race of Adam ; comfort and con- 
venience to most ; and to not a small number wealth, 
luxury, and splendour. 

4*. The division of the world into families is of im- 
mense utility to mankind, as it generates natural affec- 
tion. 

Natural affection is solely the result of natural rela- 
tions ; and almost all these are originated by the family 
state. With every other distribution of mankind which 
can be substituted for this they are wholly incompatible. 

The importance of natural affection to the human 
race is incalculable. It resists in a great degree the 
tendency of mere and absolute selfishness, expands and 
softens the heart, excites and nourishes sympathy and 
compassion, and prevents the world from becoming a 
mere seat of clashing, violence, and cruelty. The 
attachment which natural affection forms in men to- 
wards the members of their families, ultimately extends 
itself also to their habitations and farms, and by an easy 
process reaches their country, laws, government, and 
nation. All men without it would in the end become 
mere vagabonds and outcasts, thieves and robbers. 

To prevent these evils, it would seem, God implanted 
in us this singular propensity of our nature ; a pro- 
pensity highly useful when we are virtuous ; and indis- 
pensable to our peace and comfort while we are sinful. 
In the absence of virtue it is the only tie which effec- 
tually binds mankind together. 

5. By the institution of families, preparation is effec- 
tually made for the preservation, support, and education 
of children.- 

The truth of this proposition, and the manner in 
which it is accomplished, will naturally be the themes 
of a future Discourse, in which I propose more exten- 
sively to handle this subject. Suffice it now to say, 
that but for this institution children would neither be 
loved, nor preserved, nor educated. The substance of 
all education is the establishment of good habits. Habits 
extend alike to the body and mind ; and equally influ- 
ence our thoughts and affections, our language and con- 
duct. Without them, nothing in the human character, 
or human life, is efficacious, permanent, or useful. To 
establish them therefore in the morning of life, is the 
great business of all wise and well directed education. 
But habits are formed only by the frequent and long- 
continued repetition of the same measures; and nothing 
ever becomes habitual, except that which has been long 
and often repeated. To accomplish such repetition, 
nothing will suffice but the steady affection of married 
parents ; that is, so far as useful and moral purposes 
are concerned. Of course, but for this institution, 
children would never be habitually trained to industry, 
to economy, to submission, or to good order ; nor to 
sweetness of disposition, tenderness of affection, amia- 
bleness of manners, offices of kindness, or any other 
useful conduct. Of course, when they were not left to 
perish, they would grow up without knowledge, useful 
principles, or useful habits ; without the knowledge or 
love of good order ; without amiableness, and without 
worth. Of course, they would become mere beasts of 
prey. Not only would civilized life, with all its nits 



420 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. Lxxrx. 



and improvements, with all the blessings of rational 
freedom and good government, with all the superior 
blessings of morality and religion, vanish from under 
heaven ; but new horrors would be added to the society 
of savages. The world would become one vast den, 
and all its inhabitants would be changed into wolves 
and tigers. 

C. Were the affairs of mankind thrown together in a 
common stock (according to the scheme of the objector), 
as all would know that every man was entitled alike to 
the fruit of the labours of all, none would Labour except 
for the present moment. 

Neither inclination nor duty will ever prompt any 
man to labour for another, who, while equally able, will 
not labour for himself. That inclination will not pro- 
duce this effect, I need not Attempt to prove ; that duty 
will not, is alike the decision of the Scriptures and 
common sense. ' He that will not work, neither let 
him eat,' is equally the judicial sentence of both. 

In the present state of man, amid all the advantages 
furnished to industry by education, habit, example, and 
reward, the number of idlers is not small. In the pro- 
posed state, it would include the whole number of the 
human race. There would therefore be originally no 
disposition to labour. Should we, however, suppose 
some tendencies of this nature to exist, a complete dis- 
couragement would be thrown on all, by the knowledge 
that the proper reward of every industrious effort would 
either be wholly prevented, or snatched away by the 
hands of those who would not labour at all. Of course, 
mere necessaries, such as food and clothes, habitations 
and fuel, would be provided only in the degree which 
absolute necessity demanded, even by those who were 
industriously inclined. What then could become of 
the rest ? Plainly, where they did not plunder, they 
would perish. 

As therefore necessaries only would be provided, and 
even these only in the most stinted manner, it is evi- 
dent that all the comforts of men would vanish at once. 
All the blessing's of civilized life, its knowledge, arts, 
refinement, and religion, would cease to exist. There 
would be neither schools nor churches ; for none would 
be inclined or able to build them. There would be 
neither instructors nor ministers, neither legislators nor 
magistrates. Law, protection, and justice, learning 
and religion, together with a host of blessings which 
they lead in their train, would visit the world no more. 

7. All the duties of man respect especially the objects 
which he best knows ; those particularly which are most, 
and most commonly, within his reach ; and to which he 
can most frequently and effectually extend his beneficence. 

Man owes more to the poor in his neighbourhood, to 
his neighbours, generally, to the town and the country 
in which he lives, than to others. The reason is ob- 
vious. It is in his power to do them more good, and 
God has placed him where he is, that he may do this 
very good. For the same reason he owes more to 
his own family, because he can do more good to the mem- 
bers of it than to any other equal collection of mankind. 

As therefore it is the indispensable duty of all men 
to do the most good in their power, and as this is the 
direct dictate, the genuine tendency, of benevolence, 
60 it is certain, that the division of mankind into fami- 
lies furnishes the fairest, and the only fair, foundation 
for accomplishing this purpose in a successful manner. 
On any other stipposable plan, instead of increasing 



the efficacy of benevolence, or multiplying the enjoy- 
ments of mankind, we should in a great measure cramp 
the former and destroy the latter. 



1. From these observations it is evident, that no objec- 
tion lies, from the nature of benevolence, against this 
great requisition of the gospel. 

From the considerations which have been alleged it 
is manifest, that the arrangement of mankind into fami- 
lies is the foundation of more possible and more actual 
good than could be accomplished by any other means ; 
of more, if man were perfectly disinterested, and yet 
possessed of his present limited capacity ; of incalcula- 
bly more, as man really is — a selfish, fallen creature. 
At the same time infinitely more evil is prevented. The 
gospel therefore has directed the efforts of human bene- 
volence in the best manner, and so, that they may be 
truly said to be employed with the highest advantage. 

At the same time, the wisdom of God is strongly 
manifested in furnishing every individual of the human 
race with so desirable a field for the exercise of his 
benevolence. In each case this field is at his door, 
always within his reach, easily comprehended, neces- 
sarily delightful, ever inviting and ever rewarding his 
labours. At the same time, it is sufficiently wide to 
employ and exhaust all his contrivance, and all his 
active powers. Nowhere else could he do so much 
good ; and the utmost which he can do can be done 
here. This field is also provided for every man. Ob- 
jects of beneficence are furnished to him of course, and 
for all those objects an efficient benefactor is supplied. 
Thus, in the simplest of all modes, is provision effectu- 
ally made for the beneficence of all, and the comfortof all. 

At the same time this happy arrangement becomes of 
course the foundation of the happiest distribution of 
mankind into larger societies, and the means of uniting 
to them, in the strongest and most enduring manner, 
the attachment of the individuals. He, therefore, whose 
superior powers and opportunities enable him to extend 
the offices of good-will beyond this little field, has one 
which is wider always spread around him, where these 
superior powers may always be advantageously employ- 
ed. This more extended scene of usefulness is a mere 
appendage to the other. Were there no families, there 
would be no country ; were there no little spheres of 
beneficence, there would be no great ones ; and were 
good-will not exercised first towards those who are near, 
it would never be extended to those who are distant. 
The kindness learned by the fire-side, and practised to- 
wards the domestic circle, is easily spread by him who 
is invested with sufficient talents through a country, or 
extended over a world. 

2. These observations clearly show the folly of God- 
win's system of human perfectibility. 

This wretched apostle of atheism, with a weakness 
exceeded only by his audacity, has undertaken, in form, 
to show himself wiser than his Maker. For this pur- 
pose he has boldly declared marriage to be an unjust 
monopoly, and the institution of families to be the 
means of preventing the happiness and perfection of 
man. Of this perfection a promiscuous concubinage, 
and a community of labours and of property are, in his 
opinion, essential constituents. Nor has the whole 
concurring experience of mankind, invariably opposed 
to his doctrines, been sufficient to awaken him from his 



REGENERATION BENEVOLENCE. 



4.21 



dreaming speculations to sober thought, and the exer- 
cise of common sense. This system, if it may be called 
such, this crude gathering together of ideas iuto a mob, 
he professedly founds on the doctrine of disinterested 
good- will ; and these he professes to be the genuine 
consequences of this glorious principle. Were they 
indeed its consequences, every good man would be 
struck with amazement and horror ; for they would un- 
doubtedly annihilate all the comfort, peace, and hopes 
of mankind. That benevolence, which is the only vir- 
tue, would prove the most fruitful and efficacious cause 
of absolute destruction of all human good ; and its glo- i 
rious character, instead of being the voluntary cause of 
happiness, would be exchanged for that of being only 
and fatally the voluntary cause of misery. 

Who, for example, would labour, if he were uncertain 
that he should enjoy the fruit of his efforts ; much more, 
if he were assured that he should not enjoy it ? What 
multitudes now refuse to labour when completely secure 
of all its products ! Were this stimulus to industry taken 
away, the exertions of man would terminate in a mo- 
ment, and the world would become the seat of universal 
inexertion and idleness. The food, clothes, and other 
comforts now brought into existence by the toil of man, 
are barely sufficient to supply his immediate wants. All 
the food annually produced is annually consumed. 
Multitudes are scantily supplied ; while always some, 
and in particular seasons great numbers, even in indus- 
trious and fruitful countries, perish with hunger. Sup- 
pose half the labour by which food is furnished were to 
cease, what would be the consequence ? The answer 
cannot be mistaken. Multitudes must immediately die, 
and still greater multitudes perish by gradual suffering 
and lingering want. The young, particularly, the in- 
firm, the feebler sex, together with all those unaccustom- 
ed to labour at all, or unacquainted with that kind of 
labour by which food is produced, must, where they did 
not subsist by plundering others, become speedily vic- 
tims to famine. Within the period of a single gener- 
ation, the present population of the globe would be 
reduced to that of an American wilderness. China, 
India, and Europe would be emptied at once. The arts 
of life, the knowledge, the order, the safety, the refine- 
ment, the humanity, the morals, and the religion of 
civilized society would vanish ; and hunting, and scout- 
ing, and pawawing be substituted in their stead. The 
regions which are now beautified with verdant fields, 
and enriched with luxuriant harvests, whose hills and 
plains are adorned with cheerful villages and splendid, 
cities, in which thousands of churches invite mankind 
to the worship of Cod, and ten thousands of schools 
allure their children to knowledge and improvement; 
would become a vast Patagonian desert, gloomily set 
with here and there a solitary wigwam, wandered over 
at times by the prowling foot of a savage, and, when 
undisturbed by the war-whoop, the shrieks of terror, or 
the groans of suffering, hushed into the universal sleep 
of silence and death. That such would be the fact is 
certain, because, where property has for a, length of time 
continued unsafe, it has all regularly existed. 

One-half of the story, however dismal the recital may 
seem, has not yet been told. The very savages have 
families, and provide for them with no little care. We 
must sink below the Patagonian, who performs this 
duty, to find either the character or the circumstances 
of ihoae who do not. The savages, in many instances 



at least, are chaste ; in all, are the subjects of natural 
affection ; and feel strong attachments to their friends 
and their nation. These means of comfort, these last 
hopes of virtue, the philosopher whom I have mentioned 
proposes to destroy. In their stead he leaves nothing 
but the fierce and brutal passions of men, sanctioned by 
the voice of philosophy, and legalized by the decrees of 
legislation. These passions and appetites wholly un- 
restrained, because thus legalized and sanctioned, 
would originate, direct, and control all the future con- 
duct of men. What these passions would dictate, we 
know from what they have always dictated. What they 
would accomplish, we know from what, when let loose, 
they have heretofore accomplished. If any man is at a 
loss on this subject, he may find a faint image of what 
he seeks, in a den of thieves or a horde of banditti. To 
complete the picture, let him cast his eye onward to a 
lair of wild beasts, and a sty of swine. With all these 
objects in view, he would find a faint image of the de- 
graded, ferocious, guilty, suffering state of this miserable 
world, accomplished by these Godwinian means of per- 
fection. Virtue itself, therefore, according to the scheme 
of this writer, would become the cause of exterminating 
all virtue from the breast of man, as well as of rooting 
all enjoyment out of the present world. 

3. We have here a specimen of the success with which 
human philosophy directs the moral concerns of mankind. 

The Scriptures have required us to ' love our neigh- 
bour as ourselves ;' and have directed the application 
of this principle in such a manner as to give it its ut- 
most efficacy, and to produce by means of it the great- 
est mass of human good. ' God,' says Dryden, ' never 
made his work for man to mend.' A philosopher, lay- 
ing hold on this principle and understanding it only in 
the gross, has undertaken to direct its application anew, 
and in a manner better suited to his own feelings. 
The consequence (as we have seen) is, the gold is 
changed into dross in a moment, the food into poison. 
That, which as the Scriptures taught and directed it, 
nay, that which left to itself, to its own inherent tenden- 
cies, would produce nothing but happiness, would, as 
taught by this infidel philosopher, destroy all the good 
of man. The benevolence of the Scriptures would 
make heaven ; that of Godwin would produce a hell. 
Such are the effects of human philosophy when, resisting 
the ordinance of God, and forgetting that ' the foolish- 
ness of God is wiser than men,' she boldly interferes 
with the system of his truth and providence. The 
scene before her ' is as the garden of Eden,' filled with 
life, beauty, and happiness ; brilliant and glorious as is 
the heaven-devised landscape, and fraught as Paradise 
with ' every thing good for food,' or ' pleasant to the 
eye.' She is still unsatisfied with her allotted condition, 
and with the scheme of her destined enjoyment. Not 
desirous of becoming, but conscious of having already 
become, ' as gods, knowing good and evil,' she puts 
forth her presumptuous hand, and, resolved to add to 
her stock of blessings such as she knows to be prohi 
bited, seizes in an evil hour the forbidden good. How 
wonderful, how distressing the change ! In a moment 
the fascinating scene has vanished ; and Paradise, with 
all its beauty, happiness, and splendour, has fled for 
ever. Where bloomed the tree of life, and flowed the 
waters of immortality, nothing remains but a world ' of 
thorns and briers,' an immeasurable waste of sorrow 
and death. 



4,22 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



SERMON LXXX. 



[Ser. LXXX. 



REGENERATION.— ITS ATTENDANTS— CONSISTENCY OF BENEVOLENCE WITH SEEKING 

SALVATION. 



Who will render to every man according to his deeds : to them who by patient continuance in welUdoing seek 
for glory, and honour, and immortality, eternal life. — Rom. ii. 6, 7. 



In the last Discourse I considered one favourite objec- 
tion against the doctrine of disinterested love ; viz. ' If 
we are required to love others as ourselves, we ought to 
do as much for them as for ourselves : particularly, we 
ought to make the same provision for them and their 
families, which we are bound to make for ourselves and 
our families.' 

This objection, I endeavoured to show, is so far from 
being grounded in truth, or from being a general con- 
sequence from the doctrine of disinterested love, that, 
as the world is constituted, love dictates the contrary 
conduct. Disinterested love prompts those who possess 
it to produce the greatest mass of happiness in their 
power. But the scheme proposed, instead of producing 
more happiness, would destroy that which now exists, 
and subvert whatever is desirable in the present state 
of things. 

In this Discourse I propose to consider another plau- 
sible objection against this doctrine, viz. that ' we are 
commanded to seek eternal life, as the proper reward 
of our faith and obedience ; and that this reward is 
promised to those who believe and obey by God him- 
self.' This command, and this promise (it is alleged), 
being given by God himself, cannot be denied to be 
right. That we ought, therefore, to seek for everlasting- 
life, must, of course, be admitted. But this (it is as- 
serted), is aiming at a reward ; is a conduct springing 
from self-love ; and is not disinterested. ' It follows 
then,' say the objectors, ' either that disinterested love is 
not required in the Scriptures ; or that the requisitions 
of the Scriptures are inconsistent with each other.' 
'1 his objection, it will be observed, lies in the conclusion 
only. The premises are just and true. If the conclu- 
sion follows, I will give up the doctrine. 

Lord Shaftesbury formerly advanced, with great la- 
bour and parade, a similar doctrine, but for a very dif- 
ferent purpose. He maintained that disinterestedness 
is virtue, and the only virtue. At the same time he 
denied that it could consist with any hope of reward, or 
any fear of punishment. These, he declared, made 
virtue mercenary, mean, and selfish. True virtue, 
according to his scheme, consists wholly in doing good 
for the sake of that good ; for the pleasure found in the 
good done, considered by itself, and wholly unconnected 
with any consequences, without any regard to advan- 
tages arising from it, or to disadvantages springing 
from the contrary conduct. 

This celebrated writer, it is true, teaches elsewhere 
the opposite doctrine ; and asserts, that ' all the obliga- 
tion to be virtuous arises from its advantages, and from 
the disadvantages attendant upon vice ; and that such 
advantages are a great security and support to virtue.' 
These, and oilier things of the like nature, he declares 
with no less confidence than the former opinions. It 



would be easy therefore to refute him by his own decla- 
rations. But this, though it might answer the purposes 
of mei'e controversy, would not satisfy a Christian audi- 
ence. Yt'ere infidels required to be consistent with 
themselves, they never would appear in the field of 
debate. 

The conclusion which Lord Shaftesbury drew from his 
principle was, that ' the Scriptures, so far as they have 
influence, annihilate, by threatenings and promises, all 
virtue.' Hence he inferred, and, as it would seem, in 
his own view irresistibly, that 'the Scriptures cannot 
be the word of God.' Both these views of this interest- 
ing subject are, I apprehend, radically erroneous, and 
founded in false and imperfect conceptions of disinter- 
ested love. 

In the text it is declared that ' to those who by pa- 
tient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, honour, 
and immortality, God will render,' as a reward, ' eter- 
nal life.' To seek for glory, and immortality, there- 
fore, is in a high degree pleasing to God ; and must of 
course be truly and eminently virtuous conduct. If 
this conduct consists with disinterestedness, and arises 
from it, it must be acknowledged, on the one hand, 
that disinterestedness is not impeached by the objection 
already recited ; and on the other, that the Scriptures, 
while they require and encourage us to seek eternal 
life, do not render virtue mercenary, nor destroy, nor 
in any degree lessen, either virtue itself, or the obliga- 
tions to virtue. 

Before I enter upon the direct proof of this doctrine, 
it ought to be remarked that the scheme of Lord 
Shaftesbury confutes itself. His favourite doctrine is, 
that virtue consists wholly in doing good for its own 
sake, without any regard to any advantage which may 
follow from it, or to any disadvantage which may arise 
from a contrary conduct ; such regard being, in his 
view, a destruction of virtue. Now let me ask, What 
is the difference between doing good for the sake of 
the pleasure attending it, and doing good for the sake 
of the pleasure following it ? ' According to Lord 
Shaftesbury, virtue consists in doing good for the sake 
of the pleasure which it furnishes. Suppose then the 
virtuous action to be done now, and the pleasure fur- 
nished by it to be enjoyed an hour hence, or to-mor- 
row. Would it be in any sense more mercenary to do 
the action for the sake of enjoying this pleasure an 
hour hence, or to-morrow, supposing- the pleasure to be 
the same, than for the sake of enjoying it at the time 
when the action is done ? The pleasure, according to 
the supposition, is the same in kind and degree. Can 
it then be any more or less virtuous, to be thus influ- 
enced by a pleasure which will exist an hour hence, or 
to-morrow, than by the same pleasure existing at the 
present moment ? 



REGENERATION BENEVOLENCE. 



423 






The truth in this case undoubtedly is, that it is nei- 
ther more nor less virtuous to be influenced in the same 
manner and degree, by the same kind and degree of 
pleasure, found in the same object, whether the pleasure 
is to be experienced at one time, or at another. The 
nature of the pleasure which is enjoyed, and the nature 
of the object whence it is derived, render the action in 
which that pleasure is sought either virtuous or not 
virtuous. If we take pleasure in happiness wherever it 
is enjoyed, and in promoting it wherever this is in our 
power, if, at the same time, this pleasure is propor- 
tioned to the happiness enjoyed or promoted, we are of 
course the subjects of virtue ; and that just so far as 
the pleasure is experienced. The time at which it is 
experienced is here evidently of no consequence, and 
cannot even remotely affect the subject. If then it is 
mercenary, mean, and selfish to be influenced by this 
pleasure expected at a future time, it is equally selfish, 
mean, and mercenary to be influenced by the same 
pleasure expected at the time when the action is per- 
formed. 

That the pursuit of eternal life is wholly consistent 
with the nature of disinterested love, I shall now attempt 
to show by the following considerations : 

1. Our happiness is a desirable object, and deserves 
to be sought in a certain degree. 

Our happiness is in this respect exactly of the same 
nature with that of others ; is as truly desirable, and as 
really deserves to be promoted, as that of any created 
beings whatever. In whatever degree it exists, it ought 
to be delighted in ; in whatever degree it is capable of 
existing, it ought to be desired. As the fact, that it is 
our happiness, renders it no more valuable than that of 
others ; so, plainly, it does not render it at all less valu- 
able. It claims, therefore, to be promoted on the same 
grounds as any other happiness of the same value. As 
it is intrusted to our own peculiar care, it demands 
more from us, as that of others does from them. For 
ourselves we can do more than we can for others, and 
this of course is our duty. 

2. Neither our present nor future happiness is neces- 
sarily inconsistent with that of others. 

All the good which God has mc.de it lawful for us to 
enjoy in this world is consistent with the good of others. 
Whenever it is promoted, therefore, there is a direct 
increase of the general happiness. To produce this 
effect is the great duty and dictate of benevolence, and 
must of course be right. 

Our eternal good cannot fail to be consistent with 
the good of the universe. ' God has no pleasure in the 
death of the sinner; but would rather that he would 
repent and live.' Accordingly, ' he hath commanded 
all men everywhere to repent.' What he has thus com- 
manded cannot but be right in itself. Accordingly, 
he hath directed that our ' prayers and supplications 
should be made for all men.' 

What the Scriptures thus teach, reason wholly ap- 
proves. We are all made capable of happiness. This 
capacity was not given in vain, but was intended to be 
supplied. Every man, who thinks soberly at all, feels, 
and acknowledges accordingly, that he is bound to pro- 
mote, as much as in him lies, the happiness of every 
other man, both present and future ; and no man would 
fail to be self-condemned if he were to t indulge a wish, 
or even a willingness, that any one of his fellow crea- 
tures should be miserable hereafter. Nay, indifference 



to this subject would not fail of being followed by se- 
vere reproaches of conscience. But what it is the duty 
of all men thus to wish and to seek, what no man can 
oppose, or regard with indifference without guilt, it is 
peculiarly his duty to wish and seek for himself; both 
because the accomplishment of this work is committed 
to him by his Maker, and because this work can be 
done by him more effectually than by any other. 

3. We are commanded to ' love our neighbour as 
ourselves ;' that is, generally and indefinitely, as well as 
ourselves ; and of course are at least equally required 
to love ourselves as we love our neighbour. 

The rectitude of this law cannot be questioned even 
by Lord Shaftesbury ; nor can he or any other man 
deny, that it exhibits to us disinterested love in the 
fairest form and the strongest manner. But, as has 
been already shown, we are bound by the dictates both 
of reason and revelation to seek the future and eternal 
good of our neighbour ; to desire it, and to promote it 
as far as is in our power. By this very command, then, 
the law originally enjoining benevolence as the great 
duty of intelligent beings, a law to which reason un- 
conditionally subscribes, we are absolutely obliged to 
seek our own eternal life. 

4. Our eternal life is in itself an immense good. 
The endless happiness of a rational being is of more 

value than can be conceived by any finite mind. Within 
a moderate period, it will amount to more than all the 
happiness which in this world has been enjoyed, or will 
ever be enjoyed here by all its inhabitants. What- 
ever is endless admits of no definite comparison with 
that which is not. But the happiness of a future state 
is not endless merely, it is also endlessly increasing, 
and will soon rise in degree, as well as duration, 
above the highest human comprehension. Such of 
course is the addition made to the common good of the 
universe, whenever the eternal life of an individual is 
secured. To neglect the pursuit of such happiness as 
this is madness ; to oppose it is malignity, which no 
words can describe. 

5. Eternal happiness consists in eternal disinterested- 
ness, and its consequences. 

The happiness of heaven arises from the disinterested 
love of God, communicated in various blessings to his 
children ; in their disinterested communications of good 
to each other ; and in the enjoyment derived by their 
minds from the exercises of virtue. It is acknowledged 
on all hands that it is desirable to live virtuously here. 
All the reasons which operate in this case render it at 
least equally desirable to live virtuously hereafter, 
throughout any and every period of duration in which 
such a life may be enjoined. It is by all men acknow- 
ledged, that it is useful to do good here, and at the pre- 
sent time. He who makes this acknowledgment cannot 
without gross self-contradiction deny, that it is equally 
useful to do good, wherever it may be done, and at every 
future period. If then it is proper, if it is virtuous, to 
desire and to seek to live a virtuous life, or to do good, 
in the present world, it is equally virtuous and equally 
proper to desire and seek to do the same things in a 
future state of being. All the labours then by which 
we may possess ourselves of such a life in the present 
world, must with equal propriety be directed to the at- 
tainment of such a life in the world to come. 

But it is not only desirable and proper that we should 
do this in the present world ; it is a plain, high, and in- 



424 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sf.r. lx-xx. 



d ; spensable duty : and, in a sense, the sum of all our 
duty, so far as this world is concerned. It cannot but 
be perceived that it is in the same sense the sum of all 
our duty with respect to the future world. 

This, however, is far from being the amount of the 
whole truth concerning this subject. As much as eter- 
nity exceeds time, as much as perfect virtue excels the 
present frail character of good men here, as much as 
endless virtue, as much as endlessly increasing virtue, 
outruns in its importance the transient virtue of this 
momentary life, so much more is it our duty to seek the 
good of a future life than that of the present. Indeed, 
man lives here only to become prepared to live here- 
after. Our whole duty therefore ought, during the 
present life, to be performed with a supreme reference 
to that which is to come. 

Thus the pursuit of eternal good is so far from being- 
opposed to disinterestedness, from being mercenary, 
mean, and selfish, so far from destroying the nature of 
virtue, or lessening its obligations, that it is its genuine 
dictate, its spontaneous tendency, its most exalted aim. 
No virtuous mind, if properly informed, can fail of pur- 
suing this object, and no object which respects ultimate- 
ly the present world can call forth virtuous exercises of 
so elevated and excellent a nature. 

6. By our eternal life the happiness of all virtuous 
beings is greatly increased. 

■' There is joy in heaven,' saith our Saviour, 'over 
one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and 
nine just persons, who need no repentance. Whatever 
else may be the meaning of Christ in this passage, it is 
unquestionable that the inhabitants of heaven experience 
a real joy in the repentance of a sinner. Reason, as 
well as revelation, clearly teaches us, that virtuous be- 
ings cannot fail to find enjoyment in this subject, be- 
cause repentance is an exercise of virtue, and the means 
of securing happiness. In the future virtue and future 
happiness of such a sinner, the same beings will at all 
times find similar enjoyment ; increasing continually in 
degree as these objects of it increase. As these will at 
the commencement of a future existence be perfect, and 
will rise higher and higher in the same perfection for 
ever, so, it is plain, the enjoyment found in them will 
increase throughout every succeeding period. Thus 
every inhabitant of this world who secures his own 
eternal life becomes an everlasting and perpetually in- 
creasing benefit to the virtuous universe ; a blessing 
which no words can describe, and whose value no num- 
bers can reckon. Can it be necessary to ask whether 
it is virtuous to aim at this character? 

7. God is glorified whenever we seek and obtain eter- 
nal life. I 

When Christ was born, a multitude of the heavenly 
host sung, ' Glory to Cod in the highest,' because there 
was < peace on earth, and good-will towards men.' But 
if none of the human race should experience this good- 
will, that is, if none of them should obtain eternal life, 
the glory otherwise springing from this source would 
be prevented. To this glory of God every person then 
who secures eternal life contributes, by accomplishing in 
one instance that out of which the glory arises. The 
glory of God in this case is a whole, made up of the in- 
dividual instances in which he is glorified. If, there- 
fore, no individual sought his salvation, none would ob- 
tain it; and if none obtained it the work would not be 
done, and the glory of God in this important particular 



would not be accomplished. How important it is, may 
in some measure be discerned from these facts — that 
God sent his own Son to die that we might live, and 
his Spirit to renew us, that we might become heirs of 
life. 

Thus have I endeavoured to show that the pursuit of 
eternal life is so far from being opposed to the nature 
of disinterested love, that it is one of its primary dic- 
tates ; a conduct invariably springing from its influence ; 
and that the Scriptures, instead of lessening or destroy- 
ing virtue, by requiring this conduct of us, have in- 
creased the obligations to it, and directed it to its proper 
end. 

Those who make the objections contended against in 
this Discourse, have in my view always failed of dis- 
tinguishing between disinterestedness and uninterested- 
ness. The distinction between them is, however, 
perfectly clear and incalculably important. To be 
disinterested is to be without a selfish interest in any 
given thing or things ; to be uninterested is to have no 
interest in them at all. A disinterested man may take 
the deepest interest in any subject ; and the deeper the 
interest, the more disinterested he may be. The unin- 
terested man can have no interest in that subject, either 
selfish or benevolent. To be absolutely disinterested, 
is to be absolutely free from selfishness. To be abso- 
lutely uninterested is to be absolutely without any in- 
terest or concern in any thing. A perfectly disinter- 
ested man would experience a supreme delight in the 
perfect happiness of the universe. A perfectly uninter- 
ested man, if we can suppose such a one to exist, would 
feel no concern in any happiness whatever. The rea- 
son why these terms have been supposed to denote the 
same thing, may have been, that the word interested is 
frequently opposed to each of them. This word origi- 
nally denotes the concern which we feel in any thing ; 
but has long been figuratively and very commonly used 
to denote a selfish concern ; probably because the inter- 
est which the human heart feels in most things is so 
generally a selfish interest. 

It is not my design to contend that there is not a real 
and great pleasure found in the exercises of virtue ; nor 
that the virtuous man does not always experience this 
pleasure in such exercises, and that in exact proportion 
to his virtue ; nor that this is not a proper motive to en- 
gage him to these exercises. 

The true nature of virtue is well described in this de- 
finition : the love of doing good ; or the love of promoting 
happiness. In all the good, therefore, which was done by 
ourselves or others, and of course in all that is enjoyed 
by ourselves or others, whenever it is not inconsistent 
with some greater good, virtue delights of course. In 
its own proper nature it aims at such good, and for such 
it labours, whoever is to be the recipient. Its true ex- 
cellence lies in this ; that it is the voluntary and only 
source of happiness in the universe. In aiming at our 
own happiness there is no necessary selfishness. Sel- 
fishness consists in a preference of ourselves to others, 
and to all others ; to the universe, and to God. This 
is sin, and all that in the Scriptures is meant by sin. 
In every individual sin this will invariably be found to 
be the essential and guilty character. Thus sensuality 
is the desire of self- gratification, at the expense of any 
and all other happiness. Thus ambition is the desire 
of aggrandizing, and avarice the desire of enriching-, 
ourselves, in preference to the interests of all others. 






REGENERATION BENEVOLENCE. 



4,25 



From this spirit arises all our opposition to Gotl, and 
all our injustice to his creatures. He who has seriously 
and entirely preferred God to himself, or the good of 
the universe to his own private, separate good, has in 
the complete sense become virtuous. 

God wills our happiness. It is therefore right, it is 
virtuous in us to seek and promote it, both here and 
hereafter. In this conduct, there is no selfishness. We 
do indeed commonly pursue it, in preference to that of 
all others. Such a pursuit of it is sinful : and the spirit 
with which we pursue it is by turns every sinful passion 
and appetite, and the source of every evil purpose and 
effort, towards God and our fellow creatures. Our pride, 
impiety, rebellion, and ingratitude, our self-dependence, 
our impatience, and murmuring under the government 
of God, are all only different forms of this disposition. 
The parsimony, fraud, and oppression of the miser ; the 
envy, intrigues, conquests, and butcheries of ambition ; 
the rapacity, injustice, and cruelties of despotism ; the 
sloth, lewdness, gluttony, and drunkenness of the sensu- 
alist ; the haughtiness, wrath, revenge, and murders of 
the duellist — are nothing but selfishness, appearing in 
its true nature and genuine operations. 



In these observations we have another specimen of the 
havoc which philosophy has made of divine subjects, and' 
of the great interests of man. 

Few writers have been more admired and applauded 
than Lord Shaftesbury ; and among all his writings 
none have been more applauded than the work in which 
the doctrine opposed by me is taught Yet in this work 
we are informed, that to have any regard either to fu- 
ture rewards or punishments, is mean and mercenary ; 
and of course, instead of being virtuous, or consisting 
with virtue, is only criminal. It must, therefore, be 
odious in the sight of God, and the proper object of his 
wrath and punishment. Accordingly, this writer in- 
forms us directly, that ' all reference either to future re- 
wards or punishments lessens and destroys virtue, and 
diminishes the obligations to be virtuous.' The anger 
of God against a sinner is a dreadful punishment. The 
approbation of God, and his consequent love, are glori- 
ous rewards, But to regard this anger, to be afraid of 
it, to seek to avoid it, is (according to Lord Shaftes- 
bury) mean and mercenary, odious and wicked. The 
contrary conduct must, of course, bear the contrary 
character. It must be honourable and generous, spi- 
rited, amiable, and virtuous, to disregard the divine an- 
ger, to have no fear of God before our eyes, and willingly 
to become the objects of infinite indignation. Equally 
mean and mercenary, and therefore equally hateful and 
guilty, is it in the eyes of this writer to prize the appro- 
bation of God, to desire an interest in his love, or to 
seek the attainment of either. Of course, to disregard 
both must, according to this scheme, be virtuous, hon- 
ourable, and deserving of commendation. The real 
nature of all conduct God cannot but know intuitively ; 
and without injustice, cannot fail to regard it accord- 
ing to its real nature, and treat the subjects of it as they 
actually merit. Hence, as he cannot but discern the 
meanness and mercenariness, the odiousness and guilt, 
of those who dread his anger, and seek to avoid it, who 
prize his approbation, and love and labour to obtain 
them, he is bound, he cannot fail, to punish them for 
this criminal conduct. As he equally discerns the vir- 



tue of those who disregard his anger, approbation, and 
love, he cannot fail to reward them. 

If God is angry with any of his intelligent creatures, 
it is undoubtedly with those who have broken his law. 
That he has given a law to mankind, Lord Shaftesbury 
himself acknowledges ; nor does he deny that mankind 
have in some instances broken this law. Indeed, it 
could not be denied with common decency. In this law, 
whatever it be, his pleasure is expressed and enjoined, 
as the rule of duty to rational beings. This rule is in 
his view, and therefore in fact, a wise, just, and good 
rule for the direction of their conduct. Conformity to 
it is conformity to what is wise, just, and good ; or, in 
other words, is virtue, or excellence of character : while 
disobedience to it is opposition to what is wise, just, and 
good ; or, in other words, sinfulness and turpitude of 
character. Every law, and this as truly as any other, 
annexes a reward to obedience, and a punishment to 
disobedience, otherwise it could not be a law. But to 
regard either this reward or this punishment is, accord- 
ing to Lord Shaftesbury, to be mean and mercenary, 
and so far, therefore, ceasing to be virtuous. If this 
reward and punishment are to have no influence on 
mankind, they are nugatory ; and God has merely 
trifled with his creatures in annexing them to his law. 
If they are to have influence on mankind, the influence 
is merely such as to destroy, or at least lessen, both vir- 
tue and the obligations to it. God, who sees this to be 
true, if it be truth, has therefore, in annexing them to 
his law, and in endeavouring to influence mankind by 
them, attempted to destroy or lessen virtue, and to di- 
minish their obligations to be virtuous. 

Farther : As without rewards and penalties no law can 
exist, it is evident that God cannot make a law in which 
he must not of course, either merely trifle with his crea- 
tures, or destroy or lessen virtue, and diminish their ob- 
ligations to be virtuous. 

The reward promised to obedience in this and every 
other law is happiness ; and the punishment threatened 
to disobedience is suffering, or misery. To desire the 
happiness of every rational being, and our happiness as 
truly as that of others, is the genuine dictate of virtue, 
and the indispensable duty of all such beings. It is the 
duty then of every other rational being to desire our 
happiness ; and for this plain reason, it is in itself desi- 
rable. According to Lord Shaftesbury, then, we cannot, 
without being mean and mercenary, desire that which 
all other rational beings are bound to desire, and which 
is in itself desirable. 

To be virtuous is the same thing as to be meritorious 
or to deserve a reward; and is the only real desert in 
the universe. The reward which virtue deserves is such 
treatment as is a proper retribution to virtuous conduct ; 
such a kind and measure of happiness as it becomes 
the wisdom, justice, and goodness, of the lawgiver 
to communicate, as a proper expression of his appro- 
bation of that conduct. To be influenced by a regard 
to this happiness, although the very thing which his vir- 
tue has deserved, and which God has pronounced to be 
its proper reward, is, according to this scheme, to be- 
come mean and mercenary, and undeserving of the re- 
ward itself. The reward is holden out by God to en- 
courage his creatures to be virtuous. In doing this, 
according to Lord Shaftesbury, he discourages virtue, 
and lessens their obligations to be virtuous. 

There are two kinds of original good ; enjoyment 
3 H 



426 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. r/xxxi. 



and deliverance from suffering ; or, as the case may be, 
from the danger of suffering. These two are the only 
possible objects of desire to percipient beings, and to 
intelligent beings as truly as any others. When virtue 
itself is desired, it is desired only for the enjoyment 
which it furnishes. Were there no such objects in the 
universe, there would be no such thing as desire ; and 
consequently, no such thing as volition, or action. Per- 
cipient beings, and among them intelligent beings, 
would be as absolutely inactive as so many lumps of 
matter. But, according to Lord Shaftesbury, to regard 
future enjoyment or misery, and, for the very same 
reasons, to regard them when present, is to be mean 
and mercenary, and to cease from being virtuous. He 
who regards them, therefore, cannot be virtuous ; he" 
who does not must, of course, be a block. 

In the meantime, not to regard enjoyment and suf- 
fering, when present to our view, is physically impos- 
sible. In order to be virtuous, then, we must, in every 
instance, accomplish a physical impossibility. 

Finally : A moral government is entirely founded 
on motives. All motives are included in the two kinds 



of good mentioned above. In every moral government 
these motives are presented to the subjects of it by the 
law on which it is founded, in the forms of reward and 
punishment, both necessarily future, to obedience or 
disobedience. On the influence which these motives 
have upon the moral character and conduct of sub- 
jects, all moral government rests ; nor can any such 
government exist for a moment without them. But to 
be influenced by them is, in every subject of such go- 
vernment, according to this scheme, mean and merce- 
nary. God, therefore, in establishing a moral govern- 
ment over intelligent creatures, has directly endeavoured, 
by his authority, to render them mean and mercenary ; 
and, so far as this influence extends, has prevented them 
from being virtuous ! 

It is, I presume, unnecessary to add any thing far- 
ther. More striking or more conclusive evidence can- 
not be given of the havoc made by philosophy in the 
moral system. If the doctrines of one of her most 
admired votaries end in these consequences, what ab- 
surdities are we not to expect from philosophers of 
every inferior order ? 



SERMON LXXXT. 



REGENERATION ITS ATTENDANTS. BROTHERLY LOVE. 



A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one anotlier. — John xiii. 34. 



In the three preceding Discourses I have considered 1 
the nature of evangelical benevolence ; and the two 
principal objections against the doctrine which teaches 
the existence and explains the nature of this attribute. 
At the present time, I propose to examine the last of 
those characteristics which were mentioned as attend- 
ants on regeneration ; viz. Brotherly love ; or the love 
which is due to the disciples of Christ. 

Commentators have, to a considerable extent at least, 
considered this command of Christ as merely en- 
joining benevolence. They observe, that it is called 
' new,' not because it had not been given before (for, 
they say, it had been published by Moses, and other 
writers of the Old Testament) ; but because of its pecu- 
liar excellence : remarking, at the same time, that the 
Hebrews customarily denoted the peculiar excellence 
of a thing by styling it new. With this view of the 
subject I cannot accord. The command given to the 
apostles, and, by consequence, to all the followers of 
Christ, to ' love one another,' was not in my view pub- 
lished by Moses, nor by any of the succeeding prophets. 
Certainly it was not published in form. There is not 
in the Old Testament, at least I have not been able to 
find in it, any command requiring good men to love 
each other as good men. The general benevolence of 
the gospel towards all men, whether friends or enemies, 
is indeed abundantly enjoined both by Moses and the 
prophets. But this benevolence regards men merely 
as intelligent beings capable of happiness ; and is itself 
the love of happiness, as heretofore explained. The 



love required in the text is the love of good men, as 
such ; as the followers of Christ, as wearing his ima,e, 
as resembling him in their moral character. This love, 
in modern language, is called complacency, or the love 
of virtue. Instead of being benevolence, it is a delight 
in that benevolence ; and is directed not towards the 
happiness of intelligent beings, but towards the virtue 
of good beings. 

A command enjoining this love was, I think, never 
given in form, before Christ gave it in the text ; and 
was therefore new in the proper sense at that time. 
That it is not called new on account of its superior ex- 
cellence will be reasonably believed, if we remember 
that Christ in no other case applies the epithet in this 
manner ; that the ' first and the great command of the 
law ' is still more excellent, as is also ' the second ;' 
which, while it may be considered as implying this af- 
fection, enjoins directly that universal good-will which 
is the object of brotherly love, and the voluntary source 
of all happiness. 

' But,' it is said, ' St John expressly declares this 
commandment of Christ not to be new in the proper 
sense,' 1 John ii. 7, ' Brethren, I write unto you no 
new commandment ; but an old commandment, which 
ye had from the beginning.' Without inquiring what 
St John intends here by the phrase, ' from the begin- 
ning,' it may be justly observed, that this passage ha- 
no reference to the subject in question. The command 
of which he speaks is in the preceding verse expressed 
in these words : ' He that saith he abideth in him, ought 



REGENERATIOX.—BROTHERLY LOVE. 



427 



himself also sq to walk, even as he walked.' It will not 
be pretended that this is the command in the text. 

In the following verse St John declares the com- 
mand in the text to be a new commandment. ' Again, 
a new commandment write I unto you.' What the new 
command is to which he refers, is evident from the two 
following verses. ' He that saith he is in the light, 
and hateth his brother, is in darkness even until now. 
He that loveth his brother abideth in the light ; and 
there is none occasion of stumbling in him.' The apos- 
tle does not indeed recite any command in form ; but 
in the phrases, ' he that hateth,' and ' he that loveth 
his brother,' he shows decisively that he refers to the 
command, enjoining this love, and forbidding this hatred ; 
or, in other words, to the command in the text. But 
the command to which he refers he declares to be ' a 
new commandment.' 

There is, however, another passage in this writer, 
which at first view appears to be less easily reconcilable 
with my assertion. It is this : ' And now I beseech 
thee, lady, not as though I wrote a new commandment 
unto thee, but that which we had from the beginning, 
that we love one another,' 2 John 5. That St John 
here referred to the general benevolence required in 
the second command of the moral law, is I think clearly 
evident from the following verse ; ' And this is love p 
that we keep his commandments. This is the com- 
mandment, that, as we have heard from the beginning, 
ye should walk in it.' The love of which he had spoken 
to the elect lady in the preceding verse, he himself ex- 
plains in this. ' And this is love, that we keep his com- 
mandments.' As if he had said, The love which I have 
mentioned, is the disposition with which we keep the 
commandments of God ; or, in other words, the general 
benevolence enjoined by the law. St Paul, speaking 
of the same thing, has expressed the same sentiment 
more clearly, as well as more concisely : Rom. xiii. 1 0, 
' Love is the fulfilling of the law.' 

Having as I hope removed all the objections of any 
importance against the interpretation of the text adopted 
above, I shall now proceed to a more particular consi- 
deration of this attribute. 

I. Brotherly love is an affection differing in many 
respects from benevolence. 

Thus, for example, Brotherly love is confined to good 
men as its objects ; whereas benevolence extends to all 
mankind. Brotherly love respects only the moral 
characters of its objects ; benevolence, their existence 
and capacity. Brotherly love is the love of the virtue ; 
benevolence, of the happiness of those who are loved. 
Benevolence is virtue absolutely, or universally ; bro- 
therly love is only a branch of that virtue. Benevo- 
lence exists and operates towards those who have no 
virtue, and was thus exercised by God towards beings 
totally lost and depraved, viz. towards mankind while 
wholly under the power of sin. In a similar manner 
it is exercised by good men towards sinners, and to- 
wards such sinners as, by being enemies to them on 
account of their goodness, prove that there is no good- 
ness in themselves. Brotherly love is exercised and is 
capable of being exercised only towards virtuous men, 
and towards them on account of their virtue only. Be- 
nevolence, being virtue in the absolute sense, must exist 
before it can be loved. Brotherly love is the love of 
that benevolence, or of virtue, after it is known to have 
existed. 



According to these observations we find these affec- 
tions clearly and abundantly distinguished in the Scrip- 
tures. Thus benevolence is called a.ya,m:n, throughout 
the New Testament ; and, as exercised particularly to- 
wards mankind, is termed (piKa,v6(>oTri>x.: Acts xxviii. 2; 
Titus iii. 4. Brotherly love is called tpihahhtpix : Rom. 
xii. 10 ; 1 Thess. iv. 9 ; Heb. xiii. 1 ; 2 Peter i. 7. 
Love to the brethren, or brotherhood, aJSsA^oTu?, is 
enjoined in various places as a peculiar duty. Thus St 
Peter in his second Epistle, i. 7, says, ' Add to your 
faith, virtue (or resolution), — to godliness, brotherly 
love ((/5/Aa§6A(p/oj>), and to brotherly love, charity,' 
a.-yxirriv , benevolence. Were brotherly love the same 
with benevolence, St Peter would certainly not have 
directed Christians to add benevolence to itself; nor 
would he here have called the same thing by different 
names, and thus perplexed his readers, merely for the 
sake of rounding a period. 

Other directions generally resembling this, are given 
us abundantly in the New Testament. 

II. Brotherly love is the love of good men. 

To prove this, I observe, that ' the brethren,' spoken 
of in the New Testament, are always disciples of Christ. 
This name Christ himself gave them in form. In Matt, 
xii. 46, we are told, that ' his mother and his brethren 
came, desiring to see him.' Upon receiving notice of 
this fact from one of the company, he replied, ' Who is 
my mother, and who are my brethren ? Then he 
stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said, 
Behold my mother and my brethren : for whosoever 
shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, the 
same is my brother, my sister, and mother.' In Luke 
viii. 21, where the same story is recorded, his worus 
are, ' My mother and my brethren are they who hear 
the word of God and do it.' Again, Matt, xxiii. 8, he 
says, ' Be ye not called Rabbi, for one is your Master, 
even Christ ; and all ye are brethren.' 

In these passages Christ has declared that his dis- 
ciples are his brethren ; that these are composed of such 
as hear and obey the word of God ; and that all such 
persons sustain this character. From him the apostles 
took this phraseology, and continued it through their 
writings. 

' For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate 
to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might 
be the first born of many brethren.' Rom. viii. 29. 

' To the saints and faithful brethren in Christ, who 
are at Colosse.' Col. i. 2. 

* I charge you by the Lord, that this epistle be read 
unto all the holy brethren.' 1 Thess. v. 27. 

These passages from St Paul, selected out of a multi- 
tude of the same import, are ample proofs that he used 
the language of Christ in the same sense. Peter, James, 
and John used the same language. It is therefore com- 
pletely evident that the brethren, spoken of appropri- 
ately in the New Testament, are Christ's disciples, are 
saints, are faithful, are holy, are such as have been 
sanctified by the Spirit of grace. In this character only 
are they constituted the objects of brotherly love ; the 
character itself being the thing which in them is required 
by Christ to be loved. It is indeed true now, as for- 
merly, that ' all who are of Israel are not Israel.' Some 
who appear to be Christ's disciples are not really his 
disciples. But since our limited minds, are unable to 
distinguish appearance from reality, God has command- 
ed us to govern both our views and our conduct by 



428 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SeB. LXXXt. 



appearance. So long, then, as men appear to be the 
disciples of Christ, we are bound to regard, and parti- 
cularly to love them as his disciples. 

III. Brotherly love is therefore an affection directed 
toward the virtue of those whom we love : in other 
words, it is complacency in virtue. 

In the exercise of benevolence we love others when- 
ever we wish them to be happy ; and in this manner we 
love our enemies, and wicked men universally, however 
destitute of moral goodness. Our benevolence will in- 
deed be particularly exerted in desiring earnestly that 
they may become virtuous, in order to their happiness ; 
but we cannot approve nor love their moral character ; 
because, by the supposition, it is wholly sinful, and 
therefore altogether odious. 

In the exercise of brotherly love, on the contrary, we 
approve and love the moral character of all whom we 
love : delighting in their holiness, as an excellent and 
desirable object. As we approve of the character of 
Christ himself, so we delight in them, as possessing a 
share of the same beauty and excellence, as ' having 
the same mind, which was also in him.' 

IV. Brotherly love is, in the Scriptures, constituted a 
peculiar proof of sanctification. 

In the verse following the text, Christ says, ' Hereby 
shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have 
love one to another.' Here our Saviour declares this 
affection to be a peculiar proof to the world that we are 
Christians ; to be the touchstone by which his disciples 
will be examined and known by mankind. 

Accordingly, the emperor Julian expressly warns 
the heathen under his dominion, that the Christians 
contributed not a little to spread Christianity by their 
singular love to each other, and by their mutual offices 
of exemplary kindness. At the same time he declares 
that, unless the heathen will follow this powerful exam- 
ple, their religion will never prosper. So remarkable 
even in that corrupted age was the brotherly love of 
Christ's disciples, as entirely to distinguish them from 
the rest of mankind. In other periods of the church 
it has prevailed as religion has prevailed, and decayed 
as religion has decayed : but in all ages it has existed 
and been discernible wherever genuine Christianity 
has been found. 

As this attribute is peculiarly the proof of our re- 
ligion to others, so it is made equally the proof of it 
to ourselves. ' He that saith he is in the light, and 
hateth his brother, is in darkness until now. He that 
loveth his brother abideth in the light,' 1 John ii. 9, 10. 
' In this the children of God are manifest, and the chil- 
dren of the devil : whosoever doeth not righteousness 
is not of God ; nor he thatj loveth not his brother,' 1 
John iii. 10. * Hereby we know that we have passed 
from death unto life, because we love the brethren. He 
that hateth his brother abideth in death.' 

These passages teach, in the clearest manner, that if 
we love the brethren, we are children of God, or the 
subjects of evangelical virtue, and that if we love not 
the brethren we are not the children of God. If then 
our love to the brethren be probable, if a good reason 
exist to believe that we exercise brotherly love, there 
exists an equal reason to believe that < we have passed 
from death unto life.' If we discover with certainty 
that we possess this love, we have arrived at full 
assurance of our sanctification, and of our title to eter- 
nal life. 



V. Brotherly love is universally exercised by bene- 
volent minds. In other words, every mind which is 
evangelically benevolent will of course exercise bro- 
therly love. 

Benevolence is the love of happiness. Brotherly 
love is the love of that benevolence. We love an in- 
telligent being, as either capable of happiness, or ac- 
tually the subject of it. When we perceive that he is 
benevolent, we farther love his benevolence, and him 
because he is benevolent. 

Benevolence is virtue. Brotherly love, in the ab- 
stract denominated complacency, is the love of virtue. 
As virtue delights in happiness, so it necessarily de- 
lights in the causes of happiness. But virtue is the only 
original, voluntary, and supreme cause of happiness to 
the universe. Virtue, therefore, delights in virtue, as 
being the great cause of that which it supremely loves. 
As virtue is the voluntary cause of happiness, it is, of 
course, supremely excellent and lovely ; and is accord- 
ingly loved by all virtuous beings. 

Hence it is evident, that brotherly love, although not 
virtue in the original or abstract sense, is yet an affec- 
tion eminently virtuous ; and is therefore strongly en- 
joined and greatly commended in the Scriptures. This 
is the love which, without a formal command, David 
exercised towards the saints, whom he styles ' the ex- 
cellent of the earth,' and ' in whom,' he says, ' was all 
his delight ;' which the captive psalmist exercised to- 
wards Zion, the collection of the saints ; and sooner 
than refuse which, he wishes ' his right hand may forget 
its cunning, and his tongue cleave to the roof of his 
mouth.' This is the love which inspired the prophets, 
particularly Isaiah, with zeal, and joy, and triumph, 
when beholding in vision the future prosperity of the 
church and its glorious extension over the habitable 
world. 

The distinction between brotherly love and compla- 
cency, generally understood, is this : the former is ex- 
ercised by the disciples of Christ towards each other ; 
the latter by all virtuous beings, towards all such be- 
ings. This is the love which God exercises towards all 
his children ; the love exercised by angels towards 
those for whom they cheerfully condescend to be ' mi- 
nistering spirits ;' viz. those ' who shall be heirs of sal- 
vation.' 

Towards God, the complacency of his virtuous crea- 
tures is so eminent an exercise of affection, as in a 
manner to occupy the whole soul. When we remember 
the moral perfection of God, we are prone to forget his 
importance as the supreme intelligent, and the posses- 
sor of supreme happiness, and naturally confine our 
thoughts to the glorious excellence of his nature. We 
love him pre-eminently for this excellence, and scarcely 
recollect that he is an object of supreme benevolence. 
Indeed, whenever the beings loved, are wholly virtuous, 
we are apt to lose our benevolence in our complacency, 
and to be scarcely conscious of any other affection be- 
sides our delight in their excellence of character. When, 
indeed, we have received peculiar benefits from them, 
our gratitude is excited, and often powerfully. But our 
benevolence, though always exercised, is not unfre- 
quently unobserved by our minds. 

Thus have I summarily considered this attribute of a 
sanctified mind. I shall now proceed to derive from 
this subject a few — 



REGENERATION BROTHERLY LOVE. 



429 



1. If the things which have been observed concerning 
this subject are just, it follows, that we ought carefully 
to try our moral character by this great scriptural stan- 
dard. 

By him who hopes that he is entitled to eternal 
life, no question can be asked, of higher moment, than 
whether he is a Christian. To resolve this question, 
the Scriptures point out no method more obviously, or 
certainly, effectual, than that which has been here men- 
tioned. ' We know that we have passed from death unto 
life, because we love the brethren.' A good man is a 
peculiar object ; and distinct from all others. The 
materials of which his goodness is constituted, are gen- 
erally capable of being truly understood, and strongly 
realized. If seen, they cannot but be hated by a bad, 
and loved by a good, mind. Our love and hatred are 
engaged, almost only, by moral beings. Doctrines, pre- 
cepts, and ordinances, the Sabbath, the sanctuary, the 
word of God, and the things opposed to them, may 
indeed, be in a certain sense objects of these affections ; 
but this can exist only in a subordinate degree, and, 
perhaps, always with a reference to those moral be- 
ings, with whom they are connected. Thus the Sabbath 
is hated, or loved, merely as a season devoted to God, 
who appointed it. The same observation is equally appli- 
cable to other things of the like nature. 

But intelligent beings ; viz. God and his rational 
creatures ; we love, or hate, for what they are. We 
love or hate them directly ; and not for the relation 
which they bear to some other object of these affections. 
Men, particularly, being like or unlike ourselves, of our 
own party or an opposite, who act, or refuse to act, with 
or against us, with and against whom we act under the 
strong influence of sympathy, and who are realized by 
the powerful impressions of sense ; are more easily, uni- 
formly, and strongly, regarded with these emotions, in 
ordinary circumstances, than any other created beings. 
Our emotions towards them, therefore, are immediate ; 
arise spontaneously ; are vigorous ; and mingle with all 
our views, of every kind. Good men love good men of 
course, and necessarily. Wicked men never exercise 
complacency towards good men, as such ; they often love 
them with natural affection ; or because they are their 
friends ; or because they are useful to them ; but not for 
their characteristical excellence, or for their resemblance 
to Christ. Good men love them, as the natural taste 
relishes sweetness or fragrance, the rose or the honey- 
comb. Good men love them for themselves ; for the 
moral character which they possess ; and independently 
of all other considerations. Wicked men in their con- 
sciences approve of goodness, and of good men ; and 
cannot, without violence done to their consciences, dis- 
approve of them. But in this approbation the heart has 
no share. The hearts of wicked men are radically oppo- 
sed to virtue ; and of course hate it, and, so far as their 
virtue is concerned, all those by whom it is possessed. 
Hence have flowed the calumnies, sneers, ridicule, resent- 
ment, opposition, and persecution, which good men 
have received from their enemies ever since the world 
began. 

From these things it is evident, that the love of good 
men furnishes a criterion, uncommonly well calculated 
to decide our character, as being either good or evil. 
Whatever will aid us in a case of such magnitude must 



be of high importance ; and ought to be employed for 
our benefit with earnestness and fidelity. From the 
Scriptures, and indeed from the nature of the case also, 
it is evident, that brotherly love furnishes us with pe- 
culiar assistance for the determination of a point, so 
interesting to every Christian. How attentively ought 
every man, then, and especially every one who hopes 
that himself is a Christian, to examine his character by 
this standard. Let each ask himself, ' Do I love good 
men ? Do I love their goodness, their Christianity ? 
Do I choose their company ? Do I seek their conver- 
sation ? Do I delight in their sentiments and conduct ? 
Do I pray for their prosperity, their holiness, and their 
salvation ?' If these questions can be truly answered 
in the affirmative ; we are children of God. If not ; 
we are still ' in the gall of bitterness, and the bond of ini- 
quity.' 

2. From these considerations we discern the peculiar 
wisdom and goodness of Christ in establishing a church 
in the world. 

In the church of Christ, the body of good men are 
gathered together ; united in one family ; placed in one 
obvious view ; and prepared to render, as well as to re- 
ceive, brotherly love, and all its kind offices. Every 
affection flourishes by exercise and repetition only. 
Where the proper objects of our affections are found, 
they are exercised of course : where such objects are 
not found, they decay, and die, of themselves. In fami- 
lies, the natural, domestic affections of man find their 
proper objects. Conjugal love, therefore, parental ten- 
derness, brotherly and sisterly kindness, and filial piety, 
shoot up here, and thrive, and blossom, and bear fruit ; 
and bear it abundantly. 

In the church, the family named after Christ, are 
assembled the objects of brotherly love, or evan- 
gelical complacency. Here such as are the subjects of 
this exalted attribute, find those presented to them, on 
whom it may be exercised and repeated. Accordingly, 
here, and in the nature of things here only, can this 
affection live and prosper. Here, on the one hand, 
virtue is daily seen, approved, and loved ; and on the 
other, complacency interchanged, strenghthened, and 
enjoyed. While those who are thus the objects of love, 
are by every motive, which can reach a virtuous mind, 
invited, animated, and compelled, to render themselves 
more deserving of this affection by improving and adorn- 
ing those excellencies, which are its immediate objects. 
Brotherly love becomes, here, a peculiarly refined and 
glorious friendship ; a bond of perfection, uniting them 
more and more unto the end. Thus, by the establish- 
ment of a church in the world, has Christ provided for 
the existence, continuance, and improvement, of this 
elevated affection. In the mean time, as brotherly love 
exists in this heaven-appointed family ; so in the bosom 
of the same family it operates, unceasingly, in all the 
amiable and useful methods, directed by the Scriptures, 
and pointed to by itself with a magnetic influence. 
Here it reproves all the variations from truth, all the 
deviations from rectitude, to which imperfect man, even 
in his best estate, is liable on this side of the grave. 
Here it approves, and confirms, every thing that is vin- 
dicate and lovely. Here it prays for the strength, 
amendment, comfort, peace, and joy, of its brethren. 
Here it weeps with them in their sorrows, rejoices in 
their joys, and smiles on all their delightful progress in 
holiness ; refines in the view of their refinement, exults 



430 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxxii. 



in their advancement to immortal life, and expands 
its wings for the final flight to everlasting glory. 

3. This subject forcibly impresses on our minds the 
excellence, glory, and happiness of heaven. 

In this apostate and melancholy world, wise men, in 
all ages, have seen and felt that virtue has been a stran- 
ger, a pilgrim, and in many instances an outcast also. 
Her friends have been few and commonly powerless ; 
her enemies mighty and strong, bitter and distressing ; 
her cause unpopular and hated ; her arguments lost in 
deaf ears ; and her entreaties repelled by hearts of mar- 
ble. It is reasonable, it is desirable, it is ' devoutly to 
be wished,' and prayed for, that virtue may somewhere 
find a home ; a settled residence ; a kind welcome ; real 
friends; and final safety. These blessings, she has 
rarely found in this foreign region, this unnatural cli- 
mate ; and, at the best, she has found them but for a 
moment. Accordingly, she has ever cast her eyes up- 
ward, towards another and better country. From that 
country she has received tidings, which cannot deceive, 
and which assure her of a welcome and final reception. 
She is informed, that there she was born and nursed ; and 
that in this world she is only a visitor and stranger; des- 
tined to finish the pilgrimage allotted, and then to re- 
turn to her native residence, there to dwell for ever. 
With rapture she has learned, that there all her friends 
will be finally gathered ; and that her Father and ever- 
lasting friend is there ready to receive her to the arms 
of infinite and unchangeable love. 

In that glorious world, a vast and immortal church, 
formed of those who are all brethren, inhabits the de- 
lightful regions, destined to be its eternal residence. In 
the innumerable millions, of which this great assembly, 
this nation of brethren, this kingdom of Jehovah, is com- 
posed, brotherly love is the commanding principle of 
action. In angels it has glowed, and brightened, ever 
since the morning of creation dawned over the vast 
abyss of darkness and solitude. In the general assembly 
of the first-born it is made a test of their character, and 
a foundation of their admission into heaven. ' Inasmuch 
as ye have done good unto one of the least of these my 
brethren,' is by Christ himself announced, as the peculiar 
term of admission : and ' inasmuch as ye did it not,' as 
the term of final exclusion. In the cold and dreary re- 



gion of this world, the spark was scarcely kindled ; and 
prolonged its existence with difficulty. The flax in 
which it was kept from final extinction, smoked merely, 
without rising into a flame. But it was never finally 
quenched. At the great examination, it was found still 
a living spark ; and its existence was seen, acknowledged, 
and proclaimed. Transferred to heaven, it began there 
to kindle with new and immortal lustre ; and was set in 
that constellated firmament of living and eternal splen- 
dours ; which are all glorious with inherent light, al- 
though ' one star differeth from another star in glory.' 

Of that brilliant world, that region where all things 
shine, and live, and flourish, and triumph, for ever, the 
beauty, the glory, the excellence, is eminently this di- 
vine affection. All are brethren ; all are loved as bre- 
thren. All are divinely amiable and excellent friends. 
Every one possesses the virtue which is loved ; and the 
complacency by which it is loved. Every one, con- 
scious of unmingled purity within, approves, and loves 
himself for that divine image, which in complete per- 
fection, and with untarnished resemblance, is instamped 
on his character. Each, in every view which he casts 
around him, beholds the same glory shining, and bright- 
ening in the endless train of his companions : one in 
nature, but diversified without end, in those forms and 
varieties of excellence, by which the original and eter- 
nal beauty delights to present itself to the virtuous uni- 
verse. Here every one, conscious of being entirely 
lovely, and entirely loved, reciprocates the same love 
to that ' great multitude, which no man can number, of 
all nations, kindreds, and tongues,' and which fills the 
immeasurable regions of heaven. Out of this character 
grows a series ever varying, ever improving, of all the 
possible communications of the beneficence, fitted in 
every instance only to interchange, and increase the 
happiness of all. In the sunshine of infinite compla- 
cency, the light of the new Jerusalem, the original 
source of all their own beauty, life, and joy, all these 
happy nations walk for ever ; and, transported with the 
life-giving influence, unite in one harmonious and eternal 
hymn to the great author of their enjoyment : ' blessing, 
and honour, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, 
be unto him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb, 
for ever and ever.' Amen. 



SERMON LXXXII. 

CONSEQUENCES OF REGENERATION ADOPTION. 



Beloved, now are we the sons of God. — 1 John iii. 2. 



In a series of Discourses, I have considered the Atten- 
dants of Regeneration : viz. Faith, formerly explained ; 
Repentance ; Love to God; Love to Mankind ; and Bro- 
therly Love. I shall now pi'oceed, according to the 
scheme formerly proposed, to examine the consequences 
of this change of character. 

Of these the first in the natural order is adoption. 
That adoption is a consequence of regeneration will not 
be denied. The observations, which I shall make con- 



cerning the subject, will be included under the following 
heads : 

I. The nature ; 

II. The reality ; 

III. The importance ; and, 

IV. The consequences ; of adoption. 

I. The nature of adoption may be explained in the 
following manner. 

A child is, in this act, taken by a man from a family 



REGENERATION ADOPTION. 



431 



not his own ; introduced into his own family ; regarded 
as his own child ; and entitled to all the privileges and 
blessings, belonging to this relation. To adopt children 
in this manner has, it is well known, been a custom 
generally prevailing in all ages, and probably in all na- 
tions. Thus children were adopted among the Egyptians, 
Jews, Romans, and other ancient nations ; and the same 
custom exists in the Christian nations of Europe : in 
our own country ; among the American aborigines ; 
and, so far as my knowledge extends, throughout the 
world. 

Of the same general nature is that transaction, in the 
divine economy, by which mankind become the children 
of God. 

II. The reality of adoption may be thus illustrated. 

Mankind are originally strangers to the family of 
God ; enemies to him, to his law, to his kingdom, and 
to all his interests. From this situation they are 
invited to come, and enter into his family ; to take his 
name upon them ; to share in his parental care, tender- 
ness, and blessings. Such of them, as comply with the 
invitation, are received into his family ; and become en- 
titled to his parental love, and all the offices of affec- 
tion to which it gives birth. From this period, they are 
styled the children of God. From this period, they are 
permitted, and required, to address him as their Father ; 
a character, which he has been pleased to assume ; and 
to consider themselves as his children ; and as entitled 
to the character of his children. 

Of this subject the Scriptures give us the following- 
exhibition. 

1. God announced the adoption of makind into his 
family soon after the apostasy. 

At the birth of Enos, we are told that ' men began to 
call upon the name of the Lord.' In the margin, and, 
as it would seem, with greater correctness, ' men began to 
be called by the name of the Lord :'* that is, they be- 
gan to be called his children, and to take upon them- 
selves the name of God, as being now their parent ; just 
as adopted children take upon themselves the names of 
those human parents, by whom they have been adopted. 
The style by which they began to be known at this 
early period, has been continued through every suc- 
ceeding age of the church. In Gen. vi. 1, 2, we read 
of ' the sons of God.' These, I apprehend, are persons of 
the same class with those who, in the time of ' Enos, be- 
gan to be called by the name of the Lord ;' and were now 
publicly designated by this title. That such persons 
were meant by the phrase, the 'sons of God,' is sufficiently 
manifest from the use of it elsewhere. In Job i. C, it is 
said, ' the sons of God came to present themselves before 
the Lord :' and in Job xxxviii. 7, that, at the creation, 
' the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of 
God shouted for joy.' In these passages, angels are un- 
doubtedly the persons intended. When mankind, in 
those early days, received the same appellation, it was 
designed to indicate, that they belonged to the same 
family, and were by adoption children of the same hea- 
venly Parent. 

In the communications, made by God to Abraham and 
his family, the same scheme is more particularly and ex- 
plicitly pursued. God, in the covenant of grace, de- 
clared to this earthly father of the faithful, ' I will be 
your God ; and ye shall be my people :' phraseology, 






* Taylor. 



exactly equivalent, in the mouth of the speaker, to the 
following ; ' I will be your Father ; and ye shall be my 
children.' In conformity to this scheme, Moses was di- 
rected, Exod. iv. 22, to preface his message from God 
to Pharaoh with ' Thus saith the Lord, Israel is my son, 
even my first-born.' In the same manner, Moses de- 
clared the same relation, Deut. xiv. 1, ' Ye are the chil- 
dren of the Lord your God.' In Psal. Ixxxii. 6, it is 
said to the rulers of Israel, ' All of you are children of 
the most high.' In the latter days of their kingdom, 
when they had become deeply depraved, they were still 
called by the title of children. Thus they are styled 
' rebellious children ;' 'corrupters ;' 'lying children, that 
will not hear the word of the Lord.' 

By the prophet Hosea it was again predicted, that 
' they should be called the sons of God ' when gathered 
again, after their dispersion. ' It shall be said of them, 
Ye are the sons of the living God.' 

This character, thus insisted on through the several 
ages of the Jewish church, is more particularly, and 
strongly, insisted on in the New Testament. Here the 
important fact of our adoption is decknred in the most 
explicit manner, and in a great variety of forms. In 
Eph. i. 5, it is said, that Christians ' were predestinated 
unto the adoption of children, by Jesus Christ, to 
God, according to the good pleasure of his will.' 
Agreeably to this determination, it is declared, John 
i. 12, that 'to as many as received Christ, to them 
gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them, 
who believe on his name. Who are born, not of blood, 
nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but 
of God.' To persons of this character St Paul says, ' but 
ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, 
Abba, Father.' These passages are amply sufficient to 
show the scriptural views of the reality of adoption. 
It would be useless, therefore, to quote a multitude of 
others, of similar import. 

2. The same doctrine is forcibly taught in the ordi- 
nance of baptism. 

The ordinance of baptism is a solemn symbol of re- 
generation. By the affusion of the water upon every 
subject of this ordinance is exhibited, in a very affecting 
manner, the effusion of the spirit of grace upon his 
heart ; and by the cleansing influence of the water, the 
purification of his soul by the blood of Christ. In the 
administration of this ordinance, every subject of it is 
baptised, by the command of Christ, sig to ovo^x, ' into 
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the 
Holy Ghost.' In this manner, baptism is a direct exhibi- 
tion of our adoption in the family of God, and our right- 
ful assumption of the name of the Father, and of the 
Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Accordingly, Christians 
are, in the Scriptures, entitled, after these names, godly, 
Christian, and spiritual. The ordinance, it- is true, is, 
as from the nature of the case it must be external and 
symbolical. But the symbol is easy, intelligible, and 
plainly indicative of the adoption of Christians into the 
family, which is named after Christ. 

III. The importance of adoption may be illustrated 
from the following considerations. 

1. The act of adoption produces a real relation in 
us to God. 

In reading the Scriptures, a book so fraught with 

figurative language, it is no unnatural, and, I believe, 

not a very uncommon tiling, for persons to regard 

I whatever is said on this subject, as a mere collection of 



432 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. txxxn. 



fine phraseology, intended to express, with strength and 
beauty, the dignity of the Christian's character, and the 
desirableness of his situation ; and not to denote a real 
and important part of the scheme of redemption. This, 
however, is an erroneous mode of thinking concerning 
the subject. We are, in fact, strangers to the Divine 
family ; and have ceased to be, in any sense, useful to 
ourselves, and dutiful children of God. We have allied 
ourselves voluntarily to strangers, and ' become aliens 
from the commonwealth of ' the spiritual ' Israel.' In this 
manner, we have wandered, and remained far off from 
God ; and, but for his mercy, employed to bring us 
back, had widened our distance from his house and 
favour for ever. In this situation, we were related to 
him, only as forward and rebellious creatures ; and were 
objects only of his eternal indignation. But when we 
are adopted into his family, we become his children 
anew ; are acknowledged as such ; and shall be treated 
as such throughout eternity. The act by which we are 
adopted, and which creates this relation, is also a pub- 
lication of it to the universe ; solemnly announcing to 
all the subjects of the divine kingdom, that henceforth 
we are regarded by God as his children ; that he will 
be ' a father to us ;' and that we ' shall be his sons and 
daughters;' that the name, the duties, and the privileges 
of children will henceforth be rightfully ours. 

2. This relation is very near, and very interesting. 

In the original condition of mankind, they stood re- 
lated to God by creation and preservation. This, con- 
sidered as the state of intelligent beings, is a relation of 
high and interesting importance. Adam accordingly, 
on account of this relation is, together with the angels, 
dignified with the title of a ' son of God.' See Luke 
iii. 38. 

This relation is often insisted on with much magni- 
ficence by the ancient heathen sages ; who exhibited 
their views of it in a variety of bold and strong images. 
Particularly, they represented the soul of man as an 
emanation from God ; as a part of the divine mind ; 
separated for a season, to return again, and be re- 
absorbed by the original source of perfection ; as a beam 
of divine light ; a particle of ethereal fire ; sent forth 
from the uncreated sun, to be re-united hereafter to its 
parent orb. It will be easily seen from these represen- 
tations, what stress they laid upon our divine original ; 
and it will be not less easily seen, that the more per- 
fect views of the original mind, furnished by the Scrip- 
tures, enhance exceedingly the honour and importance 
derived to us from this source. 

But though it is honourable to an intelligent being, 
that God was pleased to bring him into existence, and 
endow him with such noble faculties ; yet in the adoption 
of the covenant of grace, a much nearer, dearer, and 
more exalted relation is formed, and finished. In this 
proceeding, God takes rebels, sinners, and outcasts, and 
with immense exertions, and with means most wonder- 
ful, brings them back into his family and favour. They 
were before created, and preserved : now they are re- 
deemed, sanctified, and forgiven. An act of creative 
power was before exerted, to bring them into being ; 
and of preserving power, to continue them in being : 
but now Christ has been made man ; has lived, suffered, 
and died ; has descended into the grave ; risen again ; 
sat down on the right hand of God ; and begun an 
eternal intercession ; that they may be restored to the 
character of children, and to the blessings which flow 



from infinite love. The spirit of God has, also, with 
infinite condescension, patience, andkindness, sanctified, 
enlightened, quickened, and purified them unto the 
end. The Father of spirits has formed, and com- 
pleted, a new dispensation in the universe, a dispensa- 
tion of grace and forgiveness, for their sakes ; has for- 
given and justified them ; and re-admitted them to his 
kingdom and everlasting love. These are all new, great, 
and glorious things ; things which have been done for 
no other. 

Correspondent with the degree of that which is done, 
or suffered, by any intelligent being for any other, is their 
mutual love. He for whom most is done, and to whom 
most is forgiven, will naturally love the most. This is 
directly taught by Christ in his parable of the two debt- 
ors, recorded Luke vii, 40, ' And Jesus, answering, 
said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee ; 
and he said, Master, say on. There was a certain cre- 
ditor, who had two debtors ; the one owed five hundred 
pence ; the other, fifty. And when they had nothing to 
pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, 
which of them will love him most ? Simon answered, and 
said, I suppose, he, to whom he forgave most. And he 
said unto hiin,Thou has rightly judged.' In proportion, 
then, to what has been done for the redeemed, will be 
their love, and the cause of it also, throughout eternity. 

On the other hand, he, who does, or suffers much for 
others, loves them, also, in proportion to what he has 
done and suffered. This truth is abundantly evident, 
in all human concerns. A father loves his child when 
sick and distressed, and needing much at his hands, 
more tenderly than those of his children who are 
healthy and prosperous. A friend, in the like circum- 
stances, loves his friend more than before ; and a pa- 
triot his country. 

The same doctrine is also taught by Christ, in the 
parables often pieces of silver, and the hundred sheep; 
and is appealed to by St Paul in that memorable passage; 
' he that spared not his own son, but delivered him up for 
us all, how shall he not, with him, also, freely give us all 
things?' But God has done more, Christ has suffered more 
for the redeemed, than has been done, or suffered, for any 
others. Of course they are loved more, in proportion 
to their importance in the universe, than any others. 
For this, as one reason, ' there is joy in heaven over one 
sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine 
just persons, who need no repentance.' The fact, that 
they have been once lost, and have been found again ; 
that they had been once dead, and live anew ; and that 
their restoration has been accomplished by so much ex- 
ertion and suffering ; will render this event an object 
of peculiar interest, and them objects of peculiar tender- 
ness, throughout eternity. 

Thus the redeemed are brought into a near relation 
to God ; nearer than that of mere intelligent creatures, 
in proportion to the greatness of the things, which have 
been done, and suffered, to bring it into being. 

3. This relation is eternal. 

Those who are once redeemed, sustain this character 
for ever. The song, which ascribes ' blessing, and hon- 
our, and glory, to the Lamb who was slain, and who 
hath redeemed us to God by his blood,' is begun in the 
present world, and continued throughout all its sucessive 
ages. But it does not terminate here. It is renewed 
in heaven ; and will be continued throughout its ever- 
lasting duration. In that happy world, they will be 



REGENERATION—ADOPTION. 



433 



joint heirs with Christ to ' the inheritance, which is uncle- 
filed, and fadeth not away.' There they will ' behold his 
glory,' even ' the glory which he had with the Father 
before ever the world was.' Throughout their inter- 
minable existence they will ever sustain the peculiar 
character of redeemed creatures ; will be regarded by 
God, and the virtuous universe, as the trophies of Christ's 
mediation, as monuments of forgiving and sanctify- 
ing love. In this character they will regard themselves ; 
and will feel its import with a gratitude, suited to the 
greatness of the blessings, which they have received. 

It is this consideration, which stamps the peculiar 
value on the relation in question. All that is temporary 
and perishable is, in its nature, comparatively of little 
importance. Time, necessarily fading in itself, imparls 
its own character to every thing under its dominion. 
The remembrance, that an enjoyment will come to an 
end, embitters it, even while it is in possession ; and 
after a period, which must soon arrive, it will be des- 
troyed for ever. No possession, therefore, ought ever to 
engage the ardent attachment of an immortal mind, un- 
less made sure by the seal of eternity. 

4. This relation will become more and more interest- 
ing for ever. 

The mind, which is received into heaven through the 
mediation of the Redeemer, will more and more under- 
stand the nature of the blessings to which it has been 
admitted. From the sufferings of those who are lost, 
it will learn the greatness of the evils from which itself 
has been delivered ; and from their obstinate continuance 
in sin, the hopeless nature of its own former state, had 
it not been for the atonement of Christ, and the sancti- 
fying agency of the Holy Spirit. In the happiness of 
heaven it will see, and feel, the rastness, and multitude, 
of the enjoyments to which it has been introduced ; and 
in the perfection and loveliness of itself, and of all its 
companions, the transcendent excellence of that charac- 
ter, which was mercifully begun in it here, to be impro- 
ved for ever. In proportion as its views of these subjects 
expand, it will discern, more and more clearly, the im- 
portance of those wonderful things, which have been 
done to deliver it from endless sin and misery, and to 
instate it in endless virtue and happiness. In this man- 
ner it will advance continually, together with all glori- 
fied saints, towards the comprehension of what ' is the 
breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and will 
more and more know the love of Christ, which passeth 
knowledge.' As the sense of these divine subjects in- 
creases in the heart, its admiration, complacency, and 
gratitude will rise continually higher ; its beauty and 
amiablenesss daily increase ; and itself become daily a 
more delightful object of the divine approbation. 

IV. The consequences of adoption are great and de- 
sirable. 

I have observed above, that the relation, produced by 
this event, is real. Every real relation involves real 
rights and obligations ; duties to be performed on our 
part; and on the part of God, blessings, to the com- 
munications of which he has been pleased to oblige him- 
self by his own gracious promises. The relation intro- 
duced into existence by the act of adoption, between 
him and his redeemed children, involves in its conse- 
quences a long train of rights and obligations, duties and 
blessings. Of these a few only can be mentioned at 
the present time ; and even these must be mentioned in 
a summary manner. 



The consequences of adoption respect either the pre- 
sent world, or the world to come. 
In the present world, God, 

1. Provides sustenance for his children. 

God provides for the wants of all creatures ; not only 
for mankind, but for animals. ' The young lions seek 
their meat from God ; and he satisfieth the young ra- 
vens, when they cry.' But the provision which he 
makes for the wants of his children, is distinguished 
from thatwhich he makes for others, by this important con- 
sideration ; that it is exactly that which is best for them. 
In kind, in degree, in manner, it is just such as most pro- 
motes their real welfare. Were any difference to exist 
in their circumstances ; had they more, or had they less ; 
or were their supplies to be varied in any other man- 
ner ; or were their situation, in this respect, to be at all 
different from what it actually is ; their true interest 
would be less perfectly consulted. ' All things,' in this 
respect, ' work together for the good of them that love 
God ; and they that seek the Lord do not want any good 
thing.' 

The provision, made for them, differs also from that 
made for their fellow men, in another important particular. 
They are assured by his promise, that this provision 
will always be made for them while they live. They 
have, therefore, an indefeasible right to expect all the 
blessings of this nature which they need : a right found- 
ed on the unchangeable covenant of grace ; on ' the 
truth of God, which is as the great mountains, stedfast 
and immovable ; and on his promises, which endure 
for ever.' Every one of them may, therefore, say with 
David, ' The Lord is my Shepherd : I shall not want. 
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days 
of my life.' 

Finally, there is yet another difference between the 
provision made for their wants, and that made for 
others ; viz. that the good furnished to them is a series, 
not of enjoyments merely, but of blessings. As such, 
they are not only permitted, but required to regard 
them. They may, therefore, without fear or danger, 
partake of them as such ; and relish entirely whatever 
comfort they convey. They are sweetness without a 
sting ; fragrance without a thorn, planted beneath to em- 
bitter the enjoyment. The pleasure which they contain, 
is also enhanced unceasingly by the delightful emotion 
of gratitude, with which they are always attended. 

2. He protects them. 

The exposure of mankind, from the cradle to the grave, 
to evil in an endless variety of forms, even when the 
danger is wholly unseen and unimagined, has ever been 
the favourite topic of the moralist, and a standing dic- 
tate of all human experience. Every day instructs us, 
that against this exposure no human foresight can effec- 
tually provide. 'Except the Lord keep the city, the' most 
diligent ' watchman waketh in vain. But he that keep- 
eth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.' Of his chil- 
dren ' the Lord is the keeper. The Lord is their shade 
upon their right hand. The sun shall not smite them 
by day, nor the moon by night ; the Lord shall preserve 
them from all evil ; he shall preserve their souls. The 
Lord shall preserve their going out, and their coming in, 
from this time forth and even for evermore. Therefore, 
when they pass through the waters, he will be with them, 
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow them ; 
when they walk through the fire, they shall not be burnt ; 
neither shall the flame kindle upon them.' In all the 
3i 



434 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. lxxxiij- 



fii tuations of life, his ' eye is upon them for good.' They 
may fall, indeed, because it is necessary, because it is best, 
for them ; ' yet they shall rise again, and shall not be 
utterly cast down.' At the same time, means of defence 
will be provided for them, in seasons apparently hope- 
less, and in ways utterly unexpected. Enemies are re- 
strained ; evils averted ; dangers dissipated ; friends 
raised up ; the cause of providence changed ; and thus, 
even when they are ' encompassed with the terrors of 
death, and the snares of hell, God is their fortress, 
their high tower, the rock of their salvation.' 

3. He instructs them. 

This work he accomplishes by his providence, by his 
word, by his ordinances, by his ministers, by the life 
and conversation of Christians, by the divine example 
of his Son, and by the peculiar communications of his 
Spirit. In all these ways, he furnishes them with what- 
ever knowledge, and whatever useful impressions they 
need to receive ; and trains them up, as children, in an 
effectual preparation for the perfect state of manhood, 
to which they will arrive in his heavenly kingdom. 

This, however, is the peculiar office of the Spirit of 
truth. As he originally revealed the truth of God con- 
cerning our salvation ; so, throughout their earthly pil- 
grimage, he discloses to the children of God the divine 
import of his own instructions, and gives them eves to 
see, ears to hear, and hearts to understand and obey, 
his own glorious precepts. He teaches them the true, 
evangelical use of religious ordinances, of trials, of 
afflictions, and of blessings ; dissolves their doubts ; re- 
moves their perplexities ; shows them the path of life ; 
takes them by the hand, and guides them through the 
mazes of this earthly wilderness to the heavenly Canaan. 
All those who are the Sons of God, are, as St Paul 
teaches us, ' led by the Spirit of God.' By him they 
are kept from all fatal ignorance, and from every ruin- 
ous error. 

4. He corrects them. 

Of this necessary and benevolent parental office St 
Paul gives us a detailed account in the twelfth chapter 
of the Epistle to the Hebrews. ' My son, despise not 
thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou 
art rebuked of him ; for whom the Lord loveth he chas- 
teneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If 
ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with 
sons ; for what son is he, whom the father chasten- 
eth not? But if ye be without chastisement, where- 
of all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. 
Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh, who 
corrected us, and we gave them reverence. Shall we 
not much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits, 
and live ? For they, verily, for a few days chastened 
us after their own pleasure ; but he for our profit, that 



we might be partakers of his holiness. Now no chasten- 
ing seemeth for the present to be joyous, but grievous ; 
nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of 
righteousness unto them, who are exercised thereby.' 

In the account here given by the apostle concerning 
the correction of such as are adopted, summary as it is, 
we have a complete view of all that is most interesting 
in this subject. We are taught particularly, that correc- 
tion is a distinctive privilege of God's children ; that 
those, who are not corrected, are not his children ; that 
we are always corrected, with an intention to do us 
good, and not arbitrarily, nor wantonly ; that for this 
reason, as well as on account of the prerogatives and 
perfections of God, we are bound to receive our correct 
tions with reverence, submission, patience, and fortitude ; 
that the end for which we are corrected, is that we may 
be ' made partakers of his holiness, and live ;' and that, 
if we receive our corrections in this manner, they will 
' yield us the peaceable .fruits of righteousness,' and thus 
terminate in our immortal life. 

The corrections which God administers to his chil- 
dren, are administered in the reproofs, alarms, and 
threatenings of his word and ordinances, and the chas- 
tisements of his providence ; and generally in all their 
distresses. By these they are checked in their down- 
ward progress of sense and sin ; warned of approaching 
danger ; quickened to more vigorous efforts in their duty ; 
weaned from the world ; and by degrees prepared for 
heaven. 

5. In the future world, he provides for them a glori- 
ous inheritance. 

Affectionate parents, in the present world, not only 
prepare their children to live usefully, by giving them a 
proper education, but to live comfortably, by furnishing 
them, when it is in their power, with sufficient means 
of subsistence. God, in the same manner, takes a par- 
ental care of his children, and provides the means of 
enabling them to live happily for ever. To this end, 
he renders them perfectly holy ; and thus furnishes them 
with dispositions, in possession of which they can live 
happily ; dispositions which prepare them to be useful, 
amiable, honourable, esteemed and loved by all wise 
and good beings, particularly by himself; dispositions 
which ensure them peace of mind, self-approbation, and 
the consciousness of being excellent and lovely. To a 
mind thus purified and exalted, he unites a body, spiritual, 
incorruptible, glorious, and immortal ; the proper tene- 
ment of so noble an inhabitant. Thus formed, and per- 
fected, he removes them to his heavenly kingdom, and 
there places them in circumstances, and amid compan- 
ions, of such a nature, as to enable them to improve 
in knowledge, excellence, honour, and happiness, for 
ever. 



SERMON LXXXIII. 

CONSEQUENCES OF REGENERATION SANCTIFICATION. 



And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly. — 1 Thes. v. 23. 



Having considered, in the preceding discourse, the 
nature, reality, importance, and consequences of adop- 



tion, I shall now proceed to the next subject of inquiry, 
in a theological system ; viz. Sanctification. That this 



REGENERATION SANCTIFI CATION. 



435 



is a consequence of regeneration is too obvious to every 
one who reads his Bible, to be questioned. 

The word sanctify, used in the text, and elsewhere 
in the Scriptures abundantly, is employed to denote two 
things, which are commonly, and properly, made dis- 
tinct objects of consideration in moral science ; the act 
of regenerating man, or making him holy in the first 
instance ; and the combination of all successive acts of 
a similar nature, by which man is improved in holiness 
through life. It is scarcely necessary to be observed, 
that the latter of these subjects will now be the theme 
of investigation. 

The text is a prayer of St Paul, for the sanctification 
of the Thessalonian Christians. As he prays, that 
they ' may be wholly sanctified ;' it is evident, that they 
were sanctified in part only at their regeneration ; and 
at the time also in which this prayer was uttered. 
It is further evident, that they were to be sanctified in 
a still greater degree ; because this event is prayed for 
by the apostle, under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. 
The reality of this work is thus completely evident 
from the text ; and is indeed so generally acknowledged 
by Christians, that it would be superfluous to attempt a 
proof of it, at the present time. I shall, therefore, pro- 
ceed directly to the consideration of this subject under 
the following heads : 

I. The agent ; 

II. The instruments ; and, 

III. The process ; of sanctification. 

I. The agent in our sanctification is the Spirit of 
God. 

This truth is amply declared in the Scriptures, ' God 
hath from the beginning chosen you to salvation, through 
the sanctification of the Spirit,' 2 Thess. ii. 13. ' Elect,' 
says St Peter, ' according to the foreknowledge of God 
the Father, through the sanctification of the Spirit unto 
obedience,' 1 Pet. i. 2. ' But ye are washed, but ye 
are sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name of 
the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.' 1 Cor. 
vi. 14. 

The most extensive and complete account, however, 
which is given us of this subject in the Scriptures, is 
contained in the eighth chapter of the Epistle to the Ro- 
mans. Here Christians are said ' not to walk after the 
flesh, but after the Spirit :' ' to be under the law of the 
Spirit of life :' 'to be after the Spirit:' 'to mind the 
things of the Spirit :' ' to be spiritually minded ;' and 
thus to possess ' life and peace :' ' to have the Spirit 
dwelling in them :' ' to be led by the Spirit ;' which to 
them becomes the 'Spirit of adoption;' that is, the 
Spirit by which they ' are children of God, and cry unto 
him, Abba, Father :' ' to have the witness of the Spirit :' 
* to have the first fruits of the Spirit :' ' to have the assis- 
tance of the Spirit in their prayers ;' and, universally, 
to be under his guidance, and influence, through the 
whole Christian life. 

The same agency, indeed, like that which was exert- 
ed in the creation of the world, and like the divine 
agency generally considered, is attributed to the God- 
head universally ; to the Father and to the Son. The 
text is an example of the first of these forms of ascrip- 
tion : ' The very God of peace sanctify you wholly!' 
Of the second we have an instance in the beginning of 
the Epistle of St Jude. ' Jude, the servant of Jesus 
Christ, and brother of James, to them that are sanctifi- 
ed by God the Father, and preserved in Jesus Christ, 



and called.' Of the last of these forms of ascription we 
have a specimen in 1 Cor. i. .'JO, ' Jesus Christ, who 
unto us, of God, is become wisdom, righteousness, and 
sanctification, and redemption :' and another in Heb. ii. 
11, ' For both he who sanctifieth, and they who are 
sanctified, are all of one : wherefore he is not ashamed 
to call them brethren.' 

The reason why this work is thus differently ascribed, 
is, that it is considered in these canonical discourses, in 
different manners, and with relation to different ob- 
jects. 

By the Father we are sanctified, as we are chosen by 
him unto sanctification, as by his good pleasure and 
free grace the atonement of Christ and the sanctifying 
agency of the Spirit, exist. By the Son we are sancti- 
fied, as his death is the only means by which we ever 
become holy : and by which the Spirit came into the 
world, for the benevolent purpose of making us holy. 
By the Spirit we are sanctified, as the immediate agent 
in applying to us the blessings of Christ's redemption ; 
particularly in renewing and purifying our hearts and 
lives. 

Thus, although this work is immediately performed 
by the Spirit, as the proper agent ; yet we are truly, 
though more remotely, said to be sanctified by the Fa- 
ther, by the Son, and by the Godhead universally con- 
sidered. 

The manner in which this work is performed in the 
mind of man, must, like other questions concerning the 
agency of intelligent beings, remain in a great measure 
concealed from such minds as ours. My observations 
concerning it will, therefore, be very few. In my own 
view, the work of sanctification, so far as the agent is 
concerned, is no other than a repetition of the same 
agency, by which we are regenerated. Our regenera- 
tion, according to my own apprehensions, is accom- 
plished, as I mentioned at large in a former discourse, 
by the communication to our minds of a new relish for 
divine things. Our sanctification, as distinguished from 
it, consists, supremely, in enhancing this relish ; in ren- 
dering it more intense, more uniform, more vigorous, 
and universally more operative. The communication of 
this relish, or disposition, makes us holy at first ; or in 
our regeneration. Subsequent communications of the 
same nature, render us more and more holy after- 
wards. As the effect, in both cases, is the same ; it cannot 
be reasonably doubted, that the cause is the same; nor that 
it operates in the same manner. If this disposition is in 
the mind, the source of holy volitions and virtuous con- 
duct ; the stronger, the more prevalent it is at any suc- 
ceeding period, the more virtuous will be the life. 

II. The instruments of our sanctification are gener- 
ally the word and providence of God. 

The word of God is the means of our sanctification 
in all cases, in which it contributes to render us better ; 
whether it be read, heard, or remembered ; whether it 
be pondered with love, reverence, wonder, and de- 
light ; or whether, with similar affections, it be faithfully 
obeyed ; whether its instructions and impressions be 
communicated to us directly, or through the medium of 
divine ordinances, or the conversation, or the commun- 
ion, or the example, of our fellow Christians. In all 
these cases, the thing which is seen, which is illustrated, 
which is exemplified, which is in any manner brought 
home to the heart, and thus rendered the means of im- 
proving us in virtue, is no other than the word of (jiod ; 



436 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxxih. 



however numerous or however diversified the modes 
are in which it is presented to the mind. 

As the word of God is loved hy a regenerated mind ; 
it is easily discernible, that its influence on such a 
mind will be very different from that which existed 
in the preceding state, commonly termed the state of na- 
ture. 

Particularly, the Scriptures will be more frequently 
and extensively read. A book which we love, is often 
taken up ; is often perused, and dwelt upon with plea- 
sure. Such a book, therefore, will be much more tho- 
roughly studied, and extensively understood, than one 
which is disrelished. It is, also, now more highly re- 
verenced ; and for this reason will be more read, and 
better known. 

Its instructions and precepts, at the same time, coin- 
cide with the great scheme of moral conduct formed by 
the mind ; as its only general directory ; harmonizing 
with its views, affections, aims, and determinations. 
They are, therefore, welcomed as means of light; as ob- 
jects of complacency ; as sanctions of favourite designs ; 
and as guides, aids, and motives, to a life, chosen and 
loved. 

The Scriptures are also regarded by such a mind, 
as being, in a proper sense, the word of God ; of him 
by whom itself was created; under whose law and go- 
vernment it is placed ; to whom all its duty is originally 
owed ; and to whom it is, of course, answerable for 
all its conduct. Thus considered, the Scriptures appear 
to such a mind invested with infinite authority, convey- 
ing supreme obligation, and rightfully controlling the 
heart and the life. With an efficacy still more pecu- 
liar, are they regarded as the word of the Father, the 
Redeemer, and the Sanctifier of man : as the word of a 
forgiving God ; of a Redeemer, dying for its own sins ; 
of that infinitely benevolent Spirit, who is its own sanc- 
tifier. Under these titles, the most venerable, and the 
most endearing which the universe has ever known, 
God speaks in his own word to every Christian with a 
power which nothing can equal, with a tenderness and 
endearment to which there is no parallel. Whatever 
he utters, is not the prescription of a perfect creator and 
lawgiver only ; but the counsel and pleasure, also, of 
a father, and an everlasting friend : infinitely the most 
faithful and useful of all friends ; infinitely the most 
venerable and affectionate of all parents. From such a 
source what counsel, what command, what persuasion 
will not completely influence, and control, the heart of 
filial piety ? 

Finally, the Scriptures are regarded by such a mind, 
as containing all things necessary to life and to godli- 
ness. The precepts are an ample summary of all the 
directions necessary for our practice ; the ordinances, 
for our worship ; and the instructions for our faith, and 
the prudent conduct of our religious life. The mind 
resorts to them, therefore, as to a complete compend of 
all the directions which it needs, or ever can need, in 
the present world. Every thing which it contains, is 
right ; is sufficient ; is decisive. To every thino- it 
yields, therefore, with implicit confidence ; and, what- 
ever may be the rules which it finds here, is satisfied 
and safe. 

The providence of God becomes the means of our 
sanctification in all the ways in which it makes solemn 
and religious impressions on the mind. The great, ma- 
jestic, and awful events, which take place in the crea- 



tion around us, excite strongly admiration and rever- 
ence towards that glorious Being, who holds the universe 
in his hands and controls all its beings and events with 
such amazing power and wisdom. The order and har- 
mony with which all things move to their proper ends ; 
the succession of summer and winter, seed-time and har- 
vest ;' and the terrible things which God ' does in righte- 
ousness, when his judgments are abroad in the earth ;» 
awaken in the soul of the Christian most affecting views 
of the divine government , of its vastness, its comprehen- 
siveness ; its astonishing grandeur ; and its invarying 
opposition to iniquity. 

The dispensations of God to his church are a most 
impressive source of religious thoughts and affections 
to the Christian. These are all dispensations, involving 
the peculiar interests of his own brethren ; his chosen 
friends ; with whom lie ever ' weeps, when they weep, 
and rejoices, when they rejoice.' These display, also, 
in a manner wholly peculiar, and, although often ob- 
scure, mysterious, and even perplexing ; yet, if it be not 
his own fault, always interesting and profitable, the 
most venerable and endearing attributes of his heavenly 
Father. Every Christian will easily recollect, that,- in 
the history of God's providence towards the disciples of 
Christ, in their sufferings and deliverances, their exposure 
and protection, the communications made to them of 
grace, mercy, and peace, their consequent exemplary faith, 
their hope and joy, their victory and triumph, their edi- 
fying life and their peaceful death, he has found means 
of improvement, always touchinghis heart, and contribut- 
ing in an eminent degree to amend his life. Here he 
has found his doubts and fears, his stupidity and sloth, 
his murmurings and backslidings, most efficaciously re- 
proved ; his faith and fortitude, his reverence and sub- 
mission, his hope, and love, and joy, unusually streng- 
thened. PVom accounts of these things he has risen to 
more fervent prayers, more ardent praises, more vigor- 
ous resolutions, and more faithful obedience. What is 
true of these things, existing in other times, and other 
countries, is equally true of the same things, as they 
respect the Christians around him. Here the events are 
brought before his eyes ; and are presented to him with 
the force possessed only by the immediate objects of 
sense. The truth, here, may be no more satisfactorily 
exhibited ; but the impression made by it, is necessarily 
enhanced. A deeper interest is, therefore, naturally 
felt ; more lasting traces are impressed on the memory ; 
and a more powerful influence is diffused over the life. 
All the happy effects, derived from the preceding- 
source, flow, therefore, from this with a more intense 
and controlling efficacy. 

But, above all, the dispensations of God to himself, 
and to his family, are the most strongly realized, and 
most regularly directed to his own spiritual improvement, 
by the renewed man. These all are more perfectly un- 
derstood ; come more immediately to the heart ; and 
operate with a more commanding influence on the life. 
In these he is taught by the finger of God, as a child 
trained to his service, and fitted by degrees for eternal 
glory. ' Whoso is wise, and will observe these things, 
even they shall understand the loving kindness of the 
Lord.' 

It will be remembered, that to both these sources of 
improvement in the divine life, the heart of the Chris- 
tian is opened by the disposition which he receives ia 
regeneration. It will be remembered, that he regards 



REGENERATION.— SANCTIFICAT ION. 



437 



them all with a taste, a relish, congenial to them ; that 
he beholds them with enlightened eyes ; that he applies 
himself to them with unceasing diligence ; that he con- 
siders this application to them as his indispensable duty, 
and his pre-eminent interest. All of them, therefore, 
operate upon his understanding, affections, and life, in 
a manner unknown by other men : and where sinners 
would experience nothing but dulness, distrust, murmur- 
ing, and opposition, he cannot fail to find, for these rea- 
sons, the most efficacious means of rendering him wiser, 
and better, and happier. 

III. The process of sanctification may be summarily 
exhibited in the following manner. 

1. It is progressive through life. 

The first sanctifying act of the Spirit of God is em- 
ployed in regenerating the soul. Succeeding acts of 
the same nature, are employed in purifying it, through 
all the successive periods of life. All these acts are, I 
apprehend, of exactly the same nature ; and differ from 
each other in no other respect, except that the regener- 
ating act is first, and the sanctifying acts, as they are 
termed, are successive to it. All, united, constitute that 
which in the Scriptures, and often in the common use 
of language, is called the work of sanctification. But 
as there is frequent occasion to distinguish the first act 
from the others, we customarily term this the renewing, 
or regenerating act ; and sometimes regeneration and 
renovation ; and denote the succeeding acts by the words 
sanctifying and sanctification. All however, are, in my 
view, exactly of the same nature. The agent is the same : 
his goings are the same: and the effects are the same. 
The reason why the first act is thus distinguished, is, that 
the change from sin to holiness is an event so remarkable, 
so wonderful, so new in the providence of God. The future 
changes from one degree of holiness to another, although 
really wonderful, are less so ; and less contrary to ra- 
tional hope. They are, therefore, grouped together in 
the Scriptures, and in common language, under the one 
general name of sanctification. These acts, as I have 
observed, continue through life. Under the influence of 
them, and with the aid of those means which are ap- 
pointed for this purpose in the divine government, the 
Christian ' grows in wisdom and in grace,' to the end. 

To aim at this progress is accordingly made the duty, 
and described as the character, of a good man, through- 
out the Scriptures. ' This one thing I do,' saith St 
Paul, ' forgetting those things which are behind, and 
reaching forth to those things which are before, I press 
toward the mark, for the prize of the high calling of 
God in Christ Jesus,' Phil. iii. 13. ' Beware,' says St 
Peter, ' lest ye also, being led away with the error of 
the wicked, fall from your own steadfastness. But grow 
in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Sa- 
viour Jesus Christ,' 2 Pet. iii. 18. ' Besides this,' says 
the same apostle, ' giving all diligence, add to your faith, 
virtue, to virtue, knowledge, to knowledge, temperance, 
to temperance, patience, to patience, godliness, to godli- 
ness, brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness, 
charity. For, if ye do these things, ye shall never 
fall,' 2 Pet. i. 5, 6, 7, 10. 

2. This process is not uniform. 

By this 1 intend, that it is not the same in manner or 
degree, every day, month, or year. In the religious life 
of St Paul, as we are informed, ' the law of the members' 
prevailed at times ; and, at times, ' the law of the mind.' 
In that of David, and that of Hezekiah, as well as in that 



of Solomon, sin, at particular seasons, appears evidently 
to have triumphed throughout considerable periods. 

When we remember the nature and circumstances of 
men, this fact will be far from appearing wonderful. 
The nature of man is in many respects various. From 
whatever cause it arises, our views are at times brighter, 
our vigilance more active, our resolution stronger, our 
temper more serene, and our energy more vigorous, than 
at other times. This is visible in all that we speak, or 
think, or do, whatever may be the objects of our atten- 
tion. That a state of things in us, which so materially 
affects ourselves, in our very nature, should have an im- 
portant influence on our religious interests, is to be ex- 
pected of course. The changes are here wrought in 
ourselves ; and we, the persons thus changed, are those, 
whose religion is concerned. As we are changed, there- 
fore, the state of our religion must, in a greater or less 
degree be changed also. When our minds are bright, 
and prepared to take bright views of any subject of con- 
templation ; their views of religion will naturally be 
bright. When our affections are in a general state of 
ardour ; our love to divine things will naturally be vi- 
gorous ; as well as our hatred to sin and temptation. 
When our resolution is generally firm, we shall natur- 
ally be ' steadfast and immovable in the work of the 
Lord.' On the contrary, when our apprehension is dull 
and heavy, our spirits low, and our resolution timid and 
wavering, all our efforts will be poor, feeble, and in a 
great measure fruitless. Our views will be obscure, our 
affections will lag, and our progress will either not 
exist at all, or be slow, heavy, and discouraging. 

Sometimes, also, we are beset by more numerous and 
more powerful temptations. Snares are set for us with 
greater art and secrecy. Sophistry more plausible 
and seducing is employed to warp our principles, affec- 
tions, and conduct. Obstacles apparently insurmounta- 
ble block up our way. Discouragements, terrifying, 
and at seasons overwhelming, daunt our resolution. The 
inducements to backsliding come upon us suddenly ; 
find us off our guard ; and overpower us, befoi'e we 
summon either our understanding, or our principles, to 
our aid. 

At the same time, our advantages for improvement in 
the Christian life, are, at some times, far less, and less 
productive of safety and improvement, than at others. 
Our peculiar and most useful friends, those who best 
understand our character, wants, and dangers, are some- 
times removed from us to such a distance, that we can- 
not enjoy their counsels, reproofs, consolations, or ex- 
ample. We are prevented from uniting with them in 
the public or private ordinances of the gospel ; and are 
deprived of the peculiar blessings of intimate Christian 
communion. 

At times, also, we are peculiarly unfaithful to our- 
selves, and to God ; are less watchful ; less prayerful ; 
less strenuous in our opposition to temptation, and in 
the performance of our duty. The world lays stronger 
hold on our affections. We venture on forbidden 
ground ; draw near to the objects of seduction : become 
fascinated with charms before undiscovered, and over- 
powered by combinations of harmony, fragrance, beauty, 
and splendour, of sprightliness, gayety, and joy ; or 
alarmed by an assemblage of enemies, dangers, and ter- 
rors, of contempt, shame, and ridicule ; so as to be en- 
ticed to sin, on the one hand, and terrified into it, on 
the other. 



438 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxxhi. 



At other periods, most of these things are reversed. 
Time, at these seasons, rolls on, to us, with brighter 
mornings, with more unclouded days, with more serene 
evenings ; and nights with more undisturbed tranquillity 
and peaceful repose. At such seasons, our views of all 
divine subjects are clearer and more just. Our affec- 
tions are more alive ; our aims more noble, unmixed, 
and heavenly; our resolution more vigorous and uni- 
form ; our conduct more approved in its progress, and 
followed, in review, by purer peace and self-approba- 
tion. God, also, for reasons wholly unknown to us, or 
imperfectly comprehended by us, sometimes withdraws 
the light of his countenance, and the blessings of his 
Spirit ; sometimes communicates these and other bless- 
ings more uniformly and abundantly ; and generally 
regulates his providence, towards us, in such a manner, 
that we are greatly improved and prospered, in some 
instances ; and, in others, are afflicted, brought to a 
stand, or suffered to decline. 

But, with all these inequalities in the course of the 
Christian, his holiness, like ' the house of David, waxes 
stronger and stronger ;' and his corruption, like ' the 
house of Saul, becomes weaker and weaker.' 

S. The process of sanctification is universal. 

By this I intend, that it affects the whole man : his 
views, affections, purposes, and conduct; and those of 
every kind. Jt extends alike to his duties of every 
kind : towards himself, his fellow creatures, and his Ma- 
ker. It affects, and improves, indiscriminately, all the 
virtues of the Christian character : love to God and to 
mankind ; faith, repentance, justice, truth, kindness, 
humility, forgiveness, charity, generosity, public spirit, 
meekness, patience, fortitude, temperance, moderation, 
candour, and charitableness of judgment. It influences 
ruling passions and appetites ; habits of thought and 
affection, of language and practice. It prompts to 
all the acts of piety : to prayer, praise, attendance 
upon the sanctuary and its ordinances, our sanctifica- 
tion of the sabbath, Christian communion, and Christian 
discipline. 

Generally, it affects every part of the Christian's 
character and life, and all it affects, with continual 
advantage. Yet, as has been already remarked, the 
operation is not uniform. All the Christian virtues in- 
crease ; yet they do not all increase alike ; nor does 
any one of them increase in the same manner at all 
times. In the Scriptures, the improvement of the mind 
in the Christian character is, with great beauty and cor- 
rectness, compared to the growth of children. Chil- 
dren grow from their birth ; and may be truly said to be 
always growing : yet the increase is not always alike, 
nor always visible. They grow, also, in every part of 
their frame ; increasing upon the whole, both in size 
and stature, throughout all the members. Yet at some 
times, and in some of the members, they cannot be seen 
to grow at all : while at other times, and in other mem- 
bers, the increase is rapid, and easily discernible. The 
means of growth, also, are very various, and variously 
operative. From day to day, from week to week, and 
sometimes from year to year, the progress cannot be 
perceived. And, in some instances, one part is found 
to increase, another to be at a stand, or even to dimi- 
nish ; and thus the symmetry, proportion, and beauty, 
of the frame to be sensibly injured. In all these par- 
ticulars, the parallel between the growth of Christians, 
and the growth of children, is exact. 



4. The progress of sanctification is conspicuous in the 
life. 

From the commencement of Christianity in the soul, 
the Christian course is that of a general reformation. 
The religion, that ' brings' not ' forth fruits meet for 
repentance,' is not the religion of the Scriptures. It is 
not the beginning of spiritual life. It is not the begin- 
ning of immortal life. The virtue of the gospel is a 
living principle, producing every good fruit ; rendering 
the man wiser, and his life and conversation better, unto 
the end. The natural passions and appetites of some 
Christians are, indeed, strong ; and their evil habits, 
antecedently to regeneration, have become powerful. 
The temptations of others are peculiarly great : and 
they labour under peculiar disadvantages for resisting 
them, as well as for making progress in the Christian 
life. 

As the work of sanctification itself proceeds, accord- 
ing to the exhibition which I have made of this subject, 
in irregular and very various gradations ; so the exter- 
nal fruits of it, seen in the life of the Christian, are sub- 
ject to the same gradations. ' The wind bloweth,' not 
only ' where,' but in what manner, ' it listeth ;' and no 
particular description can be satisfactorily given of its 
progress. 

The varieties of this work, which I have all along re- 
ferred to the life of a single person, become far more 
numerous and diversified when referred to Christians 
in general. Here, both the original and incidental dif- 
ferences are multiplied almost without end : and it is 
impossible to mention even a small part of them in the 
compass of a single discourse. Still the same general 
doctrines are applicable, and useful, to all Christians ; 
because all have a common nature, and a common in- 
terest. 

REMARKS. 

1 . The considerations, suggested concerning this im- 
portant religious subject, furnish every professing Chris- 
tian with an interesting rule for the examination of his 
own character. 

It has been here exhibited, as the true process of 
sanctification, that this work is carried on through the 
whole of human life ; as the continual, though not uni- 
form, state of the Christian character, to be advancing, 
under the influence of the divine Spirit, ' towards the 
stature of the perfect man.' With this scheme in view, 
it becomes every professor of religion faithfully to in- 
quire, whether he perceives in his own mind such a pro- 
gress. It will readily be seen, that Christians who 
have lately become such, must have fewer, and more im- 
perfect, means of making this inquiry, and determining 
the point satisfactorily, than those, who are farther ad- 
vanced. The longer children have been growing, the 
more perceivable will be the change of their stature. 
The longer Christians have been Christians, the greater 
advances in religion will they have had opportunity to 
make. The child may have grown in reality, through 
a short period ; while yet his growth is incapable of 
being perceived. The young Christian may, in like 
manner, find less proof of his advancement ; or doubt- 
ful proof ; or even no proof at all ; and yet have no 
sufficient reason for discouragement. Still he ought to 
make the inquiry ; and to make it with persevering dili- 
gence. If he be faithful in his duty, he will, in all pro- 
bability and at no great distance of time, find comfort- 



REGENERATION PEACE OF CONSCIENCE. 



439 



ing evidence of his growth in grace ; and usually the 
sooner, the more faithful he is in pursuing this exami- 
nation. 

The professor, who has longer declared his devotion 
to God, is bound still more earnestly to make this in- 
quiry. One, at least, of the best proofs which can be 
furnished, of the existence of grace in the soul, is evi- 
dence of its growth ; and one of which we ought never 
to lose sight, even for a day. If we go on from month 
to month, and from year to year, without any improve- 
ment in the Christian life ; our case must be dark and 
distressing indeed. Much more distressing must it be, 
if, instead of advancing, we sensibly decline. Chris- 
tians may, and will, fall into temptation, and sin ; and 
sometimes into sins which are great and peculiarly 
dreadful. Thus did David; thus did Solomon; thus 
did Peter. These are fearful grounds of humiliation 
and sorrow ; but even these, when followed by contri- 
tion and amendment, are far less discouraging and hope- 
less, than that slow, regular decline, that chilled, perish- 
ing state, which admits of no intervenings of warmth, 
no returns of health and vigour. The pleurisy, or the 
gout may kill ; and often greatly alarm, and endanger; 
but they frequently, nay, most usually, terminate their 
violence speedily, and give place to returning strength. 
The consumption, on the other hand, although its at- 
tacks are gentle, gradual, and scarcely perceivable, in- 
sinuates itself with a fatal progress into the constitution ; 
and, if not exterminated in season, regularly ends in 
death. I will not say, that a hectic in religion is hope- 
less ; but it must be allowed, on all hands, to be terri- 
ble. Let it be observed in this place, however, that 
Christians sometimes are really advancing, when they 
do not perceive it ; and when their progress, although 
hidden from themselves, is visible to those around them. 
This, together with other mysteries, God will unfold here- 
after ; and will show them, that the dispensation has 
been the means of his glory, and of their own final 
good. All Christians ought to learn, from this fact, to 
consult their fellow Christians, as well as themselves, on 
this great subject ; and not to depend entirely on their 
own investigation. 

If, on the other hand, professors of religion find 
themselves advancing in faith, repentance, and holiness ; 



if God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, is more 
and more an object of delightful contemplation to their 
minds ; if they take more and more delight in prayer 
and praise, in the Sabbath, the sanctuary, and their ordi- 
nances ; if the word of God seems more and more pre- 
ferable ' to the most fine gold ;' if they love more and 
more to ' do good unto all men ;' if they find an in- 
creasing delight in the character, company, conversation, 
and prosperity, of their fellow Christians : then they 
may, indeed, sing of mercy ; and enjoy a lively hope, 
that they are fast overcoming the world, and preparing 
for the glories of the heavenly kingdom. 

2. The same considerations furnish abundant encou- 
ragement to the Christian. 

Think how much God has done to accomplish this 
work ; and you can find no room for despondency. I 
well know, I readily confess, how prone all men are to 
yield to temptations ; to love the world ; to indulge 
appetite and passion ; to embrace error ; to cherish 
self-justification ; to find ways of sinning, which in their 
own eyes are safe and blameless ; to reconcile and unite 
virtues to their counterfeit vices ; and thus, in a great 
variety of modes, to backslide, and sin, and fall. 
How hopeless, with these things in our view, would seem 
final, persevering holiness, and a safe arrival in the 
heavenly kingdom ? 

But the agency of the spirit of God, in our sancti- 
fication, puts all these terrible evils to flight ; and as- 
sures us, that ' he, who hath begun a good work in us, 
will perform it unto the day of Christ.' He is every 
where present to every Christian ; knows every want, 
and danger ; and is ever ready to do all that is neces- 
sary and useful for the followers of Christ. No evil 
can escape his eye ; no enemy resist or elude his 
power. With infinite benignity and tenderness he 
dwells within and without us, to guard, relieve, heal, 
sanctify, and save ; to give us strength to endure, and 
power to overcome. Under his influence and direction, 
we shall successfully ' fight the good fight, keep the 
faith, finish our course with joy, and receive that crown 
of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, 
will give to all them that love his appearing. Thanks 
be to God for this unspeakable gift.' Amen. 



SERMON LXXXIV. 



CONSEQUENCES OF REGENERATION.— PEACE OF CONSCIENCE 



Peace I leave with you : my peace I give unto you : not as the world giveth, give I unto you. — John xiv. 27 



Havinq examined the nature of adoption and sancti- 
fication, I shall now proceed to consider another con- 
sequence of this change in man ; viz. evangelical peace. 
These words are a part of Christ's first discourse to 
his apostles, after the institution of the Lord's supper. 
He was now about to leave the world. His death he 
had often predicted to them in the plainest language : 
yet so strong were their expectations of a reigning, con- 



quering Messiah, that they seem never to have believed 
these predictions. So far as they were able, they ap- 
pear to have interpreted them in any manner, rather 
than the true one ; and, when they could not misinter- 
pret them, to have concluded, that they involved some 
mystery, which it was beyond their power to unriddle. 
However, as the time drew near, and the events, 
which led to this great one, began to thicken, they be- 



440 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. LXXX1V. 



came apprehensive and alarmed. What evils were be- 
fore them they seem not to have realized ; but they ap- 
pear to have been fully sensible, that something terrible 
was at hand, and to have become deeply discouraged by 
loose and undefined forebodings. 

Christ understood, perfectly, the state of their minds ; 
and with his own peculiar tenderness, commenced the 
benevolent work of furnishing them the necessary relief. 
This he accomplished in three discourses: the first in- 
cluded in this, the second in the two following, and 
the third in the seventeenth, chapters. Never were con- 
solations so well devised, or so well administered. The 
discourses are beautiful beyond all parallel ; supremely 
instructive ; exquisitely tender ; and replete with consi- 
derations of the most supporting nature. The last of 
them is a prayer ; more interesting, more sublime, more 
wonderful, than ever was, or ever will be, uttered in 
the present world ; and may fairly be regarded as a 
specimen of that intercession which the divine advocate 
makes for his followers ' before the throne of the Ma- 
jesty in the heavens.' 

Among the considerations which endear these dis- 
courses of Christ to his children, the most affecting one 
is, they are his dying words ; his last addresses before 
he ascended the cross. They succeeded the institution 
of the sacramental supper: they preceded the cruci- 
fixion. Never was there an occasion so interesting, so 
solemn, so divine ; nor was any mind, beside that of 
Christ, ever so perfectly fitted to understand, and feel, 
the nature of this occasion, or so able to employ it to 
the best of all purposes. He seems, here, to have pour- 
ed out his soul with supreme love, and infinite endear- 
ment. The whole Saviour is brought out to view : the 
God becomes visible in his most lovely and glorious 
character. 

The apostles were now to be left by him ; to go, un- 
befriended and unprotected, into a world of enemies ; 
and to meet all the evils which could be inflicted on 
them by bigotry, malice, and persecution. To support 
them in this state of suffering, he promises them a rich 
variety of blessings ; particularly, the presence and 
everlasting love- of his Father and himself; reminds 
them of his own sufferings, and of the fortitude with 
which he had endured them ; and assures to them the 
consolations of the Spirit of truth, as a most desirable 
and delightful support under all external distresses. 

Of all the blessings contained in these promises, 
none seems to be better suited to their situation and 
their wants, than that which is announced in the text. 
When contentions multiply, and enemies invade from 
without ; when friends withdraw, and comforts dimin- 
ish ; when enjoyments lessen, and hope retires; no- 
thing can be more timely, more desirable, more welcome, 
than peace within ; peace quieting all the tumults of 
the mind, soothing the wounds of a troubled conscience, 
and allaying, on the one hand, fear ; on the other, suf- 
fering. 

That we may understand the value of this legacy, 
left by the Redeemer not to his apostles only, but to all 
his followers, it will be useful to consider, 

I. The nature of the peace which lie gave; and 

II. The manner in which he gave it. 

I. / will endeavour to explain the nature of the peace 
which Christ gave his disciples. 

Peace is always opposed to war ; and, when begun 
in any instance, involves the cessation of the preceding 



conflict. With a direct reference to such a conflict 
Christ was pleased to bestow the blessing mentioned in 
the text ; and called it by a name, fitted to show both 
the nature of the evils to be remedied, and the nature 
of the remedy. 

Such a conflict actually exists between man and him- 
self; his fellow men ; and his Maker. Against God 
this hostility manifests itself in ten thousand acts of re- 
sistance to his pleasure. While h& claims the supreme 
love and implicit obedience of every intelligent crea- 
ture, man denies both his claims and the rights on 
which they are founded ; and boldly sets up, in opposi- 
tion to them, claims and rights of his own, which he 
determines to support to the utmost of his power. For 
this end he commences a progress of revolt and conten- 
tion, which occupies most of his time, and most of his 
thoughts ; and, at death, leaves, not unfrequently, the 
controversy undecided. 

With his fellow men his contention arises from two 
sources : his own selfishness, and theirs. The mind in 
which selfishness reigns, always wishes, intends, and 
labours, to make every other interest subservient to its 
own ; or, at the least, to prevent it from disturbing, 
precluding, or diminishing its own. From this source 
have sprung all the private and all the public conten- 
tions which have destroyed the peace of neighbour- 
hoods, and ravaged the world ; the sufferings and the 
sighs, the tears and the groans, which have spread from 
one end of heaven to the other. 

Nor is man less busily employed in conflicting with 
himself. The passions and appetites of the human 
heart have ever opposed the dictates of conscience. 
The conscience was intended by God to regulate the 
moral conduct of the man ; and strenuously, and firmly, 
asserts its right to this most important, and most 
neessary, control. Still more strenuously the passions 
rebel against it ; force the man to submit to their own 
dictates ; and hurry him into a course of disobedience. 
In this progress of guilt, conscience holds out her dread- 
ful mirror to his terrified eye ; and exhibits him to 
himself, odious, deformed, and fearfully exposed to the 
anger of God. 

To this distracted, miserable being, peace is announc- 
ed, in the text, by him who knew all the wants, suffer- 
ings, and dangers of our race. Upon a strict examina- 
tion, the legacy will be found to be exactly suited to 
the state of those, for whom it was intended. 

1. It is a happy state of the mind, or intellect. 

Every person, who has at all entertained serious and 
solemn thoughts concerning religious subjects, must have 
often perceived a multitude of doubts springing up in 
his mind, at different times, concerning the word of 
God ; the evidence by which its divine origin is evinc- 
ed, and the nature of the doctrines and precepts which 
it contains. These doubts may, at times, grow out of 
ignorance : usually they spring from the heart; from its 
disrelish to the truth itself, and its opposition to its au- 
thor. Every doubt on this subject is attended with some 
degree of distress. The soul is unwilling that there 
should be any such truths ; and that God should have 
such a character as to be capable of being the author 
of them. Especially is this observation applicable to 
those doctrines which exhibit ourselves as guilty, con- 
demned, and ruined ; and God as pure, holy, and sove- 
reign. Against these doctrines mankind have contended 
in all ages ; have doubted their truth ; have denied their 



REGENERATION.— PEACE OF CONSCIENCE. 



441 



import ; and have exploded the evidence by which they 
were sustained. In the place of these doctrines the 
mind substitutes others which are more palatable to 
itself. For their obvious and real meaning, which it is 
determined not to admit, it substitutes others ; kindred, 
perhaps, and plausible, but oblique and incapable of 
being supported. In this manner it struggles to get 
loose from the truth of God ; sometimes by believing 
that he has made no revelation of his will to mankind ; 
sometimes by determining, that he has made no such 
revelation as is commonly received ; and generally by 
adopting a creed, essentially different from that which 
is contained in the Scriptures. Every part of this creed 
it makes more pleasing to itself, less terrifying, less 
humiliating, and yet, as it hopes, equally safe. 

Still, revelation, in spite of all these labours and 
struggles, continues to be supported by no small evi- 
dence. The obvious meaning of the doctrines which it 
contains, will, at times, appear but too probably the true 
meaning. In spite of the mind itself, its arguments 
and persuasions, God may, and, it frequently fears, will 
be found to be just such a being, as he seems to be ex- 
hibited in the Scriptures. Its own character, also, it 
almost daily suspects (and conscience perpetually en- 
hances the suspicion) is just such as the Scriptures have 
declared ; and its danger neither less real, nor less ter- 
rible. Thus the soul becomes ' a troubled sea, which 
cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.' 

Nor is either this opposition, or the distress which 
springs from it, less excited by the tenor of the scrip- 
tural precepts, than by that of the doctrines. In the 
view of such a mind the precepts appear to be unneces- 
sarily numerous, nice, and rigid; enjoining many things 
which it thinks might better have been omitted ; and 
pi'ohibiting many things which, it conceives, would have 
been much better allowed. The life which they re- 
quire, it pronounces to be unnecessarily strict, difficult, 
and discouraging ; and regards as being of a. gloomy 
and melancholy nature. Hence it supposes, and at 
times believes, that God cannot have intended that his 
precepts should be understood in their obvious meaning ; 
and that some other meaning, attended with many soft- 
enings and involving many limitations, is to be attribut- 
ed to them ; or that, at the worst, a partial, imperfect 
obedience to them will ultimately be accepted. 

Under the influence of these wishes, and the views to 
which they give birth, accompanied by fears, that the 
things thus opposed may all be the real pleasure of 
God ; the views erroneous, and the wishes sinful; such 
a mind wearies itself to find out a more palatable moral 
system ; is harassed by suspense, and distressed by pain- 
ful apprehensions. 

But when the hostility of the heart towards its Maker, 
and towards his truth, is dissolved by the mild influence 
of the Spirit of grace ; and the soul is endued with love 
to its Maker; the character of God, and the doctrines 
and precepts of his word, are seen with new optics ; and 
appear, therefore, in a new light. It is the nature of 
evangelical love to delight, alike, in the truth and its 
author. Both are thenceforth seen with the eyes of 
good-will. Of course, God appears to the mind invest- 
ed with his proper character and supreme glory ; as the 
sum of all excellence ; as infinitely great, and wise, and 
good. It is seen to be impossible for him to deceive, 
or to be deceived. Whatever he declares is, therefore, 
admitted without reserve. The divine origin of the 



Scriptures is readily believed, because the evidence 
which supports it, is such, as to satisfy any candid mind ; 
and because the mind in question, has now become 
possessed of real candour. The true and obvious mean- 
ing of the doctrines and precepts, wherever it is seen, 
is readily received, because it is relished, and because 
God is believed to have made his precepts ' plain to 
him that understandeth,' or, in other words, is possess- 
ed of piety. The things, to be believed, the mind now 
loves to believe. The things required it now chooses 
to do. The nature of the doctrines, and the reasons on 
which the precepts are founded, it will, indeed, at times 
be unable to unravel. But here its faith and obedi- 
ence will be implicit ; because it knows, that God does 
not prescribe without the best reasons, and that his in- 
structions, however mysterious, must be always true, and 
always desirable. What it understands it welcomes. 
What it does not understand it receives with a humble 
submission to him who has said, ' The secret things 
belong to God ; but the things that are revealed be- 
long to men.' 

From such a mind, it is easy to see, suspense and 
perplexity must vanish of course ; together with all 
the agitation, fear, and pain with which they were at- 
tended. The weapons of its warfare have been laid 
down ; its toils are ended ; its alarms are over ; its strug- 
gles are relinquished ; and a delightful repose has suc- 
ceeded to its multiplied, long-continued, and painful 
efforts ; a repose doubly delightful in its own nature, 
and a charming contrast to the various troubles by 
which it has been so often and so deeply distressed. 

2. It is a happy state of the affections. 

It has been already sufficiently indicated, that the 
affections are originally alienated from God, and opposed 
to his government and pleasure. The spirit of apos- 
tasy is, primarily, a spirit of pride and self-dependence ; 
which always exalts itself against its Maker. The an- 
gels who fell, fell by refusing to ' keep their first estate ;' 
t/i'j 'tuvrai/ a.qx Y i v ; their own office, ox principality ; and 
by deserting (ccvo'ht'Troi'Txs) their habitation ; oix.yjTiii>ioii, 
their station. They refused to continue even in that 
exalted rank of existence, and to execute the duties of 
that high station assigned to them by the goodness of 
God. The same spirit predominates in fallen men. 
They too are dissatisfied with their own station, and 
their own duties. All apostate beings say to God in 
their hearts, * we will not have thee to reign over us.' 

Equally hostile to the divine government is the lust 
of the flesh — sensuality ; and the lust of the eyes — 
avarice. Concerning these three great controlling affec- 
tions of the human mind, it is alike true, that ' they are 
not of the Father, but of the world ;' and that, wher- 
ever they reign, the ' love of the Father' cannot exist. 

From the indulgence of this spirit, continually spring 
up in the soul haughty claims upon its Maker for an in- 
increase of its enjoyments, and exemption from its 
duties : claims which God never satisfies, unless in the 
way of judgment and indignation. The soul, there- 
fore, is discontented with its allotments ; questions his 
wisdom, goodness, and truth ; murmurs against his provi- 
dence ; refuses to perform its own duty ; and thus carries 
on a continual, ardent, painful conflict with its Maker. 

A controversy with such a being as God, cannot fail 

of being attended with perpetual anxiety and alarm. 

He, who is the subject of it, dreads the presence of 

God ; is terrified by all the threatenings of his word ; 

3 K 



442 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxxiv. 



trembles at the approach of death ; shrinks from the 
judgment ; and looks towards a future retribution with 
horror. 

Of these evils there is but one possible termination ; 
and that is submission to God. Whenever this is ac- 
complished in earnest, they dissolve, like an enchant- 
ment in Arabian tales. The Creator, before dreaded 
and hated, is changed at once, to the view of the soul, 
into an affectionate Parent, reverenced, loved, and de- 
lightfully obeyed. This awful enemy becomes instan- 
taneously an everlasting and almighty friend ; this hard 
master, a divine and boundless benefactor. His charac- 
ter is then contemplated with awe, indeed, but with de- 
light also. His commandments, no longer grievous, are 
preferred to thousands of gold and of silver. His pre- 
sence, no longer terrible, is continually coveted ; and 
communion with him in prayer and praise is daily 
sought, and delightfully found. 

In this manner the affections become serene, cheerful, 
and pleasant. The storm subsides into a calm ; and the 
darkness of the soul is illumined with a perpetual sun- 
shine. 

3. It is a happy state of the conscience. 

When the affections have thus bowed to their Creator ; 
when, the soul has sincerely said, ' thy will be done ;' con- 
science, unopposed and undisturbed, dictates whatever is 
to be done, and smiles its approbation, whenever it is 
performed. In the various retrospects, which the Chris- 
tian takes of his progress, at the end of a day, a week, 
a month, or a year, he is enabled to look on, and ap- 
prove ; and to feel a supporting hope, that he is ap- 
proved, in some good measure, by his God. His 
thoughts, affections, and designs, cease to be objects of 
dread ; and self-examination to be a duty which he 
cannot perform. To himself he is no longer a stranger. 
Prayer, he no longer dreads. From his moral charac- 
ter he no longer shrinks. At his future destiny he 
ceases to shudder. A daily, welcome, cheerful visitor at 
the internal lire-side, he finds there nothing but peace, 
harmony, and pleasure. 

4. It is a happy state of the life. 

In a world like this, it will not be imagined, that ex- 
ternal peace can be perfect. Although the man in 
question is possessed of a peaceful spirit only, yet in 
those around him he will not always find the same 
disposition. In him there is no cause of hostility ; but 
in them it will not, of course, be extinguished. While 
he is surrounded by beings of this description, there- 
fore, he cannot expect undisturbed peace. Yet amid 
the discord and violence of this world, his moderation, 
his kindness, will either allay, or quietly and firmly 
endure the storm. Men of candid dispositions, behold- 
ing his conduct, will approve and commend; and 
men of prejudice and passion will often be overcome, and 
desist from their persecution. 

Yet even here he will find many persons of a charac- 
ter kindred to his own. Of the approbation, the love, 
and the kind offices, of these men he is assured. The 
esteem of wisdom, and worth, is invaluable ; is accom- 
panied by sincere love ; is followed by a perpetual train 
of kind offices ; and is, therefore, an ample compensa- 
tion for the contempt, hatred, and obloquy, of all the 
unreasonable and unworthy. Should he meet, then, 
with many troubles from men of this character; he will 
still find a rich enjoyment from the approbation and good- 
will of the wise and virtuous ; ' a table ' of rich viands, 



' spread ' before him ' in the presence of his enemies ; a 
cup, running over ' with blessings. 

At the same time he is still more refreshed and com- 
forted by a sense of the approbation of God. A humble 
hope of forgiveness is accompanied, of course, by a hope 
of the divine complacency. The ' favour ' of God even in 
this world ' is life, and his loving-kindness better than 
life.' A disposition to obey this great and glorious Being is 
always delightful ; and his' law sweeter 'to an evangelical 
taste ' than honey, and the honey comb.' Although men, 
therefore, although all men, should rise up in hostility 
against him ; he would say with David, ' the Lord is on 
my side, I will not fear. What can man do unto me ? 
I have set the Lord always before me : because he is 
at my right hand I shall not be moved.' The Lord 
God is his shield : he cannot fail, therefore, of being 
safe. The Lord God is his sun ; his life will, therefore, 
be cheered with the light of heaven. 

II. The manner, in which this legacy is given, is 
taugltt in those remarkable words of our Saviour, " Not 
as the world giveth, give I unto you.' 1 '' 

The world gives with an intention to gain at least as 
much, as it gave ; and thus gives for its own benefit ; 
not for ours. The world gives by halves ; and often 
resumes what it has given. The world gives grudgingly ; 
with a meanness which embitters the boon to those 
who receive it. The world gives in pretence, and not 
in reality ; its gifts being, at best, of little value, and 
of momentary duration. Finally, the world reproaches 
us as being deeply indebted for its largesses ; and imperi- 
ously demands servile acknowledgments, and base com- 
pliances, as a proper return for the obligation which 
it has conferred. 

Christ, on the contrary, gives with perfect liberality, 
and unlimited bounty ; cheerfully ; never resuming 
what he has given ; for our benefit only ; really, and 
not in pretence : with absolute sincerity, and supreme 
nobleness of disposition. His gifts, also, while they are 
of high value in themselves, endure for ever. At the 
same time he never reproaches us on account of his 
blessings ; and demands of us no unworthy sacrifices. 



From these observations we learn, 

1. How to estimate this legacy of Christ. 

To a being in the situation of man, as described in 
the former part of this discourse, such a gift is plainly 
and pre-eminently necessary. Condemned, loathed, 
and afflicted by his Maker, he has no friend to whom 
he may betake himself for consolation, and no refuge 
to which he may fly for safety. Whatever he does, 
God is present to see, and to retribute. An enemy 
here, he is an enemy every where : an enemy from 
whom there is no concealment, defence, nor escape. 
Still the circumstances of the unhappy man would be 
less dreadful, if he could find peace and support within. 
But, there, conscience arms herself against him : while 
his rebellious passions bring their pain in hand, and 
are frequently followed by remorse and despair. When 
he looks abroad, he sees his fellow creatures at war 
with him also ; and from them seeks in vain for an 
alleviation of his sufferings. 

In this situation Christ proclaims to him peace with 
God, with mankind, and with himself; ' peace passing 
all understanding ;' peace which ' the world can neither 
give, nor take away.' Henceforth, nothing is desirable. 



REGENERATION.— PEACE OF CONSCIENCE. 



443 



in his sight, but that which God chooses ; nothing lovely 
but that which God loves. To know the divine will is, 
in his view, to know all that is necessary ; and to obey 
it, all that is useful. He is assured of the divine pro- 
tection, and is therefore safe : for he knows, that no 
enemy can endanger his welfare, or disturb his repose. 

In the mean time, ' his soul ' has ' returned to its rest,' 
and is quiet. The storm is past ; and is succeeded by 
serenity and' sunshine. If he finds enemies abroad, he 
disarms half their rage by his own meekness : the rest 
he sustains, pities, and forgives. 

In times of danger, when God comes out against man- 
kind, to ' judge the world in righteousness,' he enjoys 
the unspeakable consolation of believing, that this awful 
Being is a friend to him. When, therefore, the tempest 
rages, the famine desolates, or the pestilence hurries its 
victims to the grave ; ' when a thousand fall at his side, 
and ten thousand at his right hand ; it shall not come 
near him.' 

Afflictions will, however, reach even him. It is 
necessary, that he should be chastened : and chastening 
in its very nature is grievous. But, for this grief the 
peace of the gospel provides a sure and delightful alle- 
viation. The pain, he knows is inflicted by the ' Father 
of his spirit ; that he may become a partaker of his 
holiness, and live.' He receives it, therefore, with 
patience and resignation ; and thus strips disease of its 
languor ; robs pain of its sting ; and lights up a cheer- 
ing lamp in the dark chambers of sorrow. 

In death, that melancholy and distressing day to the 
wicked, his eye penetrates the gloom, and descries the 
glorious morning which dawns beyond it. On the other 
side of this narrow, gloomy valley, spreads a world of 
peace : where no storm ever blows ; no enemy ever in- 
vades ; and no danger ever threatens. There all are 
friends. God is his friend ; Christ is his friend ; and 
none but his friends are found among the ' innumerable 
company of angels,' or ' the general assembly of the 
first born.' 

2. How greatly is this blessing enhanced by the 
consideration, that Christ has given us his own peace. 

' Peace I leave with you : my peace I give unto you.' 
In this declaration, we are reminded of the glorious cha- 
racter of him who bestows the legacy, and of the won- 
derful things, which he has done to procure it for us. 
Christ is divinely great and excellent ; and the gift is 
suited to his character ; is excellent, noble, and divine. 
It is the rich fruit, the genuine evidence, of virtue ; a 
seal impressed by the Saviour on the soul, as unques- 
tionable proof that it has become his ; a living witness, 
that he has there taken up his residence, as in a temple 
in which he is pleased to dwell. It is his ' still, small 
voice,' whispering in delightful accents that he is there ; 
and that he is there on his own most benevolent pur- 
pose of purifying it for heaven, and quickening it with 
immortal life. The giver is divine ; the gift is divine ; 
the end for which it is given, is also divine. 

The things, which he has done, and suffered, to pro- 
cure this gift for man, are infinitely great and endear- 
ing. For this end, when he was ' in the form of God, 
and thought it no robbery to be equal with God ; he 
made himself of no reputation ; was made in the like- 
ness of men ; and became obedient unto death, even 
the death of the cress.' In the peace which Christians 
enjoy, they are presented with a perpetual memorial of 
these wonderful efforts of him who thus 'in his flesh 
abolished the enmity ; and made, preached, and be- 



came, peace to them who were afar off, and to them who 
were nigh.' Whenever this delightful serenity of soul 
is enjoyed by us, we cannot easily avoid recollecting, 
that with boundless benignity the Son of God became 
man ; lived a life of unceasing humiliation and suffer- 
ing ; died on the cross ; rose from the dead ; ascended 
to heaven ; and there intercedes for ever, that this bless- 
ing may be ours. What love can be compared to this ? 
What character was ever so lovely, so endearing, so pecu- 
liarly divine ? 

As the peace of Christ, also, this glorious possession 
assumes a new character of excellence and worth. In 
him this peace was the result of consummate wisdom and 
supreme rectitude : a divine harmony of perfect intelli- 
gence and immeasurable love. It was a possession com- 
pletely independent. None could give it : none could take 
it away. In the pure, serene, eternsl mind of the Saviour 
it dwelt of course, inseparably, and for ever. It was 
the necessary and immortal offspring of immortal excel- 
lence : the co-eternal splendour of light eternal. ' Be- 
fore the mountains were brought forth, or ever he had 
formed the earth and the world ; then was it by him, 
as one brought up with him : and was daily his delight, 
rejoicing alway before him; rejoicing' with a divine 
prescience ' in the ' future ' habitable parts of the earth, 
and ' placing ' its delights in the sons of men.' 

In his mediatorial residence among the children of 
apostate Adam ; amid all his sorrows and labours, amid 
all the opposition, rejection, and persecution which he 
experienced ; amid all the living anguish, and dying 
agonies, which he suffered ; this celestial companion, 
this divine inmate of his bosom, perpetually sustained 
him ; and diffused fortitude and serenity around his 
soul. Thus sustained, thus tranquilized, he smiled in 
agony, and triumphed in death. 

To us, as to him, it is peace ' passing all understand- 
ing ; peace which the world cannot give, nor take away.' 
Grace and mercy descend first in the train of infinite 
blessings, ' from God our Father, and from our Lord 
Jesus Christ ;' and peace enters our doors immediately 
behind them. A guest, fresh from heaven, and from the 
presence of God, peace bears all the characteristics of 
the world from which she descends ; of the region in 
which she was born ; of the family to which she is al- 
lied ; and of the parent from whom she sprang. 
Gentle and serene, beautiful and lovely, she becomes 
a willing companion to every humble, faithful follower 
of the Lamb ; to every genuine child of God. Her 
own angelic disposition she breathes insensibly into the 
soul ; her softness and gentleness she infuses into the 
heart ; and her living smiles she spreads over the as- 
pect. At once, the man is changed into a new creature. 
His soul, before, the region of darkness and storm, is 
cleared, at once, of the clouds, by which it was overcast. 
Its tempestuous passions cease to rage and ravage ; and 
a heavenly sunshine illumines the world within. The 
universe, to him heretofore a vast kingdom of war and 
opposition, is converted into a delightful residence of 
quiet and harmony ; in which an immense multitude of 
the inhabitants, such as ' no man can number,' are be- 
come his friends, and in which the hostilities of the rest 
will only ' work together for his good.' God, also, seen 
by him before ' in clouds and darkness,' which were 
' very tempestuous round about him,' has unfolded to him 
the light of his countenance ; and given him a lively 
and transporting earnest of serene, unclouded, everlasi- 
ing day. 



444 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. ixxxv. 



SERMON LXXXV. 



CONSEQUENCES OF REGENERATION JOY IN THE HOLY GHOST. 



For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink ; but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. 

Rom. xiv. 17. 



On the last Sabbath, I considered the nature and impor- 
tance of Spiritual Peace. I shall proceed to examine 
another consequence of regeneration ; viz. Joy in the 
Holy Ghost. 

In the text, the apostle declares, that ' the kingdom 
of God' is formed of ' righteousness, peace, and joy in 
the Holy Ghost.' By this kingdom he intends, plainly, 
not the kingdom of creation, nor the kingdom of pro- 
vidence, nor, in a strict sense, what is usually called the 
kingdom of grace. The word kingdom is here used in 
a figurative manner ; and denotes ' the effects of that 
secret, invisible, incomprehensible influence over the 
hearts of mankind, which is exerted by the Spirit of 
grace in the work of sanctification.' This influence is 
the great engine of the divine government over the 
hearts of intelligent beings ; and is often with the 
utmost propriety termed in the gospel the kingdom of 
God. Of this influence, ' righteousness, peace, and joy 
in the Holy Ghost,' are effects, primarily important ; 
and in the text are, figuratively, called by a name 
which, in simple language, would properly belong to 
the cause of their existence. In a similar manner is 
the term used by Christ, Luke xvii. 20. ' The king- 
dom of God cometh not with observation ; neither shall 
they say concerning it, Lo here, or lo there : for the 
kingdom of God is within you.' 

Of these three great effects of the energy of the 
divine Spirit, the first, viz. righteousness, here used for 
holiness or evangelical virtue, is, in the sou], the cause 
of the two last. From righteousness, in this sense, 
spring, of course, the peace and joy of the spiritual 
character. 'Joy in the Holy Ghost,' therefore, is ob- 
viously a consequence of regeneration. In the text, as 
well as in the order of nature, it is subjoined to peace ; 
although we are ever to remember, that they always 
exist together in the same mind, and at the same time. 

In examining this subject, the following considerations 
have occurred to me, as particularly deserving the at- 
tention of a religious assembly. 

I. The joy, spoken of in the text, is not a mere 
natural joy. 

By natural joy, I intend, the pleasure which is found 
by the mind in natural or physical good, whether 
possessed or expected. Such is the pleasure which we 
experience in property, health, friends, food, and other 
gratifications of a similar nature. Such is the pleasure 
lound in the contemplation of beauty, novelty and 
greatness ; in the multitude, variety, and sublimity of 
the works of creation and providence ; or in the skill 
power, and wisdom displayed by their Author. Such 
also, is the satisfaction, experienced in the mere belief, 
that God is reconciled to us, and become our friend and 
Dene factor. 

All these I acknowledge to be innocent and lawful 
enjoyments. I acknowledge them to he enjoyments 



which we are not merely permitted, but required, to ex- 
perience ; and to be enjoyments also, in greater or less 
degrees experienced by every sanctified mind. Still 
they may be possessed in a manner, merely natural ; 
and by a mind, utterly destitute of the evangelical cha- 
racter. When the Christian rejoices in these things, he 
rejoices virtuously ; because he regards them with just 
views. But when a sinner rejoices in them, he regards 
them with erroneous views, and with emotions destitute 
of virtue. Evangelical joy in these things is one of the 
fruits of the Spirit. But nothing, experienced by a 
sinner, can be a peculiar characteristic of a Christian. 
Nor is any genuine fruit of the Spirit ever found in an 
unsanctified mind, 

II. Joy in the Holy Ghost is, however, joy in God. 

God is the only solid foundation of joy to the uni- 
verse ; and is seen and acknowledged in this character 
by every virtuous being. In this most pleasing and 
magnificent manner, he is every where exhibited in the 
Scriptures. ' Rejoice in the Lord, ye righteous !' says 
the Psalmist, Psalm xxxiii. 1. ' Thou shalt rejoice 
in the Lord,' saith the prophet Isaiah, ' and shalt glory in 
the Holy One of Israel,' Isa. xli. 16. ' I will greatly 
rejoice in the Lord ; my soul shall be joyful in my 
God ;' saith our Saviour, Isa. lxi. 10. ' Be glad, then, 
ye children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God ;' 
saith Joel, chapter ii. 23. ' Although the fig-tree shall 
not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine ; the laboui 
of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat ; 
the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall 
be no herd in the stall : yet I will rejoice in the Lord ; 
I will joy in the God of my salvation,' Hab. iii. 17, 18. 
The same language is adopted by the Virgin Mary, and 
by St Paul, in the New Testament; and is applied by 
Christ to the apostles ; and to the whole body of Chris- 
tians ; either as an account of facts ; or as a precept, 
directing their duty. 

To revelation, reason joins her fullest testimony ; 
and easily discerns, when informed of the true character 
of God by revelation, that in him the proper, rational, 
supreme, and eternal joy of his intelligent creatures must 
ultimately centre ; and that he is the object, to be thus 
enjoyed, as well as the source whence this enjoyment 
flows. The eternal, unchangeable, almighty, all-know- 
ing, the infinitely just, faithful, true, benevolent, and 
merciful mind is, in an infinite degree, a more beautiful, 
lovely, and glorious object in itself, than any, or than 
all, others. Of such a mind all the conduct, all the mani- 
festations, are accordant with its true and essential 
nature ; are beautiful, glorious, and lovely, like itself. 
These amazing considerations are also enhanced, in 
a manner literally boundless, by the great fact, that 
from this mind sprang all the objects of admiratioi 
and delight which are found in the universe. 

In the power of God, we are presented with an ever- 



REGENERATION JOY IN THE HOLY GHOST. 



445 



lasting and unlimited source of joy ; when it is consider- 
ed as perfect sufficiency for every great and good pur- 
pose ; for the accomplishment of whatever wisdom can 
approve, or virtue delight in ; and for the accom- 
plishment of this in the manner, which is perfectly de- 
sirable. 

In the knowledge of God, there is an endless source 
of delight ; as the original spring, whence have flowed 
the innumerable beings and events of the universe, to- 
gether with their attributes, operations, and effects. In 
the perpetually diversified structure, the wonderful pur- 
poses, and the no less wonderful uses of these, is the 
state of the infinite mjnd, as the origin of whatever is 
great and good, presented to us in a manner, perfect 
in itself, and endlessly delightful to every virtuous be- 
holder. The mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, 
even of this world, are full of these displays ; and the 
structure, powers, and operations of a single being fur- 
nish a field, of investigation, altogether too wide for the 
comprehension of any human understanding. 

In the bounty of God, we behold an amazing source 
of gratitude, and of the pleasure always found in that 
most amiable and delightful emotion. We here discern 
ample provision made for our continuance in being ; for 
our daily wants ; and for all our reasonable wishes. Our 
food and raiment are most liberally supplied ; our in- 
nocent desires most richly gratified ; our taste delighted 
with the beauty, novelty, and grandeur of the world 
around us ; our eyes charmed with the glorious prospects 
of the earth and the heavens ; and our ears feasted with 
melody and harmony. 

In the mercy of God, the soul is assured that its sins 
may be forgiven, and its nature renewed; is presented 
with the most illustrious proofs of divine love, and the 
overflowings of infinite tenderness towards a world of 
apostates. It is here furnished with the greatest and 
best gift of God, evangelical virtue ; and, beyond the 
grave, is secured in the endless possession of unmingled 
and unfading happiness. From sin, its own most de- 
based character, and from misery, its proper reward, it 
is here presented with a final deliverance ; is instamped 
with the image of God, and admitted to the kingdom of 
the blessed. 

In the truth and faithfulness of this perfect being, the 
soul is furnished with entire security, that his declara- 
tions are steadfast and immovable ; and that his pro- 
mises endure for ever. The encouragement given to 
it, therefore, of both present and future good, is en- 
couragement on which perfect reliance may be placed, 
and with regard to which disappointment can never 
arise either here or hereafter. When we remember, 
that one of these promises to Christians is, that f all 
things shall be theirs ;' and another, ' that all things 
shall work together for their good ;' the importance of 
this consideration appears to be literally infinite. On 
these declarations the virtuous universe reposes with ab- 
solute safety, and with reliance which will strengthen for 
ever. 

The justice of God is seen to be the immensely grand 
and awful, yet the immensely beneficial administration 
of the vast kingdom of Jehovah. In the exercise of 
this glorious attribute are secured all the rights of in- 
telligent creatures, and their infallible and complete 
protection from every ultimate wrong. The least right, 
and the least wrong, of the least individual, are as 
firmly assured, as the greatest interests of angels and 



archangels. By this amazing mind nothing is forgotten 
or unregarded. Lazarus, at the gate, is as effectually 
remembered, as David on the throne ; or Gabriel, stand- 
ing before God in the highest heavens. 

Alone, and to a world of sinners, the justice of God 
would be only great and terrible ; but harmonizing with 
mercy in all its dictates, it renders, even to our view, 
the character of the great possessor transcendently excel- 
lent and amiable. What would become of the uni- 
verse, were God to be unjust ? What creature would 
for a moment be safe ; what interest uninvaded. 

Of these glorious attributes, we need not, in order to 
find displays, cast our eyes abroad into incomprehen- 
sible systems of worlds and beings. At home, by our 
fire-sides, in our friends, in our families, in our bodies, 
and in our minds, they are seen with high advantage 
and supreme endearment. Are we fed ? The hand 
which feeds us is that of our heavenly Father. Are we 
clothed ? He made the flax to grow ; he formed the 
fleece ; he gave the silk worm skill to spin her myste- 
rious thread ; and brought to us the necessary and 
beautiful materials to form our attire. Are we in 
health? He preserves in their pristine strength the 
numerous powers of our bodies ; sends the stream of life 
through our veins ; and animates our hearts with wonder- 
ful and unceasing energy. Do we see ? He contrived 
the eye. Do we hear? He fashioned the ear. Do 
we think, and choose, and feel ? He lighted up the 
lamp of reason in our minds. Are we, and ours, vir- 
tuous ? He poured out the spirit of sanctification upon 
our minds. Have we enjoyments ? He provided them. 
Have we hopes ? They all sprang from his bounty, 
and are secured by his unchangeable promise. 

All these divine considerations are enhanced- beyond 
measure by the nature of those attributes, which may 
be termed qualifications of these. The omnipresence of 
God teaches us, that all these perfections are every where 
present ; every where ready to be employed in the pro- 
duction of good. His immutability proves to us, that 
these perfections will never be changed in their nature, 
degree, and operations ; and that, as he has thus acted, 
so he will always act in the same manner. The eter- 
nity of God shows us, that these perfections will know 
no end ; and that, therefore, the enjoyments of his chil- 
dren will endure for ever. Thus what God is here, 
he is every where : what he is now, he will be through 
eternity. 

In the venerable and endearing characters of the 
Father, the redeemer, and the sanctifier of mankind, 
God appears as the source of peculiar joy. As the 
Father of mankind, he appears as a sovereign and 
lawgiver, offended by our rebellion, but with infinite 
kindness proffering to us forgiveness and reconciliation ; 
| as sending, for this benevolent end, his beloved Son, to 
1 expiate our sins, and his Holy Spirit to renew our hearts 
and lives ; and, thus, as opening his arms, unasked 
and undesired, to receive his penitent and returning 
children. 

In the endearing character of the Son, he appears 
with boundless benignity, as ' making an end of sin, 
finishing transgression, and bringing in everlasting 
righteousness ;' as becoming man, that we might again 
be united to God ; as dying, that we might live ; as rising 
from the dead, ascending to heaven, assuming the govern- 
ment of all things, and interceding before the throne of 
infinite majesty, that we might rise, hereafter, incorrupti- 



446 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxxxv. 



ble and immortal ; might follow him to the heavens; enjoy 
the infinite blessings of his administration ; and be ac- 
cepted as his faithful friends at the final day. Christ is 
the corner stone of this living and glorious building, 
formed according to the glowing language of St Peter, 
of ' living stones, a spiritual house of God, eternal in the 
heavens.' On him, the sole foundation, the vast struc- 
ture is erected, to stand for ever. 

By the Spirit of truth is this mighty work completed. 
With infinite kindness and patience he awakens, con- 
vinces, renews, and purifies the soul ; forms it for end- 
less holiness and endless life ; and conducts it through 
this earthly wilderness to the land of promise beyond 
the grave. 

In all these things united, is the love of God seen 
with supreme advantage, as immense, unchanging, and 
eternal; as endeared With all possible tenderness, as 
overcoming the most perverse obstinacy, as forgiving 
the greatest guilt, as flowing out to enemies and apos- 
tates condemned by unerring justice, and discarded by 
the virtuous universe. 

To the Christian, in all these respects, is God the 
source of supreme and unceasing joy. As a Christian, 
he has become a new creature, entered into a new crea- 
tion, and enrolled himself as a subject of a new and 
immortal kingdom. This kingdom is a kingdom in 
which will be progressively accomplished universal, en- 
tire, and everlasting good. For this end it was created. 
To this end it is uniformly conducted by the all-per- 
vading, all-ruling hand of Jehovah. The subjects of it 
are universally ' children of light.' Their intercourse 
i« an endless succession of diversified virtue and loveli- 
ness. Purity, dignity, and excellence, are their inhe- 
rent characteristics, and everlasting happiness and 
glory their final destination. In all that they are, in 
all that they do, and in all that is done to them, God 
himself rejoices with intense and eternal joy. 

With this new kingdom the Christian has begun an 
everlasting connexion. His union to the members of 
it and his intercourse with them, instead of terminating, 
will unceasingly become more intimate, more endear- 
ing, more exalted. The views of their minds and his 
are destined to become perpetually more and more just 
and comprehensive ; their affections and his to be more 
pure, intense, and noble ; their mutual friendship to be 
more sweet and serene ; and their conduct to be, in an 
unceasing gradation, such as is proper to be exhibited 
in the house and presence of God. 

In accordance with this state of things, therefore, will 
the whole scheme of the Christian's future being be 
formed. His plans will of course be concerted in such 
a manner as to embrace and promote eternal purposes. 
They will be the plans of an immortal being, destined 
to act with immortal beings in a boundless field of ex- 
istence ; the plans of a dutiful and faithful subject of 
the infinite ruler ; of a child, warmed with perpetual 
and filial piety to his divine parent ; of a brother, finally 
united to ' the household which is named after Christ ' 
of a redeemed, sanctified, returning prodigal, brought 
back, with infinite compassion and infinite expense, to 
the house of his father, and welcomed with exquisite 
joy by the family of the first-born. To glorify God, to 
bless his fellow creatures, and to be blessed by both 
will be the combined and perfect end for which he lives. 
This end he will pursue in a world where no obstruc- 
tions ever arise, vWieie no toil ever wearies, where no 



disappointments ever intrude, where no temptations 
ever arrest, and where no enemies ever alarm ; where 
his affections cannot be too intense, nor his pursuits too 
ardent ; and where his only professional business will 
be to be virtuous and happy. As a citizen of this new 
and heavenly kingdom, the Christian begins his course 
of spiritual life. All these things are already become 
his. God is his Father, Christ his Redeemer, the Spi- 
rit of grace his Sanctifier, and all the children of virtue 
are his brethren. In the present world he is only a 
stranger and a sojourner ; he regards it, therefore, as 
a mere lodging, and fixes his eye on heaven as his 
home. 

With this new character, all things with which he 
here converses assume to his eye a new aspect, and are 
filled with the presence and agency of God. ' The 
heavens declare his glory, and the firmament showeth 
his handy-work. Day unto day uttereth speech, and 
night unto night showeth knowledge.' ' The year,' 
in all its revolutions, ' is crowned with his goodness.' 
The spring is his beauty, blooming in endless varieties 
of elegance and splendour. Summer and autumn are 
manifestations of his bounty, filling his creatures with 
good. The winter is a solemn display of his majesty. 
Then ' the Lord hath his way in the whirlwind, and in 
the storm ; and the clouds are the dust of his feet.' 

In his own blessings the Christian sees God in a 
manner still more delightful. His blessings are not 
mere enjoyments ; they are gifts, unspeakably endeared 
by the hand from which they flow. When he is in 
prosperity, ' the Lord is his Shepherd, who maketh him 
to lie down in green pastures, and leadeth him beside 
the still waters ; who prepareth a table before him in 
the presence of his enemies ; who anointeth his head 
with oil ; who causeth his cup to run over, and goodness 
and mercy to follow him all the days of his life.' Is he 
in adversity ? ' The rod and staff of tbe same Shepherd 
support and comfort him.' Is he in doubt and dark- 
ness, where he is scarcely able to trace the path of life ? 
He hears ' a voice behind him, saying, This is the way ; 
walk thou therein.' Is he mourning in Sion ? ' God 
appoints to him beauty for ashes, and the oil of joy for 
mourning.' Is he sick ? God is his physician : and 
has already taught him to say, ' Why art thou cast 
down, O my soul ; and why art thou disquieted within 
me ? Hope thou in God : for I shall yet praise him, 
who is the health of my countenance, and my God.' 
Has he come to a dying bed ? Christ has vanquished 
death and the grave, and has taught him to sing at their 
approach, '0 death! where is thy sting? O grave! 
where is thy victory ?' Has he friends ? ' God has 
raised them up.' Has he children ? They ' are an he- 
ritage from the Lord.' Is the land of his nativity safe ? 
God is ' a wall of fire round about it.' Does religion 
flourish ? God is ' the glory in the midst of it.' The 
church to which he is united is ' a garden, which the 
Lord hath planted.' Is it enlightened, quickened, and 
edified ? It is ' not by might, nor by power, but by my 
Spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts.' Is it comforted ? 
The consolations have come down from the heavenly 
Comforter. Is it protected ? ' The Lord hath created 
upon Mount Zion, and upon all her assemblies, a 
cloud and a smoke by day, and a light of a flaming fire 
by night.' 

Thus to the Christian all things in heaven and earth 
are full of God. Wherever he walks, wherever he is, 



REGENERATION JOY IN THE HOLY GHOST. 



447 



he is surrounded with his presence ; and in that pre- 
sence there is ' abundance of joy.' To him in his me- 
ditations and in his worship he instinctively turns, as 
the supreme object of his affections and of his obedi- 
ence. In loving, fearing, and serving him ' with all 
the heart,' he finds his chief delight; and becomes 
continually able, with more and more propriety and 
truth, to say, 'Whom have I in heaven, but thee? 
and there is none upon the earth whom I desire be- 
side thee.' 

HI. The Christian rejoices in spiritual things uni- 
versally. 

Spiritual things are those in which the power of the 
Spirit of grace is peculiarly visible, and which, there- 
fore, have a peculiar tendency to improve us in the 
Christian character. In all things of this nature the 
Christian finds a peculiar joy. Particularly in the word 
of God he discovers multiplied streams of pure and in- 
creasing pleasure. Here all the transporting things 
already mentioned are made known to mankind. Here 
are disclosed the character, designs, and works, of the 
Creator ; the rebellion, guilt, and condemnation of man, 
and his restoration by forgiving, redeeming, and sanc- 
tifying love. Here the means of grace and salvation 
are revealed, the truths which we are to believe, and 
the precepts which we are to obey. Here ■ life and 
immortality are brought to light' by the fiedeemer, 
and the path which leads to them is pointed out by the 
finger of God. The Bible is a window in this prison 
of hope, through which we look into eternity. It is the 
door of heaven opened by a divine hand, through which 
we cast our view into that glorious region, and behold 
the beauty, splendour, and happiness, which reign and 
triumph there for ever. 

Here the Christian finds himself most mercifully 
checked, in the hour of temptation, by the threatenings 
of the law, and divinely allured to righteousness by 
promises and invitations. Behind him, justice displays 
its flaming sword, to prevent him from returning to the 
bye-paths of sin. Before him, mercy calls, with the mu- 
sic of heaven and the smile of infinite love, to quicken 
his course in the highway of holiness. 

In the worship of the same glorious Being, the same 
delight is experienced, and with enhanced enjoyment. 
In his closet, like Moses, he ' converses with God face 
to face ;' and, while he spreads all his wants and woes, 
all his sins and dangers, all his hopes and joys, before 
him, is assured of an ' open reward.' In his family, 
when his nearest connexions are around him, he finds 
every comfort endeared by these beloved objects, and 
sweetened by the remembrance that his house is a 
house of God. In the sanctuary he unites with his fel- 
low Christians to ask counsel at the mercy-seat, and to 
present before it prayers Jind praises, refined and ex- 
alted by evangelical sympathy. Here, also, all his vir- 
tuous affections and purposes are purified and strength- 
ened by the heavenly influence of the holy day, and 
the holy place. Here grace is given, and glory antici- 
pated. 

At the table of Christ, and in the celebration of bap- 
tism, his soul is refreshed and revived by the sight of 
the dying Saviour expiating his sins, and of the Spirit 
of God, symbolically poured out as a divine cleansing, 
to purify his heart from moral pollution. Earth here 
borrows the aspect of heaven, and sublunary things are 
invested with no small degree of immortal beauty. 



In the church of God, he sees a real, though insper= 
feet, picture of ' the genera! assembly of the first-born. 
All Christians are his brethren, and fellow travellers 
with him towards the heavenly kingdom in 'the strait 
and narrow way that leads to life.' Their character, 
their hearts, their interests, their designs, are one. 
They are members of one family. They have ' one 
Father, even God ;' they have ' one Lord,' even Christ; 
they have one Sanctifier, and one Comforter, even ' the 
Spirit of grace.' Their hopes and fears, their doubts 
and discoveries, their joys and sorrows are the same. 
On all the same divine image is instamped, the same 
evangelical beauty is visible. ' Lovely and pleasant in 
their lives, in their death they are not divided.' 

IV. The Christian finds an exalted pleasure in the 
good enjoyed by others. 

In his view, no truth is clearer than that ' it is more 
blessed to give than to receive.' With this truth he 
cheerfully accords ; and finds, in doing good to others, 
an humble share of the same delight which is enjoyed 
by the universal Benefactor, in the overflowings of in- 
finite beneficence to the creation. Nor is his enjoy- 
ment less exquisite, when good is done by those around 
him. In them, as in him, real disinterested beneficence 
is a proof of sanctification. If the beneficence be not 
disinterested, he still possesses the joy of seeing his fel- 
low creatures made happy. 

In the diffusion of the divine beneficence, also, he 
experiences a perpetual delight, while he beholds the 
illustrious exhibitions of the goodness of God, and 
shares in the comfort of all on whom it descends. 
Especially is this enjoyment exquisite, when sinners 
are • brought out of darkness into marvellous light, and 
from the power of Satan unto God.' Then souls, guilty 
and debased, condemned and ruined, are redeemed 
from everlasting sin and woe. Then heaven is enlarged 
by the accession of new inhabitants ; and the joy which 
is felt in that benevolent world over repenting sinners, 
trembles delightfully through his own bosom. The sight 
of a sanctified mind, of a redeemed and forgiven sin- 
ner, of endless virtue and immortal life begun, is the 
fairest and most enchanting prospect ever seen in the 
great kingdom of Jehovah. 

V. The joy of the Christian in this world is the be' 
ginning of everlasting joy. 

- To be spiritually minded is both life and peace.' 
This mind is the mind of every Christian. Of course, 
'life and peace' eternal are begun in him, while he re- 
sides in this evil and melancholy world. 

There are indeed many interruptions, diminutions, 
and preventions, of this glorious possession accom- 
plished by remaining sin, and its inseparable com- 
panion, ' sorrow of heart.' But in the midst of all thes© 
he finds consolation, often abundant, almost unceasing, 
and always sufficient for his wants. The promises of 
the gospel are continually before him. God, he knows 
' will never leave him, nor forsake him.' Christ, he 
knows, will ' always be with him unto the end.' He 
may indeed be ' cast down,' but he will not be ' de- 
stroyed ;' he may be ' afflicted,' but he will not be ' for- 
saken.' The Father of his spirit may indeed ' smite 
him in his wrath for a small moment, yet with everlast- 
ing kindness will he have mercy on him.' In every 
gloomy and distressing day, there will be gleams of 
sunshine, and openings of a serene, unclouded heaven. 
' In the dry and thirsty ground, where there is appa- 



448 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. Lxxxvr. 



rently no water,' and in the midst of a desolation visibly 
without limits, ' the wilderness will suddenly rejoice and 
blossom as the rose.' 

His piety is a seed sown here in an unkind, barren 
soil indeed, and under a wintry climate •, but it will 
live, and grow, until it shall be transplanted to a hap- 
pier region, beneath a more friendly sky ; where it will 
shoot forth in its native strength and beauty. The flame 
of divine love kindled feebly in his heart will never 
cease to burn, until it shall rise and glow with unex- 



tinguishable ardour beyond the grave. The light which 
here dawns in darkness, and feebly illumines the sur- 
rounding gloom, will perpetually ' shine brighter and 
brighter, unto the perfect day.' All his sins and sor- 
rows will continually lessen, and recede, and fade ; all 
his graces, consolations, and hopes, will expand and 
improve ; until the imperfect good which he finds in 
this ' vale of tears,' shall be lost in the everlasting 
beauty, happiness, and glory of heaven. 



SERMON LXXXVI. 



REGENERATION.— ITS CONSEQUENCES INCREASE OF GRACE 



The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. — Pbov. iv. 1 8. 



In the last Discourse I considered at large the fourth 
consequence of regeneration. I shall now proceed to 
examine two other consequences of this great change in 
man, commonly termed, increase of grace and persever- 
ance to the end. 

In the text, the progress of the renewed man in holi- 
ness of character, is compared to the dawning light of 
the morning; which, barely perceptible at first, increases 
by gradations also barely perceptible, until the sun, as- 
cending above the horizon, sheds over the face of the 
earth the full beams of day. 

By this image we are naturally taught the following 
things : 

I. That the holiness of the Christian is a beautiful 
object : 

II. That it increases as he advances in life : 

III. That it continues to the end, 

I. The holiness of the Christian is a beautiful object. 

The views which David, who uttered the instructions 
contained in this chapter, and which Solomon, who un- 
der the influence of inspiration repeated them to us, 
formed of this evangelical subject, are sufficiently mani- 
fested in the text. It is here compared to the most 
beautiful of all the objects in the natural world, pre- 
sented to us in the most beautiful form ; viz. the light of 
the sun succeeding the darkness of the night, and advanc- 
ing, through a most elegant and delightful progi-ess, to 
the splendour of the perfect day. What this illustrious 
object is in the natural system, the holiness of the Chris- 
tian is in the moral system. 

In a similar manner it is spoken of throughout the 
Scriptures. It is styled by Christ ' the pearl of great 
price.' It is said by David to be ' more precious than 
thousands of gold and of silver.' It is said by Job, that 
' it cannot be gotten for gold ; that silver shall not be 
weighed for the price thereof; that it cannot be valued 
with the gold of Ophir, the precious onyx, or the sap- 
phire ; that no mention shall be made of coral, or of 
pearls; that the price of wisdom is above rubies ;' and 
that its fame has been repeated in the regions of death 
and destruction. It is styled by Moses ' the beauty and 
glory of God ' himself. « Let thy work appear unto thy 



servants, and thy glory unto their children ; and let the 
beauty of the Lord our God be upon us.' 

In conformity to these declarations, those who possess 
this character are styled, * the excellent of the earth, in 
whom God delights ;' — ' chosen ;' — ' wise ;' — ' children 
of God ;' — ' followers of Christ ;' — ' born of the Spirit ;' 
— ' the precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold ;' 
— 'children of light;' — 'heirs of God; and brethren of 
Christ.' In all these appellations, the moral beauty, the 
loveliness of mind possessed by Christians, as it appears 
to the eye of God, is strongly conspicuous ; and its in- 
estimable value is exhibited in the most forcible terms 
of which language is capable. 

When we consider this subject in its own proper na- 
ture, and as viewed by human reason, we cannot but 
acknowledge the justice of the scriptural representations. 
The spirit infused into man at his renovation has been 
heretofore exhibited as the only voluntary source of 
happiness. This being admitted, as by unbiased reason 
it must be, no other words can adequately describe 
either the excellence, the beauty, or the loveliness of 
this disposition. Its value is of course proportioned to 
the good of which it is the spring ; and to this no limits 
can be affixed. In whatever degree it exists, and how- 
ever humble it may be, it still partakes of the common 
nature. The gold may exist in particles of dust ; still 
it is gold ; and superior, both in value and lustre, to all 
the dross in the universe. He who consecrates his fa- 
culties, however small they may be, to the glory of God, 
and the good of the intelligent creation, possesses the 
angelic character ; and is not an angel only because 
his powers are inferior, and his disposition mixed, and 
hitherto imperfect. 

But there is something still to be added to the beauty 
of the Christian character. The Christian, as has been 
uniformly taught in these discourses, is in this world 
imperfectly holy. From his remaining sin arise to him 
many circumstances incompatible with a state of per- 
fection. Many temptations, many difficulties, and many 
sorrows spring up in his progress towards heaven, which 
a glorified spirit cannot know. In his struggles with 
these, in the resolution with which he meets and en- 



REGENERATION INCREASE OF GRACE. 



449 



counters his spiritual enemies, in his contentions with 
' the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride 
of life,' in his steady dependence on God, in his faithful 
prayers for divine aid ; in his patience, submission, and 
fortitude under sufferings, in his firm faith in the divine 
promises, and in his cheerful resignation of himself into 
the hands of God, there is often manifested a beauty 
and amiableness of character which is probably seen in 
no other world beside this ; but which must be approved 
and admired in every world where wisdom is allowed 
to decide. 

In all the meek and lowly virtues of the Christian 
character, there is something pre-eminently delightful 
and endearing. I know not whether there is any char- 
acter more strikingly beautiful and lovely than that of 
a penitent. Children, it seems to me, never interest 
us so deeply by amiableness, and are never regarded 
with such peculiar endearment, as when they come to 
us with an ingenuous, cordial sorrow for their faults, a 
cheerful confession, and unfeigned designs of amend- 
ment. Such, in a peculiar degree, is the charming as- 
pect of Christian penitence. On it, ' the High and 
Lofty One, who inhabiteth eternity,' has declared him- 
self pleased to ' look,' and over it the joy of heaven is 
exquisitely enhanced. 

II. The holiness of the Christian increases as he ad- 
vances in life. 

The very nature of the subject leads us, in a sense ir- 
resistibly, to the adoption of this doctrine. The regen- 
eration of the Christian, is his moral infancy. If we' 
suppose him to live through even a moderate period 
after he is renewed, it is incredible that his holiness 
should not increase in strength. The evangelical powers 
(if I may call them such), as certainly increase by the 
progress of time, and by successive exercise, as the 
natural powers. Indeed, the increase of the natural 
powers is, of course, an increase of those which are 
evangelical. Every illumination of the mind, every 
new degree of capacity which it acquires by thinking, 
for more just and comprehensive thought, renders the 
intellect more vigorous for every future exertion. The 
word of God is to the Christian the chief object of in- 
tellectual investigation. The truths which it reveals 
are those on which he especially loves to dwell, and 
about which his mind is peculiarly enlightened by suc- 
cessive inquiry. It is here that his capacity is enlarged, 
and his intellectual strength increased. 

In a manner equally natural, his affections also im- 
prove in their energy. Parents love their children 
more intensely, because they have loved them long. 
In the same manner friendship is continually strength- 
ened by time ; and in the same manner all our other 
affections. What is true of these is equally true of 
evangelical affections. They also in their own nature 
become more firm, more vigorous, more operative, 
from the mere fact that they are often exercised. So 
far as experience teaches us, or reason is able to divine, 
ajl the powers of intelligent beings by a common law, 
increase in their strength whenever they are regularly 
exercised. 

With these dictates of reason those of the Scriptures 
perfectly harmonize. Were this not the fact, however 
plain the conclusions of reason might seem, they would 
probably fall short of satisfying a solicitous inquirer 
into this subject. By the Scriptures every question 



decision in the present case is complete. There we are 
taught, that ' the good seed,' the word of God, when 
sown in good ground, ' springs up, and bears fruit 
thirty, sixty, and a hundred-fold.' There we are in- 
formed, that Christians ' abound more and more' in 
the various graces of the gospel ; that the faith of the 
Thessalonians ' grew exceedingly ;' that the love 01 
every one of them ' abounded ' towards their fellow 
saints ; and that the faith of the Romans increased in such 
a manner as to be ' spoken of throughout all the world. 

The prayers of St Paul also for his fellow Christians; 
prayers dictated, as you well remember, by the Spirit 
of God ; perfectly coincide with this scheme. ' The 
Lord,' said he to the Thessalonians, ' make you to in- 
crease, and to abound, in love one towards another, and 
towards all men.' To the Colossians he says, ' We 
do not cease to pray for you, that ye may be filled with 
the knowledge of his will, in all wisdom, and spiritual 
understanding ; that ye may walk worthy of the Lord, 
unto all well pleasing, being fruitful in every good 
work, and increasing in the knowledge of God.' Of 
the same tenor are his petitions for Christians of other 
churches. 

With these declarations and prayers, the commands 
given us in the Scriptures concerning this subject en- 
tirely agree. ' Giving all diligence,' says the apostle 
Peter, ' add to your faith virtue ; and to virtue, know- 
ledge ; and to knowledge, temperance ; and to temper- 
ance, patience ; and to patience, godliness ; and to 
godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly kind- 
ness, charity.' And again, ' Grow in grace, and in the 
knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' 
' This thing I do,' says St Paul to the Philippians, 
' forgetting the things which are behind, and reaching 
forth unto those things which are before, I press to- 
wards the mark, for the prize of the high calling of 
God in Christ Jesus.' ' Brethren, be followers together 
of me.' Generally, it may be observed, that the pre- 
cepts and exhortations given by St Paul to the several 
churches, are of the same nature ; the great object of 
them being to promote the advancement of Christians 
in holiness. 

Finally : Of this advancement, thus made the sub- 
ject of declarations, prayers, and precepts, the Christian 
is amply assured by promises abundantly found in the 
Scriptures. If he faithfully endeavour to improve 
himself in the divine life, if he humbly and fervently 
ask the blessing of God upon his labours, he knows 
that on the one hand the ' grace of God will be suffi- 
cient for him ; and on the other,' that this almighty 
friend ' will never leave him, nor forsake him.' That 
holy and good Spirit, the immediate author of all his 
spiritual blessings, will dwell in him, will lead him, will 
help his infirmities ; and finally and safely conduct him 
to the possession of his heavenly inheritance. Thus, 
while he faithfully ' waits on the Lord,' he will ' renew 
his strength ; will run, and not be weary ; will walk, 
and not faint.' 

The truth of the doctrine under consideration may 
now be considered as removed beyond every doubt ; if, 
indeed, any doubt can be supposed to have arisen con- 
cerning the subject. Still it is of no small importance 
that we not only receive the general proposition, but 
understand also the particulars of which it is consti- 
tuted ; the things of which this improvement of the 
Christian character consists. I observe, therefore, 
3 L 



450 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. lxxxvj. 



1. That the Christian increases in divine knowledge. 
Particularly, he will improve in the knowledge of God. 
By this I do not intend, that he will advance in the 
philosophical knowledge of this great and glorious 
Being. In this knowledge he indeed may, and usually 
will, increase; and so may multitudes of those who are 
iot Christians. The knowledge here intended is espe- 
cially of a spiritual nature ; that which is called by 
Solomon, 'the knowledge of the Holy:' the know- 
ledge which our Saviour declares to be ' eternal life ;' 
the knowledge which is possessed only by those who 
love God, and is essentially derived from their affection 
to him. As the Christian reads the Bible, which will 
ever be one of his favourite employments, he will find 
God, the great subject of it, everywhere exhibited to 
his view ; and exhibited continually in lights ever 
varying from each other. In the succession, and in the 
comparison, of an endless multitude of passages, all of 
them diverse, and all of them instructive, he will con- 
tinually gain new apprehensions of the greatness and 
wisdom, the goodness, mercy, and truth, of the Being 
from whom he derived his own existence, and from 
whom he received all his blessings. 

These apprehensions will be enlarged and improved 
by his attention to the works of creation and providence. 
The works of God are always full of instruction to those 
who read and love his word. Every person who per- 
uses the Psalms with attention, must have observed 
how much instruction, and what elevated affections and 
purposes, David acquired from this source. Here, like 
David, every devout mind will see clearly elucidated, 
the truth, reasonableness, and wisdom, of very many 
scriptural doctrines ; the propriety, and excellence, of 
very many precepts ; the cogency of very many mo- 
tives to his duty ; and the fulfilment of very many pre- 
dictions and promises. These, in innumerable instances, 
although unregarded by men of this world, will force 
themselves hourly and irresistibly on the eye of the 
Christian ; for they are all congenial with his wishes, 
hopes, and designs, and to dwell upon them will be his 
peculiar delight. 

The dispensations of God to himself, his family, his 
friends, and his country, will in a peculiar manner cast 
a new light over all these interesting subjects. What- 
ever immediately concerns ourselves and ours, becomes 
of course an object of our minute attention. As it is 
more thoroughly studied, so it is necessarily better un- 
derstood, than the same things contained in dispensa- 
tions to others. In our own blessings and afflictions 
many exhibitions are made to us of the character of 
God, and many proofs of his wisdom, goodness, and 
truth, are realized, which will hardly be derived from 
any other source. Here our Maker is seen in a thou- 
sand lights of providential care and kindness, as our 
Preserver and Benefactor ; as the proper object of ulti- 
mate hope and confidence, of which we should have 
known little or nothing from any other source. At the 
same time tills knowledge is deeply endeared to us or 
solemnly impressed, by the events which disclose it • 
and is therefore deeply felt and long remembered. 
Hence it becomes a part of our current thoughts, and 
is ready to be applied on every proper occasion, to 
every useful purpose. In this manner the mind be- 
comes enriched with a train of the most useful views, 
solid arguments, and important doctrines, which raise 
it from its former level to a nobler elevation on the 



scale of intelligent being, and furnish it for higher en- 
joyment and more extensive usefulness in the kingdom 
of its Maker. 

In a similar manner Christians improve in the know- 
ledge of their duty. All the duty of the Christian is 
originally learned from the Scriptures. As his ac- 
quaintance with the sacred volume enlarges, the pre- 
cepts which comprise the whole of his duty are more 
and more known, remembered, compared, and made to 
elucidate each other. These from time to time he ap- 
plies to his own practical concerns ; and thus, as they 
pass under his eye from day to day, he learns more ac- 
curately the nature, extent, and spirituality of the pre- 
cepts themselves, and the safest and best modes of 
applying them to the conduct of his life. In this man- 
ner the scriptural precepts may be said to be always at 
hand, always ready for use, so as to guide him safely 
and happily in many cases where others would be com- 
pelled to struggle with doubt and perplexity. 

It ought to be added, that the knowledge of the 
Christian, acquired immediately from Scripture and 
from his own experience, is greatly increased by the 
conversation of his fellow Christians, and by the valu- 
able books written by wise and good men concerning 
the subjects of religion. 

Finally : Christians greatly improve in the know- 
ledge of themselves. 

The importance of self-knowledge is so obvious, 
that the ancient heathen considered the precept which 
enjoins it as having descended from heaven. They 
were not deceived : for the Scriptures directly require 
us to ' examine ourselves,' to ' prove ourselves,' and to 
' know ourselves.' A part of this knowledge, and that 
indispensable, is conveyed to us in the sacred canon ; 
and this the Christian makes more and more his own, 
by continually searching for it in that invaluable book. 
But indispensable as this knowledge is, it is compara- 
tively of little importance to the Christian, until he has 
learned its proper import, by applying it to his own 
spiritual condition, to the discovery of his true charac- 
ter, to the detection of his sins, to the investigation of 
his duty, to the excitement of his fears, to the establish- 
ment of his hopes, the alleviation of his sorrows, and 
the increase of his joys. This knowledge the Chris- 
tian can gain only by self-examination ; by looking 
daily into his heart, by scrutinizing his life, and by 
comparing all that he thinks, and feels, and says, and 
does, with the rules of his duty prescribed in the word 
of God. 

In this manner the best of men will learn, that they 
are in many respects widely different beings from what 
an ordinary and gross attention to this part of their 
duty would induce them to believe. They will discern 
that they commit many sins, where otherwise they would 
suppose themselves guilty of few; that many actions 
which they have before thought innocent, are really 
sinful ; that sinful actions are much more criminal than 
they have been accustomed to believe ; that their vir- 
tuous actions are fewer, less meritorious, and less accep. 
table to God, than they have been ready to suppose ; 
and that themselves are much farther than they have 
been aware from the perfection required by the Scrip- 
tures. In this very manner, there is reason to believe, 
St Paul arrived at these just views of his own character 
which are expressed in the latter part of the seventh 
chapter of his epistle to the Romans ; and in this 



REGENERATION.— INCREASE IN GRACE. 



451 



manner Christians in every age and country have ac- 
quired almost all the self-knowledge which they have 
ever possessed. 

By these efforts the good man acquires much more 
just as well as moi'e humble apprehensions of what he 
is ; discerns that ' in many things ' he and all others 
' offend ;' that in every thing he ' comes short of the 
praise,' that is, the approbation, ' of God;' that in his 
best services there is much to lament, and much to 
be forgiven ; and that new zeal, watchfulness, faithful- 
ness, and prayer, are daily demanded of him, both by 
his interest, and by his duty. At the same time he 
clearly perceives the indispensable necessity of being 
more humble, submissive, diligent, prayerful ; less cen- 
sorious towards others ; less attentive to the little, and 
more to the great concerns of the Christian life ; more 
patient, gentle, meek, and amiable ; and more strenu- 
ous in his opposition to every lust, temptation, and enemy. 
2. The Christian improves in all his affections. 
By the great change which was made in his charac- 
ter, when of a sinner he became a Christian, styled in 
the Scriptures, regeneration, and denoted by several 
other names of an import generally similar, his affec- 
tions were for the first time turned from the world to 
God. At this period his spiritual views were very 
limited and imperfect, and his affections in an infantine 
state. Every exercise of them was a kind of novelty; 
a thing to which he had not been accustomed, and 
therefore performed, if I may be allowed the term, 
crudely. Ardent, and even violent, they might be, and 
at times probably were, but not steady and firm ; par- 
taking more of the sudden and desultory character of 
the natural passions, than of the settled energy of an 
established habit ; and resembling more in their opera- 
tions the unequal efforts of a raw recruit, than the re- 
gular advance of a veteran. In every such case there 
is usually much of earth mingled with a little of heaven. 
Joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, at this time often, 
perhaps usually, abound, and those in some instances 
excessive. But we are apt to look in vain for a 
stable, uniform course of life ; the energy, which is cus- 
tomarily ready to act, and act with vigour ; the serious 
consideration, by which it is taught to operate usefully ; 
and the serenity, by which it is most naturally accom- 
panied. In vain shall we here search, in ordinary 
cases, for that sober fear, which, always awake, most 
usefully warns us of the approach of temptation, and 
the danger of sin ; for that fixed hope, which ' quietly ' 
as well as humbly ' waits for the salvation of God ;' for 
those calm and determined purposes of duty, which are 
unremittedly carried into execution ; and for those 
milder and more endearing joys, and that more regu- 
larly recurring peace, which are found by a mind well 
disciplined to the Christian life. Hope here is apt 
suddenly to give place to fear, and sometimes to de- 
spondency; zeal to be succeeded by indifference; and 
the most brilliant sunshine to be overcast by clouds and 
gloom. It will be readily admitted, that such a state is 
in many respects undesirable. 

As the Christian advances in his progress, all these 
things often, to say the least, are materially changed. 
The exercise of his pious affections, instead of being 
new and occasional, becomes by frequent repetition a 
habit. His love to God is by degrees changed into the 
settled temper, the fixed energy of his soul. More 
calm, more uniform, though less violent, it acquires a 



strength, a stability, which nothing violent ever pos- 
sessed. Where new and ardent converts will tremble, 
and bend, and even be overturned, he will stand im- 
movable ; and will thus prove, that he is ' deeply 
rooted in faith.' Of the same fixed nature will be his 
affections towards his fellow men. The benevolence, 
which is the fulfilment of the second command of the 
moral law, holds an even course in the mind of the 
Christian with his love to God, and increases in its sta- 
bility and energy in the same manner, by becoming 
habitual. Originally the exercises of this affection, 
those at least which were vigorous, and therefore objects 
of particular attention to the mind, were occasional, 
and in a comparative sense solitary. Like all other 
occasional things, they were at times weaker or 
stronger, according to the circumstances by which they 
were attended. They were also brought into existence, 
often at least, against motives of considerable efficacy, 
against the intrusion of other affections of a worldly 
nature ; the power of prejudice, the calls of business, 
the care and the apprehended interests of one's family, 
the spirit of a sect or party, and the pride of self-con- 
sistency. The man, also, has hitherto known very im- 
perfectly the pleasure which springs from the exercise 
of benevolence, and therefore very imperfectly realizes 
the pleasure which he may find in exercising it again. 
His former passions and habits still retain much of their 
ancient hold upon him, and still influence not a little 
of his conduct. Hence, his benevolence is in many in- 
stances greatly impeded, and in many others prevented 
perhaps from operating at all. 

From all these disadvantages the Christian, in his 
progress through life, gradually escapes, and acquires 
gradually the contrary advantages. His love to his 
fellow men becomes by degrees a habit more and more 
fixed, uniform, and ever ready to operate. With every 
exercise it gains strength. The pleasure which it 
yields is more uniformly found, and exists in a higher 
degree. Hence it is more regularly exercised, and in 
all its exercises is more efficacious. 

The same things are equally true of the Christian's 
opposition to sin. By the superior knowledge which 
he acquires of the nature of this ' evil and bitter thing,' 
and by his experience of the pain and sorrow which 
are its regular consequences, he learns to regard it with 
habitual hatred and fear. His eye therefore is watch- 
fully open to mark the approach of temptation, and ' the 
appearance of evil.' 

In a similar manner also increases the Christian's 
attachment to his duty. Attachment to our duty neces- 
sarily bears a direct proportion to our hatred of sin ; 
for every voluntary or negligent omission of known 
duty is itself a sin. All our duty also is obedience to 
God; and our love to it increases of course with our 
love to God. ' This is the love of God, that we keep 
his commandments.' The pleasure also of performing 
our duty, and the strength of habit generated by it, will 
lend their whole force to increase this attachment. But 
the time forbids me to expatiate on this part of the subject. 

3. Christians improve also in purity and amiableness 
of life. 

If the things which have been observed under the 
former heads be admitted, this will be perceived to fol- 
low of course. He whose affections become better, will, 
in a sense necessarily, live a better life. Whereve 
love to God prevails in greater degrees, devotion, pub 



452 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. LX XXVII. 



Jic, private, and secret, will regularly be performed in 
a manner more regular, more sincere, more pure, and 
more acceptable. Wherever love to man increases in 
strength, truth will be more exactly spoken, justice 
more uniformly done, beneficence more widely diffused, 
and the forgiveness of enemies more cheerfully yielded. 
In persons of whom this is the character, the pain of 
self-denial will in a great measure vanish ; and to 
communicate to others our property and our services 
will be attended with little or none of that reluctance 
but too commonly visible even in good men. In a 
word, the Christian is taught by his own experience, as 
he had before been taught by his Saviour, that ' it is 
more blessed to give than to receive.' 

It is however carefully to be remembered, that all 
these desirable things are wrought in the Christian's 
mind and life by the power of the Holy Spirit. We 
' work out our salvation with fear and trembling,' when 
' God works in us to will and to do of his good plea- 
sure.' Without the influence of this divine agent, 
nothing comparatively would be done ; but with it, the 
Christian will himself labour both vigorously and suc- 
cessfully. For his encouragement let him remember, 
that whenever he is himself willing to lay strong hold 
on his duty, and will seek for the assistance of this 
glorious agent, he has the best reasons to believe that it 
will not be denied. 

It ought also to he added in this place, that realizing 
views of the approach of death, judgment, and eternity, 
will have a powerful influence to quicken the efforts which 
the Christian makes for his advancement in holiness. 

In conformity to these observations, we see Christians 
actually growing better and better as they advance 
through life. We see them more pious, more benevo- 
lent, more self-denying, more humble, more weaned 
from the world, more spiritually-minded, and univer- 
sally possessed, in higher degrees, of the disposition 
which fits them to become inhabitants of heaven. It 
obviously costs them less to be meek under provoca- 
tions, and patient under injuries, to part with their pro- 
perty, or employ their labour, for charitable purposes. 
The smaller troubles of life sit lighter upon them, and 
the greater they endure with more resignation and 
fortitude. Universally, they are more solicitous con- 
cerning their duty, and less studious of their own con- 
venience. There is therefore more to be approved, and 
less to be blamed, in the conduct of their lives. 

It is not intended here that this is the regular and 
uniform tenor of the Christian life. The improvement 
of the Christian character is unquestionably, to a greater 
or less degree, irregular and interrupted ; in some 
Christians indeed, less, and in others more. Some 
backslide in a melancholy and shameful manner, and 



for periods comparatively long ; while others appear t:> 
advance with a steady and regular approximation to- 
wards the measure of the perfect man. 

Neither is it intended, that cold, careless, lazy Chris- 
tians, will find the blessings which have been mention- 
ed in this Discourse. ' The diligent hand maketh rich ' 
in spiritual as well as in temporal good. He who 
wishes to secure these blessings must on the one hand 
watch and pray, and on the other, ' do whatsoever he 
findeth to do with his might.' 

Among the attainments made by such as have been 
Christians for a length of time, I will mention one ; 
and will then conclude the Discourse. This is, that 
they are almost universally more catholic than those 
who are young. By catholic here, I do not mean what 
in modern times is frequently meant by the word. 
This honourable term, like many others, has been pur- 
loined by men without worth, to denote and to orna- 
ment a part of their own unworthy character. It has 
been employed to designate a shameful indifference to 
truth and error, — to virtue and sin. This is a direct 
contrast to the spirit of the men of whom I have been 
speaking. These men are more attached to truth, and 
more opposed to error ; more ardent in their love to 
virtue, and their hatred of sin. But they are possessed 
of more gentleness and more charitableness in their 
thoughts, more candour in their judgments, more 
sweetness in their dispositions, and more evangelical 
tenderness and moderation in their conduct. They are 
less ready to censure, and more pleased to command. 
Truth they prize more for its own sake, and are less 
solicitous to ask from whom it comes. Error they op- 
pose in all men, especially in themselves and their 
friends. Little things they value less, and great ones 
more. On the names so numerously found in the 
Christian world, and so highly valued by many who in- 
habit it, they place little importance. On the parties 
and sects which disgrace that world, they look only 
with disapprobation and regret. To real and evangel- 
ical worth they attach high consideration. Over the 
feuds and janglings, which have so extensively prevailed 
among the professed followers of Christ, and often 
about subjects of little moment, they cast an eye of com- 
passion ; and lament that those whom Christ has loved, 
for whom he died, who will finally be placed at the 
right hand of the Judge, and who will be united for- 
ever in the friendship of heaven, should be kept asun- 
der, alienated, engaged in contention, and at times even 
embarked in hostilities, for reasons which they will blush 
to recite before the last tribunal, and which will awak- 
en shame, if shame can be awakened, in heaven itself. 

These men furnish one illustrious practical proof, that 
the holiness of Christians increases through life. 



SERMON LXXXVII. 

REGENERATION — ITS CONSEQUENCES PERSEVERANCE. 



The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day Prov. iv. IS. 

In the preceding Discourse I observed, that the text i I. That the holiness of the Christian is a beautiful 
naturally teaches us the following doctrines : I object ; 



REGENERATION PERSEVERANCE. 



453 



II. That it increases as he advances in life ; 

III. That it continues to the end. 

The two first of these doctrines I have already ex- 
amined. I will now proceed to a consideration of the 
third. 

As this doctrine has been and still is vigorously dis- 
puted, it will be necessary to make it the subject of a 
particular examination. In doing this I shall first ad- 
duce several arguments as a direct proof of the doctrine ; 
and shall then answer the principal objections. 

1. It is irrational to suppose that God would leave a 
work, towards which so much has been done, unaccom- 
plished. 

To effectuate the salvation of such as believe in 
Christ, God has sent him to become incarnate, to live a 
life of humiliation and suffering, and to die upon the 
cross. He has raised him from the dead, exalted him 
to his own right hand, and constituted him at once an 
intercessor for his children, and the head over all things 
unto the church. He lias also sent the Spirit of grace, 
to complete by his almighty energy this work of infinite 
mercy, in sanctifying, enlightening, and quickening the 
soul, and conducting it to heaven. Now, let me ask, Is 
it not in the nature of the case incredible, that Jehovah 
should commence and carry on this work with such an 
amazing apparatus of labour and splendour, and leave 
it unfinished ? Is it not incredible, that an omniscient 
and omnipotent Being should form a purpose of this 
nature, should discover in this wonderful manner that 
he had it so much at heart, and should yet suffer him- 
self to be frustrated in the end ? Who can reconcile 
this supposition with the perfections of God? 

2. The continuance of saints in holiness follows irre- 
sistibly from their election. 

It is unnecessary for the purposes of this Discourse, 
that I should inquire into the metaphysical nature of 
election. It is sufficient for my design, that saints are 
declared abundantly throughout the Scriptures, to ' be 
chosen of God.' Thus, Rev. xvii. 14, the angel declares 
to John, concerning the followers of the Lamb, that they 
are ' called, chosen, and faithful.' Thus, Luke xviii. 7, 
Christ, speaking of his followers, says, ' And shall not 
God avenge his own elect,' or chosen ? Thus St Paul, 
Rom. viii. 33, ' Who shall lay any thing to the charge 
of God's elect?' Thus St Peter, in his first Epistle, 
chap. ii. 9, ' Ye are a chosen generation :' and thus 
throughout the Scriptures. 

It is to be remembered, that this appellation is given 
to Christians universally. In the passages already 
quoted it is plain, that the names elect and chosen, 
which you know are the same in the Greek, are equi- 
valent to saints, or Christians ; and accordingly are ad- 
dressed to them without distinction. The same obser- 
vation is, with the same truth, applicable to the numerous 
passages of Scripture in which this language is adopted. 

Of all these persons it is often said, that they were 
' chosen from the beginning ;' or ' from before the 
foundation of the world.' Thus St Paul, 2 Thess. ii. 
13, addressing the members of that church, says, ' God 
hath from the beginning chosen you to salvation, 
through sanctification of the Spirit, and belief of the 
truth.' Thus also Eph. i. 4, the same apostle, address- 
ing the Christians at Ephesus, says, ' According as he 
hath chosen us in him (that is, Christ) before the foun- 
dation of the world, that we should be holy, and with- 
out blame before him in love. Having predestinated us 



unto the adoption of children, by Jesus Christ, to him- 
self, according to the good pleasure of his will.' From 
these passages, and from many others of similar import, 
it is clear, that Christians are ' chosen by God unto 
salvation from the beginning ;' or, ' from before the 
foundation of the world.' But can it be supposed that 
a purpose of God, thus formed, will be frustrated ? As 
this is declared of Christians as such, it is evident that 
it is alike applicable to all Christians. If, therefore, 
any Christian ceases to be holy, this purpose of God, 
solemnly adopted and declared, will in one instance be 
frustrated, and in every instance in which this event 
takes place. Thus far, then, God will be finally disap- 
pointed of one end of his government really proposed 
by him, and expressly announced to the universe. Who 
can believe this concerning the Creator ? 

3. If Christians continue not in holiness unto the end, 
the intercession of Christ will be frustrated. 

In John xvii. Christ, after having prayed for his 
apostles, says, verse 20, 'Neither pray I for these alone, 
but for them also who shall believe on me through their 
word; that they all may be one : as thou, Father, art 
in me, and I in thee : that they also may be one in us.' 
In this petition Christ prays the Father, that all those 
who should believe on him through the word of the 
apostles, that is, all Christians, may become partakers 
of that divine union which in the heavens is the most 
perfect created resemblance of the ineffable union of 
the Father and the Son. If then any Christian fails of 
sharing in this union, the prayer of Christ here recited 
will not be answered. 

4. If the holiness of Christians does not continue un- 
to the end, the joy of heaven over their conversion is 
groundless, and in vain. 

Our Saviour informs us, that ' there is joy over one,' 
(that is, over every) ' sinner that repenteth, more than 
over ninety and nine just persons, who need no repen- 
tance.' No error exists in heaven. All the perceptions 
of its inhabitants are accordant with truth ; all their 
emotions are founded in truth. The joy excited there 
by the continuance of ninety and nine just persons who 
need no repentance (that is, persons perfectly just,) in 
their holiness, is a joy founded on the everlasting holi- 
ness of these persons, and the everlasting happiness by 
which it is inseparably attended. The joy excited by 
the repentance of a sinner is, however, greater than 
even this. As this is unconditionally asserted by Christ, 
it is unnecessary for me, in the present case, to inquire 
into the reasons of the fact. But a joy excited by the 
repentance cf a sinner, whose everlasting holiness, and 
consequent everlasting happiness, is uncertain ; nay, 
who may never be holy nor happy at all, beyond the 
first and feeblest efforts and enjoyments of a Christian 
in his infantine state, cannot be founded in truth, nor 
dictated by wisdom ; nay, it cannot be accordant with 
common sense. Upon the plan here adopted, the ob- 
ject on which this joy is founded, although a penitent 
to-day, may be a reprobate to-morrow ; may thus finally 
lose both his holiness and his happiness ; and, becoming 
a more guilty, may, of course, become a more miserable 
wretch than if he had never repented. In this case 
there would be, upon the whole, no foundation for joy 
at all; and the inhabitants of heaven would, in many 
instances, instead of rejoicing rationally, and on solid 
grounds, be merely tantalized by the expectation of 
good which they were never to realize. 



454 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. lxxxvii. 



What, in this case, would be the conduct of rational 
men in the present world ? We have instances enough 
of their conduct in cases substantially of a similar na- 
ture, to furnish us with an unerring- answer to this 
question. They would, as in all cases of such uncer- 
tainty they actually do, indulge a timorous, trembling 
hope, that the' case might end well ; and the penitent 
might persevere, and finally become safe. They would 
experience a degree of satisfaction that this first step 
had been taken, because it was indispensable to the 
rest ; and would feel a continual anxious suspense, lest 
others equally indispensable should not follow. What 
wise and good men in this world would feel, on such an 
occasion, wiser and better men in the world to come, 
must, of necessity, also feel, and feel much more in- 
tensely, because they comprehend the subject in a man- 
ner so much clearer, juster, and more perfect. Of 
course, their suspense, their anxiety, must exist in a far 
higher degree. Such a suspense, such an anxiety, 
must, one would think, imbitter even the happiness of 
heaven. 

Frustrated expectations of great good also are, in 
this world, sources of extreme sorrow. The same fact 
must, in that benevolent world, be a source of the same 
sorrow. But how often, according to this scheme, must 
such expectations be there frustrated ? Can this be re- 
concilable with a state of unmingled happiness ? 

5. That the holiness of Christians should not continue 
to the end, is inconsistent with many scriptural declara- 
tions. 

' We know,' saith St John, ' that we have passed from 
death unto life, because we love the brethren,' 1 John 
iii. 14. It is impossible for any person to know that 
lie has passed from death unto life, unless he has actually 
thus passed. But St John declares, that himself, and 
such other Christians as love the brethren, have this 
knowledge ; or, perhaps more conformably with the 
apostle's real design, all Christians know this, who 
know that they love the brethren. The love of the bre- 
thren is certain, absolute proof, that all those in whom 
it exists have passed from death unto life. And this 
proof exists, whether perceived by him who is the sub- 
ject of this love, or not perceived. But every Christian 
loves the brethren, and that from the moment in which 
he becomes a Christian. Every Christian, therefore, 
has actually passed from death unto life. This, how- 
ever, cannot be true, unless every Christian perseveres 
in holiness unto the end. Every Christian does, there- 
fore, persevere. 

' Being confident,' says St Paul, < of this very thing, 
that he which hath begun a good work in you, will 
perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.' The word 
here rendered ' perform,' signifies to finish, or complete. 
St Paul was confident, therefore, that the Spirit of God, 
who had begun a good work, viz. the work of sanctifi- 
cation, in the Philippian Christians, would continue to 
complete it by various steps, until it was brought to 
perfection. But St Paul, under the influence of inspi- 
ration, could not mistake concerning this subject. His 
confidence was founded in truth. The work, be<nm in 
the Philippian Christians, was completed. Of course it 
will be completed in all other Christians. 

' Verily, verily, I say unto you,' says our Saviour, 
* he that heareth my word, and believeth on him that 
sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come 
into condemnation; but is (hath) passed from death 



unto life.' John v. 24. In this passage it is declared, 
that ' he that heareth the word of Christ, and believeth 
on him by whom he was sent, has passed from death 
unto life.' What is meant by this phrase is also de- 
cisively explained, when it is said, ' every such person 
hath everlasting life ;' and when it is farther said, ' he 
shall not come into condemnation.' But every Chris- 
tian, when he becomes a Christian, hears the word of 
Christ, and believes on him that sent him : therefore, 
every Christian has everlasting life, and shall not come 
into condemnation ; but has already passed from death 
unto life. 

Declarations of the same import abound in the 
Scriptures. It cannot be necessary to multiply quota- 
tions any farther. If these are not believed, none will 
be believed. 

G. The doctrine against which I contend is incon- 
sistent with many scriptural promises. 

Such a promise is contained in the passage last re- 
cited. ' He that heareth my word, and believeth on 
him that sent me, shall not come into condemnation.' 

Another is contained in the following words, John 
vi. 37, 'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast 
out.' Every Christian has come to Christ, in the very 
sense of this passage. Should he then be rejected 
afterward, he would be as really cast out as if rejected 
at first; and the promise would not be performed. 

Another example of the same nature is found in 
Mark xvi. 16, ' He that believeth, and is baptked, shall 
be saved.' Every Christian has believed ; every Chris- 
tian will therefore be saved. 

Another is found in John x. 27, 28, ' My sheep hear 
my voice, and I know them, and they follow me : and 
I give unto them eternal life ; and they shall never per- 
ish ; neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.' 

Another in the 9th verse of the same chapter : ' I am 
the door : by me if any man enter in, he shall be 
saved.' 

All these are promises uttered by Christ himself; and 
it will not be denied that he understood the import of 
his own promise, nor that he will faithfully perform it 
to the uttermost. 

Finally : St Paul has declared his views concerning 
this subject, in a manner which one would expect to 
terminate the controversy. ' Moreover,' says this 
apostle, ' whom he did predestinate, them he also call- 
ed ; and whom he called, them he also justified ; and 
whom he justified, them he also glorified.' This is bolii 
a declaration and a promise ; and in both respects, is 
unconditional and universal. In the most express 
language it asserts, that every one who is effectually 
called is justified, and will, in the end, be glorified also. 
But every Christian is thus called. 

I shall now proceed to consider the principal objec- 
tions against the perseverance of Christians. 

1. It is objected, that this doctrine is inconsistent with 
free agency. 

This objection, as to its real import, I have had oc- 
casion to consider in several preceding Discourses. If 
the answers made to it then were just and sufficient, 
they must admit of a satisfactory application to this sub- 
ject. The drift of the objection in every case is against 
the doctrine, that God can create a free agent who shall 
yet be a holy being. If he can create such an agent, 
and make him holy from the beginning ; he can, un- 
doubtedly, with equal ease and equal consistency, ren- 



REGENERATION PERSEVERANCE. 



45 r ) 



«!sr such an agent holy after he is created. But it can- 
net be scripturally denied, that our first parents, or the 
angels, were created holy ; nor that the man Jesus 
Christ was created holy. Nor can it be denied that all 
these were, in the fullest sense, free agents. The very 
acknowledgment that they were holy, is an acknowledg- 
ment that they were free agents ; for holiness is an at- 
tribute of free agents only. It is certain then that God 
can render such agents holy at any time after they are 
created, without infringing at all the freedom of their 
agency. In other words, he can regenerate them ; can 
sanctify them afterward, at successive periods ; and can 
of course, continually increase their holiness to the end 
of their lives. 

Farther: angels and glorified saints will persevere 
in holiness throughout eternity ; and their perseverance 
is rendered absolutely certain by the unchangeable pro- 
mise of God. Yet neither this perseverance, nor the 
certainty of it, will at all diminish the freedom of their 
agency. The perseverance of saints in this world may 
therefore exist to the end of life, and may be absolute- 
ly certain, without any diminution of the freedom of 
their agency. 

2. It is alleged, that the Scriptures promise eternal 
life to Christians conditionally ; and that this is incon- 
sistent with the supposition, that every Christian will 
certainly persevere in holiness. For example : ' He 
that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved :' 
and again : ' For we are made partakers with Christ, 
if we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast 
unto the end.' 

There are many passages of this nature in the New 
Testament. As the import of them all is exactly the 
same, it will be Unnecessary to quote any more. Their 
universal tenor, whether given in the form of promises, 
cautions, exhortations, or commands, is this ; that 
eternal life will not be allotted to any of mankind, ex- 
cept those who continue in obedience unto the end. 
Hence it is argued, that a discrimination is here inten- 
tionally made between such Christians as do, and such 
as do not, thus continue in their obedience. Otherwise, 
it is observed, the condition would be useless, and with- 
out any foundation in fact. 

To this I answer : First, that a conditional promise, 
collateral to an absolute one, can never affect, much less 
make void, the absolute promise. The promises which 
1 have recited, of eternal life to every Christian, are all 
absolute ; as are also many others of the same nature. 
They cannot therefore be made void by these condition- 
al ones. 

Secondly, It is still true, that none but those who en- 
dure to the end will be saved ; and equally true, that 
every Christian will endure to the end. 

It is elsewhere said in the Scriptures, that if we ' do 
not believe, we shall be damned ;' that ' if we do not 
repent, we shall perish ;' that ' if we do not love the 
Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be anathema ;' that ' with- 
out holiness no man shall see the Lord ;' that ' he who 
hateth his brother abideth in death ;' and that ' without 
love we are nothing.' From these passages it might 
with the same force be concluded, that some persons be- 
lieve, who do not repent ; that some repent, who are 
not holy ; and that some are holy, who yet hate their 
brethren ; and that thus a discrimination was intended 

tto be made between believing Christians and penitent 
ones ; and between both these, and such as are holy. 



The truth is, every Christian does all these things. 
These several descriptions were given, partly to show 
us the whole nature of Christianity ; partly to teach us 
all our duty ; partly to show us, that all of it is indis- 
pensable ; and partly to furnish us with useful and ne- 
cessary evidence of our Christian character. 

At the same time, all these conditional premises and 
exhortations are, and were intended to be, powerful 
means of the very perseverance which is the principal 
subject of them. We are not constrained or forced to 
persevere ; nor should we, on the other hand, perse- 
vere, were we wholly left to ourselves. Our persever- 
ance is owing to two great causes : the influence of the 
Spirit of God on our hearts ; and the various means 
furnished in the word, ordinances, and providence of 
God, accompanied with the divine blessing upon the 
use of them. Among these means, the very condition 
here suggested in so many impressive forms is of high 
importance, and has contributed to the perseverance of 
Christians in holiness ever since the Scriptures were 
published. Although, therefore, all Christians actually 
thus persevere ; yet it is not improbable that, without 
the aid of those passages of Scripture here alluded to, 
multitudes might have fallen away. Christians have 
no other satisfactory knowledge of their Christianity, 
except their continuance in obedience. The earnest 
desire of possessing this knowledge, on the one hand, 
and the fear of being found destitute of the Christian 
character, on the other, cannot but serve as powerful 
motives (motives too powerful, in my view, to be safely 
omitted in the scriptural system) to produce in the 
Christian perseverance in holiness. 

3. It is objected, that this doctrine naturally contri- 
butes to lessen the diligence of the Christian in his duty. 

For an answer to this objection, I must refer you to 
the observations made in a former Discourse on the 
same objection to the doctrine of justification by faith. 
In that Discourse, the objection was applied to the doc- 
trine now under consideration ; and, if I mistake not, 
was satisfactorily obviated. 

4. It is objected, that several passages of Scripture 
teach the contrary doctrine. 

Among these is Heb. vi. 4 — 8, ' For it is impossible 
for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted 
of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the 
Holy Chost, and have tasted the good word of God, 
and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall 
away, to renew them unto repentance : seeing they cru- 
cify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him 
to an open shame. For the earth, which drinketh in the 
rain that cometh oft upon it, and bringeth forth herbs 
meet for them by whom it is dressed, receiveth blessing 
from God ; but that which beareth thorns and briers, is 
rejected, and is nigh unto cursing ; whose end is to be 
burned.' 

It will be unnecessary for me to determine here, 
who are the persons meant by the apostle in this pas- 
sage. He himself has decided that they are not Chris- 
tians. Tl|eir character is fully expressed in the 8th 
verse, under the image of ' the earth which beareth 
thorns and briers ;' while that of Christians is express- 
ed in the 7th verse, under the image of the earth, 
' which bringeth forth herbs, meet for them by whom it 
is dressed.' These are here studiously contrasted. The 
character of the former is, therefore, exhibited by the 
apostle ris a direct contrast to that of Christians ; who, 



45: 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. LXXXVII. 



it is to be remembered, are represented everywhere in 
the Scriptures as bringing forth good fruit. This pas- 
sage, then, teaches nothing opposed to the doctrine which 
I am endeavouring to support. 

Secondly, It is not asserted by the apostle that those 
of whom he speaks ever actually fall away. The case 
is stated only in the form of a supposition ; and he de- 
clares only that, should they fall away, there is no pos- 
sibility of renewing them unto repentance. Whether 
such persons do in fact fall away, is therefore left un- 
certain. 

Should it be thought, that the expressions in this pas- 
sage amount to a description of Christianity ; and that, 
therefore, Christians are meant in it ; I answer, that 
neither of the expressions taken separately, nor all of 
them together, involve any necessary description of 
Christianity. It is true, that Christians sustain all 
these characteristics, except two ; viz. partaking of the 
Holy Ghost, and the powers of the world to come (,«sA- 
"hwro; a-tuiiog, the future age) ; that is, the period of 
the Christian dispensation, thus denominated. These 
phrases indicate the miraculous powers possessed by 
many Christians when this passage was written, but 
never belonging to Christians as such. They, there- 
fore, denote no part of Christianity. Judas possessed 
these characteristics. The remaining expressions are 
all indefinite; and as truly applicable to men who, still 
continuing to be sinners, have enjoyed peculiar Chris- 
tian advantages, as they can be to Christians. The 
whole drift of this passage, therefore, even when con- 
strued most favourably for those whom I oppose, is only 
ambiguously in favour of their doctrine ; and is, in my 
view, decided against them by the apostle himself. But 
it cannot be rationally believed, that a doctrine of this 
importance would, in opposition to so many clear, de- 
cisive declarations, have been left to expressions merely 
ambiguous. 

Another passage pleaded for the same purpose is the 
declaration of Christ, John xvii. 12, ' Those whom thou 
gavest me I have kept, and none of them is lost but 
the son of perdition.' To discover the true meaning 
of this passage, we need only recur to other declara- 
tions of the same glorious Person. ' Many widows 
were in Israel in the days of Elias; but unto none of 
them was Elias sent, save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon, 
unto a woman that was a widow.' The widow of Sarepta 
is here, by the very same phraseology, included among 
' the widows of Israel ;' as Judas was included among 
those ' that were given to Christ.' Yet we know, and 
this passage declares, that she was not an Israelitish, 
but a Sidonian widow: and we know equally well, that 
Judas was never given to Christ as a Christian. 

Again : ' There were many lepers in Israel, in the 
time of Elisajus the prophet ; and none of them were 
cleansed, saving Naaman, the Syrian.' Naaman the 
Syrian was not an Israelitish leper ; though, in the first 
apparent meaning of the passage, mentioned as such. 
Judas was not given to Christ, although apparently 
mentioned as thus given. The whole meaning of this 
phrase would be completely expressed thus : ' Those 
whom thou gavest me have I kept ; and none of them 
is lost : but the son of perdition is lost.' 

That Judas was never given to Christ we know from 
his whole history, and the repeated declarations of his 
Master. This passage, therefore, has not even a re- 
mote reference to the subject in debate. 



Another passage of the same nature is 1 Tim. i, 19. 
' Holding- faith and a good conscience ; which some 
having put away, concerning faith have made ship- 
wreck.' The meaning of this passage may be easily 
learned from a correct translation : ' Holding fast faith 
(faithfulness or fidelity), and a good conscience; which 
some (that is, some teachers), having cast away, con- 
cerning the faith (rnv ttiutiv, that is, the doctrines of 
the gospel), have made shipwreck.' 

Generally, it may be observed, that the doctrine 
against which I contend is not supported in a single 
unequivocal declaration of the Scriptures. I know of 
none in which it is asserted in terms so favourable to it 
as those which I have considered. Whatever is said 
concerning the apostasy of any Christian professor, is 
decisively explained by St John. ' They went out 
from us, but they were not of us : for if they had been 
of us, they would no doubt have continued with us.' 



1. The faithfulness of God is highly conspicuous in 
the truths which have been now discussed. 

Christians provoke God daily, and awaken his angei 
against themselves more and more continually. By 
every sin they persuade him. if I may be allowed the 
expression, to desert them, and to give them up to 
themselves. Still he preserves them from destruction. 
He has promised them life. He has established his 
covenant with them for an everlasting covenant ; and 
it shall never be forgotten. On his immutability their 
safety stands immovable. In this manner it is exhi- 
bited by himself. ' For I (saith he) am Jehovah ; I 
change not : therefore ye sons of Jacob are not con- 
sumed.' This attribute is the seal, the certainty of 
every promise : and ' sooner shall heaven and earth pass 
away, than one jot or one tittle ol" that which is pro- 
mised shall fail.' 

2. From these observations we learn, that the pro- 
mises of the gospel are absolutely necessary for the hope 
and support of Christians. 

Christians in their very best estate possess such a 
character as, to say the most, furnishes a very feeble 
and distant hope of their perseverance in holiness ; and 
their final success in obtaining salvation. In better 
language, if left to themselves, there is no rational hope 
that they would ever arrive at the kingdom of heaven. 
If God did not preserve them, they would fall daily, 
certainly, and finally. Without the promises of God, 
prone as Christians are to backslide, they would feel 
no confidence in their own success; but would sink 
into despondency and despair. To preserve them from 
this despondency, and the ruin which would result from 
it, God has filled his word with promises ; which yield 
solid and sufficient support, consolation, hope, and joy. 
On these they rest safely, and cannot be moved. 

3. We here learn, that the Christian life is a life far 
removed from gloom. 

Many persons, hearing often of the self-denial, re- 
pentance, and mortification of sin, connected with 
Christianity, have supposed a life of religion to be only 
gloomy and discouraging ; and have thus dreaded it, as 
destitute of all present enjoyment. In this opinion 
they have been confirmed by the sad countenances, de- 
mure behaviour, and cheerless lives, of some who have 
professed themselves Christians. All this, however, is 
remote from the true character of religion. Seal 



REGENERATION WHAT ARE NOT EVIDENCES. 



457 



Christianity furnishes the fairest and most abundant 
enjoyment. It is delightful in itself ; and, when not 
the immediate object of persecution, finds everywhere 
comforts, friends, and blessings. In God, the Christian 
finds a sure, an ever-present, an everlasting friend ; in 
Christ, a Saviour from sin and sorrow ; in the divine 
promises, an indefeasible inheritance of unceasing and 
eternal good. 

Let none therefore, particularly let not those who 
are young, and who are easily deterred from approach- 
ing that which wears a forbidding aspect, be hindered 
from becoming religious by any apprehended gloomi- 



ness in religion, or any sorrowful deportment of those 
who profess to be Christians. Christianity is but an- 
other name for joy. It can spread a smile even over 
this melancholy world, and lend a delightful consola- 
tion to suffering and to sorrow. All its dictates, all its 
emotions, all its views, are cheerful, serene, and sup- 
porting. Here it is safe ; hereafter it will triumph. 
Sin only is misery. Sinners in this world have a 
thousand sufferings of which the good man is igno- 
rant ; and in the world to come will lie down in eter- 
nal sorrow. 



SERMON LXXXVIII. 

REGENERATION ITS EVIDENCES WHAT ARE NOT EVIDENCES. 



Examine yourselves whether ye be in the faith ; prove your own selves ; know ye not your own selves, how that 
Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ? — 2 Cob. xiii. 5. 



d, 
a 
tl 



Having in a long series of Discourses considered the 
doctrine of regeneration, its antecedents, attendants, 
and consequents ; I shall now proceed to another inte- 
resting subject of theology ; viz. the Evidences of Re- 
generation. 

In the text, the apostle commands the Corinthian 
Christians to ' examine and prove themselves ;' and 
states the purpose of this examination to be to deter- 
mine ' whether they were in the faith.' He then in- 
quires of them, ' Know ye not your own selves, how 
that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ?' 
In the original, except ye be xboKiftoi, unapproved ; 
unable to endure the trial of such an examination. 
From this passage of Scripture it is plain, that it was 
the duty of the Corinthians to examine themselves 
concerning their Christian character ; and that this ex- 
amination was to be pursued by them so thoroughly, as 
to prove, so far as might be, whether they were, or were 
not, in the faith ; whether Christ did, or did not, dwell 
in them by his Holy Spirit. 

That which was the duty of the Corinthians is the 
uty of all other Christians. That which is the duty of 
11 Christians, it is the duty of every minister to aid 
them in performing. To unfold the evidences of 
religion in the heart is therefore, at times, the duty 
of every minister; and to learn them, that of every 
Christian. 

In attempting to perform this duty at the present 
time, I shall endeavour to point out, 

I. Some of the imaginary evidences of religion, 

II. Some of its real evidences. 

HI. Some of the difficulties which attend the appli- 
cation of the real evidences of religion to ourselves. 

I. / shall endeavour to point out some of the imagi- 
nary evidences of religion. 

By imaginary evidences, I intend those which are 
sometimes supposed to be proofs of its existence, but 
have this character through mistake only ; evidences 
which may be, and often are, found in the hearts and 
live* both of the saint and the sinner ; things on which 



it is dangerous to rely, because they do not evince in 
any degree either a holy or an unholy character. It 
will not be expected that I should enter into a minute 
and detailed account of a subject which has occupied 
formal treatises, and filled volumes. Considerations of 
particular importance can alone find a place in such a 
system of Discourses. To them, therefore, I shall con- 
fine myself; and even these, I must necessarily discuss 
in a summary manner. With these preliminary re- 
marks, I observe, 

1. That nothing in the time, place, manner, or other 
circumstances, of a supposed conversion, furnishes ordi- 
narily any solid evidence that it is, or is not real. 

It is not uncommon for persons, and for Christians 
among others, to dwell, both in their thoughts and con- 
versations, on these subjects ; and to believe that they 
furnish them with comforting proofs of their piety. 
Some persons rest not a little on their consciousness of 
the time, at which they believe themselves to have 
turned to God. So confident are they with regard to 
this subject, that they boldly appeal to it in their con- 
versation with others, as evidence of their regeneration. 
' So many years since,' one of them will say, ' my heart 
closed with Christ. Christ was discovered to my soul. 
The arm of mercy laid hold on me. I was stopped in 
the career of iniquity. I received totally new views of 
divine things.' Much other language of a similar na- 
ture, is used by them ; all of which rests, ultimately, on 
their knowledge of the time at which they suppose 
themselves to have become the subjects of the renewing 
grace of God. 

There is reason to believe, derived, however, from 
other sources, that these apprehensions may sometimes 
be founded in truth ; in other instances, there is abun- 
dant proof that they are founded in falsehood. But 
that which may easily be either false or true, as in the 
present case it plainly may, can never safely be made 
the ground of reliance ; especially in a concern of such 
moment. 

Other persons appeal with the same confidence to the 
3 M 



458 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. lxxxviii. 



manner and circumstances of their supposed conversion, 
as evidences of its reality. Thus, one recites, with 
much reliance, the strong convictions of sin under 
which he was distressed for a length of time ; the deep 
sense which he had of deserving the anger and punish- 
ment of God ; his disposition readily to acknowledge 
the justice of the divine law in condemning him, and 
of the divine government in punishing him ; his full 
belief that he was among the worst of sinners ; and the 
state of despair to which he was brought under the ap- 
prehension of his guilt. Of all these things it may be 
observed, that, although convictions of sin generally, of 
the nature here referred to, always precede regenera- 
tion ; yet, in whatever form or degree they exist, they 
are not regeneration. They cannot, therefore, be proofs 
of regeneration. He who has them, in whatever man- 
ner he has them, will, if he proceed no farther, be still 
' in the gall of bitterness.' 

But the same person, perhaps, goes on farther ; and 
declares, that while he was in this situation of distress, 
when he was ready to give himself up for lost, God dis- 
covered himself to him as a reconciled God ; and filled 
his mind with new, sudden, and unspeakable joy ; that 
he had a strong and delightful sense of the divine mer- 
cy in Jesus Christ, of the wonderful compassion of 
Christ in consenting to die for sinners, in being willing 
to accept of sinners, and particularly in being willing 
to accept of so great a sinner as himself ; that he found 
his heart going forth in love to God the Father, the 
Son, and the Holy Ghost, to the word and ordinances 
of God, and to the church of Christ ; and that this state 
of mind was new to him, being constituted of emotions 
which he never felt before. On these things, therefore, 
he reposes, as supporting evidence that he is a Christian. 

All this is, in my own view, a just account of what 
really takes place in the conversion of multitudes ; and 
did it exist in no other case, would undoubtedly furnish 
the very evidence here relied on without any sufficient 
warrant. The defect in this scheme lies in the fact, 
that these very emotions are experienced by multitudes 
who are not Christians. That a person who has been 
the subject of extreme distress, under convictions of sin 
and the fear of perdition, should, whenever he begins 
to hope that his sins are forgiven, and his soul secured 
from destruction, experience lively emotions of joy, is 
to be expected as a thing of course : and that, whether 
his hopes are evangelical or false. All men must re- 
joice in their deliverance from destruction, whether 
truly or erroneously believed by them ; and all men 
who have had a distressing sense of their guilt and 
danger, will, under a sense of such a deliverance, expe- 
rience intense emotions of joy. All men, also, who 
really believe that God is become their friend, will love 
him. All will love the word of God who consider it as 
speaking peace and salvation to themselves. This joy, 
and this love, it is evident, are merely natural ; and are 
felt, of course, by every mistaken professor of religion. 
Love to God, and to divine things, is a delight in the 
nature of these objects, independently of any personal 
benefit to which we feel entitled from them. 

Another person places confidence in the greatness of 
the effects which his sense of sin, and his hope of for- 
giveness, produced both on his body and mind. He 
will inform you, with plain consolation to himself, that 
his distressing apprehensions of his guilt sunk him in 
the dust, and caused him to cry out involuntarily ; de- 



prived him of his strength, and for a time, perhaps, 
of the clear exercise of his reason ; caused him to 
swoon ; and almost terminated his life. Much the same 
effects, he will also observe, were produced in him by 
his consequent discoveries of the divine mercy. These 
overwhelmed him with transport, as his convictions did 
with agony. The extraordinary nature, and especially 
the extraordinary degree, of these emotions, furnishes 
this man with the most consolatory proof that he is a 
child of God- 
On this I shall only observe, that as these emotions 
may be, and often are excited by natural as well as 
evangelical causes ; so, when thus excited, they may 
exist in any supposable degree. The agonies and the 
transports, the agitations of body and mind, prove, in- 
deed, the intensity of the feelings experienced ; but they 
do not, in the least degree, exhibit either their nature 
or their cause ; and cannot therefore be safely relied on 
as evidences of religion. 

A third person will tell you, that while he was in a 
state of absolute carelessness, and going on headlong in 
sin, he was suddenly alarmed concerning his guilt and 
danger by a passage of Scripture, which came to his 
mind in a moment, without any thought or contrivance 
of his own ; and perhaps that, after he had long wearied 
himself to find an escape from the wrath of God, an- 
other text of Scripture, also without any contrivance of 
his own, came as suddenly to his mind, conveying to 
him bright views of the divine mercy, and glorious pro- 
mises of salvation. The reliance of this man is placed 
especially on the fact, that these texts came to his mind 
without any effort on his part, either to remember or 
to search after them. He therefore concludes that they 
were communicated to him directly by the Spirit of 
God ; and that they conveyed to him a direct personal 
promise of eternal life. This is mere delusion. Pas- 
sages of Scripture, and those just such as are here re- 
ferred to, come often suddenly, and without any labour 
of theirs, to the minds of multitudes who are not Chris- 
tians ; and God is no more immediately concerned in 
bringing them to the mind in this case, than when we 
read them in the Bible, or hear them from the desk. 
What God speaks in the Bible he always speaks, and 
speaks to us ; but he addresses nothing to us, when we 
remember, any more than when we read or hear his 
words. If we rely on the true import of what he says, 
we rely with perfect safety : but if we place any im- 
portance on the mode, in which at any time that which 
is said comes to our minds, we deceive ourselves. The 
whole of our recollection in these cases is a merely na- 
tural process ; and is the result of that association of 
ideas by which memory is chiefly governed, and which 
brings to our remembrance in the very same manner, 
thousands of other things, as well as these texts of Scrip- 
ture ; of which, however, as being of little importance 
to us, we take no notice 

Other persons depend much on the regularity of the 
process with which their distresses and consolations 
have existed ; and in the conformity of them to such 
a scheme and history of these things as they have 
found in books, or received from the mouth of acknow- 
ledged and eminent Christians. In the sermon on the 
Antecedents of Regeneration, I observed that this work 
is in its process almost endlessly various. But, in what- 
ever manner it exists, the manner itself is of no con- 
sequence. Should we have exactly the same succession 



REGENERATION—WHAT ARE NOT EVIDENCES. 



459 



of distresses and consolations experienced by ever so 
many of the most distinguished saints, and yet our 
affections, instead of being evangelical, be merely na- 
tural ; the order of their existence could never prove 
that we were Christians ; for we should still be sinners. 
The nature of these affections, and not the order, is the 
great concern of all our self-examination. 

2. Zeal in the cause of religion is no evidence that we 
are, or are not, Christians. 

Men, we all know, are capable of exercising zeal in 
any cause, in proportion to the degree of interest which 
they feel in that cause. We also know that there is ' a 
zeal which is not according to knowledge.' All per- 
sons naturally ardent become zealous about every thing 
in which they are once engaged ; and especially, when 
they are opposed. Christians are zealous in the cause 
of religion ; Deists and Atheists in the cause of infide- 
lity ; Jews in that of Judaism ; Heathens in that of 
idolatry. The Ephesians were zealous for the worship 
of the great goddess Diana ; St Paul and his com- 
panions for that of the true God ; the Anabaptists at 
Munster, for the wild reveries taughtby their leaders; and 
thus concerning innumerable others. Nothing is more 
evident than that zeal was not, in most of these cases, any 
proof of piety in those by whom it was exercised. 

As zeal itself, so the degree in which it exists, is no 
proof of vital religion. There have been multitudes 
of persons, whose zeal has prompted them to court per- 
secution. It is not uncommon for members of small 
and despised sects to believe that the sufferance of per- 
secution is a decisive characteristic of the true church 
of God ; and to solicit it, as decisive evidence that they 
themselves are members of this church. With these 
views, they sedulously construe all the kinds and de- 
grees of opposition with which they meet, into persecu- 
tion. In this manner they regard the sober argumen- 
tation with which their opinions are refuted ; the most 
dispassionate exposures of their folly and their faults ; 
the most just operations of law, directed either against 
their crimes, or to the preservation of the rights of 
others ; nay, even that abstinence from communion 
with them in their worship, and that refusal to farther 
their designs, which they, on their own part, claim as 
indefeasible rights of man. Such persons ought to re- 
member, that all, or nearly all, classes of Christians, 
even those whom they most oppose, nay, that infidels, 
and atheists, have been persecuted, and that the modern 
Jews have been more persecuted than any other sect, 
party, or people, now in existence. The sufferance of 
persecution, therefore, is no proof that we belong to the 
true church. Still more ought they to remember, that 
St Paul hath said, ' Though I give my body to be 
burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.' 

3. No exactness in performing the external duties of 
religion, furnishes any evidence that we are, or are not, 
Christians. 

Few persons have been more exact in this respect 
than the ancient Pharisees. Yet Christ has testified of 
them, that they were ' a generation of vipers.' Under 
the Christian dispensation, great multitudes of the Ro- 
man Catholics, notoriously profligate in many parts of 
their conduct, have in various periods of popery, been 
remarkably punctilious in the performance of these du- 
ties. That which was no evidence of Christianity in 
them, cannot be evidence of Christianity in ourselves. 

Many persons are exact in this conduct from the in- 



fluence of education and example ; many from habit ; 
many from the desire of religious distinction ; many 
because they think this conduct a proof of their piety, 
and are uneasy without such proof ; many because they 
think themselves in this way only, in the safe path to 
salvation ; and many from other selfish reasons. In all 
these things, considered by themselves, there is no re- 
ligion. Of course, the conduct to which they give birth 
cannot be evidential of religion. 

4. No exactness in performing those which are fre- 
quently called moral duties furnishes any evidence of 
this nature. 

Multitudes of mankind place great confidence in 
their careful performance of these external duties, as 
being evidential of their evangelical character, just as 
other multitudes do in those mentioned under the pre- 
ceding head ; and with no better foundation. 

Justice, truth, and kindness, in their various branches 
and operations, are so important and useful to man- 
kind, that we all readily agree in giving them high dis- 
tinction in the scale of moral characteristics. Those 
who practise them uniformly and extensively, are uni- 
versally considered as benefactors to the world, and as 
invested with peculiar amiableness and worth. Those 
who violate them, on the other hand, are, from the mis- 
chiefs which they produce, regarded as enemies and 
nuisances to the human race. At the same time, a 
high degree of importance is given to these duties in 
the Scriptures. They are greatly insisted on in the 
gospel, inculcated in many forms of instruction, com- 
mended in the most forcible language, and encouraged 
by the most interesting promises. The violation of them 
is condemned and threatened in the most pungent terms, 
and under the most glowing images. 

It cannot be surprising that, influenced by these con- 
siderations, parents should make these duties a prime 
part of their instructions and precepts to their children. 
But when we remember, that the practice of them has 
in all ages, and in all civilized countries, been consi- 
dered as equally and as indispensably necessary to a 
fair reputation, and to success in the common business 
of life, we shall readily suppose, that these must be 
among the first things imbibed by the early mind from 
parental superintendence, and must hold a peculiar im- 
portance in all the future thoughts of the man. 

Thus taught, and thus imbibed, we should naturally 
expect to see them practised during the progress of 
life, as extensively as can consist with the imperfect 
character of human beings. When thus practised, and 
especially when eminently practised, we cannot wonder 
to find those whose lives they adorn regarded- as persons 
of real virtue and excellence. What less can be ex- 
pected ? These are the very actions towards our fellow 
creatures required by God himself, and dictated by 
evangelical virtue ; a part of the very fruits by which 
the Christian character is to be known. Why is not 
he who exhibits them a Christian ? Oftentimes, also, 
they appear with high advantage in the conduct of per- 
sons distinguished by natural sweetness of disposition, 
peculiar decency of character, amiableness of life, and 
dignity or gracefulness of manners; and thus become 
delightful objects to the eye, and excite the warmest 
commendations of the tongue. It is not strange, there- 
fore, that they should have gained a high and established 
reputation, and should be extensively regarded as un- 
equivocal proofs of an excellent character. 



480 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxxxviu. 



What others so generally attribute to them we not 
unnaturally accord with, whenever our own case is con- 
cerned ; and finding that we are believed by others to 
be Christians, on account of our good works of this na- 
ture, readily believe ourselves to possess the character. 
We are esteemed, loved, and commended, by those 
around us ; and cannot easily believe that the worth 
which they attribute to us is all imaginary. 

Still, such a performance of these duties furnishes no 
proof that we are Christians. For, in the first place, 
they may be, and often are, all performed from the 
very motives mentioned, under the last head, as being 
frequently the sources of exactness in the external du- 
ties of religion. Secondly, they are often performed 
by men who violate extensively, or grossly neglect, the 
duties of piety and temperance, and who, therefore, are 
certainly not Christians. Thirdly, they appear to have 
been all performed with uncommon exactness by the 
young man who came to Christ, to inquire ' what good 
thing he should do to have eternal life.' Yet ' he 
lacked one thing ;'and that was ' the one thing needful.' 

5. No degrees of sorrow or comfort, of fear or hope, 
experienced by any person, about his religious concerns, 
at seasons succeeding the time of his supposed conver- 
sion, furnish any evidence of this nature. 

Sorrow springs from many sources beside a sense of 
our sins ; and from such a sense it may be derived, and 
yet not be ' the sorrow which is after a godly sort.' We 
may easily and greatly sorrow for our sins, because we 
consider them as exposing us to the anger of God, and 
to everlasting ruin. Our comforts also may flow from 
other sources beside those which are evangelical. Some 
persons derive great consolation, and even exquisite joy, 
from a belief (and that whether well or ill founded) of 
their acceptance with God ; some from the apprehension 
that they are eminent Christians ; some from the un- 
expected influx of religious thoughts, and passages of 
Scripture coming suddenly into their minds ; some from 
what they esteem peculiar tokens of divine goodness to 
them ; tokens which they regard as proofs of the pecu- 
liar love and favour of God ; some from what they term 
peculiar discoveries of the glory of God, and the excel- 
lency of the Redeemer, and of the joys of the blessed in 
heaven. All these they consider as immediately com- 
municated by God to themselves, because they are his 
favourites among mankind. There are also other states 
of mind, in which consolations are experienced from 
other sources ; consolations which may exist in high de- 
grees, but which are too numerous to be mentioned 
at the present time. 

What is true of the sorrows and comforts excited by 
religious considerations, is substantially true of the 
kindred emotions of fear and hope. These can also 
arise both from true and false apprehensions ; and can 
be either merely natural or wholly evangelical, or of a 
mixed nature. As they actually exist in the minds of 
men, they are, to say the least, often undistinguished as 
to their real nature by those in whom they exist ; and 
are, I believe, many times in a great measure (indistin- 
guishable. Their existence is so transient, they are 
frequently mingled with so many other views and emo- 
tions, and the eye of the mind is often so engaged by 
the objects which give birth to them, that it becomes 
extremely difficult to fasten upon their true character. 

6. No evidence of our sanctification is furnished by 
our own confidence. 



The truth of this declaration may be easily seen in 
the fact, that multitudes feel the utmost confidence that 
they are Christians, who afterward prove by their con- 
duct their entire destitution of Christianity. All en- 
thusiasts usually confide with undoubting assurance in 
the reality of their own religion ; and generally pity, 
and often despise, men of an humbler and better spirit, 
because they do not enjoy such peculiar discoveries, 
such delightful exercises of devotion, such bright hopes 
and heavenly anticipations of future glory, as them- 
selves. The Pharisee boldly said, ' God, I thank thee, 
that I am not as other men, or even as this publican.' 
Yet he was a worse man than the publican. A col- 
lection of the Pharisees said to Christ. ' Are we blind 
also ?' 

I propose hereafter to consider at some length what 
is commonly called the faith of assurance. It will be 
sufficient to observe at the present time, that I believe 
some men to be really and evangelically thus assured. 
If this be admitted, as it undoubtedly will be by the 
great body of Christians, it follows of course, that confi- 
dence in our good estate is no proof that we are not 
Christians. A man may confide with sufficient evi- 
dence ; he may also confide without it. It is plain, 
therefore, that his confidence, considered by itself, fur- 
nishes no proof that it is well or ill founded. 

I cannot however do justice to my own views, nor, as 
I believe, to the subject, without observing here, that 
in ordinary cases, I entertain a better opinion of the 
modest, doubting, fearful professor, than of the bold and 
assured one. The life of the former, as it seems to me, 
is, commonly at least, more watchful, more careful, 
more self-condemning, more scrupulous concerning the 
commission of sin and the omission of duty, more indi- 
cative of dependence on God, more inclined to ' esteem 
others better than himself,' more declaratory of the 
spirit of ' little children.' The spirit of the latter, even 
when he is admitted to be a Christian, appears to me to 
be often fraught, in an unhappy degree, with self-exal- 
tation, with censoriousness, as well as contempt of those 
who differ from him ; with uncharitableness, with 
peremptoriness of opinion, and with an unwarrantable 
assurance of the rectitude of whatever he believes, says, 
or does. These certainly are not favourable specimens 
of any character. I would be far from ultimately con- 
demning the profession of all those in whom these 
things are more or less visible ; yet I assert without 
hesitation, that their light would shine more clearly be- 
fore men, were it not obscured by these clouds. 

It is not the degree of confidence, but the source 
whence it is derived, and the objects on which it rests, 
by which its nature and import are to be determined. 
It may exist in the highest degree, without any reli- 
gion ; and religion may exist in very high degrees, at 
least, without any confidence. 

7. The belief of others that we are Christians, fur- 
nishes no proof of our Christianity. 

All persons who make a profession of religion, and 
many who do not, whose lives at the same time are ex- 
emplary, scrupulous, and unblamable, are by most cha- 
ritable persons believed to be Christians. Some of 
these, however, beyond any reasonable doubt, are not 
Christians. Some we know to have lived in this man- 
ner, and to have sustained this character, both in an- 
cient and modern times, without a pretension to vital 
religion. Judas was believed by his fellow apostles, for 



REGENERATION WHAT ARE NOT EVIDENCES. 



461 



a length of time, and not improbably without a single 
doubt, to be a true follower of Christ. Hymeneus and 
Philetus appear to have sustained the same character ; 
and apparently with as little foundation. All these 
were believed to be Christians by apostles, inspired 
men, of singular understanding in subjects of this na- 
ture. Yet these men were deceived. No words are 
necessary to prove that we and all others are liable to 
deception in similar cases. If the belief of Peter and 
Paul, that the objects of their charity, in the cases spe- 
cified, were Christians, was no evidence of their Chris- 
tianity ; then the belief of others that we are Christians, 
is no evidence of our Christianity. 



From these observations we learn, 

1. That we ought to exercise the utmost care and 
caution in examining the evidences of our own religion. 

How many professors of Christianity have considered 
the things which I have specified, as decisive proofs that 
themselves were good men ! Yet, if I mistake not, it 
has been clearly shown that all of them united furnish 
no solid evidence of this fact. We are just as liable to 
be deceived as others ; and, unless peculiarly guarded, 
by the very same means. Others have rested their 
hopes of salvation on these things, as proofs of their 
religious character, and have been deceived. If we rest 
on them, we shall be deceived also ; for we may possess 
all these things, and yet not be Christians. In a case 
of this moment, nothing ought voluntarily to be left at 
hazard. We are bound by our own supreme interest, as 
well as our duty to God, to fulfill the command of the 
text ; to ' examine and to prove ourselves, whether we 
be in the faith ;' and in doing this, to make use of the 
best means in our power ; to fasten, with as much care 
as possible, on those things which the Scriptures have 
made tests of a religious character ; and earnestly to pray 
to God that we may not be deceived, either by ourselves 
or by any others. 

2. From the same source we learn also the impropriety 
and folly of making these things the foundation of our 
judgment concerning the religious character of others. 

Whenever we determine, that others are or are not 
Christians, because they exhibit these as evidences of 
their Christianity, we are plainly liable to gross error 
concerning this subject. All these things may be truly 
testified concerning himself by a Christian ; and with 
equal truth by a person destitute of Christianity. They 
are, therefore, no proofs of his religion or irreligion. 

Still, a great multitude of professing Christians, many 
of whom, I doubt not, are really Christians, and all or 
nearly all, enthusiastic professors, make these very 
things, or the want of them, the foundations of their 
favourable or unfavourable opinions of the religious 
character of others. They resort to them as to an ac- 
knowledged and Scriptural standard, which they do 
not expect to find disputed, and to question which would 
not improbably, be regarded by them as a proof of irre- 
ligion. 

What is still more unhappy, among various classes of 
Christians in this country, these very things, particu- 
larly those mentioned under the first, second, and fifth 
heads of this Discourse, are, if I am not misinformed, 
not unfrequently made the objects of a public examina- 
tion of candidates for admission to Christian commu- 
nion, and the foundations of a public judgment concern- 



ing their religious character. To be able to remember 
the time when convictions of sin began, with their 
attendant distresses, and the time when they were fol- 
lowed by hopes, consolations, and joys ; to have had 
these occasioned by the sudden, uncontrived, and unex- 
pected influx of certain passages of Scripture into the 
mind ; especially, if, according to a pre-established and 
acknowledged scheme of regeneration among them- 
selves, these things have taken place in a certain order 
of succession ; still more, especially, if the sorrows and 
consolations have risen very high ; and most of all, if 
they are succeeded by distinguished zeal about things 
pertaining to religion ; are boldly pronounced ample 
evidence of the candidate's piety. In this manner, 
there is reason to fear, multitudes are miserably led 
astray, both by being induced beforehand to labour that 
these things may be truly said of themselves - , and by 
settling down in a state of security on this false founda- 
tion afterward. 

Nor is the case less unhappy, when persons rest their 
hopes on their exactness in performing the external 
duties of religion and morality. Yet vast numbers of 
mankind repose themselves on these, as on a bed of 
down ; and feel satisfied that God will not finally con- 
demn persons who have laboured so much in his service. 
All of them will, however, find in the end, that to such 
as have done all this, and nothing more, ' one thing is 
lacking;' viz. an interest in Christ; a thing without 
which they cannot be saved. 

3. We see the danger of being strongly confident in 
the piety of ourselves or others. 

All or nearly all such confidence, so far as I have 
observed, has been derived from these supposed evi- 
dences of religion ; any part, or the whole of which may 
be possessed by men totally destitute of Christianity. 
It is a fatal mark on them all, that the Scriptures have 
nowhere alleged them as proofs of religion. As they 
are not scriptural proofs, they cannot be sound. To 
trust in them is to trust in a nullity. Accordingly, those 
who give the fairest proofs of Christianity in their life 
and conversation, never make these things the founda- 
tion of their hope, and are very rarely found to be 
strongly confident of their acceptance with God. 

To pronounce boldly that others are Christians, is, 
in many cases at least, equally hazardous. There are 
many persons, however, who roundly declare others, of 
whose life they have had little or no knowledge, to be 
Christians ; and others not to be Christians, whose con- 
duct and conversation give them at least as fair, and 
often fairer, claims to this character. Nay, they will 
peremptorily make these assertions concerning minis- 
ters of the gospel ; and pronounce some to be sancti- 
fied, and others unsanetified, from a sermon or prayer, 
or even from the tones of voice with which they are 
uttered. ' Judge not,' saith our Saviour, ' that ye be 
not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall 
be judged ; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be 
measured to you again.' ' Who art thou,' saith St Paul, 
' that judgest another man's servant ? To his own mas- 
ter he standeth or falleth.' It is sufficient to show the 
impropriety and rashness of these unwarrantable deci- 
sions, that they are founded on no scriptural or solid 
evidence. They are generally built on the very things 
exploded in this Discourse, or others of still less impor- 
tance ; all of which united, go not a single step towards 
proving a religious or an irreligious character. 



402 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[$ER. LXXX1X. 



SERMON LXXXIX. 

REGENERATION. -ITS EVIDENCES.— WHAT ARE REAL EVIDENCES. 



Examine yourselves whether ye be in the faith : prove your own selves ; know ye not your own selves, how thai 
Jesus Christ is in you, except ye he reprobates ? — 2 Cor. xiii. 5. 



In the last Discourse, I attempted to point out several 
things which furnish no real evidence of regeneration, 
although they have been supposed to furnish it, by mul- 
titudes in the Christian world. I now propose to men- 
tion several other things which actually furnish such 
evidence. 

By all who believe the doctrine of regeneration, as 
formerly taught in these Discourses, it must be admitted 
that the disposition communicated when this work is 
accomplished in us, is new ; and something which be- 
fore did not exist in the soul. If it were the mere in- 
crease, or some other modification, of the former dis- 
position, man could not be said to be born again ; to be 
created anew ; to be a new creature ; to be renewed in 
the spirit of his mind. It could not be said by St Paul, 
concerning persons who were the subjects of regenera- 
tion, that ' old things were passed away ' in them, and 
that ' all things had become new.' 

It must farther be acknowledged, that this new dis- 
position is in its nature opposite to that which before 
existed in the mind. The former disposition is sin, 
condemned and punished by the law of God ; the new 
disposition is holiness, required and rewarded by the 
same law. The former disposition is hateful in the 
sight of God ; the new one lovely, and ' of great price.' 

The former disposition is frequently and justly styled 
selfishness ; as being perpetually employed in subordin- 
ating the interests of any and all others to the private 
personal interests of the individual in whom it pre- 
vails. The new disposition is, with the same propriety, 
styled disinterestedness, love, good-will, benevolence ; a 
spirit inclining him in whom it exists to subordinate 
his own private interest to the general welfare, and to 
find his own happiness in the common prosperity of the 
divine kingdom. The part, the place, and the enjoy- 
ments which God assigns to him as a member of this 
kingdom, he is inclined to take, not with submission 
only, but with cheerfulness ; as being that which is or- 
dered by infinite wisdom, and is, therefore, the best 
and most desirable. 

This new disposition is also opposed to the former, 
particularly as it regards our Maker. The former 
or ' carnal mind is enmity against God,' opposed to his 
character and to his pleasure ; the new one is conform- 
ed to his pleasure, and delighted with his character. 
He in whom it exists 'delights in the law of God after 
the inner man ;' and esteems it as ' more to be chosen 
than the most fine gold, and sweeter than honey and 
the honeycomb.' 

The former disposition is an impenitent devotion to 
sin ; attended, at times, and after some of its grosser 
perpetrations, by remorse perhaps, and self-condemna- 
tion ; but never by a real loathing of the sin itself, nor 
by that ingenuous sorrow for it, which is ' after a godly 
sort.' The new disposition is a real hatred of sin ; a 



sincere, and, if I may so term it, an instinctive sorrow 
for every transgression of the divine commands, when- 
ever such transgression is present to the view of the 
mind. 

The former disposition was a general spirit of un- 
belief or distrust towards God, his invitations, promises, 
and designs ; a distrust especially exercised towards the 
Redeemer, and towards his righteousness as the founda- 
tion of our acceptance with God. The new one is an 
humble, steadfast, affectionate confidence in God, his 
declarations and designs ; exercised particularly towards 
Christ, as the Saviour of mankind, the propitiation for 
sin, and the true and living way to eternal glory. This 
confidence, or, as it is most usually termed in the New 
Testament, this faith, is a vital principle in the soul, 
producing every act of real obedience, every act in man 
which is pleasing to God. 

In all these particulars united, the new disposition is 
termed godliness, or piety. 

The former disposition is inclined to the indulgence 
of those lusts, or passions and appetites, which immedi- 
ately respect ourselves ; such as pride, vanity, sloth, 
lewdness, and intemperance. The new one is opposed 
to all these ; is humble, modest, diligent, chaste, and 
temperate. In this view, it is styled, temperance, mo- 
deration, or self-government. 

As in all these things the spirit communicated in our 
regeneration not only differs so greatly from that which 
we possess by nature, but is so directly opposed to it ; 
it must be admitted, that, in all its operations it carries 
with it some evidence of its existence, in the same man- 
ner as our sinful disposition carries with it evidence of 
its existence. He who denies that holiness in a renew- 
ed mind can be evidenced by its nature and operations, 
must also deny, either that any moral character whatever 
can be perceived to exist, or that a holy disposition is 
capable of the same proof as a sinful one. That this is 
philosophy too unsound to be adopted by a sober man, 
is so evident as to need no illustration. Indeed, it may 
be doubted whether any man will openly aver this doc- 
trine ; although multitudes assert that which involves it. 
Certainly, a 'sinner who examines his own heart and 
life must discern that he is sinful ; with equal certainty 
an angel must discern that he himself is holy. 

From what has been said of the nature of the renew- 
ed disposition it is clear, that the man who repents of 
his sins, who believes in Christ, who loves and fears 
God, who disinterestedly loves his neighbour, and for- 
gives his enemies, and who employs himself daily in 
resisting and subduing his own passions and appetites, 
must have some consciousness that he does these things. 
In this consciousness, as it continually rises up to the 
view of the mind, consists the primary or original evi- 
dence that we are Christians. Indeed, all the evidence 
of this nature which we ever possess, is no other than 



REGENERATION— WHAT ARE EVIDENCES. 



463 



this consciousness, variously modified, and rendered 
more explicit and satisfactory by the aid of several 
things with which, from time to time, it becomes con- 
nected. 

Having made these general observations, I shall pro- 
ceed to state the following particulars, in which, 1 appre- 
hend, this evidence will be especially seen. 

1. The renewed mind relishes all spiritual objects. 

Every man knows what it is to relish natural objects ; 
such as agreeable food, ease, warmth, rest, friends, 
beauty, novelty, and grandeur. Every man knows that 
these objects are relished also in themselves, for their 
own sake, as being in themselves pleasant to the mind, 
independently of consequences, and of all other extra- 
neous considerations. In the same manner, according 
to what is here intended, are spiritual objects relished by 
the renewed mind. A Christian regards the character 
of God, the character of Christ, the divine law, the gos- 
pel, and his own duty, as objects pleasing in their own 
nature. Thus David, of the religious exercises of whose 
mind we have a more detailed account than we have of 
those of any other scriptural writer, says concerning the 
' statutes of the Lord,' that ' they are right ; rejoicing 
the heart : more to be desired than gold, yea, than much 
fine gold ; sweeter than honey, and the honeycomb.' 
And again, ' How sweet are thy words unto my taste ! 
Yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth. I love thy com- 
mandments above gold; yea, above fine gold.' And 
again. ' Whom have I in heaven but thee ? And there 
is none upon the earth, whom I desire beside thee.' — 
' Oh taste and see, that the Lord is good !' ' Be glad in 
the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous ; and shout for joy 
all ye upright in heart !' With these expressions of 
David correspond all the declarations of the other 
divine writers, wherever they are made. Thus St Paul 
says, ' I count all things but loss, for the excellency of 
the knowledge of Christ.' Thus also the same apostle 
says, ' I delight in the law of the Lord after the inward 
man.' 

This doctrine has been extensively illustrated in the 
Sermon lately delivered on the subject of joy in the Holy 
Ghost ; and therefore will need the less illustration 
here. 

It ought, however, to be remembered, that a delight 
in these things, because of some benefit which we have, 
or imagine ourselves to have, derived from them, or 
which we hope to derive from them immediately, or 
from the relish of them, whether it be the favour of 
God, comforting evidence of our Christianity, or any 
other benefit whatever, is not the kind of relish of which 
I speak. This is directed towards the things themselves, 
as being in themselves delightful to the taste of the mind. 
If the character of God is excellent, it cannot but be 
supposed that this excellence must be relished by a per- 
son suitably disposed ; and that, although this person 
were to be ignorant of any manner in which he himself 
was to derive personal benefit from it. 

Wherever this relish exists it will ordinarily show 
itself, not only in the manner in which the mind imme- 
diately regards spiritual objects, but in its remoter 
Operations. Thus, if a man really relishes the worship 
of God, he will be apt to be regularly employed in it 
at all proper seasons. He will find himself inclined to 
ejaculatory prayer, to pray in his closet, in the family, 
and in the church. If he loves the Scriptures, he will 
be apt to read them regularly, much, and often. If he 



relishes the company of religious persons, he will natu- 
rally frequent it, seek it, and derive from it, when 
enjoyed, a sensible pleasure. 

To secret prayer, there seems to be hardly an allure- 
ment, sufficient to keep the regular practice of it alive 
for a great length of time, beside a relish for communio 
with God. It is plain, that secret prayer cannot be con- 
tinued with a view to be seen of men, or the hope of 
acquiring reputation. As in its own nature it cannot 
but be disrelished by every sinner, it seems as if it must 
of course be soon dropped where piety does not keep 
it alive. Thus Job seems to have reasoned, when he 
said concerning the hypocrite, ' Will he delight himself 
in the Almighty ? Will he always call upon God ?' Job 
xxvii. 10. As if he had said, ' He will not delight 
himself in the Almighty ; and therefore will not always, 
or throughout life, continue to pray to God : but will 
cease from this practice, after the casual feelings and 
views which gave birth to it have ceased to operate.' A 
continued relish for secret prayer furnishes, therefore, 
a strong and hopeful testimony that we are Christians. 

St John informs us, that the love of Christians also, 
is a satisfactory proof that we are Christians. ' Hereby 
we know that we have passed from death unto life, be- 
cause we love the brethren.' As this subject was exten- 
sively considered in the Discourse on brotherly love, it 
will be unnecessary to dwell upon it here. It will how- 
ever be proper to observe, that we are not in the present 
case supposed to love Christians, because they are our 
personal friends, or because they have been, or are 
expected to be, useful to us ; but because they are 
Christians; and on account of the excellence and 
amiableness of the Christian Spirit which they possess 
and manifest. For this reason God loves them ; that 
is, with the love usually termed complacency ; and for 
this reason only, since he can plainly receive no benefit 
from them. For the same reason they are loved by 
their fellow Christians. 

In order to know whether we love them, it will be 
proper to ask ourselves the questions, mentioned in the 
Discourse alluded to. Do we love their goodness of 
character ? Do we seek their company ? Do we relish 
their conversation ? Do we take pleasure in their 
Christian conduct? Do we pray for their prosperity, 
their holiness, and their salvation ? 

I will only add under this head, that with respect to 
all spiritual objects, we are carefully to inquire whether 
we relish them at all ; and whether we relish them for 
themselves ; for the excellence which they possess ; or 
for some apprehended benefit which may be derived 
from them to ourselves. 

2. Real religion is always accordant with the dictates 
of reason enlightened by revelation. 

By this I intend, that it is not, on the one hand, the 
mere result of passion, affection, or impulse, as in every 
case of enthusiasm ; and that it is not, on the other, the 
result of mere philosophy, or the decisions of human 
reason, unenlightened by revelation ; as is the case with 
the professed natural religion of Deists. The good 
conscience of a good man is, on the one hand, purged 
from these dead works ; and, on the other, exercises 
such a control over all the affections, as to direct their 
various operations steadily towards that which the Scrip- 
tures have pronounced to be true and right. 

Religion, in the scriptural sense, is a reasonable, not 
a casual, nor an instinctive, service. Man acts in it, 



454 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seu. LXXX1X. 



not as an animal under the mere impulse of animal 
affections ; not as a subject of mere passion, not as a 
creature of mere imagination, not as a mere subject of 
all these united ; but as a rational being- in whom the 
understanding governs, and in whom the afFections 
only aid, animate, and obey. There are Christians in 
profession, whose religion seems to be nothing but a 
compound of mere impulses and affections. There are 
others, whose religion appears to be little else beside a 
cold, heartless collection of propositions or doctrines, 
quietly lying side* by side in the understanding with- 
out any influence on the heart or on the life. In thej 
religion of the gospel, the heart is plainly made the 
great essential ; but it is the heart under the steady di- 
rection and rational control of the understanding. Real 
Christianity is the energy or active power of the soul, 
steadily directed to that which is believed to be right, 
and thus directed to it merely because it is right. That 
which is aimed at is loved and pursued, because of its 
rectitude, admitted on satisfactory and solid evidence. 

From this source the renewed man is furnished with 
important evidence of his sanctification. If he finds in 
himself a steady disposition to learn as far as possible 
the true import of the doctrines and precepts of the 
gospel, and in this manner the real nature of his own 
duty ; if he loves moral rectitude in such a degree as 
anxiously to inquire what it is ; and if, when he has 
learned what it is, he is disposed to yield to proof and 
conviction, and pursue his duty, because it is seen to be 
his duty, he may justly be satisfied, that he is really 
renewed. 

But if, on the contrary, he is accustomed to obey the 
casual impulses of feeling and imagination ; if he is dis- 
posed to think highly of passages of Scripture, not be- 
cause they are the word of God, or are excellent in 
themselves, declaring important truths, or enjoining 
important duties, but because they have come into the 
mind suddenly, accidentally, and without any fore- 
thought of his own ; if he is inclined to prize such texts 
more than others, or more than he prized the same 
texts before ; if he is disposed to think highly of sudden 
starts of feeling, of thoughts and purposes unexpectedly 
coming into the mind, and to regard them as produced 
by an extraordinary divine agency, and therefore to 
value them highly, as peculiar tokens of the favour of 
God, and as authoritative and safe guides to his own 
duty ; if he is fond of indulging a lively imagination 
about the things of religion ; of forming to himself aw- 
ful views concerning the world of misery, and the suf- 
ferings of its inhabitants ; or bright and beautiful visions 
of the light and splendour of heaven, and the glory of 
its inhabitants; or charming images of the person of 
Christ, as beautiful in form, ravishing in aspect, and 
surrounded with radiance ; or as meek, gentle, looking 
with compassion, or smiling with complacency, on him- 
self; if he is inclined to rest on these feelings and im- 
pulses, as the peculiar foundations of his hope, conso- 
lation, and confidence, or as any foundations of hope 
and confidence at all ; I will not say, that such a man 
is not renewed ; but I will say, that he trusts without 
evidence, and builds upon sand. I will farther say, 
that he is miserably deluded with regard to this great 
subject; that he feeds on wind, and not on food ; and 
that by directing his eye to false objects, from which 
he never can derive any real good, he loses the golden 
privilege of gaining solid support and evangelical com- 



fort from those sources whence alone God has intended 
they should be derived. 

3. The prevalence of a meek and humble disposition 
furnishes the mind with good reason to believe that it is i 
renewed. 

The natural spirit of man is universally proud and 
irritable. No part of the human character is so pre- 
dominant, more pleasant to ourselves, more deceitful, 
or more universal. At the same time, as we might ex- 
pect, none is so much cherished by the mind. A great 
part of the perfection aimed at, and delineated by, the 
■wise men of heathen antiquity, was formed of pride. 
Stoical pride is proverbial. The love of glory, accord- 
ing to Cicero, was virtue, or real excellence of cha- j 
racter. 

Devoted as we are to the indulgence of pride, it is 
perhaps of all passions the most unworthy and mis- j 
chievous, the most irritable, the most unforgiving, the 
most wrathful, the most contentious, and the most op- 
pressive. The world has been filled by it with private 
quarrels and public wars, with wretchedness at the fire- 
side, with turmoil in the neighbourhood, and with 
bloodshed and desolation in the great scenes of national 
activity. It has brought forth the tyrant, and nursed 
the conqueror. 

The religion of the gospel has laid the axe at the 
root of this passion. Christ, the glorious author of 
this religion, has exhibited in his own life a character 
perfectly contrasted to pride, in every degree, and in 
every exercise. This character he has beautifully ex- 
pressed in that memorable and delightful declaration, 
subjoined to the most consoling invitation and the hap- 
piest tidings ever published to the children of men : 
' Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and 
learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart ; and ye 
shall find rest unto your souls.' In conformity with 
this declaration, his whole life was a life of meekness 
and humility. In conformity with this declaration also, 
he has everywhere in the gospel preferred, as was re- 
marked in one of the Discourses on his character, the 
meek and lowly virtues to the magnanimous and splen- 
did ones. He has inculcated them oftener ; has dwelt 
on them more ; has enjoined them in stronger terms, 
and has made them in a higher degree indispensable. 

As these virtues, then, are such a prominent and es- 
sential part of Christianity, it will be easily seen that 
they must be found in every Christian. So long as 
pride is the predominating spirit of man, he must know, 
if acquainted at all with himself, that he is not sancti- 
fied. A great part of the influence of the Spirit of sanc- 
tification is employed in annihilating this haughty, self- ' 
dependent disposition. One of the first perceptible 
effects of this influence is the humility of the gospel. 
An humble mind is, of course, meek, little disposed to 
feel provocations deeply, uninclined to construe them . 
in the worst manner, and still more indisposed to re- 
quite them with wrath and revenge. What is thus the 
natural result of the Christian spirit is continually 
strengthened by the general disposition of the Christian 
to obey the precepts, and to follow the example, of his 
Master ; both conspiring to enforce on him the same 
conduct in the most powerful manner. He knows, that 
Christ has required the same mind which was in himself 
(and peculiarly in this respect), to be in all his follow- 
ers. He sees the beauty and glory of the disposition 



REGENERATION WHAT ARE EVIDENCES. 



465 



in his great example. He knows that nothing without 
it will render him acceptable to God, or qualify him 
for admission into his kingdom. With these mighty 
motives in view, it seems impossible that this disposi- 
tion, once begun in the soul, should fail to manifest 
itself in some good degree, by its genuine and happy 
effects. 

The evidence which it furnishes to the mind, of its 
renovation, is twofold. Its former dispositions are weak- 
ened ; and new ones have begun to prevail in their 
place. Pride is enfeebled in all its operations, the pro- 
pensity to wrath is lessened, and humility and meek- 
ness (not insensibility to injuries, but a serene quiet of 
soul under them) have, like beautiful twin sisters, en- 
tered the mind, and made it their permanent habitation. 

He who finds this his own state, possesses desirable 
evidence that he is a Christian. 

4. Without a prevailing spirit of gentleness towards 
others, we cannot have sound and scriptural evidence of 
our Christianity. 

This is a kindred subject to the last. The natural 
character of man is rough, revengeful, and unforgiving ; 
disposed to overbear, to carry his measures by force and 
violence, to listen little to the wishes and reasons of 
others, and to arrogate to himself and his concerns an 
importance which all impartial persons see does not be- 
long to them. 

To this spirit also the gospel is directly and equally 
opposed. It enjoins everywhere a spirit of gentleness, 
moderation, and forgiveness towards all men. Its 
Author was wonderfully distinguished by softness and 
sweetness of disposition. He never intruded on the 
rights of others. He used no force, nor even wrought 
a single miracle to vindicate his own. He neither 
' cried, nor lifted up, nor caused his voice to be heard 
in the streets.' In the garden he healed the ear of Mal- 
chus, and on the cross he prayed for his murderers. 
At the same time he required all his followers to pos- 
sess and exhibit the same gentle and forgiving disposi- 
tion, on pain of not being otherwise themselves forgiven. 
Nay, he has forbidden them to ask forgiveness of God 
upon any other condition. ' The servant of the Lord,' 
saith St Paul, ' must not strive, but be gentle towards 
all men.' 

The existence and influence of this part of the Chris- 
tian character, are especially seen in cases where we 
have been injured, and towards those who have injured 
us. If, beside quietly receiving -injuries, we exercise a 
benevolent spirit towards those who have done them ; if 
we can lay aside all thoughts of retaliation, if we can 
show them kindness, if we can rejoice in their prospe- 
rity, if we can feel and relieve their distress, if we can 
heartily pray for their well-being, we have good reason 
to conclude that ' the same mind which was in Christ is 
also in us.' 

5. A willingness to perform, accompanied by the ac- 
tual performance, of the duties required by the gospel, 
is an indispensable evidence of Christianity. 

There are multitudes of persons in the Christian 
world, who appear to place religion greatly, if not 
wholly, in such feelings of the mind as are rarely or 
never followed by any of those overt acts of obedience, 
which are commonly called Christian duties. Their 
love, contrary to the injunction given by St John, ap- 
pears to exist ' only in word, and in tongue ; not in 
deed ;' and therefore, we have reason to fear, not ' in 



truth.' We find persons of this character willing to con- 
verse much on religious subjects, to dwell on the nature 
of religious affections, to canvass abundantly the doc- 
trines of the gospel, to explain minutely the nature of 
its precepts, to expose such tenets of others as they 
esteem erroneous, to defend strenuously such as they 
think true, and often to mix with all these things not a 
little censure of those who differ from them in opinion 
and character. I will not say that these persons are 
destitute of religion ; but I will say, that, so far, they 
furnish little reason why others should believe them 
religious. 

Real religion is ever active, and always inclined to 
do as well as to say. The end for which man was made, 
and for which he was redeemed, was that he might do 
good, and actively glorify his Creator. To this end all 
the instructions and precepts of the gospel were given, 
all the blessings of providence, and all the influences of 
the Spirit of God. All these, therefore, are frustrated 
and are without efficacy, where men do not thus act. 
The business of a Christian is not to say to others, ' Be 
ye warmed, and be ye filled ; depart in peace ;' but to 
feed and clothe them. This, I acknowledge, may be 
done by such as are not Christians ; but he who does it 
not, cannot, so far as I see, be a Christian. Active 
obedience is the only visible fruit by which our religi- 
ous character is discovered to others ; and the fruit by 
which, is a manner peculiarly happy, it is known to 
ourselves. 

To render this evidence of our sanctification satisfac- 
tory, it should, in the first place, be uniform. 

By this, I intend, that our active obedience should 
proceed in a manner generally regular through life. I 
intend, that it should not exist by fits and starts ; be 
cold to-day and warm to-morrow ; now zealous, now in- 
different ; at one time animated by a strong sense of 
heavenly things ; at another, absorbed in those of earth ; 
at one time charitable, perhaps even to excess, at an- 
other, ' withholding more than is meet ;' and all this, 
according to the rise and prevalence of different natural 
feelings. The spirit of Christianity is one in its nature, 
and therefore uniform in its operations. These indeed 
are diversified, as the objects which they respect vary. 
Thus the same disposition sorrows for sin, which re- 
joices in the Holy Ghost ; and is at peace with itself, 
while it contends with its spiritual enemies. Still, a 
single character runs through them all ; differing in- 
deed in degree, but not in kind. Under its influence 
the life will wear one general aspect. By ourselves, 
therefore, if we examine, and by others, who are atten- 
tive to our conduct, it will be seen to be of the same 
nature, and to produce the same effects, throughout the 
progress of life. I do not mean, that we shall not back- 
slide ; or that we shall not have lukewarm, uncomforta- 
ble, unprofitable, and unexemplary seasons. These, 
unhappily, recur but too often. A field of wheat may 
grow with different vigour ; may at times be checked by 
cold, and stinted by drought : and may, at other times, 
and under the influence of refreshing showers and kind- 
ly seasons, flourish with strength, verdure, and beauty. 
Still it will always be a field of wheat, and not of tares 
and darnel. 

Secondly : This obedience must, for the same end, 
be universal. 

By this I intend, that it must extend alike to all thoso 
duties which immediately respect God, our fellow-crea* 

3 N 



486 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. lxxxjx. 



tures, and ourselves. Real virtue, or the religion of the 
gospel, never exists by halves. There is no such thing 
as being pious, and not benevolent ; or being benevo- 
lent, and not pious ; or being both, and not self-go- 
verned. Religion, in this sense, is a spirit of obedience 
to God ; and regards all his commands alike. 

If then we would derive from our obedience that 
satisfactory evidence of our Christianity which it is ca- 
pable of furnishing, we should examine ourselves con- 
cerning our whole conduct, and inquire how far it wears 
this universal character. We should inquire diligently 
whether we regularly and steadily employ ourselves at 
all proper seasons in the worship of God, in reading the 
Scriptures, in communion with Christians, in commun- 
ion with our own hearts, in watching, striving, pray- 
ing, against our lusts within and our enemies without, 
in overcoming ' the world, the flesh, and the devil,' in 
resisting especially ' the sins which most easily beset 
us ;' in raising our thoughts and affections to heavenly 
objects, and in endeavouring effectually to make, in the 
present life, preparation for eternity. Universally, we 
should inquire whether we live always in the fear, love, 
and service of God, with a spirit of dependence, confi- 
dence, submission, contentment, and gratitude. 

Among the duties to which Ave are summoned by the 
gospel, those which we owe immediately to our fellow- 
creatures and to ourselves are there exhibited as being 
of very high and indispensable importance. They are 
every-vvhere insisted on in the plainest, strongest, and 
most affecting manner ; are commended, urged, en- 
joined, and promised a reward, from the beginning to 
the end of the Bible. At the same time, the neglect 
and the violation of them are condemned in the severest 
terms, and threatened under the most glowing images, 
with the severest punishment. ' Who,' says the psalm- 
ist, ' shall abide in thy tabernacle ; who shall dwell in 
thy holy hill ? He that walketh uprightly, and work- 
eth righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart ; 
that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to 
his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his 
neighbour ; in whose eyes a vile person is contemned ; 
but he honoureth them that fear the Lord: he that 
sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not : he that 
putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh a reward 
against the innocent. He that doeth these things shall 
never be moved.' — ' If ye forgive men their trespasses,' 
said our Saviour to his disciples, ' your heavenly Fa- 
ther will also forgive you : but, if ye forgive not men 
their trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father for- 
give you your trespasses.' The servant who owed ten 
thousand talents to his lord, had his debt readily for- 
given. But, when he oppressed his fellow-servant, the 
Lord delivered him over to the tormentors, till he 
should pay the debt. « If any man will not work, nei- 
ther let him eat.' — ' If any provide not for his own, 
and especially for those of his own house, he hath denied 
the faith, and is worse than an infidel.' — ' Be not de- 
ceived,' says St Paul, ' neither fornicators, nor idola- 
ters, nor adulterers, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor 
drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit 
the kingdom of God.' — ' Blessed,' says David,' ' is he 
that considered the poor ; the Lord will deliver him 
in time of trouble.' 

And, what may serve instead of a volume upon this 
subject, Christ, seated on the throne of final judgment, 
will, as he declares, ' say to them on his right hand, 



Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdot*. 
prepared for you from the foundation of the world : for 
I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger, and 
ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; I was sick, 
and ye visited me ; I was in prison, and ye ministered 
unto me ; and inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the 
least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me.' To 
them on the left hand he will also say, ' Depart, ye 
cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and 
his angels. For I was an hungered, and ye gave me 
no meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink ; I 
was a stranger, and ye took me not in ; naked, and 
ye clothed me not ; sick, and in prison, and ye visited 
me not ; and, inasmuch as ye did it not to the least of 
these my brethren, ye did it not to me.' 

From these passages of Scripture it will be seen, irre- 
sistibly, that the duties of these two classes are in the 
eye of God of incalculable importance, and are indis- 
pensable to the Christian character, and to the attain- 
ment of salvation. 

Let it not be supposed for a moment, however, that 
I intend to prefer these duties to those which imme- 
diately respect God. Piety certainly holds the first 
place in a virtuous character ; but no man loves God 
who does not love his fellow men, and control his own 
passions and appetites. ' As the body without the spirit 
is dead ; so faith without good works is dead also.' ' He 
that taketh not his cross and followeth after me, is not 
worthy of me.' 

There is one point of view in which these duties more 
effectually evince the Christian character, and prove 
the reality of our religion, than most of those which are 
classed under the name of piety. It is this : they or- 
dinarily demand a greater degree of self-denial. A 
man may ordinarily practise the visible duties of piety 
without any serious sacrifice of his worldly inclinations. 
He may read the Scriptures, and teach them to his 
children ; he may attend the worship of God in his 
family and in the sanctuary ; he may be present in pri- 
vate religious assemblies ; he may converse much and 
often on religious subjects ; he may be very zealous 
about all these duties ; he may commune at the table 
of Christ ; he may preach the gospel : yet, instead ot 
crossing his inclinations or denying himself, he may 
feel that he is purchasing a Christian character at a 
cheap rate ; that he is securing to himself the best 
friends ; that he is opening an easy way to distinction, 
to influence, and, in the end, to wealth ; and that he is, 
upon the whole, making in this manner a very gainful 
bargain. Nay, he may in this manner more easily than 
in any other, quiet his own conscience, persuade himself 
that he is a Christian, feel satisfied that he has a title to 
eternal life ; and thus, while he thinks he is performing 
his duty, be only seeking for the pleasure found in these 
things ; pleasure which, though derived from sacred 
objects, is merely natural, and differs in nothing im- 
portant from that which is furnished by pleasant food, 
fine weather, or a beautiful landscape. 

But when a man is called to resist his passions and 
appetites ; when he is required to be humble, meek, 
patient, forgiving, just, sincere, merciful, sober, chaste, 
and temperate ; when he is required to communicate his 
property liberally to the poor, the stranger, and the 
public ; and practically to f remember the words of the 
Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than 



REGENERATION WHAT ARE EVIDENCES. 



467 



to receive ;' he is required of course to sacrifice ' the 
lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of 
life.' He is required to give up his pride, vanity, am- 
bition, anger, avarice, and sensuality: these darling in- 
clinations, which constitute what is called in the Scrip- 
tures ' the love of the world,' together with all the ob- 
jects on which they are pampered, he is obliged to yield 
up to the love of God. 

Nothing more strongly evinces the sincerity of any 
professions, than the fact, that they are followed by 
serious self-denial. Accordingly, the Scriptures have 
placed peculiar stress upon self-denial, as evidential of 
the genuineness of a Christian profession. ' If any man 
will be my disciple,' said our Saviour, ' let him deny 
himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.' — ' If any 
man will save his life, he shall lose it ; and, if any man 
will lose his life, for my sake, he shall find it.' — ' Go, 
and sell all that thou hast,' said he to the young ruler, 
' and give to the poor, and come and follow me ; and 
thou shalt have treasure in heaven.' — 'Love not the 
world,' says St John, ' neither the things that are in 
the world. If any man love the world, the love of the 
Father is not in. him.' 

When, therefore, we find the love of the world ac- 
tually prevailing, and clearly manifested, in the life 
and conversation of persons who make a profession of 
religion the evidence of their piety, of whatever nature 
it may be, must be exceedingly diminished in the eye 
of sober charity. Whatever zeal they may discover in 
attending upon public or private worship ; however well 
they may converse upon religious subjects ; whatever 
feelings they may discover in such conversation ; and 
whatever bright discoveries they may seem to enjoy 
concerning the mercy or glory of God, or the love and 
excellence of Christ ; if still they are greedy of gain, 
absorbed in the world, peevish, discontented, wrathful, 
slothful, sensual, unfeeling, vain of their attainments, 
uncharitable ; particularly, if they are eagerly engaged 
in the pursuit of place, power, popularity, and fame ; 
and more particularly still, if they refuse to give to the 
poor, or give leanly and grudgingly, or deny aid to 
others in their distresses ; there will be little reason 
left to believe them children of God. How can these 
persons expect Christ to say at the final Judgment, ' I 
was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was a stran- 
ger, and ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; 
sick, and ye visited me ?' How can he say, ' ye did it 
unto the least of these my brethren ?' Were he on 
earth, and should tell them, as he told the young ruler, 
' Go, and sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor;' 
would they not ' go away sorrowful ?' AVould they not 
feel, that even ' to have treasure in heaven ' upon these 
conditions., would be a hard bargain ? 

There have been, there are still, multitudes of man- 
kind, and it is to be feared, that in this land, and at the 
present time, the number is not small, of those who in- 
tend to go to heaven with a cheap religion ; a religion, 
in which ' the love of the world ' is made to harmonize 
with ' the love of the Father.' This religion consists 
of feelings, views, discoveries, conversation about these 
and other religious subjects, and zeal in attending upon 
external religious duties. But ' whoso hath this world's 
good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up 
his bowels of compassion from him; how dwelleth the 
love of God in him ?' 

It is easy for any man who thinks that he is loved 



by God, to love him in turn. But this is not that lova 
of God which he requires. The feelings and views 
which do not prompt us to virtuous conduct ore of no 
value. If we would prove ourselves to be Christians, 
we should then diligently ask ourselves, whether we aim 
at being strictly just, sincere, and faithful ; whether we 
actually show kindness to all men, whether friends or 
enemies, strangers or neighbours ; whether we ' do 
good, and lend, hoping for nothing again ;' whether we 
befriend and promote public, useful, and charitable de- 
signs ; employing both our substance and efforts as 
either may be needed ; whether we love the souls of 
others, oppose their sins, and promote in them refor- 
mation and piety ; and whether we are watchfully 
sober, chaste, temperate, diligent in our callings, and 
active in our opposition to every worldly lust. 

Finally : Concerning all these things, we should 
carefully ask whether we take delight in such a life as 
this ; and that, notwithstanding all the opposition, ridi- 
cule, and contempt of the world. 

Among the different acts or kinds of obedience, also, 
particular attention is due to those which involve pecu- 
liar self denial. When the avaricious man becomes ge- 
nerous and charitable, the ambitious man contented 
with his circumstances, the proud man humbled, the 
wrathful man meek, the revengeful man forgiving, and 
the sensualist sober, chaste, and temperate ; in a word, 
when we drop our reigning sins, and assume the con- 
trary virtues, of set and cordial purpose; we are furnished 
with strong reason to believe that we are Christians. 

G. The increase of all these things in the mind and 
life is, perhaps, the clearest of all the evidences of per- 
sonal religion. 

St Paul informs us that ' he did not count himself 
to have apprehended ;' that is, he did not consider him- 
self as having attained that degree of excellence which 
belonged to his Christian profession. ' But,' saith he, 
' this one thing I do :' or, perhaps, as the omission in 
the text is supplied by Doddridge, ' this one thing / 
can say : forgetting the things which are behind, and 
reaching forth to those which are before ' (in the Greek, 
reaching out eagerly), ' I press towards the mark, for 
the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus 
our Lord.' What was the conduct of Paul is the duty 
of all Christians ; and is accordingly enjoined by him 
in the following verse. In greater or less degree it is 
their conduct also. They are directed ' so to run, that 
they may obtain ;' and to ' grow in grace, and in the 
knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ ;' ' to increase, 
and abound, in love one towards another, and towards 
all men.' 

As it is the duty of Christians to fulfill these precepts, 
so it is the nature of Christianity to accord with them, 
by increasing from time to time their strength and vi- 
gour. The more the spirit of the gospel is exercised, 
the more we love to exercise it. The more the pleasure 
found in it is enjoyed, the more it is coveted. The 
more habitual its principles and practices become, the 
greater is the strength which they acquire. Indeed no- 
thing is vigorous and powerful in man, beside that 
which is habitual. 

Hence it is plain, that, investigating our religious 
character, we should examine it with particular refer- 
ence to its growth. To grow is its proper nature. If 
it is not seen to grow, then we do not either see it as it 
is, or it does not exist in us in its genuine character; 



468 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY 



[Seb. xc. 



but is feeble, fading, sickly, clogged with encumbrances, 
and in a great measure hidden from view. Man is 
never for any length of time stationary. Either he is 
advancing or receding in every thing which pertains to 
him ; and in religion as truly as in his natural endow- 
ments or acquisitions. Declension in religion, I need 
not say, furnishes a melancholy evidence that we are 
not religious. It is no less obvious, that a regular pro- 
gress in its various graces and attainments must, on the 
contrary, become a dear and delightful testimony of 
our Christian character. There is not only more of re- 



ligion to be seen in ourselves, but it is discerned with 
clearer conviction and certainty to be genuine ; because 
it appears, as real religion naturally appears, in its own 
proper character of growth and improvement. He who 
loves, fears, and serves God more and more, who is 
more and more just, sincere, and merciful to his fellow- 
men, and who is more and more self-governed in all 
his appetites and passions, weaned from the world, and 
spiritually and heavenly minded, cannot want the best 
reasons furnished in our present state to believe that 
he is a child of God. 



SERMON XC. 

REGENERATION ITS EVIDENCES DIFFICULTIES ATTENDING THE APPLICATION OF THESE 

EVIDENCES TO OURSELVES. 



Examine yourselves whether ye be in the faith : prove your own selves ; know ye not your own selves, how that 
Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ? — 2 Cor. xiii. 5. 



In the last Discourse but one I proposed from these 
words to examine, 

I. Some of the imaginary evidences of regeneration. 

II. Some of the real evidences. 

III. Some of the difficulties which attend the appli- 
cation of the real evidences to ourselves. 

There has been much debate in the Christian world 
concerning the faith of assurance ; or, as it is in better 
language styled by St Paul. ' the full assurance of hope.' 
The question debated has, however, not been, whether 
men felt assured that they were Christians, but whether 
this assurance has been evangelical, or built on satis- 
factory and scriptural evidence. That such a faith has 
existed I have no doubt ; nor do I see how it can be 
rationally doubted. That the apostles were evangeli- 
cally assured of their own piety, and consequent salva- 
tion, must be admitted by all who believe the Scrip- 
tures. ' I have fought a good fight,' says St Paul, ' I 
have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for 
me a crown of righteousness.' — ' For to me to live is 
Christ ; to die is gain.' — ' We know,' says St John, 
' that we have passed from death unto life.' From the 
accounts given us concerning the first martyrs, I think 
we cannot hesitate to admit that they also were the sub- 
jects of the same faith. Nor is the evidence concern- 
ing a number of those who have lived and suffered in 
modern times, less convincing to me. These men have 
in various instances lived in a manner eminently evan- 
gelical ; have devoted themselves through a long period 
to the service of God, with so much humility, self-de- 
nial, uniformity, steadfastness, and evangelical zeal ; 
have laboured for the good of their fellow-creatures 
with so much disinterestedness, charity, and constancy ; 
have lived so much above the world, and with a con- 
versation so heavenly, that when they are declaring 
themselves possessed of this faith, and have died with 
peace and exultation, which must be supposed to result 
from it, we cannot, unless by wilful rejection of evi- 
dence, hesitate to admit that they were possessed of this 
enviable attainment. Indeed, I can hardly doubt, that 



any man who reads their history with candour, will 
readily admit the doctrine, so far as the men to whom 
I refer are concerned. But, if these things be admit- 
ted, it will probably be readily conceded, that there are, 
in every country and in every age where Christianity 
prevails, some persons who enjoy the faith or hope of 
assurance. 

At the same time, I am fully persuaded that the num- 
ber of these persons is not very great. If the Chris- 
tians and ministers with whom I have had opportunity 
to converse, many of whom have been eminently ex- 
emplary in their lives, may be allowed to stand as re- 
presentatives of Christians in general, it must certainly 
be true, that the faith of assurance is not common. 

Indeed, I am persuaded, that this blessing is much 
more frequently experienced in times and places of 
affliction and persecution, than in seasons of peace and 
prosperity. Severe trials and sufferings furnish of 
themselves clearer proofs of the piety of those who are 
tried, than can ordinarily be furnished by circumstances 
of ease and quiet. The faith which will patiently sub- 
mit, which will encounter, which will endure, which 
will overcome, in periods of great affliction, has in this 
very process both acquired and exhibited peculiar 
strength, and furnished evidence of its genuineness 
which can hardly be derived from any other .source. 

At the same time it is, I think, irresistibly inferred 
from the declarations contained in the word of God, 
and from the history of his providence, recorded both 
within and without the Scriptures, that God, in his in- 
finite mercy, furnishes his children with peculiar sup- 
port and consolation in times of peculiar trial ; and 
that, as their ' day is,' so he causes their ' strength to 
be.' Among the means of consolation enjoyed by 
Christians, none seems better adapted to furnish them 
with the necessary support under severe distresses, than 
an assurance that they are children of God. Accord- 
ingly, this very consolation appears to have been given 
to the suffering saints of the Old and New Testaments, 
as a peculiar support to them in their peculiar trials. 



REGENERATION.— DIFFICULTY OF APPLYING ITS EVIDENCES. 



469 



From analogy it might be concluded, and from the his- 
tory of facts it may, with the strongest probability, if 
not with absolute certainty, be determined, that the 
same blessing has been given in times of eminent afflic- 
tion to saints in every succeeding age of the church. 

Still there is no reason to think that the faith of as- 
surance is generally attained among eminent Chris- 
tians. This fact has, sometimes, been called in question, 
sometimes denied, and oftener wondered at. ' Why,' 
it is inquired, ' are not Christians oftener, nay, why are 
they not generally, assured of their gracious state ? 
There certainly is a difference between sin and holi- 
ness, sufficiently broad to be seen and marked. The 
Scriptures have actually marked this difference with 
such clearness and exactness, as to give us ample infor- 
mation concerning both the nature and the limits of 
these great moral attributes. They have separated 
those who possess them into two classes, not only en- 
tirely distinct, but directly opposite to each other : so 
opposite, that the one class is styled in them, the friends, 
and the other, the enemies, of' God. Farther, they 
present to us various means of judging, by which we 
are directed, as well as encouraged and enabled, to try 
and estimate our own religious character. The subject 
is also so spoken of in the Scriptures, as naturally to 
lead us into the conclusion, that these different charac- 
ters may be distinctly known ; and that it is our duty so 
to act, as upon the whole to form satisfactory views con- 
cerning our moral condition. Finally, the writers of 
the New Testament, and indeed of the Old also, speak 
of themselves, as knowing their own piety ; and of 
others, as able to know theirs.' 

To these observations I answer, in the first place, 
that holiness and sin are, in themselves, thus clearly dis- 
tinguishable. Angels cannot but know that they are 
holy ; and fiends, that they are sinful. 

Secondly : This difference is sufficiently marked in 
the Scriptures. If we saw holiness in ourselves exactly 
as it is exhibited in the Scriptures, that is, unmixed, 
we should certainly know ourselves to be holy. 

Thirdly : Holy and sinful men are just as different 
from each other, as they are represented in the Scrip- 
tures ; but this does not enable us to determine which 
they are. 

Fourthly : The means furnished us in the Scriptures 
of judging concerning our religious character, are, un- 
doubtedly, the best which the nature of our circum- 
stances will admit ; and such as, if correctly applied to 
ourselves, and known to be thus applied, would un- 
doubtedly decide this great point in a satisfactory man- 
ner. Still this does not infer, that it usually will or can 
be thus decided. 

Fifthly : We are undoubtedly required in the Scrip- 
tures to examine ourselves ; and the performance of this 
duty, while it is indispensable on our part, unquestion- 
ably may be, and is, of great importance to us ; although 
■we may not, as a consequence of it, become possessed of' 
the faith of assurance. 

Sixthly: The writers in the Old and New Testa- 
ments did, in many instances, certainly know that they 
were holy ; but they were inspired. It will not there- 
fore follow, that others who are uninspired will, of 
course, possess the same knowledge of their own state. 

Seventhly : The Scriptural writers very extensively 
'ise the words know, and knowledge, not in the sense of 
i bsolute science, but to denote belief, persuasion, a 



strong hope, &c, in the same manner as these terms are 
used in common speech. We cannot, therefore, cer- 
tainly conclude, from the use of these terms with respect 
to this subject, that the divine writers expected those 
to whom they wrote generally to possess the faith of 
assurance. 

Finally : It is our duty to possess this faith. It is 
also our duty to be perfect. Yet St John says of 
himself, and all other Christians, ' If we say, that 
we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth 
is not in us ?' As, therefore, notwithstanding this 
duty, no man is perfect ; so, notwithstanding the duty 
of obtaining the faith of assurance, few persons may 
actually possess it. 

The real difficulty is chiefly passed by, in all the 
observations made above ; and lies in applying the 
scriptural evidences of holiness to our own particular 
cases. This subject, I shall now attempt to examine in 
several particulars. 

The difficulties which attend the application of these 
evidences to ourselves arise from various sources. 
Among them the following will be found to possess a 
very serious influence : 

1. The vast importance of the case. 

A case of great moment is at all times apt strongly 
to agitate our minds. Men deeply interested by any 
concern are, therefore, considered as less capable of 
discerning- clearly and judging justly, than the same 
men when dispassionate. As this is the subject, even 
of proverbial declaration, it cannot need proof. The 
case in hand is of infinite moment to each individual. 
Whenever he brings it to view, he is prone to feel a de- 
gree, and often not a small one, of anxiety. It is there- 
fore seen, together with the evidences which attend it, 
by the mind, through the medium of disturbed feelings. 
Earnest wishes to find satisfaction, on the one hand, 
and strong apprehensions lest it should not be found, 
on the other, naturally disorder that calm temperament, 
which is so necessary to clear investigation and satis- 
factory conclusions. In this state, the mind is prone to 
be unsatisfied with its own investigation ; fears that it 
has not acted impartially ; suspects that it has not 
viewed the evidence possessed by it in a just light ; and 
when its judgments are favourable to itself, is prone to 
tremble, lest they have been too favourable, and the 
result of biased inclinations, rather than of clear dis- 
cernment. A presumptuous decision in its favour, it 
perfectly well knows to be full of danger ; and is ready 
to think almost every favourable judgment presumptu- 
ous. In this situation, all such judgments are apt to be 
regarded with a general suspicion ; and the mind 
chooses rather to continue unsatisfied, and to undergo 
the distresses of anxiety and alarm, than to hazard the 
danger of ill founded conclusions in its own favour. 
Most Christians are, I believe, so strongly convinced 
that a state of anxiety will contribute to make them 
alive and awake to the danger of backsliding, to quicken 
them in their duty, and to secure them from careless- 
ness and sloth, and that therefore it will have a happy 
influence towards rendering them safe, as willingly to 
judge too unfavourably, rather than too favourably, of 
their own religious character. An unfavourable judg- 
ment, they know, does not render the character itself 
any worse ; but only deprives them of the consolation 
which, with more favourable views of it, they might en 
joy ; while the contrary opinion might naturally slacken 



170 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sun. 



them in their duty ; and perhaps prevent them finally 
from obtaining salvation. 

2. Another source of difficulties is found in the pecu- 
liar natural character of those who are employed in this 
investigation. 

Some of these persons are naturally inclined to hope, 
others to fear ; some to cheerfulness, others to melan- 
choly. Some are rash, others are cautious. Some are 
ignorant, others are well informed. But the evidences 
which establish, or should establish, a favourable judg- 
ment of our Christian character, are in substance always 
the same. As applied to persons of these different cha- 
racters, they must, however, be seen in very different 
lights ; because, although religion is the same thing, 
yet so much of the peculiar natural character of the man 
remains after he lias become religious, as to render him 
a very different man from every other religious man. 
Paul and John were both eminently religious. Their 
religion was the same thing ; but the men were widely 
different from each other. If Christians so eminent and 
excellent could differ in this manner, how much more 
different from each other must be ordinary Christians ? 
How much more must the natural character remain in 
them? particularly, such as in a greater or less degree 
are sinful? The whole object, therefore, presented to 
the judgment of the individual must differ, and often 
greatly, in different cases. 

For example : One person becomes the subject of 
piety, after a wise, careful, religious education, early 
and uninterrupted habits of conscientiousness, in the 
possession of a naturally sweet and amiable temper, in 
an original and regular course of filial duty, fraternal 
kindness, and exemplary conduct to those around him, 
and in the midst of a life generally commendable and 
lovely. Another, scarcely educated at all, possessed of 
a rough, gross, and violent disposition, and shamefully 
vicious from early life, is sanctified in the midst of scan- 
dalous indulgences, and rank habits of sin. 

It is perfectly obvious, that these two persons -will 
differ mightily from each other in the visible degree 
of that change of conduct which flows from their reli- 
gion. The former will, perhaps, be scarcely changed 
at all, even to an observing eye ; for he has heretofore 
done, and in a certain sense loved to do, in many par- 
ticulars, the very thing which religion requires, and to 
which it prompts ; and thus the tenor of his life will 
seem to those around him much the same after, as 
before, his conversion. The latter, sanctified in the 
same degree, will, it is plain, change almost the whole 
course of his conduct, and assume a life entirely new 
and directly opposite to that which he led before. 

Nor will the difference be small in the internal state 
of these individuals. The sanctified affections and pur- 
poses of the former will, in many instances, so blend 
themselves with those which he has derived from nature 
and habit, as to be often distinguished with difficulty, 
and not unfrequently to be entirely undistinguishable. 
Those of the latter, on the contrary, will be wholly op- 
posite, in most instances, to all that he has heretofore 
thought, felt, and designed. 

As the internal and external conduct of these indivi- 
duals is the sole ground on which each must judge of 
himself, as well as be judged of by others, it is perfectly 
obvious that the objects concerning which they are re- 
spectively to judge are widely different from each other. 
But this is not all. The optics with which these per- 



sons judge concerning their religious state will, plainly, 
be widely different. Our dispositions naturally influ- 
ence our judgment, and usually enter much more largely 
into the opinions which we form, than we are aware. 
Thus a person strongly inclined to hope, will almost of 
course judge favourably, when a person equally inclined 
to fear would, in the very same case, judge unfavour- 
ably, concerning himself. Cheerful persons naturally 
entertain comfortable views concerning themselves ; 
those who are melancholy, such, and often such only, as 
are uncomfortable, discouraging, and distressing. The 
rash form bold and presumptuous opinions without hesi- 
tation ; the cautious admit opinions favourable to them- 
selves slowly, even when they are admitted upon 
acknowledged evidence. The ignorant must be very 
imperfectly fitted to consider the various means of evi- 
dence, all of which ought to be consulted, in forming 
our opinions concerning this important subject ; while 
the enlightened Christian must be much more compe- 
tent to draw up a well-founded determination. 

3. The similar nature of those which we call natural 
views and affections, to those which are evangelical, fur- 
nishes another source of these difficulties. 

Love and hatred, hope and fear, joy and sorrow, con- 
fidence and shame, together with various other affection* 
and views of the mind, really exist and operate in the 
Christian as natural views and affections, and not merely 
evangelical. The objects which excite these affections 
in both senses are often the same. The emotions them- 
selves are also so much alike, as perceived by the hiind, 
that mankind universally, and the scriptural writers as 
well as others, call them by the same names. When 
both are described by those who are the subjects of them, 
the description, to a great extent, is commonly the same. 
It will, therefore, be easily believed that they are so 
similar in their nature, as, when they arise from the 
same objects, to render it difficult for the Christian in 
whom they exist, and at times impossible, to distinguish 
them from each other. It will be also easily seen, that 
when he who is not a Christian, has these affections and 
views excited in his mind, by the objects which excite 
the corresponding evangelical affections in the mind of 
a Christian, he may, in many instances, find it very 
difficult to discern that they are not evangelical. 

To illustrate this subject clearly to the view of my 
audience, I will consider it more particularly. 

A Christian loves God, his Son, his Spirit, his law, 
his gospel, his sabbath, his worship, and his children. 
Why does he love them ? For two reasons. One is ; 
their nature is agreeable to the relish of his mind. The 
other is, they are useful, and therefore pleasing, to him- 
self. For both these reasons he is bound to love them. 
But, when he regards all these objects with this affec- 
tion, it will be often difficult, and sometimes impossible, 
for him to determine whether his emotions are merely 
natural, wholly evangelical, or mixed. He knows that 
he exercises a love to God ; but may be unable to de- 
termine whether he loves the character of God, consi- 
dered by itself; whether he loves the divine perfections 
for what they are ; or whether he loves God, because 
he regards him as a friend to himself; and delights in 
his perfections, because he considers them as engaged 
and operating to promote his present and eternal good. 
It would be difficult for most persons to determine pre- 
cisely what views they would form of this glorious Being, 
if it were revealed to them that he was their enemy. 



REGENERATION DIFFICULTY OF APPLYING ITS EVIDENCES. 



471 



As it is often difficult for the Christian to distinguish 
his natural affections which, so long as he is a man, he 
will always continue to exercise, from the corresponding 
evangelical ones, which he exercises as a Christian ; so 
it must evidently he more difficult for an unrenewed 
man, who has never had any other beside natural affec- 
tions, to discern that these are not evangelical. When 
he loves God, and other divine objects, in what manner 
shall he determine that he loves him only because he 
believes him reconciled to himself? When he delights 
in the divine perfections, it will not be easy for him to 
see that it is only because he supposes them to be en- 
gaged to promote his welfare. When lie loves the 
Scriptures, it will be difficult for him to perceive that 
it is only because of their sublimity and beauty, the good 
sense -which they contain, the happy influence which 
they have on mankind, and the comforting promises 
which he considers them as speaking to himself. When 
he loves Christians, it will often be beyond his power to 
determine that it is not because of their natural amia- 
bleness of character, the agreeableness of their manners, 
their friendship or kind offices to himself, and their 
general usefulness to others with whom he is connected. 

A person is quiet under provocations. This may 
arise from meekness. It may also arise from a sense 
of the wisdom, the dignity, and the usefulness of this 
spirit. He is kind to enemies. This may arise from 
the desire of obtaining the peculiar evidence that he is 
a good man, furnished by this exercise of Christian be- 
nevolence, from a sense of the nobleness of forgiveness, 
or from the danger of not finding himself forgiven. 

I might extend this course of thought through all the 
objects of self-examination, and show that similar diffi- 
culties attend them all. Every Christian must, I think, 
have experienced them in his own case ; and every per- 
son, accustomed to converse much with others on the 
grounds of their hope concerning themselves, must have 
perceived them continually occurring in the progress of 
every such conversation. 

4. Another source of this difficulty is found in the 
transient nature of all our emotions. 

By this I intend, that every exercise of our affections 
has only a momentary existence in the mind. It rises, 
is indulged, and is gone. All our knowledge of its 
nature, in the mean time, exists in the consciousness 
of it while it is passing ; in our remembrance of that 
consciousness, known to be imperfect ; and in our 
acquaintance with its effects, often of a character more 
or less doubtful. Few words can be necessary to show 
that our knowledge of these exercises, gained in this 
manner, must be attended by many imperfections. Our 
opportunity for viewing it while it is passing is so short, 
and often so carelessly employed; our remembrance of 
it, when it is past, is so far removed from certain accura- 
cy ; and its effects may be so easily, and for aught that 
appears, so justly attributed to various causes, that the 
whole view taken of them by the mind will frequently 
be obscure, and its decision unsatisfactory. 

Hence appears the wisdom of fastening upon a course 
of such exercises, as furnishing far better means of de- 
termining our religious character, rather than resting 
it upon a few. A character may be successfully dis- 
cerned in many exercises of a similar kind, which 
usually we shall attempt in vain to discover, to our 
satisfaction, in a small number. A thousand blades of 
grass will, in the spring, give a green and living aspect 



to that field, which with a hundred would still retain 
the russet appearance of absolute death. 

5. Another fruitful source of the same difficulties 
is furnished by the imperfect state of religion in th<5 
mind. 

This indeed may, in an extensive sense, be consider, 
ed as the general source of them all. I have heretofore 
observed, that angels cannot but know that they are 
holy, and fiends, that they are sinful. Were we per- 
fectly holy, then, we should certainly know this to be 
our character. 

But there are particular difficulties attending this 
subject, which deserve to be marked. 

The mind of every Christian experiences many alter- 
nations of holiness and sin. Temptations often and un- 
expectedly intrude. The objects which engross the 
whole heart of the sinner, unhappily engage at times, in 
greater or less degrees, that of the Christian. Nor is 
their influence always transient. David, Solomon, and 
other saints, mentioned in the Scriptures, sinned for a 
length of time. Not a small number of sins are com- 
mitted in thought, word and action, in the brighter and 
better seasons, nay, in the brightest and best. ' I sin.' 
says Bishop Beveridge ; ' I repent of my sins, and sin 
in my repentance. 1 pray for forgiveness, and sin in 
my prayers. I resolve against my future sin, and sin 
in forming my resolutions. So that, I may say, my whole 
life is almost a continued course of sin.' This is the 
language of one of the best men that ever lived. A still 
better man has said, 'The good that I would, that I do 
not ; but the evil that I would not, that I do. I find 
then a law, that when I would do good, evil is present 
with me. After the inward man, I delight in the law 
of God. But I see another law in my members, war- 
ring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into 
captivity to tne law of sin, which is in my members. O 
wretched man, that I am! Who shall deliver me from 
the body of this death?' 

Now the whole life, not of such men as these, but of 
men who, though generally of a similar character, are 
greatly inferior to these in religious excellence, is al- 
most always the real object of a Christian's examina- 
tion. This also is to be continually examined ; the 
worst and the best parts alike. But it is plain, that the 
comfortable evidence of our piety, furnished by the pre- 
valence of holiness in the best seasons, will be always 
impaired by contrary evidence in periods of declension ; 
will sometimes be rendered obscure, and at others over- 
balanced. It is farther evident that, as our whole 
judgment will and ought to be usually made up, partly 
of the evidence furnished by our present state, and partly 
of our past judgments, and the evidence on which they 
were founded ; evidence contradicting, impairing, and 
obscuring each other; a degree of confusion and uncer- 
tainty in the views of the mind concerning its religious 
character, will almost necessarily result in many instan- 
ces from this complicated and perplexed state of things. 
6. No small difficulties are often thrown in our way 
by the backslidings of others. 

Many persons who are really Christians, decline at 
times from holiness of life so greatly, and so long, as to 
excite not only the sneers and contempt, but the just 
censures also, of those who are not Christians ; and the 
extreme regret, and the Christian discipline, of those 
who are. Other men, in cases of this nature, frequent- 
ly question or deny the very existence of religion. 



472 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seu. xc. 



Christians do not indeed go this unwarrantable length ; 
but iliey cannot avoid recollecting, that, frequently the 
persons who have thus declined were in their view bet- 
ter than themselves, and feeling the hopes which they 
have entertained of their own piety greatly lessened. 
They are compelled to doubt of the religion of these men, 
and almost irresistibly question the reality of their own. 

There are other persons who strongly believe them- 
selves to be religious ; and who at the same time live 
in such a manner as to persuade others that they are 
eminent Christians, who afterward prove by their con- 
duct that they are not Christians. Judas, Hymeneus, 
Philetus, and others, were of this character, and multi- 
tudes more in every succeeding age. When these persons 
fall, all the evidence which convinced either themselves 
or others of their piety, is plainly proved to be unsolid, 
and ive are naturally led to ask, whether the evidence on 
which we have relied, as the foundation of our own hope, 
be not the very same ; or, if it is known to be different, 
whether we have reason to think it at all better. In this 
■way we naturally come to suspect the grounds on which 
the belief of our piety has rested, and to doubt whether 
we are riot equally deceived with them. 

7. I am of opinion that God, for wise and good rea- 
sons, administers his spiritual providence in such a 
manner, as to leave his children destitute of the faith of 
assurance, for their own good. 

This opinion, I am well aware, will most probably be 
doubted, although I entertain not a doubt of it myself. 
It is proper, therefore, that I should mention some rea- 
sons which induce me to adopt it. 

(1.) It is perfectly plain, that the evidence enjoyed by 
Christians, concerning their piety, is in no regular man- 
ner or degree proportioned to the real excellence of 
character. The proof of this position is complete, both 
from our own observation, and from the history of ex- 
perimental and practical religion, given us in the lives 
of great multitudes of eminently good men. Such 
men, after having enjoyed for a long time the most con- 
soling evidence of their good estate, have, through 
periods also long, been distressed with doubts and 
darkness, and sometimes with deep despondence, and 
have nevertheless afterward obtained the same consola- 
tions throughout their remaining lives. To such sea- 
sons the psalmist plainly alludes in many declarations, 
descriptions, and prayers. These are the seasons, in 
which he speaks of God as ' hiding his face from him ;' 
and of himself, as disquieted, troubled, sorrowful, 
mourning, as almost gone, as having his feet in the 
miry pit, and as overwhelmed by the billows of afflic- 
tion. Such seasons are also familiarly spoken of by 
Christians, as times of darkness and sorrow, in which 
the light of God's countenance is hidden from them. 

(2.) There is not, I believe, a single promise in the 
gospel to Christians, as such, of the faith of assurance ; 
nor any direct intimation, that they shall possess evi- 
dence of their piety, proportioned to the degree in 
which it exists. All the promises of this nature seem 
to be indefinite, and to indicate, that Christians shall 
enjoy some evidence of this nature, rather than to point 
out the degree in which it sha.1! be enjoyed. ' The 
Spirit testifies with their spirits,' in a degree and man- 
ner accordant with his pleasure, ' that they are children 
of God.' It is indeed said, that ' if any man will do his 
■will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of 
God,' But the word know, in this case, plainly means 



no other than that he shall have a strong and satisfying 
persuasion ; for it cannot be said, that knowledge, in tho 
proper sense, is ever attainable with regard to this sub- 
ject. And this strong persuasion, that the Bible is the 
word of God, may exist without any satisfactory evi- 
dence that we are his children. 

(3.) There seems to be a plain and important reason 
why most Christians should be left in some degree of 
uncertainty concerning this subject. In all the earlier 
stages of their piety, and in all other cases in which it 
is not eminently vigorous, they would be prone, if they 
possessed high consolatory evidence, especially if they 
possessed full assurance of their renovation, imperfect 
as they then always are, to be at ease ; to settle quietly 
down in that imperfect state ; and in this manner to 
come far short of those religious attainments which now 
they actually make ; and perhaps finally to fall away. 
As the case now is, their fears serve to quicken them no 
less than their hopes ; and by the influence of both they 
continue to advance in holiness to the end of life. 

(i.) The fact is, unquestionably, as I have stated it; 
and it cannot be rationally denied to be a part of the 
spiritual providence of God. 



1. From these observations, we learn the necessity 
of performing daily and carefully the duty of self-exa- 
mination. If such difficulties attend this duty, we are 
bound to exercise proportionally greater care and ex- 
actness in performing it 

2. We are taught to rest our hopes on the general te- 
nor of our dispositions and conduct, and not on parti- 
cular views, affections, and actions. These may be 
counterfeited ; but to counterfeit the whole tenor of a 
life seems impossible. 

3. We perceive the necessity of inquiring particularly 
whether we increase in holiness. Evangelical holiness 
increases by its own nature, though irregularly. False 
religious affections by their nature decline at no very 
late periods. 

4. We learn the necessity of searching the Scriptures 
continually for that evidence which alone is genuine, and 
on which alone we can safely rest. In the Scriptures 
only is this evidence to be found. 

5. How conspicuous are the wisdom and goodness of 
God, in causing the backslidings and other defects of 
good men to be recorded for the instruction and consola- 
tion of Christians in all succeeding ages ! These evils, 
and the distresses and doubts which they occasion, 
attended them ; still they were truly pious. They may 
attend us therefore, while we may nevertheless be also 
subjects of piety. 

6. The same wisdom and goodness are still more con- 
spicuous in the manner in which the Psalms are written. 
The Psalms are chiefly an account of the experimental 
religion of inspired men. In this account we find that 
many of them, particularly David, the principal writer, 
experienced all the doubts, difficulties, and sorrows 
which are now suffered by good men. It is highly pro- 
bable that vast multitudes of Christians have by these 
two means been preserved from final despondence. 

7. This subject, in its nature, furnishes strong, though 
indirect, consolation to Christians. When they find 
doubts, and consequent, distress, concerning their reli- 
gious character multiplied, they here see that they may 
be thus multiplied, in perfect consistency with the fact 



THE LAW OF GOD PERFECT. 



473 



that tliay themselves are Christians ; and are thus pre- 
vented from sinking- into despair. 

&. We learn the absolute necessity of betaking- our- 
selves to God in daily prayer, for his unerring guidance 
in this difficult path of duty. If so many embarrass- 
ments attend this important employment, the assistance 
of the Divine Spirit is plainly indispensable to our 
safety and success. If this assistance be faithfully sought, 
we know that it will be certainly granted. 



9. We here discern the goodness manifested in that 
indispensable and glorious promise ; ' I will never leave 
thee, nor forsake thee.' For creatures, struggling with 
so many difficulties, to be left at all, would be incon- 
ceivably dangerous ; to be forsaken would be fatal. 
But the divine presence, in the midst of all these, and 
even much greater dangers, furnishes complete and 
final safety to every child of God. 



SERMON XCI. 

THE LAW OF GOD.— THE LAW PERFECT. 



The law of the Lord is perfect Psalm xix. 7. 



In the whole preceding series of Discourses I have ex- 
amined with attention the principal doctrines contained 
in the Scriptures. Particularly, I have exhibited the 
existence and perfections of God, and his works of 
creation and providence ; the character and circum- 
stances of man, both before and after his apostasy, and 
the impossibility of his justification by his personal 
obedience. I have considered at length the character 
and mediation of Christ, and the nature of evangelical 
justification through his righteousness ; the character 
and agency of the Holy Ghost ; the necessity and na- 
ture of regeneration ; its antecedents, attendants, conse- 
quences, and evidences. All these united, constitute 
the body of those peculiarly important truths, to which 
the Scriptures have required us to render religious faith. 

The second great division of subjects in such a sys- 
tem is formed of the Scriptural Precepts, requiring of 
us those internal and external acts, commonly termed 
the duty or duties of mankind. We are not, however, 
to suppose that faith in the doctrines of the Scriptures 
is not itself a prime duty of man. The contrary has, I 
trust, been amply proved. Nor are we to suppose, that 
any one of these doctrines has not naturally an impor- 
tant practical influence on mankind. The contrary to 
this also has, it is presumed, been extensively shown. 
Finally : Me are not to suppose that faith in Christ, 
and repentance towards God, are duties of fallen beings, 
less real, less necessary, less essential, or less acceptable, 
than any other duties whatever. The conformity of the 
understanding and the heart to every doctrine of the 
Scriptures, is, by the authority of God, made equally a 
duty with obedience to every precept. All that can 
with propriety be said of this nature is, that those which 
are customarily called the doctrines of the Scriptures, 
are usually presented to us rather in the form of truths 
which we are to believe, than of commands which we 
are to obey ; and that the precepts are commonly given 
to us in their own proper form, requiring- our obedience 
directly. 

At the same time, it is to be observed, that a confor- 
mity of our hearts and lives to the doctrines of the gos- 
pel is often expressly enjoined by the Scriptures. To 
repent of our sins, and to believe in Christ, are the im- 
mediate objects of the great precepts of the gospel. It 



is farther to be observed, that every precept becomes, 
by a slight alteration in the phraseology, a doctrine. 
For example ; ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart,' is easily altered into a mere truth, only 
by changing the phraseology into ' It is right, or it is 
thy duty, to love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart.' 
A cordial faith in this declaration is here, as with re- 
spect to every other precept, the spirit whence is derived 
all genuine obedience. 

Truth is commonly divided into that which is practi- 
cal, and that which is speculative. But moral truth 
cannot, in the strict sense, be justly divided in this 
manner. Every moral truth is of a practical nature. 
Its influence, I acknowledge, is in some cases indirect ; 
while in others it is direct. But it can never be truly 
denied in any case that its influence is really of this 
nature. 

The observations, which I intend to make on the 
several subjects, included in the second great division 
of the System of Theology, I propose to preface with a 
general account of the divine law. The doctrine which 
I mean to discuss in this account, is that which the text 
expresses in the very best terms which can be chosen ; 
viz. 

THE LAW OF JEHOVAH IS PERFECT. 

In proof of this truth, I allege the following consider- 
ations. 

1. The law of God is the result of his infinite wisdom 
and goodness. 

It cannot be supposed, that infinite wisdom and good- 
ness would form a rule for the government of moral 
beings, which did not possess such attributes as must 
render it a perfect directory of their moral conduct. 
It may easily be believed, that God may make moral 
beings of many different classes ; some of superior, 
and some of inferior capacities ; but it cannot be ima- 
gined that he would not require, of all such beings, a 
character and conduct the best of which they were 
naturally capable. Inferior wisdom and goodness 
might be unable to devise, or uninclined to require, the 
best conduct and character in moral creatures ; or to 
point out the means by which this character could be 
3 o 



474 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcj 



most easily and perfectly formed, or the conduct in 
which it would most advantageously operate. But none 
of these things are attributable to infinite wisdom and 
goodness thus employed. They of course must require 
the best character and conduct, must point out the best 
means of forming it, and the best modes in which it can 
operate. To suppose a law which is the result of these 
attributes not to be perfect, is to suppose, either that 
God did not know what would be the best character in 
his moral creatures, or did not choose to require it of 
them. Both parts of this alternative are too obviously 
absurd to need a refutation. 

Farther : A law is always the expression of the will 
of the lawgiver; and is of course an expression of his 
own character. This is pre-eminently applicable to the 
law of God. In forming it, he was under no necessity, 
and could have no motive beside what is involved iii 
his own pleasure, to induce him to form it in any given 
manner. The things which it requires are the things 
which he approves, and is seen to approve ; the things 
in which he delights, and is seen to delight ; the things 
therefore, which entirely show his real character. But 
the things actually required include all which are due 
from his moral creatures to him, to each other, and to 
themselves ; or, in other words, all their internal and 
external moral conduct. But it cannot be supposed, 
that God would exhibit his own perfect character im- 
perfectly, in a case of this magnitude. That in a law 
expressing thus his own character, and seen to express 
it ; a law from which they must of necessity learn his 
character more certainly than from any thing else ; a 
law which regulated and required all the moral conduct 
ever required of them, he should not prescribe a perfect 
collection of rules, a collection absolutely perfect ; is a 
supposition amounting to nothing less than this : that 
in exhibiting his character to the intelligent universe, 
he would present it in a false light, and lead them by a 
solemn act of his own, necessarily to consider him either 
as a weak or as an immoral being. 

2. The law of God is perfectly fitted to the state and 
capacity of intelligent creatures. 

The divine law is wholly included in two precepts; 
' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart ; 
and thy neighbour as thyself.' These are so short, as 
to be necessarily included in a single very short sen- 
tence ; so intelligible, as to be understood by every 
moral being who is capable of comprehending the 
meaning of the words, God and neighbour ; so easily 
remembered, as to render it impossible for them to 
escape from our memory, unless by a wanton, criminal 
negligence of ours ; and so easily applicable to every 
case of moral action, as not to be mistaken, unless 
through indisposition to obey. At the same time, 
obedience to them is rendered perfectly obvious, and 
perfectly easy to every mind which is not indisposed to 
obey them. The very disposition itself, if sincere and 
entire, is either entire obedience, or the unfailing 
means of that external conduct by which the obedience 
is in some cases completed. The disposition to obey is 
also confined to a single affection of the heart, easily 
distinguishable from all other affections; viz. love. 
' Love,' saith St Paul, ' is the fulfilling of the law.' The 
humblest and most ignorant moral creatures, therefore, 
are in this manner efficaciously preserved from mistak- 
ing their duty. 

In the mean time, these two precepts, notwithstand- 



ing their brevity, are so comprehensive, as to include 
every possible moral action. The archangel is not 
raised above their control, nor can any action of his ex- 
ceed that bound which they prescribe. The child who 
has passed the verge of moral agency, is not placed be- 
neath their regulation ; and whatever virtue he may 
exercise, is no other than a fulfilment of their requisi- 
tions. All the duties which we immediately owe to 
God, to our fellow creatures, and to ourselves, are by 
these precepts alike comprehended and required. In a 
word, endlessly various as moral action may be, it exists 
in no form or instance in which he who perfectly obeys 
these precepts will not have done his duty, and will not 
find himself justified and accepted by God. 

3. The law of God requires the best possible moral 
character. 

To require and accomplish this great object, an ob- 
ject in its importance literally immense, is supremely 
worthy of the wisdom and goodness of this glorious Be- 
ing. To make his moral creatures virtuous, is unques- 
tionably the only method of rendering them really and 
extensively useful, and laying the only solid foundation 
for their enduring happiness. But all virtue is summed 
up in the fulfilment of these two commands : ' Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart ; and 
thy neighbour as thyself.' In doing this, every indivi- 
dual becomes as amiable, excellent, dignified, and use- 
ful, as with his own capacity he can be. Should he 
advance in his capacity through endless duration, all 
the good which he will ever do, all the honour which 
he will ever render to his Creator, all the excellence, 
amiableness, and dignity which he will ever acquire, 
will be nothing but obedience to these two commands. 
The beauty and glory of the evangelical character, the 
rapturous flame which glows in the breast of a seraph, 
the transcendent exaltation of an archangel, is com- 
pletely included in ' loving God with all the heart, and 
his neighbour as himself.' Nay, the infinite loveliness, 
the supreme glory of the Godhead, is no other than 
this disposition, boundlessly exerted in the uncreated 
mind, and producing, in an unlimited extent, and an 
eternal succession, its proper and divine effects on the 
intelligent universe. ' God,' saith St John, ' is love.' 

4. The law of God proposes and accomplishes the 
best possible end. 

The only ultimate good is happiness ; by which I in- 
tend enjoyment ; whether springing from the mind 
itself, or flowing into it from external sources. Perfect 
happiness is perfect good ; or, in other words, includes 
whatever is desirable ; and this is the good which the 
divine law proposes, as its own proper and supreme 
end. 

This end is with exact propriety divisible, and is 
customarily divided into two great parts ; the first, usu- 
ally termed the glory of God: the second, the happi- 
ness of the intelligent creation. 

The original and essential glory of God is his ability 
and disposition to accomplish perfect happiness. This 
is his inherent, unchangeable, and eternal perfection. 
But the glory of God to which I refer, is what is often 
called his declarative glory, and is no other than this 
very perfection manifested in his conduct, immediately 
by himself, and mediately in their conduct, by the in- 
telligent creation. In this sense, the glory of God is 
proposed and accomplished by his law, when he pre- 
scribes to his intelligent creatures, and produces in 



THE LAW OF GOD PERFECT. 



475 






them, a disposition to ' love him with all the heart, and 
each other as themselves.' This disposition is, beyond 
all estimation, the most lovely, the most excellent, the 
most glorious work of the Creator's hands ; incompara- 
bly the greatest proof of his sufficiency and inclination 
to effectuate perfect good ; and therefore infinitely ho- 
nourable to his character. In the exercise of this dis- 
position on their part, and in its genuine effects, they 
render to him also, voluntarily and directly, all the 
honour which can be rendered to the infinite mind by 
intelligent creatures. 

At the same time, the divine law is the source of per- 
fect happiness to them. Voluntary beings are the only 
original sources of happiness ; and virtue, which is no- 
thing but this disposition, is in them the only productive 
cause of happiness. Under the influence of it, all beings 
in whom it prevails, unite to do the utmost good in their 
power. The good therefore which is actually done by 
them is the greatest good which can be derived from 
the efforts of intelligent creatures. As in this manner 
they become perfectly lovely, praise-worthy, and re- 
wardable in the sight of God; he can, with the utmost 
propriety, and therefore certainly will, reward them, 
by actually communicating to them the most exalted 
happiness of which they are capable. The kingdom of 
glory in the heavens, with its endless and perfect pro- 
vidential dispensations, will to saints and angels consti- 
tute this reward. 

I have mentioned the glory of God as the first great 
division of the perfect end proposed by the divine law. 
The glory of God is that in which his happiness con- 
sists ; the object infinitely enjoyed by the infinite mind; 
the sufficiency for all good, not only existing and en- 
joyed by contemplation, but operating also, and en- 
joyed in its genuine and proper effects. 

It ought to be observed, that there are no other pos- 
sible means of accomplishing this illustrious end beside 
this disposition. Intelligent beings are the only beings 
y whom God can be thus glorified. They are the 
only beings who can understand either his character or 
his works, or perceive the glory which he directly ma- 
nifests in them. They are also the only beings who 
can render to him love, reverence, or obedience ; and 
thus honour his chai-acter in such a manner as this can 
be done by creatures. Without them, the universe 
with all its furniture and splendour, would still be a 
solitude. 

At the same time, intelligent beings alone neither 
produce nor enjoy happiness in any great degree. 

But there is no other disposition in such beings be- 
side this, which can voluntarily glorify God, or produce 
important and enduring happiness. It is hardly neces- 
sary for me to observe, that no obedience and no l'egard 
whatever, rendered by rational creatures to God, can 
be of any value, or in any degree amiable or accepta- 
ble, except that which is voluntary ; or that, towards 
beings who did not love him, he could not exercise any 
complacency. It is scarcely more necessary to observe, 
that beings who did not voluntarily produce happiness, 
could neither enjoy it themselves, nor yield it to others. 
The seat of happiness is in the mind; and the first or 
original happiness which it finds, is ever found in its 
own approbation of its conduct, and the delightful 
nature of its affections. But no mind can be self-ap- 
proved which does not first love God and its fellow 
creatures ; and no affections can be delightful, except 



those which spring from the same disposition. Its 
views of God, and its affections towards him, its appre- 
hensions of his complacency towards itself, and its en- 
joyment of his blessings ; constitute the second great 
division of its happiness. But no mind can have de- 
lightful views of God, or delightful affections towards 
him, or be the object of his complacency, except that 
which loves him supremely. The third great division 
of this subject consists in the esteem, the love, and the 
kind offices, mutually interchanged by rational beings. 
It is perfectly obvious that these can never exist in any 
material degree, where the second command of this 
law is not cordially obeyed. But the mind, influenced 
by ' the love which is the fulfilling of the law,' is self- 
approved, approved by God, and approved by its fellow 
creatures. All its affections also towards itself, its 
Creator, and the intelligent universe, are delightful. 
At the same time, all its actions are productive of glory 
to the Creator, and of good to his creation. 

Thus the law of God, by laying hold on this single 
great principle, has directed the whole energy of the 
mind to the production of the best of all ends, in the 
best possible manner. 



From these observations it appears, 

1. That the law of God is, and must of necessity b?, 
unchangeable and eternal. 

Our Saviour informs us, that ' heaven and earth shall 
sooner pass away than one jot or one tittle of the law 
shall fail.' This declaration has, I presume, seemed 
extraordinary to every reader of the New Testament. 
To many it has, in all probability, appeared incredible. 
But, if I mistake not, these observations furnish us, not 
only with ample evidence of its truth, but with ample 
reasons why it should be true. A law, which is the 
result of infinite wisdom and goodness, which is per- 
fectly fitted to the state and capacity of intelligent crea- 
tures, which requires the best possible moral character, 
which proposes and accomplishes the best possible end, 
and without which neither the glory of God, nor the 
happiness of the intelligent creation, could be established 
or perpetuated, plainly cannot and ought not to be 
changed. Were God to change it, he must change it 
for the worse ; from a perfect law to an imperfect one. 
Whatever rule he should prescribe in its place for the 
conduct of his moral creatures, must require something 
which is wrong, or fail to require something which is 
right. Neither of these could be just, or wise, or good. 
Nor could his wisdom, justice, or goodness be manifest- 
ed, or even preserved, in the establishment of such a 
law ; much less in annulling a perfect law, and substi- 
tuting an imperfect one in its place. To give up this 
law would be to sacrifice his own glory and the happi- 
ness of his intelligent creation. These united constitute 
the very end for which the heavens and the earth were 
made. In the case supposed, therefore, the heavens and 
the earth would exist to no purpose, that is, to no pur- 
pose worthy of Jehovah. 

2. This subject furnishes us with one affecting view 
of the evil of sin. 

' Sin is a transgression of the law :' that is, sin is the 
disposition of the heart and the conduct of the life, di- 
rectly opposed to what the law requires. It is directly 
opposed to the decisions of infinite wisdom and good- 
ness, to the best possible character, and to the best pos- 



476 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xci. 



Bible end ; the glory of God, and the supreme good of 
the intelligent creation. Of all these the law is either 
the transcript, or the indispensable means. So far as 
sin has power to operate, it operates to their destruc- 
tion ; and its native tendency would prevent the glory 
of God, and the good of the universe. 

The evil of sin does not lie in the power of the sinner 
to accomplish his evil designs ; but in the nature of the 
designs themselves, and the disposition which gave them 
birth ; and must ever bear some general proportion to 
the extent of the mischief which it would accomplish, if 
it were permitted to operate without restraint. From 
what has been said, it is plain that this mischief tran- 
scends all finite comprehension. The evil, therefore, 
which is inherent in it must be incalculably great. 

We see this truth verified in the present world. All 
the misery suffered here is the effect of sin. Sin blotted 
out the bliss of Paradise, and established in its place 
private wretchedness and public suffering. The smile 
of complacency it changed into the gloomy frown of 
wrath and malice. For the embrace of friendship it 
substituted the attack of the assassin. The song of joy 
it converted into a groan of anguish ; the ascription of" 
praise it commuted for the blasphemies of impiety. 
What then must be the evils which it would accomplish, 
were it let loose upon the universe, were it to invade 
the kingdom of glory, as it once intruded into Eden, 
and ravage eternity as it has ravaged the little periods 
of time ? 

3. We learn from this subject the absurdity of antino- 
mianism. 

Two of the prominent antinomian doctrines are, that 
the law of God is not a rule of duty to Christians ; and 
that the transgressions of it by Christians are not sins. 

' Sin,' saith St John, ' is the transgression of the law.' 
It is a bold assertion then, an assertion demanding a 
warrant which can be pleaded by no man, that there is 
such a thing, or that there can be such a thing, as a 
transgression of the law which is not sinful. Why are 
not the transgressions of Christians sinful ? Is it because 
they are holy beings ? Adam was perfectly holy ; yet 
one transgression of his ruined the world. Angels were 
perfectly holy, in a state far superior to that of Adam ; 
yet one transgression of theirs turned them out of hea- 
ven. Is it because Christians are redeemed? The 
mercy of God displayed in their redemption only 
increases their obligation to obey, and therefore en- 
hances every transgression. Is it because God has 
promised that they shall persevere, and that they shall 
be saved ? This promise 'is an exercise of divine mer- 
cy ; has exactly the same influence ; and, in the case 
supposed, can produce no other effect. Why then are 
the transgressions of Christians not sinful ? To this 
question they will in vain search for an answer. 

Why is the law no longer a rule of righteousness to 
Christians ? Is it because they are no longer under its 
condemning sentence ? For this very reason they are 
under increased obligations to obey its precepts. Is it 
because they are placed under a better rule, or a worse 
one ? A better rule cannot exist ; a worse, God would 
not prescribe. Are not Christians required to glorify 
God? Are they not bound to promise the happiness 
of each other, and their fellow men? Are they not 
required to conform to the dictates of infinite wisdom 
and goodness ; to sustain the best moral character ; and 
to fulfill the true end of their being? ' To love God 



with all the heart, and their neighbour as themselves,' 
is to do all these things in the manner most pleasing, 
and in the only manner which is pleasing, to God. 

To remove a Christian from the obligation which he 
is under to obey the law of God, is to remove him from 
all obligation to perform any part of his duty, as a ra- 
tional being, to God, or to his fellow creatures ; for every 
part of his duty is required by the divine law. In other 
words, it is to discharge him from all obligation to be 
virtuous. What end must we then suppose Christians 
are intended to answer, while they continue in the 
world ? Certainly, none worthy of God, none worthy 
of the mediation of Christ, none worthy of the Chris- 
tian character. 

Antinomians forget that ' he who is born of God, 
loveth God, and knoweth God ;' that ' he who loveth 
not, knoweth not God ;' and that ' this is the love of 
God, that we keep his commandments.' They forget 
that Christ died ' to purify unto himself a peculiar peo- 
ple, zealous of good works.' 

4. We are here furnished with one interesting proof 
of the divine revelation of the- Scriptures. 

It is perfectly obvious to all who hear me, that a book 
professing- to be a revelation, must, whether false or true, 
depend in a great measure on its own internal charac- 
ter for evidence of its divine origin. The things which 
it contains must be such as become the character of God. 
Many of them may be mysterious and inexplicable ; 
because the nature of the subjects may be such as to 
transcend the human comprehension, or lie beyond the 
reach of human investigation. There are subjects also 
of which it may be necessary to know a part ; and that 
part, though sufficiently disclosed, if considered by itself 
only, may yet be connected with others, whose existence 
it will indicate, but whose nature it will not at all dis- 
close. When subjects of this kind are presented to us, 
we may, if we are disposed to inquire into them exten- 
sively, be easily perplexed, and easily lost. 

But whatever is revealed must consist with the cha- 
racter of God ; or it cannot be admitted as a revelation. 
Some things also contained in a real revelation, must 
be plainly worthy of their Author, and not merely not 
unworthy ; must be honourable to his character, supe- 
rior to the discoveries of the human mind, and such as 
cannot be reasonably believed to have been the inven- 
tions of men. 

Perfectly correspondent with all these remarks is the 
law under contemplation. This truth will advanta- 
geously appear by a comparison of it with the most per- 
fect human laws. I shall select for this purpose those 
of Great Britain. 

The statute laws of that kingdom are contained, if I 
mistake not, in about eighteen or twenty folio, or about 
fifty octavo, volumes. The common, or as it is some- 
times styled, the unwritten law, occupies a number of 
volumes far greater. To understand them is a work of 
deep science; the employment of the first human ta- 
lents, and the labour of a life. The great body of them 
can never be known by the generality of men, and must 
therefore be very imperfect rules of their conduct. 

In the mean time, multitudes of cases are continually 
occurring which they do not reach at all. Those which 
they actually reach, they affect in many instances inju- 
riously, and in many more imperfectly. The system 
of happiness which they propose is extremely defec- 
tive, a bare state of tolerable convenience; and even 



LOVE TO GOD. 



477 



that attended with many abatements. They also ex- 
tend their influence only to a speck of earth, and a 
moment of time. Yet these laws were devised, reviewed, 
and amended, by persons of the first human considera- 
tion for learning and wisdom. 

The law which we have been examining is com- 
prised in two commands only ; is so short, so intelli- 
gible, so capable of being remembered and applied, as 
to be perfectly fitted to the understanding and use of 
every moral being. At the same time, it is so comprehen- 
sive, as to reach perfectly every possible moral action, 
to preclude every wrong, and to secure every right. 
It is equally fitted to men and angels, to earth and 
heaven. Its control extends with the same efficacy and 



felicity to all worlds, and to all periods. It governs 
the universe, it reaches through eternity. The system 
of happiness proposed and accomplished by it is per- 
fect, endless, and for ever progressive. Must not con- 
dour, must not prejudice itself, confess, with the magi- 
cians of Egypt, that here ' is the finger of God.' 

But if this is from God, the Scriptures must be ac- 
knowledged to have the same origin. In the Scrip- 
tures alone is this law contained. Nay, the Scriptures 
themselves are chiefly this law, expanded into more 
minute precepts, and more multiplied applications ; en- 
forced by happy comments, and illustrated by useful 
examples ; especially the example presented to us in the 
perfect and glorious life of the Son of God* 



SERMON XCII. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE FIRST AND GREAT COMMANDMENT LOVE TO GOD. 



And one of the scribes came, and, having heard them reasoning together, and perceiving that lie had answered 
them well, asked him, which is the first commandment of- all ? And Jesus answered him, The first of all the 
commandments is, Hear, O Israel ; the Lord thy God is one Lord ; and thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength ; this is the first 
commandment Mark xii. 28 — 30. 



In the last Discourse I made a number of general ob- 
servations on the perfection of the divine law. I shall 
now proceed to consider somewhat more particularly, the 
nature and import of the first and greatest command- 
ment of that law ; the command which regulates our 
piety to God. 

In the text we are informed, that a scribe, a man 
learned in the Scriptures, and accustomed to expound 
them to others, pleased with Christ's refutation of the 
Sadducees, and the proofs which he had unanswerably 
given of a future existence, asked him, ' Which is the 
first commandment of all ?' that is, the first in rank, 
obligation, and importance. Christ, quoting Deut. vi. 4, 
informs him, that the first command in this sense is, 
' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with 
all thy strength.' 

In this command, it is to be observed, there is one 
thing only required ; and that is love. It is, however, 
love in a comprehensive sense ; including several exer- 
cises of the mind, easily and customarily distinguished 
from each other, as might indeed be naturally expected 
from the phraseology of the command. 

It is farther to be observed, that the love here en- 
joined is required to exist in such a degree as to occupy 
the whole heart, the whole soul, the whole mind, and 
the whole strength. The word here rendered soul 
seems originally to have been used to denote the prin- 
ciple of animal life, and to have been commonly used 
in this sense by the Greeks ; as the two corresponding 
words of their respective languages were by the Jews 
and Romans. The word, translated mind, is commonly 
used to denote the understanding, and seems plainly to 
have been used in this manner here : since the scribe 



expresses this as the meaning of it in his answer. The 
import of this command may then be stated thus : — 
' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
with all thine understanding, and with all thy strength, 
throughout all thy life.' In other words, we are re- 
quired, under the influence of this disposition, to de- 
vote, throughout our lives, all our faculties and services 
to the glory of Jehovah. Our hearts and voices, our 
understandings and our hands, are to be entirely and 
voluntarily dedicated to his service. 

I have already observed, that love in this compre- 
hensive sense, includes several exercises of the mind, 
easily and customarily distinguished. It will be one 
object of this Discourse to exhibit them with this dis- 
tinction. 

1. Love to God, as required by this command, is 
good-will to him, his designs, and interests. 

By good-will, in this case, I intend the very same 
benevolence, formerly described as one of the attend- 
ants of regeneration, and then mentioned as extending 
to the Creator and his intelligent creatures. Not a 
small number of divines have supposed, that love in 
this sense, is neither required nor exerted towards the 
Creator. ' God,' say they, ' being supremely and 
eternally blessed ; and the success of his designs, and 
the prosperity of his interests, being perfectly secured 
by his power, knowledge, and presence ; there can be 
no necessity nor room for any exercise of our good-will 
towards him or them. Benevolence is with propriety 
exercised towards man, because he needs it; but cannot 
with any such propriety be exercised towards God, who 
is so far from needing any thing, and he gives unto all 
life, and breath, and all things.' 

These observations are undoubtedly specious. Yet 



478 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcir« 



the reasoning contained in them is totally erroneous ; 
and the conclusion intended to be derived from them, 
false and mistaken. To admit it, is to give up the first 
duty of man. 

Benevolence depends not, either for its obligation or 
exercise, on the supposition that the person towards 
whom it may be directed, needs either our benevolence 
or its effects. Happiness, its immediate object, is al- 
ways and everywhere supremely delightful and desirable 
in itself; delightful, whenever it exists; desirable, 
whenever it may exist hereafter. The greater the de- 
gree in which it exists, or may exist hereafter, the more 
delightful, the more desirable, must it be of course. It 
is desirable that two persons should be happy, other 
things being equal, rather than one ; twenty than two ; 
a hundred than twenty. It is in a continually increas- 
ing proportion desirable, that a person should be twice 
as happy as he is at present, ten times, a hundred times. 
On the same grounds it is delightful to find happiness 
existing in one degree, more delightful in two, and still 
more in twenty, or a hundred. To delight in happiness 
in this manner, is in the same manner to exercise good- 
will towards the being who is thus happy. 

The happiness, or blessedness of God, as it is more 
commonly termed, is no other than his enjoyment of his 
own perfect attributes, and of the effects produced by 
them in that glorious system of good which is begun in 
the work of creation, and will be completed in the work 
of providence : or, in other words, his sufficiency for ac- 
complishing, the certainty that he will accomplish, and 
the actual accomplishment of a perfect system of good. 
This is an object infinitely desirable to the divine mind. 
Were it to fail, this desire would be ungratified, and the 
divine mind would be proportionally unhappy. 

To this it will be objected, as it often has been, that 
' this doctrine makes God dependent for his happiness 
on his creatures.' 

This objection is a mistake. The doctrine involves 
no such dependence. The independence of God con- 
sists not at all in the fact, that he will be happy, whether 
his designs will be accomplished, or not ; but in his 
sufficiency for the absolute accomplishment of them all ; 
and in the absolute certainty that they will be thus ac- 
complished. His power, wisdom, and goodness are this 
sufficiency ; and yield him intuitive certainty of this 
accomplishment. These things constitute the most per- 
fect possible independence. 

Were God without desires, had he no choice, no 
pleasure, he could enjoy no happiness. Were he unable 
to fulfill his pleasure, or uncertain whether it would be 
fulfilled, he would be dependent. But, according to 
this statement, his happiness and his independence are 
both absolute. 

The designs of God are infinitely desirable, because 
they involve the display of his infinite perfections in 
their perfect exercise, and in the accomplishment of a 
perfect system of good. In this manner they present 
to us the most glorious of all objects, operating in the 
most glorious manner, to the production of the most 
glorious purpose. The object is, with the highest evi- 
dence, infinitely desirable and delightful. At the same 
time, the ha'ppiness which God enjoys in the exercise of 
his perfections, and in the accomplishment of this di- 
vine end, is a happiness not only infinitely desirable 
and delightful to himself, but desirable in the same 
manner to all intelligent creatures. All intelligent 



creatures possessed of real benevolence, cannot fail to 
rejoice that God is, and ever will be, thus infinitely 
happy, that these glorious designs will certainly be ac- 
complished, that he will ever thus act, and that he will 
ever find infinite enjoyment in thus acting. It is 
as truly desirable that God should be thus happy, as it 
is that any of his intelligent creatures should be happy ; 
and as much more desirable as he is happier than they. 

But to delight in this happiness, is to exercise to- 
wards God the benevolence of the gospel. I flatter my- 
self, that to exercise this benevolence, has been amply 
proved to be an unquestionable and supreme duty of man. 

2. Love to God is complacency in his character. 

It has been shown in several former Discourses, that 
God is infinitely benevolent ; in other words, he is in- 
finitely disposed to desire and perforin that which is 
good in the highest degree. In other words, he is in- 
finitely just, faithful, true, kind, bountiful, and merciful. 
Such a character is infinitely excellent in itself; and 
demands, in the highest possible degree, the supreme 
approbation, and the supreme complacency of every in- 
telligent creature. 

Benevolence, as here required, is a delight in the hap- 
piness of God : Complacency is a delight in his excel- 
lence. The excellence of God contains in itself all that 
wisdom can approve, all that virtue can love, all that is 
meant by the excellence and amiableness, by the 
beauty and glory, of mind ; by moral dignity and 
greatness. This is what God himself esteems his own 
supreme perfection, and the transcendent glory of his 
character. Accordingly, when he proclaimed his name 
to Moses on Mount Sinai, he proclaimed this part of 
his character only ; and styled it the name, or glory, of 
Jehovah. 

I know not, that to love God, in this sense, has ever 
been denied or doubted to be a Christian duty by such 
as have believed in the Scriptures. On the contrary, 
it has been commonly supposed, that complacency and 
gratitude were the only love to God required in his 
law. The happiness of God has usually been consi- 
dered so secure, so independent, and so perfect, as 
that, while he needs nothing from the hands of his crea- 
tures to increase or insure it, he also may be justly re- 
garded as claiming nothing from them with respect 
to this subject. His perfections, at the same time, 
are so manifest, and so absolute, as to fill the mind 
with reverence and amazement, and engross all its atten- 
tion and thoughts. In this manner, probably, the regard 
of mankind, and even of wise and good men, has been so 
effectually drawn away from the consideration of the 
happiness of God, to the consideration of his excellence,- 
that they seem chiefly to have forgotten the former of 
these objects, and have been almost wholly occupied by 
the latter. At the same time, it cannot be denied, that 
to delight in the excellence of God is a duty more ob- 
vious to the mind, than to delight in his happiness. A 
little reflection will, however, convince us, and I hope 
it has already been clearly shown, that it is not a more 
indispensable duty. It is plainly not our original duty. 
It is plainly not virtue, or moral excellence, in the ori- 
ginal sense. This is, unquestionably, the love of happi- 
ness. Complacency is the love of this virtue, or moral 
excellence : but that excellence must exist, before it 
can be loved. The contrary supposition is a palpable 
absurdity ; to which all those reduce themselves who 
insist that complacency is original virtue. 



LAW OP GOD.— LOVE TO GOO. 



479 



3. The love of God is gratitude. 

Gratitude is love to God for the particular manifes- 
tations of his glorious character, in his various kindness 
to us, and to ours. We, and perhaps all other intelli- 
gent beings, are so formed, as to be able more clearly 
to see, and more strongly to feel, blessings immediately 
bestowed on ourselves, and on those intimately con- 
nected with us, whose characters and wants, whose sor- 
rows and joys, we peculiarly understand and feel, than 
those bestowed on others. As we feel universally what 
is ours, and what pertains to our connexions, more 
(other things being equal) than what pertains to those 
whose interests we less understand, and in whose con- 
cerns we are less in the habit of mingling ; so we feel, 
of course, more deeply, the blessings which we and they 
receive, the deliverances, hopes, comforts, joys, than 
we do or can those of others. Our near connexions 
are our second selves ; and there is sometimes as little 
difference, and sometimes even less, between us and 
them, in our views and feelings, than between them and 
others. Nay, there are cases in which we feel the in- 
terests of our connexions no less than our own. A 
parent would often willingly suffer the distresses of a 
child, in order to accomplish relief for him, and often 
rejoices more in his prosperity than if it were his own. 
There is, perhaps, no solid reason in the nature of 
things, why God should be loved more for the mani- 
festation of goodness towards one being, than for the 
same manifestation towards another. Still, with our 
present dispositions, those acts of his benevolence which 
respect ourselves, will always, perhaps, appear more 
amiable than those which respect others. 

Gratitude, therefore, or love to God for the commu- 
nication of blessings to ourselves, and to those in 
whose well-being we find a direct and peculiar interest, 
is an affection of the mind, in some respects distinct 
from complacency ; an affection which must, and ought 
to exist in this world. As we can love God more for 
blessings thus bestowed, than for those bestowed on 
others ; so we ought to seize every occasion to exercise 
this love to the utmost of our power ; and such occa- 
sions enable us to exercise it in a superior degree. 

Possibly, in a future world, and a higher state of 
existence, all the blessings of God communicated to 
rational beings may affect us as if communicated to 
ourselves, and our complacency in his character may 
universally become possessed of the whole intenseness 
and ardour of gratitude. 

Gratitude, considered as a virtue, it is always to be 
remembered, is love excited by kindness communicated, 
or believed to be communicated with virtuous and good 
designs, and from good motives : not for kindness be- 
stowed for base and selfish ends. In every case of this 
nature, the kindness professed is merely pretended and 
') hypocritical. The bestower terminates all his views in 
his own advantage ; and has no ultimate regard to the 
benefit of the receiver. 

The kindness of God is invariably communicated 
with the best of all designs and motives, designs and 
motives infinitely good ; and is therefore a display of 
a character infinitely excellent Hence it is always to 
be regarded with gratitude. The good bestowed is also 
the highest good ; and therefore the highest gratitude 
is due to the bestower. 

Of precepts, requiring all these exercises of love, and 
prohibiting the want of them •, of examples, by which 



they are gloriously illustrated ; of motives, promises, 
and rewards, by which they are divinely encouraged ; 
the Scriptures are full. Particularly, the good-will of 
the psalmist to the infinitely great and glorious Crea- 
tor, Preserver, and Benefactor, of the universe, is 
manifested everywhere throughout his sacred songs. 
Everywhere he rejoices in the designs and actions of 
Jehovah ; in the certain accomplishment of his de- 
signs ; in the infinite glory which he will derive from 
them all ; in the prosperity of his kingdom ; and in the 
joy which he experiences in all the works of his hands. 

Equally does he express his complacency in the per- 
fect character of God ; his wisdom, power, goodness, 
truth, faithfulness, and mercy, as displayed in his works 
and word, in his law and gospel. 

Nor is he less abundant in his effusions of gratitude 
for all the divine goodness to himself and his family, 
to the people of Israel and the church of God. In 
expressing these emotions, he is ardent, intense, sub- 
lime, and rapturous ; an illustrious example to all who 
have come after him of the manner in which we should 
feel, and in which we should express, our love to God. 

Like him, the prophet Isaiah, the apostle Paul, and 
generally all the scriptural writers, in words not di- 
rectly devotional, but doctrinal and preceptive, exhibit, 
with corresponding ardour and sublimity, these most 
excellent dispositions. It is hardly necessary to add, 
that our own emotions and expressions ought to be of 
the same general nature. 

Having thus exhibited, summarily, the nature of love 
to God, in these three great exercises, I will now pro- 
ceed to allege several reasons which demand of us these 
exercises of piety. 

1. This service is highly reasonable, beautiful, and 
amiable, in inteJJjgent creatures. 

God, from the considerations mentioned in this Dis- 
course, presents to us in his blessedness, in his excel- 
lence, and in his communications of good, all possible 
reasons, in all possible degrees, why we should exercise 
towards him our supreme benevolence, complacency, 
and gratitude. His enjoyment is the sum of all happi- 
ness ; his character the sum. of all perfection ; and his 
communications of good the amount of all the bless- 
ings found in the universe. These united constitute an 
object assembling in itself, comparatively speaking, all 
natural and moral beauty, glory, and excellence ; what- 
ever can be desired, esteemed^ or loved. 

2. God infinitely loves himself. 

The conduct of God is, in every case, the result of 
views and dispositions, perfectly wise, and just, and 
good ; and becomes, wherever they can imitate it, a 
perfect rule to direct the conduct of his intelligent 
creatures. In this case, the rule is as perfect as any 
other ; and in this case, as well as every other, it is the 
highest honour, and the consummate rectitude, of all 
intelligent creatures to resemble their Creator. So far 
as we resemble him, we are secure of being right, ex- 
cellent, and lovely. 

At the same time, so far as we are like him, we are 
assured of his approbation and love, and of receiving 
from his hands all the good which our real interests re- 
quire. As he loves himself, he cannot but lave his resem- 
blance, wherever it is found. 

3. In this conduct we unite with all virtuous beings. 

This is the very conduct which especially constitutes 
them virtuous, and without which their virtue, in every 



4S0 



SYSTEB1 OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcn. 



other sense, would cease to exist. For this tliey love 
and approve themselves ; for this they will approve and 
love us. By these exercises of piety, then, we become 
at once, entirely, and for ever, members of their glori- 
ous assembly ; secure of their esteem, friendship, and 
kind offices ; and entitled, of course, to a participation 
of their divine and immortal enjoyment. The best 
friends, the most delightful companions, the most hon- 
ourable connexions which the universe contains, or will 
ever contain, are in this manner made, throughout the 
ages of our endless being. 

4. We unite with God and the virtuous universe in 
voluntarily promoting that supreme good, which, by his 
own perfections and their instrumentality, he has begun 
to accomplish. 

This work is literally divine ; the supreme, the only 
display of divine excellence which ever has been, or 
ever will be, made ; an immense and eternal kingdom 
of virtue and happiness ; all that wisdom can approve, 
or virtue desire. To engage in it, is to engage in the 
best of all employments. To choose it, is to exhibit 
the best of all characters. It is to choose what God 
himself chooses, to pursue what he pursues, to act as he 
acts, and to be ' fellow workers together with him ' in 
the glorious edifice of eternal good. The disposition 
required in this command is the same which, in him, 
and in all his virtuous creatures, originated, advances, 
and will complete, this divine building in its ever-grow- 
ing stability, beauty, and splendour. 

5. We secure and enjoy the greatest happiness. 
Love to God is a disposition inestimably sweet and 

delightful ; delightful in itself, delightful in its opera- 
tions, delightful in its effects. All the exercises of it 
are in their own nature, and while they are passing, a 
series of exquisite enjoyments. They operate only to 
good ; and are, therefore, highly pleasurable in all their 
various tendency. Their effects, both within and with- 
out the soul, are either pure unmingled happiness di- 
rectly enjoyed by ourselves, or a similar happiness first 
enjoyed by others, and then returning to ourselves with 
a doubly endeared and charming reversion. 

This disposition leads us unceasingly to contemplate 
the most exalted, wonderful, and delightful objects; the 
things which God has already done, is daily accomplish- 
ing, and has disclosed to us in his promises as hereafter 
to be accomplished. Contemplation on the works of 
<iod, when they are regarded as being his works, is ca- 
pable of furnishing us with dignified and intense enjoy- 
ment. To produce this effect, however, it is indispen- 
sable that we should view them under the influence of 
this disposition. The mind can experience no pleasure 
in contemplating the actions of a being whom it does 
not love. Love to God opens the gates of enjoyment; 
and of all enjoyment, furnished by the works of crea- 
tion and providence, so far as it springs from the con- 
sideration that they are his works. Through this 
enjoyment it conducts the mind to others ; and to 
others still, in a train which knows no end. Wherever 
we are, and can be delighted with displays of boundless 
wisdom and boundless goodness, with the perfect efforts 
of a perfect character, love to God is the guide which 
conducts us to the divine possession. 

Beyond this, he who created us for this glorious pur- 
pose, and who delights to see it accomplished, cannot 
fail to be pleased with us, while engaged in it, and, 
therefore, will not fail to reward us with his blessings. 



In this path, then, we ascend to the divine favour ; 
' see the good of his chosen, enjoy the gladness of his 
nation ;' and share the ' glory of his inheritance.' Eter- 
nal glory, then, is the natural, the necessary result of 
love to God. Indeed, eternal glory is nothing but his 
eternal and unchangeable love to us, and our eternal 
and unchanging love to him ; united with the same 
love, extended, and reciprocated^ among all virtuous 
beings. In the world to come, this divine disposition 
will become more and more sweet and delightful ; and 
in every mind be, in the beautiful language of our Savi- 
our, ' a well of water springing up unto everlasting life.' 

6. Without love to God, there can be no virtue, or 
moral excellence. 

Love is a single character ; uniform in its nature, and 
in no way separable, even in contemplation, except 
merely as it is exercised towards different objects. 
These give it all those which are considered as its dif- 
ferent forms. In all these forms, it is exercised by the 
same man, in exactly the same manner. If it be found 
in one of these forms in any mind, it is of course found 
in the same mind, in every other form, whenever the 
object which gives it that form is presented to that 
mind. Thus he, who possesses benevolence, when hap- 
piness is the object present to him, exercises compla- 
cency whenever he contemplates moral excellence ; and 
gratitude, whenever he turns his thoughts towards a 
benefactor. Thus, also, he who loves God, loves his 
fellow creatures of course ; and, of course, governs him- 
self with evangelical moderation and self-denial. In 
all these exercises of the mind, and all others of a vir- 
tuous nature, a single, indivisible disposition exists and 
operates. This disposition is the love required by the 
divine law; ' the love' which St Paul declares to be 
' the fulfilling of the law;' not love of various kinds; 
not a train of dispositions, diversified in their nature 
and springing up successively as new objects are pre- 
sented to the mind : but love of exactly the same 
nature, diversified only by being exercised towards dif- 
ferent objects. 

This disposition is the only real excellence of mind. 
There is no ultimate good but happiness ; and no dis- 
position originally good, but that which rejoices in it 
and voluntarily promotes it. Benevolence is, therefore, 
the only original excellence of mind ; and is the foun- 
dation of all the real excellence of complacency and 
gratitude, which are only subordinate forms or exer- 
cises of the same character. 

7. A higher, nobler state of being is enjoyed by him who 
loves God, than can possibly be enjoyed by any other. 

God is the origin and residence of all that is great or 
good in the universe. All other greatness and good- 
ness are mere emanations from the greatness and good- 
ness of Jehovah. To have no delight in these glorious 
attributes, boundlessly existing in the infinite mind, is 
to be destitute of the noblest and best of all views and 
affections ; of affections and views fitted in their own 
nature to improve, ennoble, refine, and enrapture the 
mind ; and to form it into a most honourable resem- 
blance to the sum of all perfection. Without this dis- 
position, we are sinners, enemies to God, spots in his 
kingdom, and nuisances to the universe ; are debased, 
guilty, and hateful here, and shall be endlessly guilty 
and miserable hereafter. 

8. In this manner we obey God. 

God, whose we are, and whom we are bound to serve, 



LAW OF GOD REVERENCE OF GOD. 



481 



has been pleased to express his pleasure to the intelli- 
gent universe, in these two commands. He who pub- 
lished them is our Maker, our Preserver, and our Be- 
nefactor. We are his property, created by his hand, 
formed for his use, made for his glory. His right to 
dispose of us according to his pleasure, is therefore su- 
preme, and such as cannot be questioned. It is a right 
c-f course which, although so exercised as to demand of 
us very great and long-continued self-denial, is ever to 
be submissively, patiently, and cheerfully acknowledged 
by us. Whatever God is pleased to require us to do 
or to suffer, we are to do with delight, and suffer with 
absolute resignation. I do not mean that we can be 
required, either with justice or propriety, to do or to 
suffer any thing which is unjust or wrong. To require 
this of intelligent creatures, is literally impossible for a 
mind infinitely perfect. But I mean, that whatever 
this perfect and great being actually requires, we are 
absolutely bound to do or suffer in this manner. 

At the same time, it is a source of unceasing satisfac- 
tion and delight, to discern, from the nature of the sub- 
ject itself, that all which is actually required, is holy, 
just, and good, supremely honourable to him, and su- 
premely beneficial to his intelligent creatures. This, I 
flatter myself, has been sufficiently shown in this and 
the preceding Discourses. It is delightful, while we 
are employed in obeying God, to perceive immediately 
that our conduct is in all respects desirable ; the most 
desirable, the most amiable, the most delightful of all 
possible conduct ; in a word, the only conduct which 
really deserves these epithets. 



Obedience to a parent possessed of peculiar wisdom 
and goodness is, to every dutiful child, delightful in it- 
self ; not only when the thing required by him is in its 
own nature pleasing ; but also when it is indifferent, 
and even when it is difficult and painful. The plea- 
sure enjoyed is in a great measure independent of that 
which is done ; and consists, primarily, in the delight- 
ful nature of those affections which are exercised ia 
obeying, and in the satisfaction of pleasing him whom 
we obey, by the respect and love manifested in our obe- 
dience. The Parent of the universe is possessed of in- 
finite wisdom and goodness. To please him, therefore, 
is supremely desirable and delightful. But the only 
conduct in which we can possibly please him, is our 
obedience ; and our only obedience is to ' love him with 
all the heart, and our neighbour as ourselves.' 

Thus, whether we regard ourselves, and wish to be 
virtuous, excellent, honourable, and happy ; or whether 
we regard our fellow creatures, and wish to render 
them happy, to unite with them, in a pure and eternal 
friendship, to receive unceasingly their esteem and kind 
offices, and to add our efforts to theirs for the promo- 
tion of the universal good ; or whether we regard God, 
and desire to obey, to please, and to glorify him ; to 
coincide voluntarily with the designs formed by his 
boundless wisdom and goodness ; and to advance with 
our own cordial exertions the divine and immortal 
ends which he is accomplishing ; we shall make it our 
chief object to ' love the Lord our God with all the 
heart, and with all the soul, and with all the strength, 
and with all the understanding-.' 



SERMON XCIII. 



THE LAW OF GOD— THE FIRST AND GREAT COMMANDMENT. REVERENCE OF GOD 



And unto man he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil 
is understanding. — Job xxviii. 28. 



In the last Discourse I examined the nature of love to 
God, as manifested in those three great exercises of it, 
which are commonly spoken of under this name ; viz. 
benevolence, complacency, and gratitude, I shall now 
consider another exercise of this affection, of sufficient 
magnitude to claim a particular discussion in a System 
of Theology. This is reverence to the same glorious 
Being. 

The context is an eulogium on wisdom, uttered in 
the noblest spirit of poetry. After describing, in a va- 
riety of particulars, the surprising effects of human in- 
genuity, and declaring that, extraordinary as these may 
seem, the ingenuity which has produced them is utterly 
insufficient to discover the nature of this glorious at- 
tainment ; Job asserts its value to be greater than any, 
and than all the most precious things which this world 
contains. In this state of human insufficiency, he in- 
forms us, God was pleased to interfere, and by a direct 
revelation to declare to man, that ' the fear of the Lord 
is wisdom, and to depart from evil is understanding.' 



By wisdom, throughout the Scriptures, in the com- 
mon language of such men as understand the meaning 
of their own language, is universally intended that con- 
duct, in which the best means are selected to accom- 
plish the best ends ; or the spirit which chooses these 
ends, and selects these means for their accomplishment. 
In the former case, the name refers to the conduct only ; 
in the latter, to the character. The best of all ends 
which it is possible for intelligent creatures to pursue, 
is the combined and perfectly coincident one of glori- 
fying God, and promoting the good of the universe. 
The spirit with which this is done in the only effectual 
manner, is that which is here styled ' the fear of the 
Lord.' The means by which it is done, are partly the 
spirit itself, in its various exercises and operations ; and 
partly extraneous means, devised and employed by the 
same spirit. 

A subordinate, but still very important end, which is 
or ought to be proposed to himself by every intelligent 
creature, and for which the most .efficacious means 
3 p 



482 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See. 



ought to be employed by liim, in his own eternal happi- 
ness. ' The fear of the Lord is (equally) wisdom,' in 
this view ; as being the only disposition which can 
either be happy in itself, or receive its proper reward 
from God. 

Every person who has read the Scriptures of the Old 
Testament, must have observed that this phrase, ' the 
fear of the Lord,' and others substantially involving 
the same words, as well as the same meaning, are oftener 
used to denote the moral character which is acceptable 
to God, than any, perhaps than all, other phrases what- 
ever. It must also have struck every such reader that 
this phrase is often used to denote all moral excellence ; 
particularly, that supreme branch of this excellence 
which is denominated piety. This is plainly the drift 
of the text, and of many other corresponding - passages 
of Scripture. Thus it is said, ' The fear of the Lord is 
the beginning,' or the chief part, of ' wisdom,' Psalm 
cxi. 10. ' The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life,' 
Prov. xiv. 27. ' The fear of the Lord is his treasure,' 
Isa. xxxiii. G. In these, and a multitude of other de- 
clarations of a similar import, it is plainly indicated, 
that ' the fear of the Lord' is the sum and substance of 
that morally excellent character, which is the object of 
the divine complacency. 

It must, at the same time, be equally obvious to every 
attentive reader of the Bible, that love to God has there 
exactly the same character; being, in the language of 
St Paul, 'the fulfilling of the law ;' and in that of St 
John, the same thing as ' being born of God,' and 
* knowing God ;' in the sense in which such knowledge 
is declared by our Saviour to be ' life eternal.' 

But there are not two distinct moral characters, se- 
verally thus excellent ; thus the objects of the divine 
complacency, and the foundations of eternal life. Mo- 
ral excellence is one thing ; and moral beings have but 
one character which recommends them to God. As 
this is thus differently spoken of under the names of the 
love of God, and the fear of God, both in the Old and 
New Testament ; it is sufficiently evident to a mind, 
even slightly attentive, that the fear of God, and the 
love of God, are but one character, appearing under 
different modifications. Accordingly, saints, or holy 
persons, are spoken of sometimes as those who fear God, 
and sometimes as those who love God : each of these 
exercises being considered as involving the other ; and 
both as parts only of one character. 

That this view of the subject is perfectly just, is easily 
explained by a consideration of its nature. There are 
two totally distinct exercises, which in the Scriptures, 
as well as in common language, are denoted by fearing 
God, which may be called dread and reverence. The 
former of these emotions is that which is experienced by 
men, conscious of their guilt, feeling that they have 
merited the anger of God, and realizing the danger of 
suffering from his hand the punishment of their sins. 
In this it is plain, that there can be no moral excellence. 
All that can be said in favour of it is, that it may serve 
as a check to sin, and prove, among other means, use- 
ful to bring sinners to repentance. In itself it is mere 
terror ; and, in the language of the Scriptures, only 
makes us ' subject to bondage.' The latter of these 
emotions is a compound of fear and love, usually styled 
reverence ; and is often that exercise of the mind, in 
which its whole attachment is exerted towards God. 
Fear, in this sense, is a strong apprehension of the 



greatness and the purity of God, excited in the mind 
of a person, who loves him supremely. A lively exam- 
ple of a similar emotion is presented to us by the re- 
verence with which a dutiful child regards a highly 
respected earthly parent. Accordingly, the fear of God, 
in this sense, is commonly styled filial ; in the former 
sense, it is often termed servile, or slavish ; as being of 
the same nature with the dread which a mercenary ser- 
vant stands in of an imperious master. 

It is perfectly evident, that the distinction between 
these two emotions is founded entirely on the character 
of those by whom they are severally exercised, liever- 
ence to God is experienced only by those who love him ; 
and is plainly the fear exercised by an affectionate mind 
only. Were love the only character of the mind, dread 
could not possibly find a place in it. ' There is no fear 
in love,' says St John, ' but perfect love casteth out fear. 
He that feareth is not made perfect in love.' As 
Christians in this world are not made perfect in love, 
the fear spoken of in this passage, viz. that which I have 
called dread, is, in greater or less degree, experienced 
by them. Wicked men are incapable of reverencing 
God, and only feel a dread of his anger and of punish- 
ment. 

The reverence, which is the immediate subject of 
consideration, ordinarily exists in the mind of a good 
man whenever his contemplations are turned towards 
the Creator, or towards those objects which are peculi- 
arly his, and in which he is peculiarly seen. It is a 
steady, solemn, and delightful awe, excited in the mind 
by every view which it takes of the perfections and 
operations of this great and glorious Being. In our 
contemplations on his character, he himself becomes 
immediately the object of our thoughts. In all other 
cases we see him through the medium of his works, his 
word, or his ordinances. In all these, and in these 
alone, are we able to discern his real character. In all 
these we behold him awfully great, and wise, and good. 
In his works, we .are witnesses of that boundless bene- 
volence which chose, that boundless knowledge which 
contrived, and that boundless power, which produced 
their existence ; all of them seen daily, in every place, 
and in every object. It is impossible for the mind which 
is not totally destitute of piety, to behold the sublime, 
the awful, the amazing works of creation and provi- 
dence ; the heavens with their luminaries, the moun- 
tains, the ocean, the storm, the earthquake, and the 
volcano ; the circuit of the seasons, and the revolutions 
of empires ; without marking in them all the mighty 
hand of God, and feeling strong emotions of reverence 
towards the Author of these stupendous works. At some 
of them all men tremble : at others all men are astonish- 
ed.. But the sanctified mind, while it is affected in the 
same manner, blends its fear with love, and mingles de- 
light even with its apprehensions ; is serene amid the 
convulsions which only terrify others ; and encouraged, 
while all around are overwhelmed with dismay. 

In the word of God, these attributes are, in some re- 
spects, exhibited in a still more affecting manner. Here, 
the designs of this awful Being are unfolded, and his 
works presented to us, as a vast system of means, oper- 
ating in a perfect manner to the production of the most 
divine and glorious ends. Here, the pure and perfect 
rectitude of the Creator, his unlimited wisdom and 
overflowing goodness, are still more divinely manifested 
in the law by which he governs the universe, and in the 



LAW OF GOD.-REVERENCE OF GOD. 



483 



scheme of restoring mankind to holiness by the re- 
demption of his Son, disclosed to us in the gospel. The 
boundless nature of these things invests them with a 
magnificence and sublimity, wonderfully increasing the 
reverence excited by the things themselves ; but no- 
thing seems to me more fitted to awaken this emotion 
than a sense of that spotless purity, in the view of which 
' the heavens are unclean, and the angels chargeable 
with folly.' In this solemn contemplation of this awfully 
amiable attribute, it seems difficult to forbear exclaiming, 
' What is man, who drinketh iniquity like water!' The 
same emotion, mingled with stronger feelings of alarm, 
is produced also by a contemplation of those amazing 
events, which are proclaimed by the voice of prophecy 
concerning the future destination of man ; the confla- 
gration, the judgment, and the retributions of the right- 
eous and the wicked. 

In the ordinances of religion the very same things 
are presented to the view of the mind, which so deeply 
affect it in the works, and especially in the word of God, 
and are presented to us in a manner peculiarly interest- 
ing. Here, we in a peculiar manner draw nigh to God, 
and apply to ourselves with unrivalled force the great, 
the awful, and the glorious things which excite our re- 
verence. They are, of course, all seen in the clearest 
light, and felt with the deepest impression. Our rever- 
ence, therefore, is apt to be here felt in a peculiar 
degree ; not a little enhanced by the sympathy exercised 
by multitudes feeling the same impression. 

No affection of the mind is more useful than this ; 
especially when it has become so invigorated by habit, 
as to mingle itself with all our thoughts and feelings. 
It cannot but be advantageous to mention, particularly, 
some of the happy consequences which it regularly pro- 
duces. As a preface to this subject, it will, however, be 
proper to observe generally, that habitual reverence to 
God may be justly regarded as being peculiarly the 
spirit with which his commandments are scrupulously 
and faithfully obeyed. ' Fear God,' saith Solomon, 
' and keep his commandments : for this is the whole 
duty of man :' or, in the better language of Hodgson's 
version, ' this is all that concerneth man.' Here we 
have presented to us the two great parts of human 
duty ; our active obedience, and the spirit with which 
we obey. This spirit is announced by him to be 
reverence. He does not say, ' Love God, and keep 
his commandments ;' but gives this all-comprehensive in- 
junction in what seems to me very evidently better 
language. If we suppose ourselves to love God, without 
fearing him, I have no hesitation in saying, we should 
not keep his commandments, while possessed of the 
present imperfection, either to such an extent, or with 
such exactness, as we now do when under the govern- 
ment of evangelical reverence. Reverence adds new 
motives of obedience to those which are presented by 
love considered by itself; motives pre-eminently power- 
ful and extensive, reaching the heart immediately, and 
extending to all persons, occasions, and times. Hence, 
it becomes a most powerful prompter to universal obe- 
dience ; and although love is the disposition which 
renders this emotion excellent, and although the emo- 
tion itself is only one modification of love, yet, in my 
own view, and, if I mistake not, in the view of the Scrip- 
tures also, it is, at least in such beings as men are, a 
more energetic principle than more love existing, as it 
actually does exist, in human minds. Hence, after so 



much solemn preparation in the context, God declares 
in the text, ' The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom.' 
Hence St Paul says to the Corinthians, ' Having, 
therefore, these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse 
ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh, and of the 
spirit ; perfecting holiness in the fear of God.' In this 
passage it is evident that, in the view of St Paul, the 
fear of God is the primary means of advancing per- 
sonal holiness to perfection. It is in this view, also, 
that the prophet Isaiah declares ' the fear of the Lord 
to be his treasure ;' the attribute which in man he espe- 
cially prizes, and in which he peculiarly delights. 

These observations concerning the general influence 
of this attribute are sufficient for the present purpose. 
I shall now, therefore, proceed to mention its particular 
influence on the Christian life. 

1. Religious reverence has a peculiar tendency to ren- 
der our worship acceptable to God. 

' Wherefore,' says St Paul, ' we receiving a kingdom 
which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we 
may serve him acceptably, with reverence and godly 
fear.' In this passage the grace of God is exhibited to 
us as the cause which enables us to worship God accept- 
ably; and reverence and godly fear, two names for the 
same disposition, as the spirit with which acceptable 
worship is performed. ' By this spirit,' says Dr Owen, 
' the soul is moved and excited to spiritual care and 
diligence not to provoke so great, so holy, and so jeal- 
ous a God by a neglect of that exercise of grace he re- 
quires in his service, which is due to him on account of 
his glorious excellences.' 

In accordance with this representation of the apostle, 
the psalmist says, Psalm v. 7, ' As for me, I will come 
into thy house in the multitude of thy mercy ; and in 
thy fear will I worship towards thy holy temple.' Our 
Saviour also, speaking in Psalm xxii. says, ' Ye that 
fear the Lord, praise him ; all ye seed of Jacob, glorify 
him ; and fear him, all ye seed of Israel.' In the for- 
mer of these passages, the psalmist, under the influence 
of inspiration, teaches us that the fear of God is pre- 
eminently the spirit with which he would choose to 
perform his worship in the temple ; and the spirit of 
course which he knew would render that worship accept- 
able to God. In the latter of these passages, our 
Saviour mentions those who fear God, as the proper 
persons to be employed in his praise ; and teaches us, 
therefore, that this is the spirit with which alone men 
are becomingly occupied in this solemn and delightful 
act of worship. At the close of the verse, he exhibits 
those who fear God as the persons who glorify him. 

A prime part of the character given of Job is, that 
' he feared God.' Perhaps this may be alleged as the 
true reason why his prayers for his three friends were 
accepted on their behalf; for we find him immediately 
before humbling himself in the presence of God with 
expressions of the most profound reverence. Cornelius 
also seems to have had his prayers, as well as his alms, 
accepted, because he feared God. A much stronger 
instance than these, the strongest indeed which can be 
supposed, is given us in Heb. v. 7, where it is said of 
Christ, ' who in the days of his flesh, when he had of- 
fered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying 
and tears unto him that was able to save him from 
death, and was heard in that he feared.' If this trans- 
lation of the passage be admitted, as the natural mean- 
ing of the words requires, and as, notwithstanding the 



434 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



|Ser. xciv« 



opinion of several commentators, seems reasonable ; we 
are here taught, that even Christ himself, on the great 
occasion referred to, was heard on account of the rever- 
ence with which his supplications were presented. 
Perhaps, this extraordinary declaration was made es- 
pecially to teach us, that without religious reverence no 
prayer can be accepted of God ; and thus to render us 
peculiarly careful not to approach the throne of grace 
without emotions in a high degree reverential. 

I will only add to these observations from the 
Scriptures, that a great part of the worship transcribed 
in them from the mouths of pious men, consists in 
reverential sentiments and expressions. 

What the Scriptures thus teach, is perfectly accord- 
ant with the dictates of our reason. No views, no emo- 
tions in us can be supposed to become the worship of 
God, which are not either directly reverential, or such 
as flow from a generally reverential state of mind. If 
we remember how great a being God is ; that he is self- 
existent and independent ; that he is almighty and om- 
nipresent ; that ' he searches the hearts, and tries the 
reins ; that he is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, 
and cannot look upon sinners but with abhorrence ;' if 
we think at the same time, how dependent we are upon 
him, how little we are, how guilty, how exposed to his 
anger, how imperfect in our best services, and how un- 
deserving of any acceptance ; if we remember, that ' he 
is,' and that ' there is none beside him ;' and that not 
only we, but ' all nations, are as nothing before him ;' 
that he is ' glorious in holiness, fearful in praises,' and 
transcendently awful in his purity ; it cannot be possible 
for us to avoid feeling, that no thoughts, affections, or 
conduct can become those who worship him, but such 
as are accompanied by solemn awe, and profound rever- 
ence for his perfect character ; that, as ' his name is 
holy and reverend,' so his worship should ever be cele- 
brated with ' godly fear.' 

2. Religious reverence is peculiarly the means of ex- 
citing, and keeping alive, an abhorrence of sin. 

* The fear of the Lord,' says Solomon, or rather 
Christ speaking by Solomon, ' is to hate evil,' Prov. 
viii. 13 : that is, it is a part of the very nature of reli- 
gious reverence to hate evil. ' The transgression of 
the wicked saith in my heart, there is no fear of God 
before his eyes.' In this passage the psalmist declares, 
that ' the transgression of the wicked ' proved to his 
satisfaction, that there was ' no fear of God before his 
eyes.' Why ? Plainly, because the wicked, if he feared 
God, would cease to transgress. Of Job it is said, he 
' feared God, and eschewed evil.' In this passage we 
are directly taught, that he eschewed evil because he 
feared God. After God appeared to him with awful 
glory and majesty, his views of the hatefulness and vile- 
ness of his sins, were exceedingly enhanced by the 
clear apprehensions which he entertained of the supreme 
greatness and excellency of his Maker. His reverential 
awe of God on the one hand, and his abhorrence of 
himself and his sins on the other, are very forcibly ex- 
hibited in his own language. ' Behold, I am vile ! 
What shall I answer thee ? I will lay my hand upon 
my mouth. I have heard of thee by the hearing of the 
ear ; but now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore I abhor 
myself, and repent in dust and ashes.' 

It hardly r.eeds to be observed, that nothing can im- 
press on our minds the odiousness of sin in such a 
■>nner, as clear and affecting views of the purity of 



Jehovah, and the reverence for him with which these 
views are attended ; or, in better language, of" which 
these views constitute an essential part. So entirely are 
mankind, at least those of them who speak our lan- 
guage, sensible of this, that in judicial processes against 
criminals, the law constantly assigns as a primary cause 
of their commission of crimes, that they ' had not the 
fear cf God before their eyes.' This is the strongest of 
all human testimony, that the fear of God is the great 
and controlling cause of hating and abstaining from ini- 
quity. Of course, 

3. Religious reverence is the great source of refor- 
mation. 

• The fear of the Lord,' says Solomon, ' is to hate 
evil,' Prov. viii. 1 3. In this declaration we are taught, 
that reverence of God is so extensively the cause of 
departing from evil, that it was proper, in the view of 
the Spirit of God, to declare it to be the same thing 
with ' departure from evil.' Substantially in the same 
manner is this truth exhibited in the text ; where ' the 
fear of the Lord' is declared to be ' wisdom, and depar- 
ture from evil, understanding.' By wisdom and under- 
standing here, it is scarcely necessary to say, the same 
thing is intended ; and this, in the former part of the 
verse, is declared to be ' the fear of the Lord ;' and, in 
the latter, ' departure from evil.' ' Fear the Lord,' says 
Solomon to his son, Prov. iii. 7, ' and depart from evil.' 
And again, Prov. xiv. 27, ' The fear of the Lord is a 
fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death.' 
And again, in language somewhat different, Prov. xiii. 
14, ' The law of the wise is a fountain of life, to depart 
from the snares of death.' Here religious reverence, 
styled in the former passage ' the fear of the Lord,' and 
in the latter, ' the law of the wise,' is declared to be ' a 
fountain of life,' sending forth unceasing streams, of 
which he who drinks will be both enabled and inclined 
' to depart from the snares of death ;' that is, from sins 
which are fatal snares to all who practise them. 

But to depart from evil is, necessarily, to do good. 
Moral beings are, by their nature, always employed in 
obedience or disobedience. He, therefore, who ' ceases 
to do evil,' invariably ' learns to do well;' is invariably 
employed in the great business of reforming his life, and 
endeavouring to glorify his Creator. 

4. Religious reverence is peculiarly the source of 
rectitude in our dispositions and conduct towards man- 
kind. 

' There was,' saith our Saviour, ' in a certain city, a 
judge, who neither feared God, nor regarded man.' 
This account of the subject is metaphysically and uni- 
versally just. He who does not fear God, will not 
regard man, in any such manner as reason acknowledges 
to consist with moral rectitude, and as all men declare 
to be due from man to man. He may, indeed, like the 
unjust judge in this parable, for the sake of freeing 
himself from importunity and trouble, for the sake of 
reputation, convenience, gain, or some other selfish ob- 
ject, act with propriety in his external conduct ; but he 
will never possess any real rectitude, and cannot, there- 
fore, act under its influence. 

When Jehoshaphat set judges in the land, he said 
unto them, * Take heed what ye do : for ye judge not 
for man, but for the Lord, who is with you in the judg- 
ment. Wherefore now, let the fear of the Lord be upon 
you ; take heed, and do it : for there is no iniquity 
with the Lord our God, nor respect of persons, nor 



LAW OF GOD REVERENCE OF GOD. 



485 



taking of gifts.' These are obviously the best rules 
ever given to judicial officers for the direction of their 
moral conduct; and such judges and such rulers as have 
accorded with them have undoubtedly been the best, 
when prejudice has not operated in a peculiar manner, 
which the world has even seen. In all these, the fear of 
God was the controlling principle. Concerning those 
rulers whose conduct is recorded in the Scriptures, the 
subject does not admit of a doubt ; for the'divine writers 
have marked each case so strongly, as to put it wholly 
out of question. Concerning such men as Moses, Sa- 
muel, Josiah, and Nehemiah, no man is at a loss. There 
is as little uncertainty concerning Alfred the Great, Sir 
Matthew Hale, and many others in later times. All 
these, and all other men of a similar character, were 
supremely controlled in their conduct by the fear of 
God ; the great thing insisted on by Jehoshaphat in these 
directions. 

Nehemiah particularly informs us concerning this 
subject, as it respected himself. ' The former gover- 
nors,' says he, ' who have been before me, were charge- 
able unto the people, and had taken of them bread and 
wine, besides forty shekels; yea, even their servants 
bare rule over the people : but so did not I, because of 
the fear of God.' 

Of Hananiah, the ruler of the palace, this eminently 
worthy man says, chapter vii. 2, that he ' gave him 
charge over Jerusalem, because he was a faithful man, 
and feared God above many.' Of Cornelius it is said, 
' he feared God, and gave much alms to the people.' 
Of Obadiah, the governor of Ahab's house, it is de- 
clared, that ' he feared the Lord greatly ;' and that he 
had thus feared him ' from his youth.' As a proof, as 
well as consequence, of this spirit, we are informed, 
that, when Jezebel cut off the prophets of the Lord, he 
took a hundred and fifty of them, and hid them in 
caves, where he kept and fed them, at the daily hazard 
of his life. By St Paul, religious reverence is alleged 
as the ground and directory of Christian submission to 
lawful authority, Eph. v. 21 ; and by Malachi, chapter 
iii. 10, as the cause of Christian fellowship. 

Thus we find this spirit extending its benign influ- 
ence to the various branches of Christian duty ; and 
proving a peculiarly efficacious cause of zeal and ex- 
emplariness, in all those parts of a religious life which 
contribute immediately to the well-being of our fellow 
men. 

5. Religious reverence is the foundation of peculiar 
blessings in the present world. 

' The secret of the Lord,' says the psalmist, ' is with 
them that fear him,' Psalm xxv. 14. ' He hath given 
meat to them that fear him,' Psalm cxi. 5. ' There is no 
want to them that fear him,' Psalm xxxiv. 9. ' By 
the fear of the Lord are riches and honour,' Prov. xxii. 
4. • The angel of the Lord encampeth about them 
that fear him,' Psalm xxxiv. 7 ' He will fulfill the 
desire of them that fear him,' Psalm cxlv. 19. These 
promises, and these declarations, furnish complete secu- 
rity to those who fear God, that they shall really ' want 
no good thing;' that their circumstances shall be so 
ordered, as that * all things shall work together for their 
good.' They may indeed be troubled, and persecuted, 
and even cut off by violent death. But these evils 
will take place only when they become necessary ; and 
when they themselves, as well as others, will become 
more happy in the end by mentis of them, than they 



could be without them. Ordinarily, they will find, 
in times both of adversity and prosperity, ways, and 
those very numerous, in which God will show himself 
more attentive to their real good than they themselves 
were ; and, even in this life, will often see that the most 
untoward events, as they seemed while passing, are 
such as they themselves, while taking a retrospective 
view, would choose to have had befall them. At the 
same time, all their enjoyments are blessings ; and not, 
like those of the wicked, enjoyments merely. At the 
same time also, while the sufferings of the wicked are 
punishments and curses, the afflictions of such as fear 
God are only blessings in disguise. 

C. Religious reverence is especially the means of se- 
curing eternal life. 

' Surely,' saith the psalmist, ' his salvation is nigh 
to them that fear him,' Psal. lxxxv. 9. ' I know,' saith 
Solomon, ' it shall be well with them that fear God, 
which fear before him. But it shall not be well with 
the wicked, because he feareth not before God,' Eccl. 
viii. 12, 13. And again ; ' The fear of the Lord tend- 
eth to life,' Prov. xix. 23. And again ; ' The fear of 
the Lord is a fountain of life : and, to sum up all in a 
single declaration, the wicked are declared by Christ, 
in the character of Wisdom, Prov. i. 29, to be finally 
given over to destruction, ' because they hated know- 
ledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord.' But 
it is unnecessary to spend time any farther, in illustrat- 
ing a doctrine which necessarily follows from the obser- 
vations made under the preceding heads. 



From these observations Christians are taught, 

1 . The supreme importance of the fear of God. 

This affection is indispensable to the acceptableness 
of their worship, and their obedience ; to their hatred of 
sin, their safety in temptation, and the amendment of 
their lives. It is a primary ingredient of their piety. 
It is the well-spring of their benevolence, justice, faith- 
fulness, and brotherly love ; of rectitude in them, when 
rulers ; of submission, good order, and public spirit, 
when subjects. It is indispensable to their enjoyment 
of the favour of God in this life, and his everlasting 
kindness in the life to come. Higher motives to the 
attainment of any character cannot be alleged. Let 
every Christian, then, cherish and cultivate religious 
reverence in his own mind. Let him often, and habi- 
tually, bring before his eyes the awful Being, who is 
the only object of this affection, and whose sole prero- 
gative it is to demand it of his creatures. Let him 
fasten his views on the presence and greatness^ the 
purity and glory, of Jehovah ; and solemnly discern, n»id 
confess, that he himself ' is nothing, less than nothing, 
and vanity.' In the incommunicable splendour, in the 
incomprehensible majesty, of the uncreated mind, all 
created glory is lost and forgotten. In the presence of 
the Sun of righteousness every star hides its diminished 
head. Before his beams the lustre of angels and arch- 
angels fades into nothing. In the presence of his purity 
' the heavens ' themselves, spotless as they are to a cre- 
ated eye, ' are unclean.' — ' What then is man, that 
God should, be mindful of him ; or the son of man, that 
he should visit him ?' What indeed are we — what in- 
deed must we be — in the presence of such a being as 
this? 

Such thoughts as these ought ever to be present in 



496 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SfiR. KCIV. 



the mind. Whenever it turns its views towards the 
Creator, those views ought, from motives of interest and 
duty alike, to be invariably of the most reverential kind. 
They most become the character of God ; are eminently 
pleasing in his sight ; constitute the best and happiest 
frame of mind ; and most advantageously influence us 
in all our duty. 

2. From these observations it is clear, that habitual 
reverence to God is one of the best evidences of piety. 

After what has been said, this truth needs no farther 
illustration. All that it is necessary to add is, that we 
are bound to examine ourselves accordingly. 

3. As reverence to God is the most profitable, so ir- 
reverence is the most dangerous, habit which can easily 
be conceived. 

As I shall have occasion to dwell particularly on this 
subject, when I come to consider the third command 
in the decalogue, I shall not dwell upon it here. It 
is sufficient to observe at the present time, that every 
person who is the subject of this character, ought to 
tremble at the danger to which he is daily exposing 
himself. There is no manner in which he can more 
effectually harden his own heart, or provoke the anger 
of God. 



4. He who does not reverence God habitually, is here 
taught, that he is wholly destitute of religion. 

There is a state of mind, in such persons especially 
as have been taught to fear God from the morning of 
/life, and have retained a strong influence of these im- 
pressions, which it is often difficult to distinguish from 
evangelical reverence. But there is also a state of mind 
very extensively existing, which is wholly destitute of 
this attribute, and which, if examined with an ordinary 
degree of honesty and candour, may be easily discerned. 
No infidel, no profane person, no mere sensualist, or 
worldling, needs to hesitate for a moment in determin- 
ing that he is destitute of reverence to God, and conse- 
quently of religion. Of course, he ought to regard 
himself as plainly an object of divine wrath ; and, so 
far as he has hitherto lived, an acknowledged heir of 
perdition. ' The fear of God is a fountain of life.' Ir- 
reverence to him is a well-spring of everlasting death. 
Let every irreverent man remember, therefore, that, to 
such as he is, ' God is a consuming fire.' 

I have dwelt more minutely and extensively on this 
great subject of religion, because of its inherent import- 
ance, and because it is, I think unhappily, a rare topic 
of discussion from the desk. . 



SERMON XCIV. 

THE LAW OF GOD.- THE FIRST AND GREAT COMMANDMENT.— -HUMILITY. 



Yea, all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility : for God resisleth the proud, and it 

givetli grace to the humble.— I Pet. v. 5. 



In the preceding Discourse I considered at some length 
that exercise of love to God which is styled reverence. 
I will now proceed to examine the kindred virtue of 
humility, an attribute which seems to differ from rever- 
ence, not so much in its nature, as in its object.. God 
is the object of reverence ; ourselves, of humility. The 
state of the mind in the exercise of these Christian 
graces seems to be the same. It is hardly possible that 
he who is now employed in reverencing his Maker, when 
casting his eye towards himself, should fail of being 
deeply humbled by a view of his own circumstances 
and character. 

Before 1 enter upon this examination, however, it 
will be proper to observe, that there are no other modes 
in which love to God is exerted ; and which, although 
not demanding a particular discussion here, are yet of 
high importance, and well deserve to be mentioned. 
They deserve to be mentioned because of their impor- 
tance. The reasons why they do not claim a particular 
discussion are, that more time would be demanded by 
it than can well be spared from the examination of such 
subjects as require a more minute attention, and that 
they may be sufficiently understood from the observa- 
tions made on the other exercises of piety. 

Among these, the first place is naturally due to ad- 
miration. By this I mean the train of emotions excited 
in a good mind by the wonderful nature of the various 
works of God, and the amazing power, and skill, and 



goodness, which they unfold. ' God,' saith Eliphaz, Job 
v. 9. ' doeth great things and unsearchable, marvellous 
things, without number.' These things, we find good men, 
distinguished in the Scriptures for their piety, observing 
and commemorating with a transport of admiration. ' 
sing unto the Lord,' says David, ' for he hath done mar- 
vellous things,' — ' I will show forth all thy marvellous 
works.' — ' Surely I will remember thy wonders of old.' — 
' How great are his signs,' says Nebuchadnezzar, speaking- 
at least the language of a good man, ' how mighty are his 
wonders !' What they felt they called upon others to 
feel. ' Remember,' says David, ' his marvellous works 
that he hath done ; his wonders, and the judgments of 
his mouth,' 1 Chron. xvi. 12. — ' Declare his glory among 
the heathen ; his wonders among the people,' Psal. xcvi. 
3. ' Oh give thanks to the Lord of lords who alone 
doeth great wonders ; for his mercy endureth for ever.* 
Admiration is a combined exercise of the mind ; 
and is formed of wonder and complacency. It is an 
exercise eminently delightful, and is everywhere pre- 
sented with objects to awaken it. Both creation and 
providence are full of wonders, presented to us at every 
moment, and at every step. Every attribute of God is 
fitted to excite this emotion by the amazing degree in 
which it exists ; and by the degree also in which it is 
very often displayed. Thus the psalmist speaks of the 
' marvellous loving-kindness of God ;' St Peter, of his 
' marvellous light.' King Darius says, ' He worketh 






LAW OF GOD— HUMILITY. 



437 



signs and wonders in heaven and earth.' Thus David 
says, ' I will praise thee ; for I am fearfully and won- 
derfully made.' Thus one of the names of Christ, 
whose redemption is the most marvellous of all the 
works of God, is, ' Wonderful.' 

It is to be observed, that religious admiration is en- 
tirely distinguished from wonder in the ordinary sense, 
by its union with complacency. Ordinary wonder is 
delightful, but is totally destitute of moral excellence. 
Beligious wonder is still more delightful, and may be 
excellent in any degree. 

Secondly : Dependence is also an exercise of the 
same spirit. 

That we are all dependent on God, is known to every 
person possessed of reason ; and that we are absolutely 
dependent on him for every thing which we enjoy, or 
which we need. A willingness to be thus dependent, 
a complacency in this state of things as appointed by 
God, accompanied with that humble frame of mind ne- 
cessarily attendant upon these affections, constitutes 
what is called religious dependence : a state of mind 
exactly suited to our condition, and eminently useful to 
our whole Christian character and life. 

To these may be added faith, hope, and joy, which 
have already been subjects of discussion ; and to these, 
submission, which will be made the theme of a future 
Discourse. 

The text contains a command, addressed to all those 
to whom St Peter wrote, requiring that they should be 
clothed with humility : and enforces the precept by this 
combined reason, that ' God resisteth the proud, and 
giveth grace to the humble.' No precept of revelation 
has been more disrelished by infidels than this. Hume 
attacks it in form, and considers the disposition en- 
joined as both vicious and contemptible. Still it is 
largely insisted on in the Scriptures, and is required of 
us unconditionally and indispensably. It is declared 
to precede all real honour, and thus to be necessary 
even to its existence. It is pronounced to have been 
an important attribute in the character of Christ him- 
self. ' Learn of me,' says the Saviour of mankind, 
' for I am meek and lowly of heart.' In the text it- 
self it is plainly asserted to be an object of divine fa- 
vour, in such a sense, that the grace or free love of God 
is communicated to those who are humble, and denied 
to those who are not. In the Scriptural scheme, there- 
fore, humility is invested with an importance which 
cannot be measured. 

It must indeed be confessed, that nothing is more 
unaccordant with the native disposition of mankind. 
Pride, the first sin of our common parents, has charac- 
terized all their posterity. It is not, therefore, to be 
wondered at, that humility should be disesteemed and 
calumniated. If it f were of the world, the world 
would (undoubtedly) love his own ; but because it is not 
of the world, therefore the world hateth it.' 

Of this attribute of the human mind, as it is exhi- 
bited in the Scriptures, I observe, 

1. It involves, in its nature, a just sense of our cha- 
racter and condition. 

We were born yesterday of the dust, and to-morrow 
return to the dust again. In our origin, and in our 
end, there is certainly little to awaken our pride. In 
both, we are closely allied to the beasts that perish ; and 
iiiay, with the strictest propriety, ' say to corruption, 
Thou art our father; and to the worm, Thou art our 



mother and our sister.' How strange is it, that a be- 
ing should be proud, who is going to the grave ; who in 
a few days will lie down in the dust, to become a feast of 
worms, and to be changed into a mass of earth ! Such, 
however, will speedily be the lot of the haughtiest mo- 
narch, the most renowned hero, and the proudest phi- 
losopher, who now says in his heart, ' I will ascend up 
to heaven, I will be like the Most High.' 

During this little period, we are dependent creatures. 
Nothing is more coveted, nothing more eagerly sought, 
nothing boasted of with more complacency, by the 
children of pride, than independence. But the boast 
is groundless, and the opinion which gives birth to it 
false. ' What hast thou,' says St Paul, ' which thou 
hast not received?' From God we derive ' life, and 
breath, and all things.' All of them are mere gifts of 
his bounty, and to the least of them we cannot make a 
single claim. To his sovereign pleasure, also are we 
every moment indebted for their continuance. ' That 
which he givesj we gather. He opens his hand, and 
we are filled with good. He takes away our breath ; 
Ave die, and return to dust' 

But we are not dependent on God only. To a vast 
extent we are necessarily indebted for a great body of 
our enjoyments to our fellow men. We can have nei- 
ther food nor raiment ; we can neither walk nor ride ; 
we can have neither sleep nor medicine ; we can nei- 
ther enjoy ourselves, nor be useful to others, without 
the aid of multitudes of our fellow men. Especially is 
the proud man thus dependent. Life to him is only a 
scene of suffering, unless he is continually regaled by 
the real or imagined respect of those around him. 
Homage is the food on which he lives, and applause 
the atmosphere in which alone he is able to breathe. 

Among those on whom we are thus dependent, some- 
times for life itself, and always for its comforts, are to 
be regularly numbered the poor, whom we are so prone 
to despise; nay, the slaves, whom we regard as having 
been created merely as instruments of our pleasure. 
To what a lowly condition is a haughty man thus re- 
duced, and how different his actual situation from that 
which his conversation and demeanour would induce 
us to imagine. 

Nor is our situation less precarious than it is depend- 
ent. The possessions, the comforts, the hopes, which 
we enjoy to-day, may all to-morrow vanish for ever. 
Our ' riches may make to themselves wjngs as an eagle, 
and fly away towards heaven.' Our health may be 
wrested from us by disease, and our comfort by pain. 
We may become decrepit, deaf, or blind. Our friends 
and families may bid us the last adieu, and retire to 
the world of spirits. Nay, ourselves and our pride 
may be buried together in the grave. What founda- 
tion does such a state of existence furnish on which to 
build our pride ? 

We are also ignorant. Much, indeed, is said of our 
learning and science. It would be well if more could 
be said, and said with truth, concerning our wisdom. 
With all our boasts, how little do we know ! How 
many objects are presented to us every day, of which 
we know nothing except their existence ! How many 
questions do even little children ask, which no philoso- 
pher is able to answer ! How many subjects of inves- 
tigation say to every inquirer, ' Hitherto shalt thou 
come, but no farther.' 

Every thing which we know brings up to our view 






488 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xciv. 



the many more which we cannot know ; and thus daily 
forces upon us, if we will open our eyes, irresistible con- 
viction of the narrowness of those limits by which our 
utmost researches are bounded, of the infantile nature 
of our actual attainments, of the smallness of those 
which are possible. 

Among the subjects which display this ignorance in 
the strongest degree, those of a moral nature, those 
which immediately concern our duty and salvation, in- 
finitely more important to us than any others, hold the 
primary place. What man is able to find out of him- 
self concerning those, we know by what he has actually 
found cut. Cast your eyes over this great globe, and 
over the past ages of time, and mark the nature of the 
religious systems invented by man. How childish, how 
senseless, how self-contradictory, have been the opin- 
ions ; how infatuated, how sottish, the precepts by 
which they have professedly regulated the moral con- 
duct of men ; how debased, how full of turpitude, how 
fraught with frenzy, the religious services by which they 
have laboured to propitiate their gods, and obtain a 
future happy existence ; nay, what mere creatures of 
Bedlam were the gods themselves, and their delirious 
worshippers ! 

But for the Scriptures, we should now have the same 
views which have been spread over the whole heathen 
world ; and might this day have been prostrating our- 
selves before stocks and stones, and looking to drunken- 
ness, prostitution, and the butchery of human victims, 
as the means of obtaining a happy immortality. How 
inexpressibly deplorable is this ignorance ! How hum- 
ble the character of those of whom it can be truly pre- 
dicated ! 

For our exception from all these errors, we are in- 
debted solely to the Bible. But, with this invaluable 
book in our hands, we reluctantly admit, in many 
cases, even its fundamental truths ; truths of supreme 
importance to the establishment of virtue in our minds, 
and to the acquisition of eternal life beyond the grave ; 
truths which are the glory of the revealed system, and 
which have been the means of conducting to heaven ' a 
multitude which no man can number.' In the place of 
these, what absurdities have not been imbibed ! — ab- 
surdities immeasurably disgraceful to the understand- 
ing, and absolutely ruinous to the soul. How long 
these absurdities have reigned ! How widely they have 
spread ! What innumerable mischiefs they have done ! 
How strongly they discover a violent tendency in our 
nature to reject truth and welcome error I Who, with 
this picture before him, can doubt that on this account 
we have abundant reason for humility ? 

In addition to these things, we are sinful creatures. 
' The heart,' says the prophet Jeremiah, ' is deceitful 
above all things, and desperately wicked.' He who 
reads the three first chapters of the Epistle to the Ro- 
mans, or peruses the history of mankind, or attentively 
considers the conduct of himself and his fellow men, 
will, without much hesitation, adopt the decision of the 
prophet. It is wonderful that sinful beings should be 
proud of their character ; and remarkable that pride is 
indulged by no other beings. Of what shall we be 
proud? In our conversation, and in our writings, we 
charge each other endlessly with impiety, profaneness, 
perjury, irreligion, injustice, fraud, falsehood, slander, 
oppression, cruelty, theft, lewdness, sloth, gluttony, and 
drunkenness. The charges are either true or false. If 



they are false, they are in themselves abominable wick-, 
edness. If they are true, those on whom they rest are 
abominably wicked. What an unhappy foundation is 
here furnished for pride ! 

If we look into our own hearts, and into our own 
lives, and perform this duty faithfully, we shall find am- 
ple reason for self-condemnation ; we shall see that our 
own hearts, at least, answer to the declaration of Jere- 
miah ; we shall see ourselves alienated from God, 
revolted from his government, opposed to his law, un- 
grateful for his blessings, distrustful of his sincerity, 
and discontented with his administrations. With all 
these sins before us, we shall find ourselves slow of heart 
to believe or repent. 

God has provided for us, and proffered to us, deliver- 
ance from our sins, and from the punishment which 
they have merited. He has sent a Saviour into the 
world, to redeem us from under the curse of the law, 
and that by the effusion of his own blood ; but we re- 
ject him. He has sent his Spirit to sanctify us, and to 
make us his children ; but we resist his influence. He 
has offered to be reconciled to us ; but we refuse to be 
reconciled to him. We might be virtuous, we might 
be happy ; but we will not. What causes for humilia- 
tion are here presented to our view ! 

Finally : we are miserable creatures. In the present 
world we are, to a great extent, unhappy. Cold and 
heat, hunger and thirst, anxiety, disappointment, toil, 
poverty, loss of friends, disgrace, sorrow, pain, disease, 
and death, divide among them a great part of our days, 
and leave us scarcely more than a few transient gleams 
of ease, comfort, and hope. How often are most of 
these evils doubled and tripled by similar sufferings of 
such as are dear to us in the bonds of nature and affec- 
tion ! How truly does Job declare, that ' man who is 
born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble !' 

From these calamities, our only way of escape con- 
ducts us to the grave. Beyond that dreary mansion 
stands the last tribunal, at which our eternal doom will 
be irreversibly fixed. But the only reward of sin is 
perdition, perdition final and irremediable. This is the 
deplorable end of the sins and miseries which so exten- 
sively constitute our character and our allotments in 
the present world. 

Look now at the description which has been given, 
and tell me for which of these things we shall be proud. 
Is it our origin, our dependence, the precariousness of 
our life and its enjoyments, our ignorance, our errors, 
our sins, or our miseries ? 

In the mean time, let it be remembered, that this very 
pride is one of our grossest sins ; whether it be pride of 
birth, of wealth, of beauty, of talents, of accomplish- 
ments, of exploits, of place, of power, or of moral cha- 
racter. ' A proud look,' from whatsoever source de- 
rived, ' is an abomination to the Lord.' Angels by 
their pride lost heaven. Our first parents by their pride 
ruined the world. 

That the view, which has been here given of the state 
and character of man is just, will not, because it cannot, 
be questioned. Conformed to it are all the views en- 
tertained, of the same subjects, by every man possessing 
the humility of the gospel. On these very considera- 
tions, especially as applied to himself, is his humility 
founded. 

2. Humility involves a train of affections accordant 
with such a sense of our character and condition. 



LAW OF GOD— HUMILITY. 



4S9 



It involves that candour and equity which dispose us 
to receive and acknowledge truth, however humbling 
to our pride, or painful to our fears, in preference to 
error, however soothing or flattering. The humble man 
feels assured, also, that it is his true interest to know 
and feel the worst of his situation : that a just sense of 
his condition may be the means of rendering it more 
hopeful and more desirable ; that false conceptions of 
it, on the contrary, cannot possibly do him any good, 
and will, in all probability, do him much harm ; that 
truth is a highway, which may conduct him to heaven ; 
but that error is a labyrinth, in which he may be lost 
for ever. 

Equally disposed is he to do justice to the several 
subjects of his contemplation. Cheerfully is he ready 
to feel and to acknowledge that he is just such a being 
as he is ; that he is no wiser, no better, no more hon- 
ourable, and no more safe ; but just as lowly, as depen- 
dent, as ignorant, as guilty, and as much in danger, as 
truth pronounces him to be. With the humiliation, de- 
pendence, and precariousness of his circumstances he is 
satisfied, because they are ordained by his Maker. His 
guilt he acknowledges to be real ; and at the sight of it 
willingly takes his place in the dust. His sufferings he 
confesses to be merited, and therefore bows submissive- 
ly beneath the rod. Claims he makes none, for he 
feels that there is nothing in himself to warrant them ; 
and, although he wishes ardently to escape from his sin 
and misery, he never thinks of demanding it as a right ; 
but, so far as he is permitted, humbly hopes it as a gift 
of free grace, as a mere blessing derived from the over- 
flowing mercy of his Creator. 

Among the subjects which his situation forces upon 
his mind, the means of expiating his guilt becomes one 
of primary importance. After surveying it on every 
side, he pronounces the attempt hopeless ; and sees with 
full conviction, that, if God should mark iniquity, it 
would be- impossible for him to stand. In this melan- 
choly situation he does not, like the man of the world, 
rise up in haughty rebellion against God ; he does not 
say, ' Who is the Almighty, that I should serve him ; 
and what profit shall I have, if I pray unto him ?' He 
does not insolently exclaim, ' Why doth he yet find 
fault, for who hath resisted his will ?' On the contrary, 
in the language of Job, he modestly cries out, ' Behold, 
I am vile, what shall I answer thee ? I will lay my 
hand upon my mouth. I abhor myself, and repent in 
dust and ashes.' With Daniel, he ' sets his face unto 
the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplications, 
with fastings, and sackcloth, and ashes ; and he prays 
unto the Lord his God, and makes his confession, and 
says, O Lord, the great and dreadful God ! keeping 
the covenant and mercy to them that love thee, I have 
sinned, and have committed iniquity, and have done 
wickedly, and have rebelled by departing from thy pre- 
cepts, and from thy judgments.' 

But, although in himself he sees no means of deliver- 
ance or escape, he finds in the Scriptures of truth 
ample provision made for both. The provision is com- 
plete. An expiation is there made for the sins of men ; 
and a deliverance from the miseries to which they were 
destined, effectuated ; which involve all that the most 
sanguine mind can wish concerning both. Still the 
scheme involves an absolute humiliation of human 
pride ; for it represents man as totally destitute of any 
thing in his native character, or in his efforts, which 



can recommend him to God, or which can be regarded 
by the final Judge as any ground of his justification. 
It is a scheme of mere mercy ; and every one who is to 
receive the blessings of it must come in the character of 
a penitent supplicating for pardon through the right- 
eousness of a Redeemer. 

Nothing can be more painful to pride than this 
scheme of deliverance ; but nothing can be more wel- 
come to the heart of genuine humility. God, in the 
great work of forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying 
man, appears to the humble, penitential mind, invested 
with peculiar glory, excellence, and loveliness. ' God,' 
says St Paul, ' who commanded the light to shine out 
of darkness, hath shined into our hearts, to give us the 
light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face 
of Jesus Christ.' In the work of redemption, accom- 
plished by this divine person, the character of God is 
seen by the sanctified mind in a light entirely new, and 
more honourable to him than that which is presented 
by any other work, either of creation or providence. 
His benevolence shines here, in the exercise of mercy 
towards the apostate children of men, in a manner 
which is new and singular ; a manner in which it has 
been displayed to the inhabitants of no other part of 
the universe. Here especially it is discerned, that ' God 
is love ;' and the humble penitent is so deeply affected 
with the kindness manifested in expiating and forgiv- 
ing sin, and renewing the soul, that he is ready to ex- 
claim with the psalmist, ' Not unto me, O Lord, not 
unto me, but to thy name give glory, for thy mercy, 
and for thy truth's sake.' In the midst of his astonish- 
ment that such mercy should be extended to him, a 
poor, guilty, miserable wretch, unworthy, in his own 
view, of the least of all mercies, the pride, even of self- 
righteousness, is for a while, at least, laid asleep ; and 
his thoughts and affections, instead of being turned to- 
wards himself, are absorbed in the condescension and 
goodness of his Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. 

It is impossible for the man in whom this attribute is 
found not to turn his thoughts, from time to time, to 
the perfect purity of God. No subject of contemplation 
can more strongly impress upon the mind a sense of its 
own impurity. ' In his sight the heavens themselves 
are not clean, and the angels before him are charged 
with folly.' How much more ' abominable and filthy ' 
to the eye of the penitent must man appear, who 
' drinketh iniquity like water ?' In the sight of this aw- 
ful and most affecting object, he will almost necessarily 
exclaim, with Job, ' I have heard of thee by the hear- 
ing of the ear, but now mine eye seelh thee! Where- 
fore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.' 

When such a man contemplates the character of his 
Christian brethren, emotions of the same general nature 
will necessarily occupy his mind. St Paul has directed 
Christians to ' forbear one another in all lowliness and 
meekness of mind, and to esteem others better than 
themselves.' This precept, which to a man of the 
world appears absurd and incapable of being obeyed, 
involves no difficulty in the eye of him who is evangeli- 
cally humble. The sins of other Christians are, of 
course, imperfectly known to him. Their sins of 
thought are all hidden from his eyes : their sins of ac- 
tion he rarely witnesses ; and of those which are per- 
petrated in his presence, he cannot know either the ex- 
tent, or malignity. His own sins, in the mean time, 
both of heart and of life, are in a sense always naked 
3 Q 



490 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xciv. 



before him, and he can hardly fail to discern, in some 
good degree, their numher, their aggravations, and 
their guilt. Hence other Christians will, in a compar- 
ative sense, appear to him to be clean ; while himself 
will seem unsound and polluted, from the crown of the 
head to the sole of the foot. In this situation, the 
difficulty of esteeming others better than himself van- 
ishes. Impossible, as it would be, for a proud man to 
think in this manner, the only difficulty to the humble 
man is to think in any other. 

Such at all times, with the exceptions for which the 
human character always lays the foundation, will be the 
emotions naturally imbibed, and strongly cherished, by 
Christian humility. But there are certain seasons in 
which they will be excited in a peculiar degree. Such 
will be the case in the house of God. Here he is 
brought immediately into the presence of his Maker ; 
here he appears in the character of a sinner, and of a 
suppliant for mercy ; here he draws nigh to his Maker 
in the solemn ordinances of the sanctuary; here the 
character and sufferings of the Redeemer are set before 
him in the light of heaven ; here he witnesses all the 
wonders of redeeming, forgiving, and sanctifying love. 
What God is, and what he himself is, what he has done 
to destroy himself, and what God has done to save him 
from destruction, are here presented to his eye, and 
brought home to his heart, in the most affecting man- 
ner. In this solemn place, also, he is in the midst of 
his fellow Christians, uniting with them in their prayers 
and praises, and sitting with them at the table of Christ, 
to celebrate his sufferings, and ' the love wherewith he 
loved us, and gave himself for us.' In such a situation, 
how great and good must his Father, Redeemer, and 
Sanctifier, appear ! How little, how unworthy, how sin- 
ful, himself! How strange must it seem, that he, who 
is unworthy of the least, should thus be put into the 
possession of the greatest of all mercies ! How naturally, 
how often, and how anxiously, will he inquire, whether 
it can be proper for such a being as himself, to unite 
with the followers of the Redeemer in their worship, 
share in their privileges, and participate in their hopes 
and in their joys ! 

Feelings of the same general nature will also be 
awakened, and often in an equal degree, when he re- 
tires to his closet to pray to his Father who is in secret. 
Here he withdraws entirely from the world, and meets 
his Maker face to face. The divine character and his 
own must be brought before his eyes in the strongest 
light, while he is employed in confessing his sins, and 
supplicating pardon and sanctification, gratefully ac- 
knowledging the blessings which he has received, and 
humbling asking for those which he needs. How natur- 
ally would he exclaim, ' Lord, what is man, that thou 
art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou 
shouldst visit him !' 

Such, if I mistake not, are the views formed by 
Christian humility ; and such the affections of the mind 
in which it prevails. 

REMARKS. 

From these observations it is evident, 

1. That evangelical humility is exactly conformed to 
the real circumstances and character of men. 

The views which the humble man entertains of him- 
self and of his condition are exactly suited to both. He 
is just such a being as he supposes himself to be, and 



in just such a condition. His origin is as lowly, his 
situation as dependent and precarious, his mind as ig- 
norant and erring, his character as guilty, and his des- 
tination fraught with as much distress and danger, as 
he himself realizes. His views, therefore, are absolutely 
true and just. If such views then are honourable to a 
rational being, if no other thoughts can be honourable 
to such a being, then the views entertained by humility 
are honourable to the human character. On the con- 
trary, the views of pride, or, as Mr Hume chooses to 
style it, self-valuation, are absolutely unsuited both to 
the condition and character of man. They are radically 
and universally unjust and false, and of course are only 
disgraceful and contemptible. 

The affections which have been here considered, as 
involved in humility, are evidently no less just. They 
spring irresistibly from those views ; and no sober mind 
can entertain the latter without experiencing the former. 
These affections are all plainly the harmony of the 
heart with the dictates of the understanding; dictates 
seen and acknowledged to be just and certain, and, 
where the heart is governed by candour, irresistible. 
Whenever the mind sees itself to be thus ignorant, erring, 
and sinful, and its situation thus dependent, precarious, 
and distressing, it cannot, without violence done to it- 
self, fail of feeling both the character and condition, 
and of feeling them deeply ; for they are objects of im- 
measurable importance to its whole well-being. Equally 
just are the affections which he exercises towards his 
Maker and his fellow Christians. The difference be- 
tween the character of God and his own character being 
seen to be such ; so entire, so vast, particularly as he is 
infinitely holy and pure, while himself is altogether 
polluted with guilt ; no emotions can be proper towards 
this great and glorious Being which do not involve a 
strong sense of this amazing moral difference between 
him and itself. In such a case, where there is no humil- 
ity, there can be no reverence towards God ; and where 
there is no reverence, it is impossible that there should 
be any thing acceptable towards him. 

In the same manner, humility enters into every other 
affection of a sanctified mind towards its Maker. Our 
views of the mercy of God exercised towards us, and 
the emotions excited by them, are exactly proportioned 
to the apprehensions which we form of our own un- 
worthiness. He ' to whom much is forgiven,' our Savi- 
our informs us, ' will love much.' Pardon, mercy, and 
grace, are terms which mean little, if they have any 
meaning that is realized in the eye of him who is not 
humbled for his sins, and who does not feel his own 
absolute need of pardon. The song of the redeemed is 
sung only by those who realize the love of Christ, be- 
cause he has ' washed them from their sins in his own 
blood.' The gratitude, therefore, exercised to God for 
his unspeakable mercy, in forgiving our sins, and re- 
deeming us from under the curse of the law, will in a 
great measure be created by our humility. 

In the same manner does it enhance our complacency 
in the divine character. Of dependence, it is the 
essence ; of adoration, and indeed of all our worship, it 
is the substance and the soul. 

2. From these observations it is evident, that no man 
can hope for acceptance with God without humility. 

' God,' says the text, ' resisted) the proud, but giveth 
grace (or favour) to the humble.' The proud and the 
humble, are two great classes, including the whole of 



LAW OF GOD— RESIGNATION. 



491 



the human race. Of which class does it seem probable 
to the eye of sober reason, that the infinitely perfect 
Author of all things will select his own family, and the 
objects of his everlasting love ? Those who possess the 
views and the spirit here described ; or those who in- 
dulge the ' self-valuation' so grateful to Mr Hume? 
Those who boldly come before him with ' God, I thank 
thee that I am not as other men ;' or those who ' dare 
not lift up their eyes to heaven ; but, smiting upon their 
breasts, say, God be merciful to me a sinner ! ' How 
obvious is it to common sense, that, if he accept any of 
our race, they will be such as have just views of their 
character and condition ; of their own absolute unwor- 
thincss ; of the greatness of his mercy in forgiving their 
sins and sanctifying their souls ; of the transcendent 
glory of the Redeemer in becoming their propitiation ; 
and of the infinite benignity of the divine Spirit, in 
renewing them in the image, and restoring them to the 
favour, of God ! Who else can possess the spirit, who 
else can unite in the employments, who else can har- 
monize in the praises, of the first-born ? 

Let me ask, is it possible that a proud man should be 
a candidate for immortal life ; whether proud of his 
birth, his wealth, his station, his accomplishments, or 
his moral character? Suppose him to arrive in the 
regions of life, in what manner would his pride be em- 
ployed ? Which of these subjects would he make the 
theme of his conversation with the spirits of just men 
made perfect ? How would he blend his pride with 
their worship ; how would he present it before the 
throne of God ? 

3. From these observations also we learn that humi- 
lity is a disposition eminently lovely. 

' Learn of me,' says the Saviour of mankind to proud 
and perishing sinners, ' for I am meek and lowly of 
heart.' How astonishing a declaration from the mouth 
• of Him who controlled the elements with a word, at 
whose command the dead were raised to life, and at 
whose rebuke demons trembled and fled? Draw 
nigh, ye miserable worms of the dust, place yourselves 
by the side of this glorious person, and recite before 
him the foundations on which your loftiness rests ; your 
riches, your rank, your talents, and your stations. How 



will these subjects appear to his eye ? How will those 
appear, who make them the grounds of their self-valua- 
tion ? Meekness and lowliness of heart adorned him 
with beauty inexpressible. Can pride be an ornament 
to you ? 

Would you be amiable in the sight of God, you must 
essentially resemble Him who was * altogether lovely.' 
Even you yourselves cannot but discern, that, had he 
been proud, it would have tarnished his character, and 
have eclipsed the face of the Sun of righteousness. 

In the mean time let Christians remember, and feel, 
that they themselves will be lovely, exactly in propor- 
tion as they approximate to the character of the Re- 
deemer in their humility. ' Let the same mind,' says 
St Paul to the Philippians, ' be in you, which was also 
in Christ : who, being in the form of God, thought it 
no robbery to be equal with God ; but made himself of 
no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, 
and was made in the likeness of men ; and being found 
in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became 
obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.' From 
what a height did he descend ! How lowly the visible 
station which he assumed ! 

Your humility towards God will make you lovely in 
his sight ; your humility towards your fellow Christians 
will make you lovely in theirs. In both cases it will 
be a combination of views and affections conformed to 
truth, exactly suited to your character and circum- 
stances, and equally conformed to the good pleasure of 
God, and to the perfect example of his beloved Son. It 
will mingle with all your affections and make them 
sweet and delightful. It will operate on all your con- 
duct, and make it amiable in the sight of every behold- 
er. From pride and all its wretched consequences, it 
will deliver you. Of the grace of God it will assure 
you. ' For to this man will I look,' says the high and 
lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, *. even to him, who 
is of an humble and contrite spirit ; to revive the spirit 
of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite.' 
It will accompany you through life, and lessen all the 
troubles, and increase all the comforts, of your pilgrim- 
age. It will soften your dying bed, and enhance your 
hope and your confidence before the last tribunal. 






SERMON XCV. 

THE LAW OF GOD— THE FIRST AND GREAT COMMANDMENT RESIGNATION. 



And he was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast, and kneeled down and prayed, saying, Father, if thou 
be willing, remove this cup from me : nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done. — Luke xxii. 41, 42. 



The next exercise of love to God in our progress is, 
resignation. 

Of this excellence the text contains the most perfect 
example, which has been recorded or witnessed in the 
universe. Our Saviour, while in the garden of Gethse- 
mane, having ' withdrawn from his disciples about a 
stone's cast, kneeled down, and prayed,' under an 
agonizing sense of the evils which he was about to 



suffer. His prayer in the midst of this agony was, 
' Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me : 
nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done!' The 
situation of Christ was much more trying than we can 
conceive. Yet in this situation he bows his will entirely 

! to the will of God ; and prays him to remove the cup, 
only on the condition that he is willing; and that not 

' his own will, but the will of the Father, may be done. 



492 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. xcv. 



The occasion was wonderful; the resignation was com- 
plete. He yielded himself entirely into the hands of 
his Father, and earnestly desired that his will, whatever 
it should cost himself, might he done. Nothing can be 
more edifying than this example, nor can any thing be 
more instructive. By it we are taught, 

1. That religious resignation is a quiet yielding of 
ourselves to the disposal of God, and not to the mere 
sufferance of evil. 

Christ prayed earnestly and repeatedly, that if it 
were possible, the evil, or ' the cup, might pass from 
him.' That this was perfect rectitude on his part, will 
not be questioned. What he, with perfect rectitude, 
desired to escape, we may, with entire rectitude also, 
desire to escape. As he was not willing to suffer evil ; 
it was perfectly right, that he should not be willing. It 
is entirely right, therefore, that we should be equally 
unwilling. 

But Christ was entirely willing to do and to suffer 
whatever God willed hiin to do or to suffer. He was, 
however, disposed thus to do and suffer merely because 
it was the will of God ; and because that will requires 
nothing but what is perfectly wise and good, and per- 
fectly desirable. As, therefore, the perfect resignation 
of our Saviour was a yielding of himself to the will of 
God, and not at all to mere suffering ; so it is clear, 
beyond a debate, that religious resignation is, in every 
case, of this nature only. 

2. That it is our duty to resign ourselves to the will 
of God entirely, and that in all situations of life. 

The situation in which Christ expressed the resigna- 
tion in the text, was certainly much more trying than 
any which men experience in the present world. At 
the same time, he had not merited this distress by any 
fault or defect of his own. His pure and perfect mind 
was free alike from error and from sin. Accordingly, 
in that memorable prayer contained in the seventeenth 
chapter of John, and uttered just before his agony in 
the garden, he could say with perfect confidence, as 
well as with exact truth and propriety, ' I have glorified 
thee on the earth ; I have finished the work which thou 
gavest me to do. And now, O Father ! glorify thou 
me, with thine own self, with the glory which I had 
with thee before the world was.' Yet, in this situation 
of peculiar distress, he gave up entirely every wish of 
his own ; choosing rather to suffer these wonderful 
afflictions, if it were the will of God that he should suf- 
fer them, than to escape them, if it were not. Whatever 
afflictions befall us, we are ever to remember that we 
have deserved them, and that they are always inferior 
in intenseness to those which were suffered by Christ. 
Our reasons for resigning ourselves entirely to the dis- 
posal of God, therefore, are, in some respects, greater 
than his. In all situations it, of course, becomes us to 
' be still, and know,' that he who afflicts us is ' God.' 

To render our resignation entire, it is indispensable 
that it should be unmingled with murmuring, impa- 
tience, distrust of the goodness of God, or any dissatis- 
faction with his providence. We may lawfully wish 
not to suffer evil, considered by itself; but we cannot 
lawfully wish that the will of God should not be done. 
Nor can we lawfully complain at any time of that which is 
done by his will. He who complains has not, if he is re- 
signed at all, arrived at the due degree of resignation. 
Jeremiah, with irresistible force, asks, ' Shall a living 
man complain ; a man for the punishment of his sins?' 



3. Religious resignation is perfectly consistent with 
the clearest and strongest sense of the evils which we 
suffer ; and with the deepest distress while we suffer. 

Christ, as I have observed, was perfectly resigned. 
Yet Christ felt, in the deepest manner, the whole ex- 
tent of the evils which he suffered. This we know, 
both because he prayed to be delivered from them, if 
it were possible ; and because his agonies forced the 
sweat to descend upon him in ' the form of great drops 
of blood.' What Christ did in this respect, it is lawful 
for us to do. Christ felt these evils to their full extent, 
and yet was perfectly resigned. We, therefore, may, 
in the same manner, feel the evils which we experience, 
and yet be the subjects, in this very conduct, of true 
evangelical resignation. 

4. Christian resignation is perfectly consistent with 
the most ■ fervent supplications to God, for deliverance 
from the evils which we suffer. 

The evidence of this is complete in the example of 
Christ. Christ thus prayed, while yet he was perfectly 
resigned ; we, of course, may thus pray, without lessen- 
ing at all the degree, or affecting the genuineness, of 
our resignation. 

The obligations which we are under to exercise this 
spirit, are founded both in the command of God and 
the nature of things. The command of God carries 
with it, in all cases, an authority and obligation which 
are without limits. With this authority he requires us 
to be resigned to his whole will ; asserting it, with the 
most perfect propriety, to be his prerogative alone to 
prescribe, and our duty entirely to obey. We are his 
creatures ; and are, therefore, under all possible obliga- 
tion to do his pleasure. At the same time, his will is 
perfectly right, and ought exactly to be obeyed, even if 
there were no authority to bind, and no reward to 
retribute, our obedience. Our own supreme good is 
entirely promoted by our obedience only, both as the 
obedience itself is delightful, and as it is followed by a 
glorious and divine reward. 

Resignation is not merely a single act, but a general 
course of obedience ; a general preparation of the heart 
to yield itself to God's known will, and his promised 
dispensations. I here include, and have all long in- 
cluded what is commonly called submission. Submis- 
sion differs from resignation in nothing but this : Sub- 
mission is yielding the heart to the divine will, in that 
which has already taken place, or is now taking place ; 
and resignation, yielding the heart to that which it is 
foreseen may or will hereafter take place. The spirit 
is exactly the same, as to its nature, in all instances ; 
and the difference is found only in its regarding the 
past, present, or future accomplishment of the divine 
will. This distinction is so nearly a nominal one only, 
that both names are used indiscriminately ; and of so 
little importance as to preclude any necessary regard to 
it in this Discourse. 

This disposition is the only becoming temper in suf- 
fering creatures, so far as their sufferings are concerned. 
The sufferings of mankind in the present world are all 
expressions of the will of God. There are but three 
dispositions, with which they can be regarded ; impa- 
tience, indifference, or acquiesence. It cannot be ne- 
cessary for me to show, that the last of these is the 
only spirit with which we can receive either profitably 
or becomingly the chastisements inflicted by the hand 
of God. 



LAW OF GOD.— RESIGNATION. 



493 



To acquiesce in the divine pleasure under sufferings 
is a strong, and eminently excellent exercise of love 
and reverence to God. It is not easy to conceive how 
we can give a higher or more decisive testimony of our 
delight in the divine character, or our approbation of 
the divine government, than by quietly yielding to that 
government in circumstances of suffering and sorrow ; 
by testifying with the heart, that we have such a sense 
of the wisdom and goodness of God, as to be satisfied 
to undergo whatever afflictions he is pleased to send 
upon us, and to give up our own wishes and comforts, 
(hat the pleasure of God may be done, and his glory 
promoted. This is an exercise of love to our Maker 
which proves itself to be genuine and excellent, by the 
willing self-denial which it encounters, and by the vic- 
tory which it gains over interest and pleasure power- 
fully present. 

It is also to be remembered, that the Christian, not- 
withstanding he is a Christian, is still a sinful being. 
Afflictions are punishments of his sins, imcomparably 
less than he has deserved. Resignation to them is a 
candid, equitable, dutiful acknowledgment of the jus- 
tice of God in sending them, and an humble confession 
of the sins by which they have been deserved. 

By this spirit the general selfishness of the mind is 
gradually wasted away, the strength of passion and ap- 
petite continually weakened, its impiety prevented, its 
ingratitude destroyed, and its rebellion broken down. 
The rebel is converted into a child. A serenity and 
quietness of disposition take possession of the soul, al- 
lay the bitterness of its distresses, soothe all its tumults 
into peace, mingle comfort in the cup of sorrow, and 
happily blend with all its sufferings the inherent de- 
light of resignation, a supporting sense of the approba- 
tion and favour of God. 



From this passage of Scripture, thus considered, it is 
evident, 

1. That willingness to suffer perdition is no part of 
Christian resignation. 

It is well known to my audience, that the contrary 
doctrine to that which I have here asserted, has been 
taught by men of distinguished reputation for learning 
and piety ; and it is equally well known, that no human 
learning and piety will furnish a sufficient security from 
error. All human opinions, therefore, may be war- 
rantably questioned ; and none are to be received, with- 
out evidence, upon the mere reputation of their authors. 
While, therefore, I would treat the authors with be- 
coming respect, I shall take the liberty freely to ques- 
tion their opinions. 

That Christian resignation does not at all involve a 
willingness to suffer perdition, is, in my view, unan- 
swerably clear from the text. To the arguments de- 
rived from this source, I shall however add a few, out 
of many suggested by the nature of the subject. 

(1.) Christian resignation is resignation to nothing 
but the will of God. This position has, if I mistake 
not, been proved beyond debate in the body of the Dis- 
course. The will of God, by which we are to be go- 
verned, is plainly that which is, or can be known to us. 
The proof of this, both from reason and Scripture, is 
complete. Reason teaches us, or rather we know by 
intuition, that it is impossible for us to be governed by 

fie which we cannot know. Revelation informs us, 



that ' secret things belong to God ;' and that only '■ the 
things which are revealed belong to us, and to our chil- 
dren, for ever ; that we may do all the words of his 
law.' That, then, which is not known to us, cannot 
belong to us, in any sense, as a rule, or part of our 
duty. 

But it is not known, and without a new and direct 
revelation it cannot be known, to any man living, to 
be the will of God, that he should suffer perdition. 
The Scriptures reveal to us, that the impenitent and 
unbelieving will indeed suffer this terrible punishment. 
But they do not reveal to any man, that he himself will 
be impenitent and unbelieving when he leaves the 
world, or that he will finally be condemned. It is im- 
possible, therefore, for any man to know in this world, 
that the will of God will require him to suffer perdi- 
tion. If, then, he resigns himself to this dreadful al- 
lotment, as being a part of the will of God, he himself 
presumptuously establishes, by his own contrivance and 
conjecture, something as the will of God, which God 
has not declared to be such ; which the man himself 
cannot know to be such, while in the present world ; 
and which he cannot lawfully presume to be such. In- 
stead, therefore, of resigning himself to the divine will, 
he resigns himself to a will which his own imagination 
creates for God ; and is guilty of intruding into the pro- 
vince and assuming the prerogatives, of his Creator. 

(2.) Every sincere professor of religion either knows 
or believes himself to be a Christian. 

If he knows himself to be a Christian, then he knows 
it to be contrary to the will of God that he should be 
finally condemned, or that he should suffer the miseries 
of perdition. To be willing, in this case, to suffer these 
miseries, is to be willing to suffer that which is known 
by him to be contrary to the will of God. It is a con- 
sent to prevent Christ of one trophy of his cross, one 
glorious fruit of his sufferings, aud to take a gem from 
his crow"n of glory. 

If the professor believes himself to be a Christian, 
then, in being willing to suffer perdition, he is willing 
to suffer in direct contradiction to what he believes to 
be the will of God. His belief here ought to have ex- 
actly the same influence on his disposition and conduct 
as his knowledge in the former case. Wherever we 
have not, and, at the time when we are to act, cannot 
have, certainty, we are under absolute obligation to be 
governed by the highest probability. In this case, 
therefore, the duty of the professor is exactly the same 
as in the former. 

When we remember that the sufferer becomes, of 
course, the eternal enemy of God and of all good, and 
that the professor, in thus consenting to suffer, consents 
in the same act to be the eternal enemy of God and of 
all good ; and when this consent is yielded in direct 
contradiction to what he either knows or believes to be 
the will of God ; it will, I think, be difficult to find a 
reason which will evince this conduct to be a part of 
the Christian's duty. 

(3.) There is no precept in the Scriptures enjoining 
this conduct. 

It certainly must seem strange, that a duty so extra- 
ordinary, and so fitted to perplex the minds of mere 
men should, if it be really a duty, be nowhere express- 
ly enjoined. Certainly, it is not likely to be easily 
embraced by any man. It can hardly be supposed, 
therefore, if it be really a part of the evangelical sys- 



494 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcv. 



tern, to be left to inference, philosophy, and supposition. 
No precept, so far as we are able to judge, needs more 
to be clear and express than that which should require 
of us this singular mental effort. But such precept 
cannot be found. 

(4.) There is no example of such resignation recorded 
in the Scriptures. 

There are two examples, which are alleged in sup- 
port of the resignation in question. The first is in 
Exod. xxxii. 31, 32, ' And Moses returned unto the 
Lord, and said, Oh ! this people have sinned a great 
sin, and have made them gods of gold. Yet now, if thou 
wilt, forgive their sin ; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, 
out of thy book, which thou hast written.' The part of 
this text, which is alleged in support of the doctrine 
here contended against, is contained in these expres- 
sions : ' Yet now, if thou wilt, forgive their sin ; if not, 
blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book, which thou hast 
written.' It is supposed that Moses prayed to God to 
make him miserable, on the condition specified, through- 
out eternity. 

Concerning this subject, I observe, first, that the ex- 
pression, 'Blot me out of thy book, which thou hast 
written,' is wholly figurative ; and, like most other 
figurative language, is capable of being understood in 
various senses. To say the most, then, it is ambiguous 
and uncertain. I need not say, that such a doctrine as 
this ought not to be founded on an ambiguous passage 
of Scripture, nor on any uncertainty whatever. 

Secondly : It will be admitted, that Moses, although 
he prayed in a violent state of emotion, yet spoke in 
some accordance with common sense. But the inter- 
pretation given to his words by those who teach this 
doctrine, makes him speak the most arrant nonsense. 
His words are, ' Yet now, if thou wilt, forgive their 
sin ; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book 
which thou hast written.' Here, according to the abet- 
tors of this doctrine, Moses prays that God would for- 
give their sin, if he was willing ; and, if he was unwil- 
ing, that he would blot him out of the book of life. 
They say, that the benevolence of Moses was so great, 
that he chose rather to suffer endless misery, in order 
to obtain the forgiveness of his countrymen, than to be 
endlessly happy, and see them condemned. But they 
do not attend to the words of Moses. He himself says 
no such thing. On the contrary, he prays, ' that God 
would blot him out of his book, if he will not forgive 
their sin:» choosing not to be happy himself, unless 
they may be happy with him ; and choosing to be end- 
lessly miserable, rather than to be endlessly happy, un- 
less they may be happy also. This, it must be acknow- 
ledged, if it be benevolence, is benevolence of a very 
extraordinary kind. Moses, according to this scheme, 
is desirous, if he cannot obtain all the good which he 
wishes, to have none ; and, if his countrymen cannot 
be happy, to be miserable himself; to be endlessly mi- 
serable, without the least expectation of doing, with- 
out a possibility of doing, any good whatever to them : 
in plain language, to be endlessly miserable for the 
sake of being endlessly miserable. 

It is also resignation of an extraordinary kind. In- 
stead of being resignation to the will of God, it is re- 
signation directly opposed, and perfectly known by 
Moses himself to be directly opposed, to that will. 
Moses certainly knew that he was destined to endless 
life ; and therefore certainly knew that this was the will 



of God. To this will, thus known, his prayer, inter- 
preted according to this scheme, is directly contradic- 
tory. I hesitate not to say, that Moses never exercised 
resignation of this nature. 

Thirdly : The real meaning of this prayer is, that on 
the condition specified, God would take away his life. 

After the rebellion of the Israelites at the foot of the 
Mount, in which they made and worshipped the golden 
calf, God directed Moses to ' let him alone, that he 
might consume them ;' and promised to make of Moses 
himself ' a great nation.' Alluring as this promise 
was, Moses loved Israel too well to forsake them on this 
pressing occasion. He therefore besought God to for- 
give them, with great earnestness and anxiety ; and 
prayed fervently also, that, if he would not forgive 
them, he would take away his own life ; probably, that 
he might not witness the melancholy sight of the ruin 
of a people for whom he had done and suffered so 
much, and in whose interests his heart was so entirely 
bound up. The book, here called ' the book which 
God had written,' is a figurative allusion to a register, 
in which were recorded the names of living persons ; 
and, in the present case, is considered as a register 
written by God, in which were enrolled the names of 
all living men. To blot out the name, is equivalent to 
taking away the life of the person thus registered. 
That this was what was intended by Moses must, I 
think, be unanswerably evident from the observations 
which have been already made. 

A similar prayer of the same illustrious man is re- 
corded in Numb. xi. 14, 15, 'I am not able to bear all 
this people alone, because it is too heavy forme. And, 
if thou deal thus with me, kill me, I pray thee, out of 
hand, if I have found favour in thy sight ; and let me 
not see my wretchedness.' The only difference be- 
tween the two cases seems to be that, in the former case, 
Moses prayed that he might not live to see the ruin of 
his people ; and, in the latter, requested to be released 
from life, because he was unable to bear the burden of 
superintending, and providing for them. 

The other passage is Rom. ix. 1 — 3, ' I say the truth 
in Christ, I lie not ; my conscience also bearing me 
witness in the holy Ghost ; that I have great heavi- 
ness, and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could 
wish that myself were accursed from Christ, for my 
brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh.' Here it 
is supposed, that St Paul declares himself desirous, or 
at least capable of being desirous, to suffer final perdi- 
tion for the sake of rescuing his brethren, the Israelites, 
from their ruinous condition. But I apprehend the 
apostle says no such thing. For, 

In the first place, the declaration in the Greek is not, 
' I could wish,' but ' I wished :' not rivxoifiru/, in the 
optative mode, but yvxofiwv, in the indicative. The 
apostle, therefore, here declares a fact which had taken 
place ; not the state of his mind at the time present ; 
nor a fact which might take place at that, or any fu- 
ture time. I do not deny, that the indicative is some 
times used for the optative, or, as it ought to be here 
understood in the potential sense ; to denote what could 
be done, instead of what has been done. But no case 
of this kind is to be presumed ; nor is such a meaning to 
be admitted, unless the general construction of a pas- 
sage renders the admission necessary. 

Secondly : The admission of it here ruins the mean- 
ing of the passage altogether. It is introduced in this 



LAW OF GOD—RESIGNATION. 



405 



manner: 'I say the truth in Christ; I lie not; my 
conscience also bearing ine witness in the Holy Ghost.' 
Now -what is the assertion to gain credit to which these 
three declarations, two of them attended with all the 
solemnity of an oath, were made ? It is found in the 
following verse. ' I have great heaviness and continual 
sorrow of heart.' Can it be imagined, that St Paul 
would think it necessary or proper to preface this as- 
sertion in so solemn a manner? Was it a matter even 
of surprise, that a person, afflicted and persecuted as 
he was, should be the subject of such sorrow ? Could 
the apostle need the aid of a triple declaration, and a 
double oath, to make this assertion believed ? And, if 
these were not necessary, can he be supposed to have 
used them for such a purpose ; or for any purpose 
whatever ? 

As this cannot have been the apostle's meaning in 
this passage, so, happily that meaning is sufficiently 
obvious. St Paul, it is well known, was considered by 
the Jews as their bitter enemy ; as hating their temple, 
worship, and nation ; and as conspiring with the Gen- 
tiles to subvert all those which they esteemed their best 
interests. This prejudice of theirs against him, was 
an immense evil ; for it not only obstructed powerfully, 
and often fatally, the success of his evangelical labours 
among the Gentiles ; but, in almost all instances, pre- 
vented the Jews from receiving the gospel. This evil 
the apostle felt in its full force, as he teaches us on 
many occasions, by endeavouring earnestly to clear him- 
self of the imputation. The present is one of those 
instances; and the meaning of the passage is rendered 
perfectly clear, and highly important when it is con- 
sidered in this manner ; and the propriety of the solemn 
preface with which it commences, fully evinced. The 
words rendered, ' For I could wish that myself were 
accursed from Christ,' ought to be included, as they 
plainly were intended to be, in a parenthesis. The 
passage, truly translated in this manner, will run thus : 
' I say the truth in Christ, I lie not ; my conscience 
also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost ; that I have 
great heaviness, and continual sorrow in my heart (for 
I also wished myself separated from Christ), for my 
* brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh.' That 
3 . . the apostle had really this sorrow and heaviness for his 
nation, he knew would be doubted by some, and disbe- 
lieved by others. He, therefore, naturally and properly 
appeals to God, for the reality of his love to them, and 
for the truth of the declaration in which it is asserted. 
To show his sympathy with them in their ruined state, 
' he reminds them, that he was once the subject of the 
same violent unbelief, and alienation from Christ ; and 
that then he earnestly chose to be what he here calls 
' anathema,' justly rendered in the margin, ' separated, 
from Christ,' just as they now chose it. A person once 
in this condition, would naturally be believed to feel 
deeply the concerns of such as were now in the same 
condition, and would therefore allege this consideration 
with the utmost force and propriety. 

It will, I am aware, be here said, that this interpreta- 
tion derogates exceedingly from the nobleness and ex- 
pansiveness of the apostle's benevolence, as exhibited in 
the construction which I am opposing. It seems to me, 
tl it St Paul's own meaning is as really valuable as any 
which is devised for him by his commentators. There 
("-an be no more dangerous mode of interpreting the Scrip- 



l 



tures, than to drop their obvious sense, and to substitute 



for it one which happens to be more agreeable to our- 
selves. Were I to comment in this manner on the pas- 
sage before us, I should say, that the meaning to which 
I object is absurd and monstrous ; and that which I 
adopt, becoming the apostle's character. At the same 
time, I would lay no stress on this remark. My con- 
cern is with the real sense of the words. St Paul must 
be allowed to have spoken good sense ; and this the ob- 
vious and grammatical construction here given to his 
language, makes him speak. Whereas, the construction 
which I oppose, makes him speak little less than abso- 
lute nonsense. 

These two passages, therefore, although relied on to 
support the doctrine which I oppose, do not affect the 
question at all ; and the Scriptures are equally destitute 
of examples as of precepts to warrant the doctrine. 

(5.) There is no motive to induce the mind to this 
resignation. 

By this I do not intend, that no motive is alleged ; 
but that there is none by which the mind of a rational 
being can be supposed to be influenced. The motives 
by which Christians are induced to be unwilling to 
suffer perdition, are (I.) the loss of endless and perfect 
happiness in heaven ; (2.) the loss of endless and per- 
fect virtue, or holiness ; (3.) the suffering of endless 
and perfect sin ; (4.) the suffering of endless and per- 
fect misery ; and, (5.) the glory of Cod in the salvation 
of a sinner. The motives which must produce the will- 
ingness in question, must be of sufficient magnitude to 
overbalance all these ; each of them infinite. Now 
what is the motive alleged ? It is the delight experi- 
enced by the Christian in seeing the glory of his Maker 
promoted by his perdition. Without questioning the 
possibility of being influenced by this motive, as far as 
the nature of the case merely is concerned, I observe, 
that the willingness to glorify God in this manner, and 
the pleasure experienced in glorifying him (which is 
the same thing), is to endure but for a moment; that 
is, during this transient life. The pain through which 
this momentary pleasure is gained, is, on the contrary, 
infinite, or endless, in each of the methods specified 
above. Will it be believed, that, if every volition of 
man is as the greatest apparent good, there can be in 
this case a volition, nay, a series of volitions, contrary 
to the greatest apparent good — a good, infinitely out- 
weighing that by which these volitions are supposed to 
be excited ? I say this good is momentary ; because 
the subjects of perdition, immediately after entering 
upon their sufferings, hate and oppose the glory of God 
throughout eternity. Whatever good, therefore, the 
Christian can enjoy in glorifying his Creator, he can 
enjoy only during the present life. 

It ought to be observed, that the resignation here re- 
quired of the Christian, extends infinitely beyond that 
which was required of Christ himself. He was required 
to undergo only finite and temporary sufferings. The 
Christian is here required to be willing' to undergo in- 
finite sufferings. The sufferings of Christ were, and he 
knew they were, to be rewarded with infinite glory and 
happiness. Those of the Christian are only to termi- 
nate daily in increasing shame, sin, and woe, for ever. 
Christ ' for the joy set before him, endured the cross, 
and despised the shame.' There is no joy set before 
the Christian. 

As a rule of determining whether we are Christians, 
or not, it would seem, that hardly any supposable one 



496 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcv. 



could be more unhappy. If we should allow the doc- 
trine to be sound and scriptural, it will not be pretended 
that any, unless very eminent, saints arrive at the pos- 
session of the spirit in such a degree, as to be satisfied 
that they are thus resigned. None but these, therefore, 
will be able to avail themselves of the evidence derived 
from this source. To all others the rule will be not 
only useless, but in a high degree perplexing-, and filled 
with discouragement. To be thus resigned, will, to 
say the least, demand a vigour and energy of piety not 
often found. Rules of self-examination incomparably 
plainer, and more easy of application, are given us in 
the Scriptures, fitted for all persons and for all cases. 
Why, with those in our possession, we should resort 
to this, especially when it is nowhere found in the 
sacred volume, it would be difficult to explain. Yet, 
if this is not the practical use to be made of this 
doctrine, it would not be easy to assign to it any use at 
all. 

The resignation of the Scriptures, as I have before 
observed, is either a cheerful submission to the evils 
which we actually suffer, or a general, undefinable pre- 
paration of mind to suffer such others as God may 
choose to inflict. In the Bible this spirit is, I believe, 
never referred to any evils which exist beyond the 
grave. If this remark be just, as I think it will be 
found, there can be no benefit in extending the subject 
farther than it has been extended by revelation. If I 
mistake not, every good consequence expected from 
the doctrine which I have opposed, will be derived from 
the resignation here described ; while the mind will be 
disembarrassed of the very numerous and very serious 
difficulties which are inseparable from the doctrine in 
question. 

2. Resignation, as here described, is an indispensable 
duty of mankind. 

The government of God, even in this melancholy 
world, is the result of his perfect wisdom, power, and 
goodness. Now nothing is more evident, than that the 
government which flows from such a source must be 
absolutely right ; or, in other words, must be what wis- 
dom and virtue in us would certainly and entirely ap- 
prove. To be resigned to such a government therefore 
would be a thing of course, were we perfectly wise and 
virtuous. But what this character would prompt us to 
do, it is now our indispensable duty to do. 

This, however, is not the only, nor the most affecting, 
view which we are able to take of the subject. The 
government of God in this world is a scheme of mercy : 
the most glorious exhibition which can exist of infinite 
goodness. Unless our own perverseness prevent, the 
most untoward, the most afflicting, dispensations, how- 
ever painful in themselves, are really fitted in the best 
manner to promote our best interests. ' We know ' 
says St Paul, « that all things do work (or, as in the 
Greek, labour) together for good to them that love God.' 

' Good,' says Mr Hervey, 

' Good, when He gives, supremely good, 

Nor less, when he denies ; 
Ev'n crosses from his sov 'reign hand 

Are blessings in disguise.' 

Surely in such a state of things it must be the natu- 
ral, the instinctive conduct of piety to acquiesce in dis- 
pensations of this nature. Under the afflictions which 
it demands, and which of course it cannot but involve, 
we may and must at times smart, as a child under the 
rod, when administered by the most affectionate paren- 



tal hand ; but, like children influenced by filial piety, 
we shall receive the chastening with resignation and 
love. 

3. Resignation is also a most profitable duty. 

The profit of this spirit is the increase . which it 
always brings, of virtue and happiness. Our pride and 
passion, by which we are naturally and of choice govern- 
ed, conduct us only to guilt and suffering. So long as 
their dominion over us continues, we daily become more 
sinful and more miserable, as children become, during 
the continuance of their rebellion against their parents. 
The first step towards peace, comfort, or hope in this 
case, is to attain a quiet, submissive spirit. That God 
will order the things of the world as we wish, ignorant 
and sinful as we are, cannot be for a moment believed, 
The only resort which remains for us, therefore, is to be 
satisfied with what he actually does ; and to believe that 
what he does is wise and good, and if we will permit it, 
wise and good for us. To be able to say, ' Thy will be 
done,' says Dr Young, ' will lay the loudest storm ;' 
whether of passion within, or affliction without. 

Children, when they have been punished, are often, 
and if dutiful children, always, more affectionate, and 
dutiful, and amiable than before. Just such is the char- 
acter of the children of God, when they exercise evan- 
gelical resignation under his chastening hand. Every 
one of them, like David, finds it ' good for himself that 
he has been afflicted;' an increase of his comfort; an 
increase of his virtue and loveliness. 

As this disposition regards events not yet come to 
pass, its effects are of the same desirable nature. For 
the wisdom and goodness, the fitness and beneficial 
tendency, of all that is future, the pious mind will rely 
with steady confidence on the perfect character of God. 
With this reliance, it will regularly believe that there is 
good interwoven with all the real as well as apparent 
evil which, from time to time, may take place. With 
this habitual disposition in exercise, the resigned man 
will be quiet and satisfied, or at least supported, when 
others are borne down ; and filled with hope and com- 
fort, when worldly men sink in despair. All that 
dreadful train of fears, distresses, and hostilities, which, 
like a host of besiegers, assault the unresigned, and 
sack their peace, he will have finally put to flight. Safe- 
ty and serenity have entered the soul, and the Spirit of 
truth has there found a permanent mansion. Whatever 
evils still remain in it, his delightful influence gradually 
removes, as cold, and frost, and snow vanish before the 
beams of the vernal sun. He will yield God his own 
place and province, and rejoice, that ' his throne is pre- 
pared in the heavens,' and that ' his kingdom is over 
all.' His own station he will at the same time cheer- 
fully take, with the spirit of a dutiful and faithful sub- 
ject, or an obedient child ; and confide in the divine 
wisdom for such allotments as are best suited to make 
him virtuous, useful, and happy. In this manner he 
will disarm afflictions of their sting, deprive temptations 
of their danger, and his spiritual enemies of their suc- 
cess, by quietly committing himself and his interests to 
the disposal of his Maker. In this manner he will be- 
come effectually prepared for that glorious and happy 
world, in which all these evils will have ' passed away ;' 
and be succeeded by a new, divine, and eternal train of 
enjoyment. In this manner ' the work of righteousness ' 
in his mind ' will be peace, and the effect of righteous 
ness, quietness, and assurance for ever.' 






k 



LAW OF GOD LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



497 



SERMON XCVI. 



THE LAW OF GOD— THE SECOND GREAT COMMANDMENT LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



And the second is like ; namely, this : Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, 
commandment greater than these Mars xii. 31. 



There is none other 



P 



' 



In several preceding Discourses, I have considered the 
great duties of love, reverence, and humility towards 
God, and resignation to his will ; and given a summary 
account of the other duties of piety. I shall now pro- 
ceed to an examination of the second commandment. 

In this precept we are required ' to love our neigh- 
bour as ourselves.' In canvassing the duty here enjoin- 
ed, I shall consider, 

I. Its nature : 

II. Its extent. 

I. J shall make a few observations concerning the 
nature of this duty. 

Before I proceed directly to this subject, it will be 
proper to remind my audience, that in the Discourse 
concerning love, considered as an attendant of regene- 
ration, I exhibited it at length as a disinterested dis- 
position ; and in this particular view exhibited its 
nature, so far as is necessary to this system. Nothing 
farther will be needed under this head, except an ex- 
planation of the degree in which we are required to love 
our neighbour, expressed in the words 'as thyself.' 

This phraseology has been very differently under- 
stood by different persons. Some have supposed it to 
contain a direction, that we should love our neighbour 
with the same kind of love, which is exercised towards 
ourselves. This plainly cannot be its meaning. The 
love which we usually and naturally exercise to- 
wards ourselves, is selfish and sinful. Such a love as 
this may be, and often is, exercised towards our chil- 
dren, and other darling connexions; arid wherever it 
exists, is of course, sinful ; and cannot, therefore, have 
been commanded by God. At the same time, it is phy- 
sically impossible, that we should exercise it towards 
our fellow creatures at large ; the real objects of the af- 
fection required in the text ; as I shall have occasion to 
show under the second head. Others have insisted, that 
we are required to love them in the same manner as our- 
selves. This cannot be the meaning. For we love 
ourselves inordinately, unreasonably, without candour 
or equity ; even when the kind of love is really evan- 
gelical. Others, still, have supposed, that the com- 
mand obliges us to love our neighbour in exactly the 
same degree in which we ought to love ourselves. This 
interpretation, though nearer the truth than the others, 
is not, I apprehend, altogether agreeable to the genuine 
meaning of the text. It has, if I mistake not, been 
heretofore shown satisfactorily, that Ave are, in our very 
nature, capable of understanding, realizing, and feeling, 
whatever pertains to ourselves more entirely, than the 
same things, when pertaining to others ; that our own 
concerns are committed to us by God in a peculiar man- 
ner ; that God has made it in a peculiar mariner our duty 
to ' provide for our own ; especially those of our own 
households;' and that, thus, a regard to ourselves, and 



those who are ours, is our duty in a peculiar degree. 
To these things it may be justly added, that we are 
not bound to love all those, included under the word 
neighbour, in the same degree. S-ome of these per- 
sons are plainly of much greater importance to mankind, 
than others ; are possessed of greater talents, of higher 
excellence, and of more usefulness. Whether we make 
their happiness, or their excellence, the object of our 
love ; in other words, whether we regard them with be- 
nevolence, or complacency; we ought plainly to make a 
difference, and often a wide one, between them ; because 
they obviously, and exceedingly, differ in their characters 
and circumstances. A great, excellent, and useful man, 
such as St Paul was, certainly claims a higher degree of 
love from us, than a person totally inferior to him in 
these characteristics. 

Besides, if this rule of entire equality had been in- 
tended in the command, we ought certainly to have been 
enabled, in the natural sense, to perform this duty. 
But it is perfectly evident, that no man, however well 
disposed, can exactly measure, on all occasions, the de- 
gree of love, exercised by him towards his neighbour, 
or towards himself; or determine, in many cases, 
whether he has, or has not, loved himself and his 
neighbour in the same degree. It is plain, therefore, 
that, according to this scheme, we cannot, however well 
inclined, determine whether we do, or do not, perform 
our duty. But it is incredible, that God should make 
this conduct our duty ; and yet leave us in the natural 
sense, wholly unable to perform it. 

For these and various other reasons I am of opinion, 
that the precept in the text requires us to love our 
neighbour, generally, and indefinitely, as ourselves. 
The love which we exercise towards him, is ever to 
be the same in kind, which we ought to exercise to- 
wards ourselves ; regarding both ourselves and him as 
members of the intelligent kingdom ; as interested, sub- 
stantially in the same manner, in the divine favour; as 
in the same manner capable of happiness, moral excel- 
lence, and usefulness ; of being instruments of glory to 
God, and of good to our fellow creatures ; as being ori- 
ginally interested alike in the death of Christ, and, 
with the same general probability, heirs of eternal life. 
This explanation seems to be exactly accordant with the 
language of the text. As does not always denote exact 
equality. Frequently it indicates equality in a general 
indefinite sense ; and, not unfrequently, a strong re- 
semblance, approximating towards an equality. There 
is no proof, that it intends an exact equality in the 
text. 

In many cases; for example in most cases of com- 
mutative justice, and in many of distributive justice ; it 
is in our power to render to others, exactly, that which 
we render to ourselves. Here, I apprehend, exactness 
3 R 



498 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. xcvt. 



becomes the measure of our duty. The love, which I 
have here described, is evidently disinterested ; and 
would, in our case, supply motives to our own conduct 
so numerous, and so powerful, as to render selfish af- 
fections useless to us. Selfishness, therefore, is a princi- 
ple of action totally unnecessary to intelligent beings, 
as such ; even for their own benefit. 

II. The love, here required, extends to the whole 
intelligent creation. 

This position I shall illustrate by the following ob- 
servations. 

1. That it extends to our families, friends, and coun- 
trymen, will not be questioned. 

2. That it extends to our enemies, and by conse- 
quence to all mankind, is decisively taught by our Sa- 
viour in a variety of Scriptural passages. ' Ye have 
heard, that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy 
neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, 
Love your enemies ; bless them that curse you ; do good 
to them that hate you ; and pray for them who despite- 
fully use you, and persecute you : that ye may be the 
children of your Father, who is in heaven : for he 
maketh his sun to rise on the evil, and on the good; 
and sendeth rain on the just, and on the unjust.' Matt. 
v. 43, &c. And again; ' For if ye love them who love 
you, what thank have ye ? for sinners also love those 
that love them. But I say unto you, love ye your ene- 
mies ; and do good, and lend ; hoping for nothing 
again : and your reward shall be great ; and ye shall be 
called the children of the Highest.' Luke vi. 32, 35. 
The term ' neighbour,' in this precept, is explained by 
Christ, at the request of a Scribe, in the parable of the 
good Samaritan. Luke x. 25 : and with unrivalled 
force, and irresistible conviction, is shown to include 
the worst and bitterest enemies. Concerning this sub- 
ject the Scriptures have left no room for debate. 

At the same time it cannot but be satisfactory and 
useful, to examine this subject, as it appears in its nature, 
and is connected with other kindred moral subjects. 

It is well known, that the Pharisees held the doc- 
trine, that, while we were bound to love our neighbour, 
that is, our friends, it was lawful to hate our enemies. 
It is equally well known, that multitudes in every suc- 
ceeding age have imbibed the same doctrine ; and that 
in our own age and land, enlightened as we are by the 
sunshine of the Gospel, there are not wanting multitudes, 
who adopt the same doctrine ; and insist, not only that 
they may lawfully hate their enemies, but, also, revenge 
themselves on such as have injured them, with violent 
and extreme retribution. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. That the command to love our enemies, is enforc- 
ed by the example of God. 

This is the very argument, used to enforce this pre- 
cept by our Saviour. ' Love ye your enemies ; and do 
good to them that hate you : and ye shall be called the 
children of the Highest : for he is kind to the evil and 
unthankful. Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father 
who is in heaven, is merciful.' The example of God is 
possessed of infinite authority. We see in it the con- 
duct, which infinite perfection dictates, and in which it 
delights; and learn the rules of action, by which it is 
pleased to govern itself. All that is thus dictated and 
done, is supremely right and good. If we wish our 
own conduct to be right and good ; we shall become 
u followers of God, as dear children,' in all his imitable 



conduct, and particularly in that which is so strongly 
commended to our imitation. Christ also, who has pre- 
sented to our view in his own life the conduct of God, 
in such a manner as to be more thoroughly understood 
and more easily copied by us, has in his prayer for his 
murderers, while suspended on the cross, enforced the 
precept in the text with unrivalled energy. Nothing 
could with greater power, or more commanding loveli- 
ness, require us to ' go and do likewise.' 

To hate our enemies, is directly opposed to the 
authority and the glory of these examples. The ex- 
amples are divinely excellent and lovely: the conduct op- 
posed to them is, of course, altogether vile and hateful. 
Accordingly, this conduct is exhibited to us, for the pur- 
pose of commending the same precept also to our ob- 
edience, as the conduct of the worst of men. These 
love their friends, and hate their enemies ; even pub- 
licans and sinners do this, and all who do this, and no- 
thing more, bear a moral resemblance to publicans and 
sinners. 

2. If we are bound to love those only who are friends 
to us, we are under no obligation to love Cod, any 
longer than while he is our friend. 

If we are not bound to love our enemies whenever 
God becomes an enemy to us, we are not bound to love 
him. Of course, those who are finally condemned, are 
freed from all obligation to love God, because he is 
their enemy. In refusing to love him, therefore, they 
are guilty of no sin ; but are thus far perfectly inno- 
cent, and perfectly excellent ; because they do that 
which is perfectly right. Neither the happiness, nor 
the excellence, of God furnishes any reason, according 
to this scheme, why we should regard him either with 
benevolence or complacency. In the same manner, 
every person, in the present world, can, by committing 
the unpardonable sin, release himself from all obligation 
to love his Maker ; because in this manner he renders 
God his enemy. In the same manner, every person, 
under a sentence of reprobation, is released from his 
obligation to love God ; and persons of both these 
characters are thenceforth entirely innocent and un- 
blamable. According to this doctrine also sinners can, 
and do, continually lessen their obligation to love God, 
in proportion as they make him more and more angry 
with them day by day. By advancing, therefore, in a 
course of opposition and disobedience to God, they ad- 
vance nearer and nearer to an unblamable life and 
character. 

3. According to this doctrine, good men are not 
bound, in ordinary cases, to love sinners. 

That sinners are, ordinarily, enemies to good men, 
will not be questioned : that they often are very bitter 
enemies, cannot be denied. If, then, this doctrine be 
true ; good men are, plainly, not bound to love them, 
nor, of course, to befriend them ; to relieve their distres- 
ses ; to promote their happiness ; nor to seek their sal- 
vation. 

4. According to this doctrine, sinners are not, ordin- 
arily, bound to love each other. 

Sinners are not only enemies to good men, but to 
each other. In every such case, they are relieved from 
all obligations to love each other ; and, so long as they 
continue to be enemies, are justified not only in the 
sight of man, but in the sight of God also, in with- 
holding their love, and the expression of it, from each 
other. 



LAW OF GOD— LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR 



499 



Let us now, for a moment, attend to the necessary 
and practical consequences of this doctrine. A moral 
being, whose moral conduct is such, as to justify us in 
withholding our love from him, cannot be regarded 
with indifference ; but must of course be hated ; and, 
so far as I can see, may justifiably be hated, because 
his character is really hateful. But if it be right to 
liate our enemies, it is undoubtedly right to exhibit our 
hatred of them in its proper expressions ; such as cen- 
sure, punishment, and hostilities. On this principle, 
mankind would contend with each other, in their pub- 
lic and private controversies, on the ground that it was 
right ; because it was dictated by conscience, and not 
merely by passion. He who beheld an enemy, would 
be justified in hating him ; and he who was thus 
hated, would, on the same ground, be justified in reci- 
procating the hatred. To express this justifiable hatred 
in quarrels would be equally accordant with rectitude ; 
and men would fight each other, on a new basis of 
principle. Revenge would be accounted ' doing God 
service.' The persecutor, burning with rage against 
the miserable victims of his cruelty, exulting in his suc- 
cessful ravages of human happiness, and smiling over 
the tortures of the rack, and the agonies of the flame, 
would with new confidence say, ' Let the Lord be 
glorified.' War, instead of being the conflict of pride, 
avarice, ambition, and wrath, would be changed into 
a universal crusade of piety : and new Mohammeds 
would stalk through the world, to execute righteousness 
by butchery, and plant truth with the sword. Every 
national contest would become a war of extermination. 
Every land would be changed, by a professed spirit of 
righteousness, into a mere field of slaughter ; and every 
age, by the mere dictates of conscience, converted into 
a period of unmingled and immeasurable woe. 

The contrary principle, in good men, wherever 
they are found, is an extensive source of the peace 
and comfort actually enjoyed in this unhappy world : 
and its influence on the consciences, even of wicked 
men is such, as to effectuate no small quiet and com- 
fort for themselves and others ; and to prevent much 
of the evil, naturally flowing from this pernicious doc- 
trine. 

But the one half of the story is not yet told. Had 
God adopted this doctrine as the rule of his own con- 
duct, what would, long since, have become of man- 
kind ? Sinners never love God, but always hate him; 
and of consequence rebel against his government, 
violate his law, and oppose his designs. In other 
words, they are uniformly, and unceasingly, his ene- 
mies. Had God, then, been governed by this princi- 
ple ; had he hated his enemies ; nay, had he exercised 
no love, no tenderness, or compassion, for them; he 
must immediately have exerted his infinite power, to 
render them only, and eternally, miserable. In this 
case, no scheme of redemption would ever have been 
formed for our miserable race by the Infinite Mind. 
The compassionate and glorious Bedeemer, instead of 
becoming incarnate, instead of living and dying for 
sinners, would have ' clad himself only ' with vengeance 
as a cloak ;' and arrayed himself with anger as a robe 
and a diadem. Instead of ascending the cross, and en- 
tering the tomb, he would merely ' have trodden the 
wine-press alone, and trampled the people in his fury. 
Their blood would have been sprinkled on his gar- 
ments, and stained all his raiment. The day of ven- 






geance,' only, would have been ' in his heart ; and the 
year of his redeemed ' would have never ' come.' 

No ' sun ' would now ' rise upon the unjust :' no 
' rain descend upon the evil and unthankful.' The 
word of life would never have been revealed to man- 
kind. The Sabbath, with its serene, peaceful, and 
cheering beams, would never have dawned upon this 
melancholy world ; nor the sanctuary unfolded its 
doors, that sinners might enter in, and be saved. The 
voice of mercy would never have been heard within its 
hallowed walls. God would never, with infinite ten- 
derness, have called rebels and apostates to faith, re- 
pentance, and holiness, in the Lord Jesus Christ ; nor 
proffered pardon, and peace, to the returning peni- 
tent. 

Heaven would never have opened the gates of life 
and glory to this ruined world. The ' general assem- 
bly of the first-born ' would never have been gathered ; 
nor would that divine kingdom, which shall for ever in- 
crease in its peace and prosperity, its virtue and glory, 
ever have begun. 

The fairest attribute, the peculiar excellence, of the 
Godhead, the divine mercy, would neither have been 
unfolded, nor existed. Angels would never have sung, 
1 Glory to God in the highest ; peace on earth ; and 
good-will towards men.' On the contrary, sin without 
bounds, and misery without end, would have reigned 
with an uninterrupted and eternal dominion over all the 
millions of the race of Adam. 

From these considerations it is unanswerably evident, 
that all mankind are included under the word ' neigh- 
bour.' 

3. This term, of course, extends to all other intelli- 
gent beings, so far as they are capable of being objects 
of love ; or, in other words, so far as they are capable 
of being happy. 

To desire the happiness of beings who cannot be 
happy, is to exercise our affections in vain. To desire 
the happiness of those whom God has doomed, for their 
sins, to everlasting suffering, is to oppose his known, 
declared will. But even in these extreme cases, it is, 
I apprehend, our duty to feel a general spirit of bene- 
volence towards the miserable sufferers. God has in- 
formed us, that ' he has no pleasure in the death of the 
wicked.' It is undoubtedly right, and proper', for us to 
experience the same disposition. This doctrine may 
be illustrated in the following manner. Were we to 
receive tidings from God, that these unhappy beings 
would, at some future period, be restored to holiness 
and happiness ; every being, under the influence of this 
love, would rejoice with inexpressible joy ; and would 
find, that, instead of indulging enmity towards them, 
he had ever been ready to exercise a benevolent con- 
cern for their welfare. 

That virtuous beings, throughout the universe, are 
proper objects of this love will hardly be disputed. 
Of these beings, angels only are known to us ; and 
their character, as unfolded in the Scriptures, is a com- 
plete proof of this position. To mankind they are re- 
lated, merely, as intelligent creatures of the same God. 
Yet they cheerfully become ministering spirits for the 
benefit of men ; inhabitants of a distant world ; of the 
humblest intelligent character ; enemies to their Crea- 
tor ; and enemies to themselves., Such an example de- 
cides this point without a comment. 

4. The love, required in this precept, extends, in its 



500 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sim. xcvr. 



operations, to all flic good offices which we are capable 
of rendering- to others. 

The benevolence enjoined by God is, as was for- 
merly observed, an active principle, prompting those 
whom it controls to exert themselves in all the modes 
of beneficence which are in their power, and are re- 
quired by the circumstances of their fellow men. In- 
finitely different from the cold philanthropy of modern 
philosophers, which spends itself in thoughts and words, 
in sighs and tears, its whole tendency is to employ it- 
self in the solid and useful acts of kindness, by which 
the real good of others is efficaciously promoted. This 
philanthropy overlooks the objects which are around it, 
and within its reach ; and exhausts itself in pitying suf- 
ferers in foreign lands, and distant ages ; sufferers, so 
distant, as to be incapable of receiving relief from any 
supposable beneficence which it might exercise. These 
are, indeed, most convenient objects of such a philan- 
thropy. For, as it is impossible to do them good by 
any acts of kindness which are in our power, we na- 
turally feel ourselves released from the obligation to at- 
tempt any such acts ; and thus enjoy, with no small self- 
complacency, the satisfaction of believing, that, although 
we do no good, we are still very benevolent ; and are 
contented with thinking over the good, which we would 
do, were the objects of our benevolent wishes within our 
reach. It is remarkable, that all kindness of this na- 
ture is ardent and vivid upon paper, and flourishes thrif- 
tily in conversation ; but whenever it is summoned to 
action by the sight of those whom it ought to befriend, 
it languishes, sickens, and dies. Its seat is only in the 
imagination ; and unfortunately it has no connexion 
either with the purse, the hand, or the heart. In the 
same manner, professed hospitality is often struck dumb 
by the arrival of a guest ; and boasted patriotism, at the 
appearance of a proposed subscription for some bene- 
ficial public purpose. 

Such is not the love of the gospel. The happiness 
of others is its original, commanding object; and the 
promotion of that happiness its employment and delight. 
The objects for whom, and the manner in which, it is to 
be employed, are felt to be of no consequence, if good 
can really be done. The kind of good is, also, a mat- 
ter of indifference ; provided it be real, and as exten- 
sive as the nature of the case will admit. 

It will be useful to illustrate this subject in a number 
of particulars, sufficient to exhibit its tendency and ex- 
tent, in the variety of its operations. 

(1.) The love required in this precept, will prevent us 
from voluntarily injuring others. 

' Love worketh no ill to his neighbour ; therefore love 
is the fulfilling of the law.' The stress here laid upon 
this characteristic of love is remarkable. For St Paul 
declares, that for this reason it is the fulfilling of the 
law. We are not, indeed, to understand, that this is the 
only reason ; but that it is one very important reason. 
At the same time we are to remember, that voluntary 
beings, who do no ill, always, and of course, do good. 

From this characteristic of evangelical love we learn, 
that those who are controlled by it cannot be the au- 
thors of falsehood, fraud, slander, sophistry, seduction, 
pollution, quarrels, oppression, plunder, or war. All 
these, in whatever degree they exist, are real, and usual- 
ly are great, injuries to others. These, therefore, are 
in no sense fruits of love. They may, and do indeed, 
exi&t in greater or less degrees, in the minds and lives, 



of those who are the subjects of it ; but it is because their 
love is partial and imperfect. Were this spirit to be- 
come the universal, and the only character of mankind, 
what a mighty mass of human calamities would vanish 
from the world ! 

(2.) Among the positive acts of beneficence, dictated 
by the love of the gospel, the contribution of our pro- 
perty forms an interesting part. To feed the hungry, 
to clothe the naked, and to perform other acts generally 
of the same nature, have by mankind at large been es- 
teemed such eminent and important specimens of this 
spirit, as to have appropriated to themselves the very 
name of charity ; that is, of love ; to the exclusion of 
other efforts, not less truly benevolent. They are, at 
the same time, accompanied more obviously than most 
other communications of beneficence by the appearance 
of self-denial, and of doing good without reference to a 
reward. 

But although acts of this kind are peculiarly amiable, 
and peculiarly respected, they are still no more really 
dictated by evangelical love, than the contribution of 
our property to the purposes of hospitality, to the sup- 
port of schools and colleges, the erection of churches, 
the maintenance of ministers, and the support of govern- 
ment. All these are important means of human hap- 
piness ; and he who does not cheerfully contribute to 
them, is either ignorant of their nature and his own duty, 
or is destitute of evangelical benevolence. 

(3.) Love to our neighbour dictates, also, every other 
office of kindness, which may promote his present wel- 
fare. 

Under this extensive head are comprehended our in- 
struction of others, our advice, our countenance, our 
reproof, our sympathy with them in their joys and sor- 
rows ; those which are called our civilities, our oblig- 
ingness of deportment, our defence of their good 
name, our professional assistance, our peculiar efforts 
for their relief and comfort, on occasions which pecu- 
liarly demand them ; and especially, those kind offices 
which are always needed by the sick and afflicted. The 
tendency of love, like that of the needle to the pole, 
is steadily directed to the promotion of happiness, and 
of course to the relief of distress. The cases in which 
this object can be obtained, and the modes in which it 
can be accomplished, are of no consequence in the eye 
of love. It only asks the questions, how, when, and 
where, good can be done ? When these are satisfactori- 
ly answered, it is ever ready to act with vigour and 
efficacy, to the production of any good ; except that it 
is regularly disposed to devote its labours, especially to 
that which is. especially necessary. As its sole tendency 
is to promote happiness ; it is evident, that it cannot 
but be ready to act for this end in whatever manner 
may be in its power. He, therefore, who is willing to 
do good in some cases, and not in others, will find little 
reason to believe that he possesses the benevolence of 
the gospel. 

(4.) Love to our neighbour is especially directed to 
the good of his soul. 

As the soul is of more worth than the body ; as the 
interests of eternity are more important than those of 
time ; so the immortal concerns of man demand, pro- 
portionally, the good-will and the kind offices of his 
fellow men. In discharging the duties created by this 
great subject of benevolence, we are required to instruct, 
counsel, reprove, rebuke, restrain, encourage, comfort, 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PERSONAL HAPPINESS. 



501 



pport, and invigorate them, so far as it shall be in our 
ower. We are also bound to forgive, cheerfully, their 
unkindness to us ; to bear with their frowardness ; to 
endure patiently their slowness of apprehension or re- 
formation ; and to repeat our efforts for their good, 
as we have opportunity, unto the end. For this pur- 
pose we are bound to hope concerning them, so long as 
hope can be exercised that neither we nor they may 
be discouraged ; and to pray for them without ceasing. 
All these offices of kindness are the immediate dictates 
of evangelical love. He, therefore, who does not per- 
form them, in some good measure at least, can lay no 
claim to the benevolence of the gospel. 

t REMARKS. 

1. From these observations it is evident, that the 
cond great command of the moral law is, as it is ex- 
pressed in the text, like the first. 

It is not only prescribed by the same authority, and 
possessed of the same obligation, unalterable and eter- 
nal ; but it enjoins exactly the exercise of the same dis- 
position. The love, required in this command, is ex- 
actly the same which is required in the first : a single 
character, operating now towards God, and now towards 
our fellow creatures. Equally does it resemble the first 
in its importance. That regulates all our conduct to- 
wards God; this towards other intelligent beings. 
Each is of infinite importance ; each is absolutely in- 
dispensable. If either did not exist, or were not obeyed ; 
a total and dreadful chasm would be found in the virtue 
and happiness of the universe. United, they perfectly 
provide for both. The duty, prescribed in the first, is 
undoubtedly first in order ; but that prescribed by the 
last, is no less indispensable to the glory of God, and 
the good of the intelligent creation. 



2. Piety and morality are here shown to be insepar- 
able. 

It has, I trust, been satisfactorily evinced, that the 
love required in the divine law, is a single disposition ; 
indivisible in its nature ; diversified, and distinguishable 
only as exercised toward different objects. When ex- 
ercised towards God, it is called piety ; when exercised 
towards mankind, it is customarily styled morality. 
Wherever both objects are known, both are loved of 
course by every one, in whom this disposition exists. 
He, therefore, who loves not God, loves not man, and 
he who does not love man, does not love God. 

S. We here see that the religion of the Scriptures is 
the true and only source of all the duties of life. 

On the obedience of the first and great commandment 
is founded the obedience of the second : and ' on these 
two hang all the law and the prophets :' the precepts of 
Christ, and the instructions of the Apostles. Religion 
commences with love to God, and terminates in love to 
man. Thus begun, and thus ended, it involves every 
duty, and produces every action, which is rewardable, 
praiseworthy, or useful. There is nothing, which ought 
to be done, which it does not effectuate ; there is nothing, 
which ought not to be done, which it does not prevent. 
It makes intelligent creatures virtuous and excellent. It 
makes mankind good parents and children, good hus- 
bands and wives, good brothers and sisters, good neigh- 
bours and friends, good rulers and subjects ; and renders 
families, neighbourhoods, and states, orderly, peaceful, 
harmonious, and happy. As it produces the punctual per- 
formance of all the duties, so it effectually secures all the 
rights, of mankind. For rights, in us, are nothing but 
just claims to the performance of duties by others. Thus 
the religion of the Scriptures is the true and only 
source of safety, peace, and prosperity to the world. 



SERMON XCVII. 

THE LAW OF GOD THE SECOND GREAT COMMANDMENT THE EFFECTS OF 

BENEVOLENCE ON PERSONAL HAPPINESS. 



T have showed you all things, how that, so labouring, ye ought to support the weak ; and to remember the 
words of the Lord Jesus, how lie said, It is more blessed to give than to receive. — Acts xx. 35. 



In the preceding Discourse, I considered at some length 
that love to our neighbour, which is required in the 
second command of the moral law, I shall now attempt 
to show, that this disposition is more productive of hap- 
piness than any other. 

The speech of St Paul, recorded in this chapter, I 
have long considered as the most perfect example of 
pathetic eloquence ever uttered by man. The occasion, 
the theme, the sentiments, the doctrines, the style are 
all of the most exquisite kind, wholly suited to each 
other, and calculated to make the deepest impression on 
those who heard him. The elders of the church of 
Ephesus, to whom it was addressed, were ministers of 
the gospel ; converts to Christianity made by himself; his 
own spiritual children, who owed to him, under God, 
their deliverance from endless sin and misery, and their 



attainment of endless holiness and happiness. They 
were endeared to him, as he was to them, by the ten- 
derest of all possible ties ; presiding over a church, 
formed in the capital of one of the principal countries 
in the world ; at a period when heresy, contention, and 
dissoluteness, were prophetically seen by him to be ad- 
vancing with hasty strides, to ruin Christianity in that 
region. This address was, therefore, delivered at a time 
when all that was dear to him or them was placed in 
the most imminent hazard of speedy destruction. They 
were the pei-sons from whom almost all the exertions 
were to be expected, which might avert this immense 
evil, and secure the contrary inestimable good ; the 
shepherds, in whose warm affection, care, and faithful- 
ness, lay the whole future safety of the flock. He waa 
the apostle by whom the flock had been gathered into 



'502 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcvu. 



the fold of Christ, and by whom the shepherds were 
formed, qualified, and appointed. He had now come 
■for the great purpose of admonishing them of their own 
duty, and of the danger of the flock committed to their 
charge. He met them with the tenderness of a parent 
visiting his children after a long absence. He met them 
for the last time. He assembled them to hear his last 
farewell on this side the grave. 

To enforce their duty in the strongest manner, he be- 
gins his address with reminding them of his manner of 
life, his piety, faithfulness, zeal, tenderness for them, 
disinterestedness of conduct, fortitude under the severest 
sufferings, diligence in preaching the gospel, steady de r 
pendence on God, and entire devotion to the great 
business of the salvation of men. To them, as eye wit- 
nesses, he appeals for the truth of his declarations. 
Them he charges solemnly, before God, to follow his 
example : warning them of approaching and accumu- 
lating evil ; and commending them to the protection, 
and grace, and truth, of God, for their present safety 
and future reward. 

With this extensive, most solemn, and most impressive 
preparation, he closes his discourse, in a word, with the 
great truth which he wished to enforce, and the great 
duty which he wished to enjoin, as the sum and sub- 
stance of all his instructions, precepts, and example ; 
exhorting them to ' remember the words of the Lord 
Jesus, which he said, It is more blessed to give than to 
receive.' 

In no remains of Demosther.es or Cicero, can be 
found the same simplicity, address, solemnity, tender- 
ness, and sublimity, united. Paul was a man immensely 
superior to either of these celebrated orators in excellence 
of character ; and with the aid of Christianity to in- 
fluence, and inspiration to direct, rose to a height, and 
enlarged his views to an extent, of which no other man 
was ever capable. His. eloquence, like the poetry of 
Isaiah, rises beyond every parallel : and the excellence 
of his disposition seconded in a glorious manner the 
greatness of his views, the tenderness of his sentiments, 
and the sublimity of his conceptions. He speaks as if 
he indeed possessed the tongue of angels ; and the 
things which he utters are such, as angels, without su- 
perior aid, would never have been able to conceive. " 

The words, which he declares to have been spoken 
by the Saviour, are no where recorded in the gospels, 
as having been uttered in the manner here specified. 
They were, however, unquestionably the words of Christ; 
and not improbably addressed to Paul himself. Be this 
as it may, they are words of the highest possible im- 
port ; and may be justly considered as the language of 
all our Saviour's preaching and of all his conduct. The 
Spirit by which he was governed, they perfectly de- 
scribe ; the actions which he performed, and the suffer- 
ings which he underwent, they perfectly explain. Of 
all his precepts they are a complete summary ; and of 
his whole character, as a moral being, they are a suc- 
cinct, but full and glorious exhibition. 

The import of them cannot be easily mistaken, unless 
from choice. To give, is a universal description of 
communicating good ; to receive, an equally extended 
description of gaining it from others. The former of 
these two kinds of conduct is pronounced here to be 
happier or more blessed than the latter. To be blessed, 
is to receive happiness from God, from our fellow 
creatures, or from ourselves ; and denotes, therefore, all 



the good, which we do now, or shall hereafter, enjoy. 
The doctrine of the text is, therefore, that, 

It is more desirable to communicate happiness, than 
to receive it from others. 

I am aware that the selfishness, which dweljs in every 
human mind, and clouds every human intellect, as well 
as biasses every human decision concerning moral sub- 
jects, revolts at this doctrine. To admit it, is a plain 
condemnation of our ruling character, and a judicial 
sentence of reprobation on all our conduct. In a world 
of selfish beings, where one universal disposition reigns 
and ravages ; it cannot but be expected by a man, even 
moderately versed in human nature, that the general 
suffrage will be given, in favour of the general charac- 
ter. Every man knows, that his own cause is in ques- 
tion ; and that his vote is an acquittal, or condemnation 
of himself. From this interested tribunal an impartial 
issue cannot be hoped. In a virtuous world, instead of 
that proverbial, and disgraceful aphorism, that, where 
you find a man's interest, you will find the man, the 
nobler and more vindicable sentiment, that we should 
find the man, where we find his duty, would unquestion- 
ably prevail. If the united voice of our race, therefore, 
should decide against this great evangelical doctrine, 
the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of 
just men made perfect, may be easily expected to give 
their unqualified decision in its favour. In their happy 
residence a selfish being would be a prodigy, as well 
as a monster. 

Even in our own world, we may, however, lay hold 
on facts, which fully evince the doctrine to he possible. 
Parents are often found preferring the happiness of 
their children to their own personal and private good, 
and enjoying more satisfaction in communicating good 
to them, than in gaining it from the hands of others. 
Friends have frequently found their chief happiness in 
promoting the well-being of the objects of their friend- 
ship. Patriots have, sometimes at least, cheerfully for- 
gotten all private concerns, and neglected the whole 
business of gaining personal gratification, for the sake 
of rendering important services to their beloved country. 
The apostles, also, with a spirit eminently disinterested 
and heavenly, cheerfully sacrificed every private con- 
sideration for the divine purpose of accomplishing the 
salvation of their fellow men. Nothing of this nature 
' moved them, neither counted they their lives dear unto 
themselves ; so that they might finish their course with 
joy, and the ministry which they had received of 
the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of 
God.' 

Now, what forbids ; what I mean, in the nature of 
things ; that, with an affection as tender and vigorous, 
as parents feel for their children, and friends for their 
friends; which patriots have at times felt for their coun- 
try, and which the apostles of Christ felt for the souls 
of their fellow men; we should, in a nobler state of ex- 
istence, escape from the bond of selfishness, and send 
forth our good-will to every intelligent being whom we 
know, in such a manner, as to take delight in the hap- 
piness of all around us, and to experience our first en- 
joyment in communicating good, wherever we could find 
a recipient. That such a disposition would be a de- 
sirable one, will not be disputed. Why may it not ex- 
ist ? What is there, which will of necessity, forbid 
such enlargement, excellency, and dignity, of moral cha- 
racter ? Why may not a world be filled with intelligent 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PERSONAL HAPPINESS. 



501 



beings, devoted to this great and god-like end, and glori- 
ously exhibiting the image and beauty of their Creator? 
The only answer to these questions, which an opponent 
can bring, is, that in this guilty, wretched world, the 
contrary spirit universally prevails. On the same 
ground, the tenants of a gaol may rationally determine, 
that the mass of fraud, theft, rape, and murder, for which 
they are consigned to chains and gibbets, is the true 
and only character which exists in the palace of sove- 
reignty, the hall of legislation, the household of piety, 
and the church of God. 

Admitting, then, that such a disposition is possible ; 
admitting, that it has, at least in superior worlds, a real 
existence ; admitting still farther, as all who really be- 
lieve the dictates of the gospel must admit, that it 
exists in every sincere Christian, even in this world : I 
proceed to establish the doctrine by observing, 

T. That all the happiness which is enjoyed in the 
universe, flows originally from the voluntary activity 
of intelligent beings. 

All happiness is contrived ; and is brought into exis- 
tence by carrying that contrivance into execution. In- 
telligent beings alone can contrive or execute. From 
their voluntary agency, therefore, all happiness springs. 
God, the Great Intelligent, began this wonderful and 
immense work. Intelligent creatures, endued with the 
faculties necessary for this purpose, coincide with him, 
as instruments, in carrying on the vast design. On the 
part of Him, or them, or both, it is the result of design. 
If happiness, then, is to exist at all, it must flow from 
disposition ; and plainly from a disposition to do good : 
this, and a disposition to do evil, being the only active 
and productive principles in the whole nature of things. 
A disposition to gain happiness from others, could 
plainly produce nothing; and were there no other, the 
universe would be a blank, a desert, in which enjoy- 
ment could never be found. The capacity for it would 
indeed exist ; but the means of filling it would be want- 
ing. The channels would open and wind ; but the 
living fountain, with which they were to be supplied, 
would be dry. The soil would be formed, and the 
seeds might be sown ; but the life-giving influence of 
the rain and the sunshine would be withholden. Of 
course, no verdure, flowers, nor fruits, would spring 
up, to adorn, and enrich, the immense and desolate 
surface. 

As great, therefore, as the difference is between the 
boundless good which exists, and for ever will exist, in 
the great kingdom of Jehovah, and an absolute barren- 
ness and dearth throughout this incomprehensible field ; 
so great is the difference between these two dispositions. 

II. Virtue, the supreme excellence and glory of in- 
telligent beings, is merely the love of doing good. 

No attribute of a rational nature is, probably, so much 
commended, even in this sinful world, as virtue ; yet the 
commendations given of it are, in many instances at 
least, unmeaning and confused ; as if those who extol it 
had no definite ideas of its nature, and knew not in 
what its real value consists. 

All the worth of virtue, in my own view, lies in this ; 
that it is the original, only voluntary, and universal, 
source of happiness; partly, as its affections are happy 
in themselves, and partly, as they are the sources of all 
other happiness. There is originally, nothing valu- 
able but happiness. The value of virtue consists only 
in its efficacy to produce happiness. This is its value 



in the Creator ; this its value in the creature. Hence, 
and hence only, is virtue the ornament, the excellency, 
and the loveliness, of intelligent beings. 

Virtue, as exercised towards the Creator, is, as was 
shown in a former discourse, summed up in love to 
him ; in benevolence, complacency, and gratitude ; 
good-will to his supreme blessedness, and to the accom- 
plishment of his glorious designs ; a delight in his per- 
fect character, which forms and accomplishes the 
boundless good of his creation ; and a thankful recep- 
tion and acknowledgment, of the effects of his good- 
ness, communicated either to ourselves or to others. All 
these are affections in the highest degree active ; and 
prompt us to study what we shall render to the Lord 
for his benefits, and toco-operate with all our powers in 
the promotion of the designs which he has made known 
to us. All the good, indeed, which we can do to him, 
if it may be called by this name, is no other than to 
please him ; by exhibiting always a disposition like 
his own. With this disposition he is ever delighted ; 
and he has been pleased to inform us, that in his sight 
it is of great price. 

Virtue, as exercised towards our fellow creatures, is 
the same love directed to them, and perfectly active in 
promoting their well-being. 

In all the forms of justice, faithfulness, truth, kind- 
ness, compassion, charity, and forgiveness, in every act 
of self-denial and self-government, this is still the soul 
and substance. But virtue is a character, beyond com- 
prehension superior to any other, and in a literal 
sense infinitely more desirable. It is the only worth, 
the only excellence, the only beauty, of the mind; the 
only dignity ; the only glory. 

To the spirit, which is occupied in gaining good from 
others, or which aims at enjoyment merely, it is trans- 
cendently superior, in numerous particulars. 

It is the source of all internal, moral good. 

The mind is a world of itself; in which happiness 
of a high and refined kind can exist : a happiness, 
without which external good can be of but little value. 
In the great business of forming happiness, its first con- 
cern is with itself. If disorder, tumult, and tempest, 
reign within, order, peace, and serenity, fiom without, 
will find no admission. The first step towards real 
good is self-approbation. So long as the mind is ne- 
cessitated to see itself deformed, odious, and contempti- 
ble ; so long as the conscience reproaches and stings ; 
so long as the affections are inordinate, base, insincere, 
rebellious, impious, selfish, and guilty ; so long as 
fraud is cherished, truth rejected, sin loved, and duty 
opposed; it is impossible, that quiet, consolation, or 
hope, should find a residence there. Self-condemned, 
self-abhorred, self despised, it must fly of design, from 
all conversation with itself; and find its poor and tran- 
sient pleasure in the forgetfulness of what it is, and in 
the hurry and bustle of external employments and com- 
panions. From the sweet and peaceful fire-side of har- 
monious and happy affections and purposes ; from the 
household serenity of a satisfied conscience, and of a 
blameless life, it is forced abroad, to seek, without suc- 
cess, to slake its thirst for happiness in streets and 
taverns, in routs and riots. Sickly, pained, and lan- 
guishing, it looks for health and ease in medicines 
which cannot reach the disease, and turns in vain for 
relief to sports and sounds, for which it has neither eye 
nor ear. 



504 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sep.. xcyii. 



But when the love of doing good has once gained 
dominion over the man, he is become reconciled to his 
Creator and to all his commands. This ruling disposi- 
tion, wholly excellent and lovely in itself, is of course 
seen to be lovely and excellent. The conscience smiles 
with approbation on all the dictates of the heart. The 
mind becomes at once assured of its own amiableness 
and worth ; and, surveying the landscape within, be- 
holds it formed of scenes exquisitely beautiful and 
desirable. The soul, barren and desolate before, is 
clothed by the influence of the moral sun, and the rain 
of heaven, with living verdure, and with blossoms and 
fruits of righteousness. All is pleasant ; all is lovely to 
the eye. No tumult ruffles, no storm agitates. Peace 
soothes and hushes every disordered affection, and ban- 
ishes every uneasy purpose ; and serenity, like the sum- 
mer evening, spreads a soft and mild lustre over the 
cheerful region. Possessed of new and real dignity, 
and assuming the character of a rational being, the man 
for the first time enjoys himself ; and finds this enjoy- 
ment not only new, but noble and expansive ; and, 
while it furnishes perpetually varied and exquisite good, 
it sweetens and enhances all other good. From his 
happiness within, the transition to that which he 
finds without, is easy and instinctive. Of one part of 
this, himself is the immediate parent. When he sur- 
veys the objects, to whom he has communicated happi- 
ness by relieving their distresses, or originating their en- 
joyments ; the first thing, which naturally strikes his 
attention is, that their happiness is the work of his own 
hands. In the exalted character of a benefactor, a volun- 
tary and virtuous benefactor, he surveys and approves him- 
self ; not with pride and self-righteousness, but with hum- 
ble gratitude to God, for vouchsafing to raise him up to 
such exaltation and worth, and to make him a willing 
instrument, in his hand, of the good of his fellow crea- 
tures. 

In this character, the man, who seeks happiness in 
gaining good, has no share. A child of sense, a mere 
animal, his only business has been to taste and to swal- 
low ; while nobler and more active beings have been 
employed in producing the food on which he regales 
his appetite. 

In this character of a common benefactor, the virtuous 
man is seen, and acknowledged by others, as well as 
by himself. By all who see him he is approved ; and 
by the wise and good he is beloved. Conscience owns 
his worth ; virtue esteems and loves it ; and the public 
testimony repeats and applauds it. To the world he 
is considered as a blessing ; and his memory sur- 
vives the grave, fragrant and delightful to succeeding 
generations. 

In the mean time, those who are most unlike him in 
character, pay an involuntary testimony to his worth. 
Whenever they seek esteem and commendation, they 
are obliged to profess his character, and to counterfeit 
his principles ; to pretend to do good, and to seem to 
love the employment. In this conduct they unwillingly 
declare, that there is no honour, and no worth even in 
their view, beside that, of which his character is formed. 

In addition to these things, he is daily conscious of 
the approbation of God ; a privilege, a blessing, trans- 
cending all other blessings ; a good which knows no 
bounds of degree or duration. The proofs given of 
his approbation to this character are such, as leave no 
room for doubt or question. It is, he has declared it 



to be, his own character. ' God is love.' His law demand- 
ed it, as the only article of obedience to himself. 
' Love is the fulfilling of the law.' To this character, as 
formed in the soul through the redemption of Christ, 
all his promises are made. In consequence of the ex- 
istence of this character, sin is forgiven ; the soul jus- 
tified ; and the man adopted into the divine family, as 
a child of God, and an heir of eternal life. Of the appro- 
bation of God, therefore, he is secure. Think, I be- 
seech you, of the nature of this enjoyment. Think of 
the character of Him who approves. Think what it is 
to be approved by infinite wisdom. What a seal of 
worth ; what a source of dignity ; what a foundation of 
honour ! How virtuous an ambition may be here gra- 
tified ; what an immense capacity for happiness may 
here be filled ! 

Beyond the grave, his excellence will find a com- 
plete reward. There, all around him will be wise and 
good ; and will joyfully feel and acknowledge, will 
esteem and applaud his worth. Of their esteem and 
love, the testimonies will be sincere, undisguised, 
unchanged, and eternal. There he will be acknow- 
ledged and welcomed, as one of the virtuous and happy 
number, vvhohave voluntarily glorifiedGod, and befriend- 
ed the universe, during their earthly pilgrimage ; and 
who are destined to the same delightful employments, 
and to the same glorious character for ever. His 
heavenly Father will also there testify his own divine 
approbation, in an open, full, and perfect manner ; will 
adorn him with every grace ; remove from him every 
stain; and advance him through successive stages of ex- 
cellence, which shall know no end. 

It is the actual, and probably the necessary, law of 
intelligent nature, that we love those to whom we do 
good, more than those who do good to us. Thus God 
loves his intelligent creatures incomparably more, than 
they can love him. Thus, the Saviour loved mankind 
far more intensely, than his most faithful disciples ever 
loved him. Thus parents regard their children with a 
strength of affection, unknown in children towards their 
parents. Thus friends love those, whom they have be- 
friended, more than those who have befriended them. 
Thus also in other, and probably in all, cases. According 
to this undeniable scheme of things, he whoseeks his hap- 
piness in doing good, is bound to his fellow creatures, 
and to the universe, and will be eternally bound, by 
far stronger, and tenderer ties, than can otherwise exist. 
He will contemplate every fellow creature, primarily, 
as an object of his own beneficence ; and, while he 
feels a parental, a god-like attachment to all, will en- 
joy a delight in their prosperity, not unjustly styled 
divine. This glorious disposition will make the happi- 
ness of every being his own, as parents make that of 
their children. Even in this world, he will thus multi- 
ply enjoyment, in a manner unknown to all others ; 
and in the world to come will, in a progress for ever in- 
creasing and enlarging, find the most pure and exqui- 
site delight springing up in his bosom, wherever he 
dwells, and wherever he roves. His mind, a bright and 
polished mirror, will receive the light of the Sun of 
righteousness, and of all the stars which adorn the hea- 
venly firmament ; and will, at the same time, warm and 
brighten within itself, and return the enlivening beams 
with undiminished lustre. 

III. To do good is the only and perfect character 
of the ever blessed Jehovah. 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PERSONAL HAPPINESS. 



505 



When God created the universe, it is most evident, 
that he could have no possible view in this great work, 
but to glorify himself in doing good to the creatures 
which he made. Whatever they were, and whatever 
they possessed, or could ever be or possess, must of 
course be derived from him alone. From them, there- 
fore, he could receive nothing, but what he had given 
them. Accordingly, ' he is not worshipped as though he 
needed any thing ; seeing he giveth unto all, life, and 
breath, and all things.' The whole system of his de- 
signs and conduct is a mere system of communicating 
good ; and his whole character, as displayed in it, is 
exactly summed up by the psalmist in these few words ; 
' thou art good, and doest good, and thy tender mercies 
are over all thy works.' The same character was an- 
ciently proclaimed by himself to Moses, on Mount Sinai, 
in that sublime and affecting annunciation ; ' the Lord, 
the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, 
slow to anger, and abundant in goodness and truth.' 
St John has, in a still more comprehensive manner, de- 
clared his character in a single word ; ' God is love.' 
This peculiarly divine and glorious character was still 
more illustriously manifested by the Son of God, 
in the wonderful work of redemption. Infinitely rich 
in all good himself, ' for our sakes he became poor, that 
we through him might become rich;' rich in holiness; 
rich in the happiness which it produces. We were 
fallen, condemned, and ruined ; were ' poor, and 
miserable, and blind, and naked,' and in want of all 
things. To do good to us, to redeem us from sin, and 
to rescue us from misery, he came to this world; and 
while he lived, went about doing good unto all men as 
he had opportunity, and ended his life on the cross, that 
we might live for ever. 

On the third day he arose from the dead, and ascend- 
ed into heaven. At the right hand of God the Father, 
while he sits on the throne of the universe, he makes 
perpetual intercession for the sinful, backsliding crea- 
tures whom he left behind, and with infinite benignity 
carries on the amazing work of redeeming love, in the 
world of glory. In that world it is his employment 
and delight * to feed' all his followers, ' and lead them to 
fountains of living waters ,' to enlighten them with wis- 
dom, to improve them in virtue, to adorn them with 
strength and beauty, and to dignify them with immortal 
glory. 

All these things have flowed, and will for ever flow, 
from his own love of doing good. Of them, he could 
not possibly stand in need. Of the stones of the street, 
he could raise up children and followers, beyond mea- 
sure better, wiser, and nobler, than they are, and in 
numbers incomprehensible. For him they can do no- 
thing ; for them he does all things. 

But God is infinitely blessed. This superior and un- 
changeable happiness of Jehovah springs entirely from 
this glorious disposition. As he can receive nothing, 
his happiness must lie wholly in the conscious enjoyment 
of his own excellence, which is formed of this disposi- 
tion, and in the communication of good to his crea- 
tures. 

If we would be happy like him, we must be disposed 
like him ; must experience and exercise the same love 
of doing good; and must find our own supreme enjoy- 
ment in this exalted communication. Happiness grows 
out of the temper of the mind which enjoys. Its native 
soil is benevolence. When this is the temperature of the 



soul, it springs up spontaneously, and flourishes, and 
blossoms, and bears, with a rich and endless luxuriance, 
and with beauty supreme and transcendent ; but when 
selfishness predominates, like an exotic in a sterile 
ground and a wintry climate, it withers, fades, and 
dies. 

In the mean time, God loves and blesses those 
whose disposition and conduct resemble his own. In 
giving this character to his children, he gives them the 
first of all blessings ; the source of peace, dignity, and 
enjoyment within, and the means of relishing every 
pleasure from without. Thus, in the possession of this 
character, they have, in the scriptural language ; ana 
therefore, to them, in other respects, shall be largely 
given. Their internal excellence and enjoyment shall 
be perpetually improved, and their external happiness, 
in the like manner, extended. As the mind becomes 
more beneficent, more pure, more active in doing good ; 
all the sources of its felicity will multiply around it ; its 
consciousness of being like its Father and Redeemer will 
expand and refine ; virtuous beings will more clearly 
see, approve, and love, its beauty and worth ; and the 
smiles of infinite complacency will beam upon its cha- 
racter and conduct with inexpressible and transporting 
glory. 

Having thus, as I flatter myself, shown in a clear 
light the truth of the doctrine contained in the text, I 
shall now close the discourse with two 



1. This doctrine places in the strongest point of view 
the superiority of the gospel to every other system of 
morals. 

There are two classes of men, both very numerous^ 
who have employed themselves in forming moral systems 
for mankind: viz. the ancient heathen philosophers, 
and modern infidels. It is hardly necessary to observe, 
that in all modern systems the supreme good, or highest 
interest of man, and, by consequence, the nature of 
virtue, and the nature and means of happiness, become, 
of course, prime objects of inquiry. Nothing can more 
effectually teach us the insufficiency of the human mind 
to determine the nature of the supreme good than the 
declaration of Varro, that the heathen philosophers had 
embraced, within his knowledge, two hundred and 
eighty-eight different opinions concerning this impor- 
tant subject. Nor were their sentiments concerning the 
nature of virtue and the nature and means of happiness, 
as will be easily supposed, at all more harmonious. 
Some of them taught, that sensual pleasure is the chief 
good of man ; that it consists in freedom from trouble 
and pain ; and that business and cares do not consist 
with happiness ; and therefore, that a man ought not to 
marry, because a family will give him trouble ; nor en- 
gage in public business ; nor meddle with the concerns 
of the public. They also taught, that nothing, which 
is in itself pleasurable, is an evil ; and that when it is 
evil, it is so, only because it brings more trouble with 
it than pleasure ; that therefore, injustice is not an evil 
in itself, but is evil merely on account of the trouble 
which it occasions to its author. Some of them placed 
their supreme happiness in pride, and personal indepen- 
dence of both gods and men. Apathy, or an absolute 
want of feeling with respect to our own troubles, and 
those of our fellow men, was regarded as being essential 
to this independence. Some of them placed happiness 
3s 



506 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. xcvii. 



in abstraction from the world ; in study ; in contempla- 
tion ; in quietude of mind ; in indolence of body ; in 
seclusion from human society; in wealth, power, fame, 
superiority of talents, and military glory. Of virtue 
they appear to have formed no distinct or definite con- 
ceptions. In some instances, they spoke of it with pro- 
priety and truth ; but in others, with such confusion, as 
to prove, that they were without any correct and satis- 
factory apprehensions concerning its nature ; the several 
things, which they taught, being utterly inconsistent 
with each other. Different philosophers placed virtue 
in the love and pursuit of most of the things mention- 
ed above, and made it consist with injustice, im- 
purity, impiety, fraud, falsehood ; the desertion of 
parents in their old age, unkindness to children, in- 
sensibility to the distresses of our fellow creatures, and 
generally with a dereliction of almost every thing which 
the Scriptures have declared to be virtuous. 

These observations are sufficient to show how infinitely 
remote these philosophers were from just conceptions 
concerning this inestimable subject. 

Infidels have left this important concern of man, sub- 
stantially, as they found it. I cannot, at the present 
time, attempt to repeat their various doctrines. It 
•will be sufficient to observe, at the present time, that 
Mr Hume, one of the last and ablest of them, has 
taught us in form, that modesty, humility, repent- 
ance of sin, and the forgiveness of injuries, are vices ; 
and that pride, therefore, impudence, resentment, re- 
venge, and obstinacy in sin, are by necessary conse- 
quence, virtues. This scheme needs no comment. Virtue, 
such as this, would lay the world waste, and render him 
who possessed it a fiend. 

From what a glorious height do the Scriptures look 
dtOm on this grovelling, deformed, self-contradictory, 
chaos of opinions. How sublime is the scheme which 
they exhibit concerning this amazing subject! Virtue, 
they inform us, is the love of doing good : an active 
principle ; the real and whole energy of an intelligent 
mind, exerted for the exalted purpose of producing 
happiness. In the exertions of this principle, in the 
enjoyment which attends it, and in the happiness which 
it creates, the Scriptures place the supreme good of 
man, and of every other intelligent being. Here, and 
here only, is it placed with true wisdom, and immov- 
able certainty. The mind in this manner is happy 
within, by its self-approbation ; and without, by being 
in the highest degree useful to others, and by receiving 
from the hand of others all the good which the same 
usefulness in them can return to itself. Here all the 
provision, which is either possible or desirable, is made 
for enjoyment unmingled and complete. The charac- 
ter, the personal character, becomes glorious ; the affec- 
tions delightful ; the conduct divine. In a community 
governed by this principle, every individual, however 
great or however small, is honourable and lovely, both 
in his own sight and that of others : every one is useful 
also ; every one is happy. 

2. The great practical inference from this doctrine, 
is, that doing good is the only proper employment of 
man. 

You, my friends and brethren, were created for this 
great purpose ; not to gain reputation, learning, wealth, 
knowledge, power, honour, or pleasure ; but to do 
good ; not to gain even heaven itself, or immortal life ; 
but to ascend to heaven, and to acquire immortal life, 



that in that happy world you may employ the immense 
of duration in an endless diffusion of beneficence, and 
an endless exercise of piety and praise. Make, then, 
the end for which God designed your existence and 
your faculties, the voluntary and proper end of all your 
wishes, designs, and labours. 

With sober and affecting meditation set it before 
yourselves in form and system, as the purpose for which 
you were made, endowed, preserved, and blessed hither- 
to ; as the purpose, which is prescribed by the will of 
God ; and as the purpose to which you are, therefore, 
voluntarily and supremely to devote yourselves. Let 
each of you say to himself, " I was formed for the 
great and glorious purpose of doing good. This was 
the will of my Maker ; it is my own supreme interest ; 
it is the supreme interest of my fellow creatures in me. 
Be this, then, the ultimate end of my thoughts, wishes, 
and labours ; and let nothing hinder me from pursuing 
it always. While I lawfully seek for reputation, pro- 
perty, learning, eloquence, power, or any other earthly 
good, I am resolved to seek them, only in subordination 
to this great purpose ; as means, merely, to this end. 
To form and to execute this resolution, give me grace, 
wisdom, and strength, thou Father of all mercies ! that 
I may perform thy holy will, and in some measure re- 
semble thy perfect and glorious character, through Jesus 
Christ. Amen." 

This solemn proposition of the subject to yourselves 
would, almost of course, give it a distinction and impor- 
tance in your view, whicli would induce you to keep it 
supremely and habitually in sight; and render it a 
standard, to which all your conduct would be referred 
for approbation or rejection ; a moral scale, by which 
you would measure every thought and pursuit ; a touch- 
stone, by which you would distinguish every species of 
alloy from the most fine gold. It would, also, direct 
your aims to a higher mark ; and give your efforts a 
nobler character. Men usually, even good men, rather 
compound in their affections with conscience and the 
Scriptures, for a mixture of worldliness and virtue, than 
insist on observing nothing but the dictates of virtue. 
They aim at being virtuous ; and not at being only, 
and eminently, virtuous. One reason for this is, they 
take it for granted, that they shall never cease to sin 
in the present world, and, therefore, never mistrust 
either how practicable, or how important it is, that they 
should vigorously determine to avoid all sin, and practice 
nothing but virtue. Their designs are divided between 
their worldly business and religion. These they consi- 
der as two separate, and in a degree incoherent, ob- 
jects : both necessary, but still clashing ; when they 
ought to consider their worldly business merely as one 
great dictate and duty of religion ; one great branch 
of the virtue which they are to exhibit, and of the 
good which they are to do. Worldly business is to be 
done ; but it is to be done only as a part of our religion 
and duty. Even our amusements are always to be re- 
garded in this manner ; and are useful and lawful only 
as parts of our duty, and as means of enabling us belter 
to perform other duties of higher importance. From 
exact obedience to the great rule ' whether ye eat, or 
drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God,' 
there is no exemption. 

Were the solemn proposition which I have urged, to 
be formed, and habitually kept in sight; the character 
of man would soon be, not sinless indeed, but incompar* 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PERSONAL HAPPINESS. 



507 



ably more holy, blameless, arid undefiled, than we now 
usually find it. Human virtue would be less clouded ; 
would assume a brighter and more celestial aspect ; and 
would be gilded with a clearer and more genial sun- 
shine. 

In whatever sphere of life you are placed, employ 
all your powers, and all your means, of doing good as 
diligently and vigorously as you can. Direct your ef- 
forts to the well-being of those who are within your 
reach, and not to the inhabitants of a distant age, or 
country ; of a future generation, or of China or Peru. 
Neglect not an humble kind office within your power, for 
a vast and sublime one which you cannot accomplish. 
The Scriptures require you to feed the hungry, and to 
clothe the naked ; to instruct the ignorant, and reclaim 
the vicious. Philosophical philanthropy calls for the 
commiseration of nations, the overthrow of governments, 
the improvement of the vast society of man, and the ex- 
altation of this wretched world to freedom, science, and 
happiness. The only objection to your labouring in 
this magnificent field seems to be, that your labours 
will be to no purpose. On the scriptural plan, you will 
at least do something ; and your two mites will not be 
forgotten. Extend your efforts, however, as far as you 
can extend them, to any effect ; to as many and as 
great objects, as providence places within your reach ; 
and as many ways, as you shall find in your power. 
Promote, as much as possible, relief, comfort, health, 
knowledge, virtue, and happiness, both as private and 
public objects. Promote them by your talents, your 
property, your influence, your labours, and your ex- 
ample. Let every day, when passing in review be- 
fore the scrutinizing eye of conscience, present a re- 
gular series of beneficence, which will soften the bed of 
your repose, and rise as a sweet memorial before God. 

As objects of your kindness always select the most de- 
serving. The Scriptures have directed you to ' do good 
unto all men, and especially to those of the household 
of faith.' To the soundness of this precept common 
sense bears, also, the fullest attestation. It was reserv- 
ed for philosophy to discern, that the true and proper 
scenes of employing benevolence were the galley and 
the jail ; and that its chief aim should be, not to make 
men good and virtuous, but to prevent thieves, mur- 
derers, and traitors, from coming to the dungeon or the 
gibbet, which they had merited. Let your favourite ob- 
ject be the honest, the industrious, the sober, the vir- 
tuous ; and both feel and relieve their distresses. Re- 
fuse not others ; but give to these a universal pre- 
ference. When you relieve the sufferings of the vicious 
and infamous, close your beneficence with solemn re- 
proof, and pungent counsel ; and remember, if you 
withdraw them from vice to virtue, you render them a 
kindness, infinitely greater, than if you elevate them to 
wealth and honour. In this way you will save a soul 
from death, and cover a multitude of sins. 

With all your resolutions and efforts, you will need, 
every day, assistance from God. Every day, ask it in 
humble, fervent prayer. No real blessing ever descends 
to man, but as an answer to prayer. Particularly this 
rich and glorious blessing of a life patiently spent in 
well-doing, cannot be expected unless it be asked for. 
Three times a-day retire with Daniel to your chambers. 
God will be there, and will grant you a glorious an- 
■wer of peace. 

To such a life can you want motives ? Let me re- 



mind you, that it is, and, I flatter myself, it has been 
proved to be, not only the most honourable, but the only 
honourable, character ; the character which secures the 
secret approbation of those who do not assume it ; and 
the open esteem, love, and praise, of those who do : 
that it is the only character, which is truly and emi- 
nently happy ; which possesses peace within, and en- 
joyment without ; which is found in heaven, and con- 
stitutes the happiness of that exalted world : that it is 
the character of angels, of Christ, and of God ; the 
beauty of the divine kingdom, the glory of Jehovah, and 
the source of all the good which is enjoyed in immen- 
sity and eternity. 

It is the only character which -will endure. The 
world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he who 
doeth the will of God abideth for ever. The lust of 
the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, the 
wretched inventory of a selfish worldly mind, find all 
their poor, though boasted, gratifications on this side of 
the grave. Their miserable possessors riot, and dig, 
and climb, during their passing day : and then vanish, 
and are seen no more : where will they next be found ? 

He, on the contrary, ' who by patient continuance in 
well-doing hath sought for glory, honour, and immor- 
tality,' ' will lie down in the bed of peace, will fall 
asleep in the Lord Jesus, ' and awake with new life, and 
joy, and glory, beyond the grave. In the great trial, 
he will be found, and pronounced, to have 'well done,' 
and to have been a ' good and faithful servant' of his di- 
vine Master ; and will be directed to 'enter into the joy 
of his Lord.' 

In the great and final day, he will be acquitted, ac- 
knowledged, and glorified, before the assembled uni- 
verse ; because, when the least of Christ's brethren was 
'an hungered, he gave him meat ; when he was thirsty, 
he gave him drink ; when he was a stranger, he took 
him in ; when he was naked, he clothed him ; when he 
was sick, and in prison, he ministered unto him.' Of so 
high and valuable a nature will he find this beneficence, 
that it will be received, and rewarded, by Christ, as 
done to himself. To heaven he will be an acceptable 
inhabitant; and meet with an open and abundant en- 
trance into that happy world. Glorified saints will there 
hail him as their brother ; angels will welcome him as 
their companion. There, also, will he find, that he has 
begun a career of excellence, which will never end. 
Endued, there, with stronger principles and nobler 
powers, in a happier field, with more desirable com- 
panions, and forming all his plans of beneficence for 
eternal duration, he will fill up the succession of ages 
with a glorious and immortal progress of doing good ; 
and become daily a brighter, a more perfect, a more 
divine ornament and blessing to the virtuous universe. 

And now, my friends and brethren, ' I commend you 
to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up' 
in this evangelical character, ' and to give you an in- 
heritance among all them that are sanctified.' Amen. 



50H 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



(Seti. xcviu. 



SERMON XCVII1. 

THE LAW OF GOD.— THE SECOND GREAT COxMMANDMENT THE EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE 

ON PUBLIC HAPPINESS. 



have showed you all things, how that, so labouring, ye ought to support the weak ; and to remember the 
words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive. — Acts xx. 35. 



In a preceding Discourse, 1 considered at length the 
influence of a disposition to do good on the personal 
happiness of him in whom it exists ; and attempted to 
show, that this disposition is more productive than any 
other of such happiness. It is now my design to prove, 
that it possesses a no less superior efficacy in producing 
public happiness ; or the happiness of society in all its 
various forms. 

Of this disposition, commonly styled disinterested 
benevolence, and denoted in the New Testament by the 
word uycnrYi, rendered in our translation love and 
charity, we have an extensive, most accurate, and most 
beautiful, description in the xiii. chapter of the first 
epistle to the Corinthians. In this chapter, it is ex- 
hibited to be superior to every natural and supernatural 
endowment, and to every acquisition made by man. It is 
proved to be the source of all good, natural and moral ; 
or rather the source of all natural, and the substance 
of all moral, good. It is shown to be the only real ex- 
cellence of intelligent creatures ; the means of their ex- 
istence, and their continuance, in the kingdom of God ; 
and the only cause of his complacency in their charac- 
ter. Finally, it is declared that this disposition shall en- 
dure until all other things, which are admired and es- 
teemed by men, shall be forgotten ; and, when they 
shall have ceased, together with their use and impor- 
tance, shall brighten and flourish for ever. 

Generally, it is declared, if I mistake not, in this 
chapter, that love, in its various modifications and ex- 
ercises, is the amount of all those which are commonly 
called the graces of the Christian spirit ; or, as they are 
often styled, the Christian virtues. Particularly, it is 
exhibited to us as long-suffering, contentment, modesty, 
humility, decency, disinterestedness, meekness, charit- 
ableness, hatred of iniquity, love to truth, patience, 
faith, hope, and fortitude. With this, the most extend- 
ed and the most detailed account of the subject, furnish- 
ed by the Scriptures, all the other exhibitions, contained 
in the sacred volume, perfectly agree. In them all> when 
connected together by the mind, as may without diffi- 
culty be perceived, this great truth is abundantly shown : 
viz. that the love of the Gospel, or the spirit of doing 
good, is the source of all happiness, public and private ; 
and is productive, intentionally, of no unnecessary evil. 

This truth is generally, but forcibly, taught in the 
text, with regard to society, as well as with regard to 
individuals. If we remember, that all societies are com- 
posed of individuals ; we cannot hesitate to admit, that 
whatever renders them happy must in exactly the same 
manner and degree, be the source of public happiness. 
If it is more blessed to give than to receive, if it is more 
blessed to cherish a spirit of doing good to others, than 
a disposition to gain it from them, in individual in- 
stances; the community, in which this disposition uni- 



versally reigned, could not fail to enjoy this superior 
happiness in its fullest extent. 

Equally manifest is it, that the same disposition could 
not be productive of evil. ' Love,' saith St Paul, ' work- 
eth no ill to his neighbour : therefore love is the fulfill- 
ing of the law.' In other words, this great and glorious 
characteristic of love, that it is productive of no ill, ren- 
dered it an object of such excellence to the view of God, 
that he framed his law in such a manner, as to require 
nothing of his intelligent creatures beside this attribute 
and its proper exercises. We are not indeed to sup- 
pose this the only reason, why the divine law was fram- 
ed in this manner. The good, of .which this disposition 
is the parent, was, as we are abundantly taught in the 
Scriptures, a commanding reason also, why it was re- 
quired by the law of God. To secure this good, and 
prevent in this manner the existence of the evil, which 
would necessarily result from any other disposition, was, 
at the same time, supremely glorious to the infinite law- 
giver. 

It cannot fail of being an interesting employment to 
a Christian assembly to contemplate the operations of 
this spirit upon human society. In the progress of such 
contemplation, so many blessings will rise up to our 
view, and will be so easily seen to flow necessarily from 
this disposition ; that we cannot fail to feel deeply 
the degraded, mischievous, miserable nature of that 
selfishness, which is so directly contrasted to it, and 
which so generally controls the affections and conduct 
of man. With scarcely less strength shall we realize, 
also, the excellence and amiableness of that spirit, from 
which good so extensively flows ; which makes heaven 
the residence of supreme enjoyment ; and which might 
make even this melancholy world no unworthy resem- 
blance of heaven. 

On a theme so extensive as this, and comprehending 
such a vast multitude of particulars, it would be easy 
to make many important observations. Those which 
fall within the compass of my design must, however, be 
all included within the limits of a single discourse. 
They will, therefore, be few, and of necessity general. 

I. Evangelical love, or the spirit of communicating 
happiness, will, of course, induce us to be contented 
with our own providential allotments. 

' Love,' saith St Paul, ' envieth not. Love seeketh 
not her own.' 

It is easily demonstrated by reason, as well as abun- 
dantly declared in the Scriptures, that the infinitely 
wise and benevolent God orders all things aright. ' Thus 
saith the Lord, let not the wise man glory in his wis- 
dom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let 
not the rich man glory in his riches : But let him that 
glorieth glory in this ; that he understandeth and know- 
eth me ; that I am the Lord which exercise loving- 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PUBLIC HAPPINESS. 



509 



kindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth ; 
for in these things I delight, saith the Lord.' With 
such a government as this, it is evident, all persons 
ought to be satisfied; for all persons clearly ought to wish, 
that that which is righteous, wise, and benevolent, should 
he invariably done. He who is dissatisfied, therefore, can- 
not, without voluntary blindness, fail to discern, that in this 
temper he is guilty of sin. At the same time, the good 
man is taught, and wi]l from interest and duty alike re- 
member, that ' all things work together for good to them 
that love God ;' and, therefore, for good to him, as being 
one of this happy number. Such a man, with this con- 
viction, must be contented of course. His understand- 
ing, prepared always to admit the dictates of truth, 
and his heart, always ready to welcome them, demand, 
and generate, a contented spirit. In such a man dis- 
contentment with his own situation, and envy on account 
of the superior enjoyments of others, can find no place, 
unless when the ' law in the members, warring against 
the law of the mind, brings him into captivity.' 
Were his love, therefore, perfect ; his contentment 
would be also perfect. 

The importance of this disposition to the happiness 
of man, may be advantageously illustrated by calling 
up to our view the immense evils which spring from 
discontentment. How vast is their number ; how terri- 
ble their nature ! What hatred does it generate to- 
wards our fellow creatures ; what wrath ; what conten- 
tion ; what revenge ! How many slanders does it pro- 
duce ; how many frauds ! What a multitude of per- 
juries, litigations, murders, and wars ! What a mass of 
guilt does it create ! What an accumulation of misery ! 
Were the great men of this world, alone, to be satisfied 
with the wealth, splendour, and power, allotted to them ; 
were they to thirst no more for the enjoyments bestow- 
ed on their rivals ; the whole face of this earthly system 
would in a great measure be changed. Oppression 
would break his iron rod ; and war would cease to ravage 
the habitations of men. 

In producing these evils, it is impossible for a mind, 
governed by the spirit of doing good, to take any share. 
Such a mind must of necessity rejoice in the righteous 
and benevolent dispensations of God. All these it 
would regard, as springing from his perfect character, 
and as accomplishing his perfect designs. Its own allot- 
ments, therefore, it would consider at the best possible, 
upon the whole, for the time, and the circumstances ; 
because they were determined by this wisdom and good- 
ness. If a man, possessed of such a mind, were afflict- 
ed ; he would ' not despise the chastening of the Lord, 
nor faint when he was rebuked of him ;' but he would 
remember, that ' whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth ;' 
' and that he ' scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.' 
In this character of a son, with filial affection and rever- 
ence to ' the Father of his spirit,' while thus employed 
in the eminently parental office of chastening him for 
his good, he would sustain his afflictions with patience, 
fortitude, and submission ; would endeavour to derive, 
and would certainly derive, from them ' the peaceable 
fruits of righteousness.' His mind would become more 
and more serene, patient, and enduring; more sensible 
of his dependence on God ; more resigned to his dis- 
posal ; and more intimately possessed of ' fellowship 
with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ.' Every day, 
and by means of every affliction, he would become more 
weaned from the world, more spiritually-minded, less 



dependent for his happiness on outward objects, and 
more effectually sustained by the peace and joy of the 
gospel. In such a mind, passion would daily lose its 
inordinate and mischievous dominion ; and reason, con- 
science, and piety, daily increase theirs. The views 
and feelings which assimilate him to an animal, would 
gradually lessen ; and those which constitute him a ra- 
tional being, continually increase. The distinction in 
the scale of moral existence, for which he was originally 
formed, he would gradually acquire ; and in the end 
would find himself an inhabitant of heaven fitted by a 
wholesome discipline for an immediate participation of 
its pure and unfading enjoyments. 

In prosperity, the same man would acknowledge God 
as the giver of all his blessings. The enjoyments al- 
lotted to him, he, would regard not as acquired from his 
Maker by bargain and sale, purchased by works which 
himself had wrought, and earned by his own industry 
and ingenuity ; but as gifts, descending from the Author 
of all good, as sovereign and merciful communications 
from the eternal Benefactor. To this Benefactor all 1m3 
affections, prayers, and praises would ascend : and the 
character which this glorious Being would sustain in the 
view of such a mind, would be the proper and transcen- 
dent character of Jehovah. 

It is the lot of all men to be more or less injured by 
their fellow men. In the sufferance of these injuries, 
most men become impatient, angry, and revengeful ; 
and usually look no farther, while smarting under the 
infliction, than to the hand from which it is immediately 
derived. But such a mind will remember, that the in- 
juries done by men, are also providential chastisements 
from God, directed by the highest wisdom, and accom- 
plishing the most desirable purposes. However unto- 
ward, therefore, however painful, his sufferings may 
seem for a season ; he will consider them, chiefly, as 
necessary parts of a perfect providence, and as real, 
though mysterious means, of accomplishing perfect good. 
In this view, they will appear comparatively light; and 
will be sustained with equanimity, and even with com- 
fort. The promises of the Gospel, ever present, and 
ever fresh, will steadily furnish additional and abundant 
consolation. In these, he will find his own good secur- 
ed beyond defeat; and will both hope, and quietly 
wait for, the salvation of God. Fashioned and temper- 
ed in this manner into^ submission, patience, and 
meekness, the work of righteousness will in such a mind, 
be peace ; and the effect of righteousness, quietness, 
and assurance for ever. 

In this vast particular, therefore, extending to so 
many objects, spreading its influence over all the days 
and hours of life, man would gain, beyond measure, by 
assuming this divine disposition. The spirit of doing 
good would be, in his bosom, a well of water, flowing out 
unto everlasting life. The delightful nature of bene- 
volent affections, the animating enjoyment inherent in 
beneficence, would gild with sunshine the gloom ot 
affliction, and add new beauty and splendour to seasons 
of prosperity. Towards God, it would be exercised in 
the whole course of diversified obedience ; particularly 
in complacency and gratitude, reverence and resigna- 
tion : the proper efforts of a good mind to render to 
him according to his benefits. Towards man, it would 
operate in the production of happiness and the relief of 
distross ; the employment of God himself, and peculiar- 
ly the source of his own infinite happiness. Thus would 



10 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbr. xgviu. 



it unceasingly do good, and gain good : and, while he 
who was the subject of it diffused enjoyment through 
his own bosom, he would extend it also to all around 
him. 

It has doubtless been observed, that I have illustrated 
this subject, hitherto, by applying it to the circumstan- 
ces of an individual. It is hardly necessary to remark, 
that what is thus true of one man must be equally true 
of all others, who are governed by the same spirit. This 
contentment, therefore, this serenity, this exquisite en- 
joyment would, if such a disposition universally pre- 
vailed, be felt by a whole community, and diffused over 
the world. Every man would thus act, thus gain, 
thus enjoy. What a mass of happiness would in this 
manner be accumulated ; and how would the darkness 
of this melancholy world be changed into a glorious re- 
semblance of everlasting day! 

II. The same spirit would do justice to all men. 

Love rejoiceth not in iniquity. 

Justice is either commutative, or distributive. Com- 
mutative justice is rendering an equivalent for what we 
receive, whether of property or kind offices. Distribu- 
tive justice is the rendering of such rewards as are due to 
those who obey law, and government, and of such pun- 
ishments as are due to those who disobey and rebel. 
In both senses, justice is the mere measure of benevo- 
lence. What a change would be wrought in this world 
by an exact fulfilment of commutative justice only ! With 
what astonishment should we see every debt paid, at the 
time, and in the manner, in which it was due ! every 
promise faithfully fulfilled ! every loan of money, utensils, 
or other property, returned without injury or delay ! 
every commodity sold according to its real value, and 
that value truly declared ! every character carefully and 
justly defended, and none unjustly attacked ! every 
kindness gratefully felt, and exactly requited! How 
great a part of human corruptions would cease ! How 
great a part of the customary litigations would be swept 
away ! What a multitude of prosecutions would vanish ! 
What a host of hard bargains, cheats, and jockeys, would 
be driven from among men ! How soon would the 
judge find himself enjoying a comparative sinecure, 
and the jail crumble into ruin for want of inhabi- 
tants ! 

But this mighty change would be still increased by 
the reign of distributive justice. In its laws, the 
legislature would regard only the good of its subjects. 
Iu his decisions, the judge, and in his administrations, 
the executive magistrate, would be governed by the 
same great and general interest. Of course, laws would 
be usefully formed and equitably administered; and 
the public peace, approbation, and prosperity, would be 
uniformly secured. 

To the government, the people at large would will- 
ingly render the same justice, as being influenced by 
the same principle. Justice, in an important sense, is 
due from the people to their rulers ; and can be 
either rendered, or denied. When rendered, much 
good, and when denied, much evil, is always done 
to the community. If the benevolence of the gos- 
pel governed men of all classes, this justice would 
be rendered cheerfully and universally. Strong in 
the public confidence, rulers would be at full liberty to 
devise and to pursue every useful measure, without 
danger of slander or opposition, without faction or 
tumult. The community would be a great and 



happy family, peaceful, harmonious, and safe ; and, 
at the head of it, magistrates would be the common 
parents, actuated by no design, and busied in no em- 
ployment, but to render themselves as useful, and the 
people as happy, as was in their power. How different 
such a nation from those that have hitherto existed in 
this tumultuous world ! 

III. The same spirit would invariably speak truth. 

' Love,' saith St Paul, ' rejoiceth in the truth.' 

Truth is the basis of society, in all worlds where 
society exists. Angels could not be social without it. 
Thieves and robbers support their dreadful social state 
by speaking it to each other. To be social beings at 
all, we must exercise confidence. But we cannot con- 
fide, where truth is not spoken. Lying, in all its forms, 
is the gangrene of society, and corrupts the mass just 
so far as it spreads. The sense of falsehood is a sense 
of danger ; a sense of danger is distress. Suspicion, 
jealousy, hatred, malignant designs, and the dreadful 
execution of those designs, grow, successively, out of 
deception. Under the united dominion of these evils, 
the mind in which they exist becomes gradually a seat 
of woe, a haunt of dreadful passions and dreadful ex- 
pectations. In the progress of intellectual nature a 
world of beings thus situated, would be a collection of 
fiends, and convert their residence into a hell. On 
this globe, where much truth is spoken, and where false- 
hood is only mixed ; where the spirit, and the art of 
deceiving are imperfect, a great part of our suffer- 
ings, as well as of our sins, is formed by violations of 
truth. 

What a mighty and glorious change would at once 
be accomplished in the circumstances of mankind, were 
truth to become their only and universal language ! 
Were no false facts hereafter to be declared, no false 
arguments to be alleged, no false doctrines to be taught, 
no false pretensions to be made, no false friendships to 
be professed, and no false colourings to be employed, 
to discourage and deform truth ; . what a host of villains 
would vanish ! What a multitude of impositions, trea- 
cheries, and distresses, would fade out of the picture of 
human woe ! 

To realize the nature and extent of this mighty 
change, cast your eyes, for a moment, over the face of 
this melancholy world. Behold all the interests of man 
exposed and hazarded, his peace invaded, his purposes 
frustrated, his business ruined, and his hopes blasted 
by the various votaries of falsehood ; his private affairs 
molested by lying servants, his friendship abused by 
treacherous friends, his good name dishonoured by 
slanderous neighbours, his learning and science pervert- 
ed by philosophists, his rights and privileges wrested 
from him by fraudulent governments, and his salvation 
prevented by religious impostors. How immense is 
the abuse which he suffers, how comprehensive, how 
minute ; spreading everywhere, and reaching to every 
thing, which is important, which is dear, to the heart ! 
Thieves and robbers conceal and accomplish their 
malignant invasions of property and happiness under 
the darkness of midnight ; and fly with terror and haste 
the detecting eye of day. The wretches, of whom I 
have spoken, shroud themselves in moral darkness, and 
equally dread the exploring beams of truth. Were this 
glorious light of the universe to burst the clouds, which 
envelope our darkened world, and exhibit in clear and 
distinct view all things as they are : what a host of 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PUBLIC HAPPINESS. 



ftll 



enemies, what a crowd of spectres, would fly from the 
dreadful detection! See the tale-bearer, hurrying from 
the indignant hisses of those whom he has pierced into 
the innermost parts of the soul! The perjurer shrinks 
from the abhorrence of those sacred tribunals of justice, 
which his enormous guilt has dishonoured and defiled ; 
and trembles at the expected infliction of that divine 
wrath, which he has impiously invoked. The liar 
sneaks from the haunts of man ; while infamy pursues 
his flight with her hiss of contempt, and her whip 
of scorpions. The sophist immures himself in his 
cell, amid the foul animals who are its proper in- 
habitants ; while justice inscribes over the entrance, 
" Here is buried the betrayer of the souls of men." 
The seducer, loathed, execrated, torn by a phrenzied 
conscience, and wrung with remorse and agony, hurries 
out of sight, to find his last refuge among his kin- 
dred fiends. Behind them, the whole train of deceivers, 
appalled and withered, vanish from the searching 
beams ; and sink down to the regions of darkness and 
despair. The earthly creation, which has groaned and 
travailed in pain, together, until now, under the vast 
miseries which these enemies of God and men have 
wrought, wherever they have roamed, is lightened of 
the insupportable burden. The gloom disappears, and 
universal nature smiles to behold its redemption draw- 
ing nigh. Tribunals of justice are purified at once. 
Individuals, families, and neighbourhoods, feel their 
wounds close, their breaches vanish, and their peace 
return. Religion rides in triumph through the world; 
and God is pleased to ' dwell anew among men.' 

Think not, that I am too ardent in this representa- 
tion. Falsehood is the first enemy of intelligent be- 
ings. The world was ruined, the human race were 
murdered at first by a lie. ' The Father of lies,' is the 
appropriate title of the worst of all beings ; a title of 
supreme and eternal infamy, branded by the Almighty 
hand. All the deceivers, who have followed in his train, 
partake of his character ; are slaves, self-sold to toil in 
his foul and malignant drudgery, and heirs of his un- 
dying infamy and woe. ' There shall in no wise enter 
into the city any thing that defileth, or that loveth or 
maketh a lie ;' but, on the contrary, ' all liars shall have 
their part in the lake that burnetii with fire and brim- 
stone.' 

Truth, on the other hand, is the foundation on 
which rests the moral universe ; the stability of the 
divine kingdom ; the light of heaven ; the glory of 
Jehovah. ' The Truth,' is one of the peculiar names 
of Him, ' who is the brightness of the Father's glory, 
and the express image of his person.' Truth is the 
great bond which unites angels to each other, and to 
their God; the chain which binds together the intelli- 
gent system ; preserving all the parts in harmony 
and beauty, and arranging the worlds of which it is 
composed, around the great centre of light, happiness, 
and glory. 

IV. From the same disposition would spring, univer- 
sally, those kind offices, which are its immediate off- 
spring, and which constitute the peculiar amiableness 
of intelligent beings. 

' Love suflereth long and is kind.' 

The interchanges of conduct between such beings, 
are in their nature and variety endless. From inferiors 
to superiors, they assume the names of our veneration, 
homage, respect, reverence, submission, and obedience; 



together with many others of the same general nature. 
From superiors to inferiors, they are in the like man- 
ner varied through all the shades of authority, govern- 
ment, precept, regard, countenance, favour, compassion, 
forgiveness, instruction, advice, reproof, and a great 
variety of similar offices. Between equals, they are 
performed in the more familiar, but not less necessary, 
acts of friendship, esteem, civility, giving, lending, 
aiding, and a multitude of others. These, united, con- 
stitute a vast proportion pf all that excellence of which 
intelligent beings are capable ; and of all that duty for 
which they are designed by their Creator. To enjoy- 
ment, kindness is no less necessary, than truth and jus- 
tice. Truth begins, justice regulates, and kindness 
finishes, rational happiness. Truth is the basis, justice 
the measure, and kindness the substance. All arealike, 
and absolutely indispensable ; and of all benevolence, is 
the soul, the essence, the amount. 

A world of kindness is a copy of heaven. A world 
without kindness is an image of hell. Eden originally 
derived its beauty and glory from the kind and amiable 
character of its inhabitants ; and the verdure, the bloom, 
the splendour of all its ornaments, were merely a faint 
resemblance of the beauty of mind, the moral life and 
loveliness, which glowed in our first parents. Had they 
preserved this character, the world would still have con- 
tinued to flourish with immortal life and beauty ; and 
the character itself would have furnished one natural 
and desirable ingredient in the happiness of beings 
like them, who, by the nature of their disposition, were 
capable of being happy. 

Were the same character to revive in the present in- 
habitants of the world now in ruins around us, the bloom 
and beauty of paradise would spontaneously return. 
Three-fourths of the miseries of man are made by him- 
self; and of these a vast proportion is formed by his un- 
kindness. Were the malignant character banished ; 
were sweetness and tenderness of disposition to return 
to the human breast, and benevolence once more to re- 
gulate human conduct ; a lustre and loveliness, hitherto 
unknown, would be spread over the inanimate creation ; 
and God would supply to our enjoyment all which would 
then be lacking. 

In the exercise of this disposition, parents would be 
truly kind to their children, and would labour, not to 
gratify their pride, avarice, and sensuality, but to do 
them real and universal good, to form their minds to 
virtue and happiness, to obedience and endless life, to 
excellence and loveliness in the sight of God. In the 
path of this true wisdom they would walk before ; and 
their offspring, following cheerfully after them, would 
find it to be only ' pleasantness and peace.' Brothers 
and sisters, under this happy influence, would become 
brothers and sisters indeed. In their hearts, and on 
their tongues, would dwell the law of kindness to each 
other, and of piety to their parents. Every son would 
make a glad father ; no daughter would be a heaviness 
to her mother. Every returning day would assume the 
peace and serenity of the sabbath; and every house 
would be converted into a little heaven. 

From the house, this expansive disposition would 
enlarge the circuit of its benefactions, so as to compre- 
hend the neighbourhood. Happy within, every family 
would delight to extend its happiness to all without, 
who are near enough to know and to share its kind 
offices. The beams of charity would shine from one 



512 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcviii. 



habitation to another ; and every hamlet and village 
would be formed into a constellation of beauty and 
splendour. Peace, the sister of Love ; and Joy, the third 
in that delightful family, would be constant visitants at 
every fire-side ; and spread their smiles and their in- 
fluence over every collection of human dwellings. 

To the poor, the wanderer, and the stranger, every 
door would be open, to invite them in ; every heart 
would welcome their entrance ; and every hand, re- 
lieve their wants and distresses. The rich would be 
rich, only to bless; and the poor would be poor, only 
to be blessed. The great would employ their ' ten ta- 
lents ' in gaining more ; and the small, their ' one talent' 
in the same honourable and profitable exchange. 
Kings and rulers would be, indeed, what they have been 
styled, but in many instances, without a claim to the 
character, ' the fathers of their country.' The ' iron 
rod of oppression' would be finally broken and cast 
away ; and the golden sceptre of love, and peace, and 
charity, would be extended for the encouragement and 
relief of all who approached. Bribery, intrigue, 
caballing, and the whole train of public corrupters, 
would be hissed out of the habitations of men ; and the 
courts of rulers become, not the scenes of guilt and mis- 
chief, but the residence of honour, dignity, and evan- 
gelical example. 

Nor would this great bond of perfectness merely 
unite the members of a single community with each 
other; but, extending its power, like the attraction of 
the sun, would join all nations in one common union of 
peace and good-will. No more would the trumpet sum- 
mon to arms ; no more would the beacon kindle its fires, 
to spread the alarm of invasion ; no more would the in- 
struments of death be furbished against the day of battle. 
'The sword' would be literally 'beaten into a ploughshare, 
and the spear into a pruning hook ; nation would no 
more lift up sword against nation ; nor kingdom against 
kingdom ; neither would they learn war any more.' The 
human wolf, forgetting all his native ferocity, would 
cease to thirst for the blood of the lamb ; and cruelty, 
slaughter, and desolation, to lay waste the miserable 
habitations of men. ' The walls,' within and without 
which violence resounded and ravaged, ' would be called 
Salvation ;' and ' the gates,' before which destruction 
frowned at the head of an invading host, ' would be sur- 
named Praise.' 
" V. The same disposition would manifest itself in uni- 
versal and unceasing piety to God. 

The infinite mind is the infinite benefactor of the uni- 
verse. As the source and centre of all existence ; as 
the great benefactor of all beings; as the subject of 
divine blessedness and excellence ; God would be re- 
garded by such a disposition with supreme benevolence 
and complacency. Piety is nothing but this disposition 
directed to this great and glorious Being. The love 
which is the fulfilling of the second command of the 
moral law, is also perfect obedience to the first, which 
is like unto the second. Without love, fear becomes a 
base and pernicious passion, totally destitute of amiable- 
ness, and excellency ; united with love, or in a mind 
where love reigns, it is changed into the sublime charac- 
ter of reverence ; the proper and filial regard to God 
from his children. Dependence without love, is no- 
thing. Without love, confidence cannot exist. Hope 
and joy equally spring from it. Gratitude is but one 
manner in which it is exercised. 



He who loves his neighbour on any account, with 
the benevolence of the gospel, will and must, of course, 
love his Creator. If he exercises evangelical confidence 
at all, he cannot but exercise it supremely in God. If 
he be grateful to a human benefactor, he must be, be- 
yond measure, more grateful to the divine Benefactor. 
If he love moral excellence at all, he must, more than 
in all other* excellence, delight in that which glows 
with unceasing glory in the eternal mind. 

In God, therefore, this desirable disposition would 
find the highest object of all its attachments, the supreme 
end of all its conduct. To him the devotion of such a 
spirit would be complete, unceasing, and endless. To 
please, obey, and glorify him would be the instinctive 
and the commanding aim of the man in whom it was 
found ; and, in the case supposed, in all men. All men 
would be changed into children of God. The earth 
would become one universal temple, from which prayer, 
and praise, and faith, and love, would ascend before the 
throne of God and the Lamb, every morning and every 
evening. Time, hitherto a period of sense and sin, of 
impiety, and rebellion, would be converted into a uni- 
versal sabbath of peace and worship. ' Holiness to the 
Lord' would be written on all the pursuitsandemployments 
of mankind. ' Zion, the city of our God,' would extend 
its walls from the rising to the setting sun ; and com- 
prehend all the great family of Adam within its circuit ; 
while on its gates would be inscribed in immortal cha- 
lacters, Jehovah is here. 

Let me now ask, whether the love of the gospel, the 
spirit of doing good, is not in the view of all who hear 
me, a disposition more desirable than the present disposi- 
tion of man ? Think what the world now is ; and what, 
since the apostasy, it ever has been. Call to mind the pri- 
vate wretchedness, guilt, and debasement, which, within 
and without you, deform the human character, and de- 
stroy human happiness. Call to mind the public sins, which 
have blackened the world from the beginning ; and the 
public miseries, which have rung with groans and shrieks, 
throughout the whole reign of time, and from one end of 
heaven to the other. Whatavast proportion of these evils 
has man created for himself, and his fellow creatures! 
How small a portion has God created ! and how mild and 
proper a punishment has this been for the authors of the 
rest ! Of this complication of guilt and woe, every man is, 
in some degree, the subject and the author. All men 
are daily employed in complaining of others ; and none, 
almost, in reforming themselves. Were each individual 
to begin the task of withdrawing from the common mass, 
the erils which he occasions, the work would be easily 
done. Those produced by men would be annihilated, 
and those occasioned by God would cease ; because, 
where there were no transgressions, God would not ex- 
ercise his strange work of punishment. 

How mighty would be the change ! Benevolence 
would take place of malignity, friendship of contention, 
peace of war, truth of falsehood, and happiness of mis- 
ery. This dreary world would become a paradise. 
The brutal, deformed character of man, would give 
place to the holiness and dignity of angels, and all the 
perplexed, melancholy, and distressing scene of time 
would assume the order, beauty, and glory, of the celes- 
tial system. 

With the nature and effects of the present human 
character, the selfishness of man, so fondly, proudly, 
and obstinately cherished by every human breast, you 



EFFECTS OF BENEVOLENCE ON PUBLIC HAPPINESS. 



513 



are all, at least in some degree, acquainted. It is 
scarcely necessary that I should recall to your minds 
the universal corruption of the antediluvian -world ; and 
the violence and pollution which rendered this earth 
too impure and deformed, to be any longer seen by 
the perfect eye of Jehovah. It is scarcely necessary to 
remind you of the premature apostasy which followed 
the deluge ; the brutal idolatry, which, like a cloud 
from the bottomless pit, darkened this great globe to 
the four ends of heaven ; the putrid infection which 
tainted Sodom and Gomorrah ; the rank and rotten 
growth of sin which poisoned and destroyed the na- 
tions of Canaan ; the deplorable defections of Israel 
and Judah ; the bloody oppressions of Assyria, Babylon, 
and Persia ; the monstrous ambition and wild ravages 
of Alexander ; the base treacheries, and deformed 
cruelties of his followers ; the iron-handed plunder, 
butchery, and devastation of Home; the terrible ravages 
of Mohammed and his disciples : or the fearful waste 
of man by Alaric, Attila, and their barbarous compan- 
ions in slaughter. As little necessity is there to detail 
the wars and ruins of modern Europe ; the massacres 
of the Romish hierarchy, the tortures of the Inquisition, 
the absolutions and indulgences issued from the Va- 
tican, to pardon sin, and to sanction rebellion against 
God. Your minds must be familiarized to the lament- 
able degradation, the amazing miseries, the death-like 
slavery of the nations, which fill the continent of Africa. 
You cannot be unacquainted with the swinish brutism of 
the Chinese ; the more brutal deformity, the tiger-like 
thirst for blood, of- the Hindoos, and of the strangers 
who have successively invaded Hindostan ; the fell and 
fiend-like cruelty that has made modern Persia a desert ; 
and the stupid but furious superstition, and the tainted 
impurity of Turkey. To these monstrous corruptions, 
these wonderful sins of nations claiming, generally, the 
name of civilized, add the crimes of thesavage world ; and 
fasten your eyes for a moment on the wolfish rage, which 
reigns and riots in the human animals, prowling, regu- 
larly, for blood and havoc around the deserts of Ame- 
rica and Asia ; and you will be presented with an im- 
perfect, but for my purpose a sufficient, exemplification 
of the spirit which rules the heart of man, and actuates 
the vast family of Adam. 

But this spirit is unnecessary to man. The disposi- 
tion which 1 have described, might just as easily inform 
the mind, and control the conduct. We might as easily 
be benevolent, as selfish ; virtuous as sinful. No new 
faculties are necessary ; and no change is required, but 
of the disposition. How superior is the disposition 
here illustrated, to that whose effects have been so uni- 
formly dreadful j Hitherto I have used the language 
of supposition only ; and have declared, that, if such 
were the character of our race, such also would be the 
state of this unhappy world. Now I inform you that 
such, one day, will be the true character and state of 
man. 

The period will one day arrive ; the period is now 
on the wing ; the day will certainly dawn : the morn- 
ing-star is, perhaps, even now ascending in the east, of 
that day in which Christ will return and reign on the 
earth. I neither intend nor believe, he will appear in 
j person, until the great and final day, which the Scrip- 
! lures emphatically call ' his second coming :' for ' the 
heavens must receive him until the times of the restitu- 
tion of nil things.' But he will appear in his provi- 



dence, and by his Spirit, to renew the face of the earth. 
' A new heart and a right spirit will he create within 
them. His law he will write in their hearts ; and his 
fear will he put in their minds ; and their sins, and 
their iniquities, will he remember no more.' This new 
heart, this right spirit, will be no other than the dis- 
position which has been here considered ; the very 
obedience of the law, which will be thus written ; the 
new creation, which is thus promised. 

By the implantation -of this holy character in the soul, 
a change will be accomplished, which is exhibited in 
the Scriptures in terms of hyperbolical and singular 
sublimity. In their present state of apostasy, mankind 
are considered in this sacred volume, as being all buried 
in a death-like sleep. From this benumbing lethargy, 
hopeless and endless, unless removed by Almighty power, 
they ai - e represented as roused anew to consciousness, to 
feeling, and to action, by the awakening voice of God. 
In the present state, they are declared to be madmen ; 
groping in the gloom, wantoning in the excesses, and 
venting the rage, of bedlam. In the new one, they are 
exhibited as restored to reason, to sobriety, to intellec- 
tual dignity and usefulness, and as introduced again to 
the society, converse, and esteem, of rational beings. 
Originally, they are prisoners to sin and Satan, the vic- 
tims of turpitude, and the sport of fiends ; yet they 
are prisoners of hope. In their renovation, they have 
heard ' liberty proclaimed to the captive, and the open- 
ing of the prison doors to them that are bound ;' and at 
the sound of these glad tidings, they have shaken off 
their chains, and escaped from their dungeon into ' the 
glorious liberty of the sons of God.' In their present 
state they are pronounced to be dead, and fallen to- 
gether in one great valley of the shadow of death, the 
appointed and immense receptacle of departed men, 
where their bones are dispersed over the waste ; dried, 
whitened, and returning to their original dust. A voice 
from heaven, resounding through the regions of this im- 
mense catacomb, commands the scattered fragments to 
assemble from the four cornel's of heaven ; to re-unite 
in their proper places ; and to constitute anew the forms 
of men. A noise, a shaking, a rustling, is heard over 
the vast Golgotha ; a general commotion begins ; and, 
moved by an instinctive power, bone seeks its kindred 
bone ; the sinews and flesh spontaneously arise, and 
cover the naked form ; and the spirit of life breathes 
with one divine and universal energy on the unnumber- 
ed multitude. Inspired thus with breath and life, the 
great host of mankind instinctively rise, and stand or, 
their feet, and live again with immortal life. The great 
world of death is filled with animated beings ; and 
throughout its amazing regions, those who were dead 
are alive again, and those who were lost to the creation, 
are found. 

This resurrection is no other than a resurrection to 
spiritual life ; no other than an assumption of this new 
and heavenly character. This character, this disposi- 
tion, will constitute the sum and the glory, of the Mil- 
lennial state, and the foundation of all its blessings. 
When the heavens shall drop down dew from above, the 
skies pour down righteousness, and the earth open, and 
bring forth salvation ; all the external good, all the 
splendour and distinction of that happy period, will fol- 
low as things of course ; as consequences, which, in the 
divine system, virtue draws in its train. ' The Lord of 
hosts will, therefore, make for all nations, a feast of fa* 
3 T 



514 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. xcix. 



things, a feast of wines on the lees well refined. The 
lord of hosts will swallow up death in victory ; and will 
wipe away the tears from all faces ; and will take away 
the reproach of his people from all the earth. He will 
lay the stones of Zion with fair colours, and her founda- 
tions with sapphires; will make her windows of agates, I 



her gates of carbuncles, and all her borders of pleasant 
stones. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, 
and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy upon 
their heads ; they shall obtain joy and gladness ; and 
sorrow and sighing shall flee away.' 



SERMON XCIX. 

THE LAW OF GOD— THE SECOND GREAT COMMANDMENT UTILITY THE FOUNDATION OF 

VIRTUE. 



J have showed you all things, how that, so labouring, ye ought to support the weak ; and to remember the 
words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive. — Acts xx. 35. 



In my two last Discourses, I endeavoured to show by a 
variety of arguments, that a disposition voluntarily em- 
ployed in doing good, is productive of more personal 
and public happiness, than any other can be. In those 
discourses, and in several preceding ones, it has, if I 
mistake not, been sufficiently proved, that the same dis- 
position in the Creator and his intelligent creatures is 
the source, not only of more happiness to the creation at 
large, than any other, but of all the happiness which 
has existed, or will ever exist. 

Virtue, or moral excellence, is an object of such high 
import, as to have engaged, in every enlightened country 
and period, the deepest attention of mankind. It has, 
of course, been the subject of the most laborious investi- 
gations, and of very numerous discussions. Inquisitive 
men have asked, with no small anxiety, ' What is 
virtue? What is its nature? What is its excellence? 
and, what is the foundation on which this excellence 
rests?' To these questions, widely different and directly 
opposite answers have been given. In modern times, 
and in this, as well as other countries, much debate has 
existed concerning the foundation of virtue. It has 
been said to be founded in the nature of things ; in the 
j-eason of things ; in the fitness of things ; in the will 
of God ; and in utility. My intention in this Dis- 
course is to examine the nature of this subject. 

The phrase, the foundation of virtue, has been very 
differently understood by different writers. Indeed, 
the word foundation, in this case seems to be a defective 
one, as being ambiguous ; and therefore exposed to 
different interpretations. When virtue is said to be 
founded in the will of God, or in utility, some writers 
appear to intend by this phraseology, that the will of 
God, or utility, is the rule, measure, or directory of virtu- 
ous conduct. Others evidently intend, that one or the 
other of these things is what constitutes its virtue ; makes 
it valuable, excellent, lovely, praiseworthy, and reward- 
able. It is, therefore, absolutely necessary for me to ob- 
serve, antecedently to entering on this discussion, that 
I use the phrase in the sense last mentioned ; and intend, 
by the foundation of virtue, that which constitutes its 
value and excellence. It is necessary also to premise 
farther, that by the word utility, I mean a tendency to 
produce happiness. 

Having premised these things, I shall endeavour, in 



the following Discourse, to support this doctrine, that 

VIRTUE IS FOUNDED IN UTILITY. 

The text is a general and indirect declaration of this 
doctrine. The word ' blessed,' is sometimes used to de- 
note a state happy in itself, and sometimes a state made 
happy or blessed by God. ' To give,' in the sense of 
the text, is voluntarily to communicate happiness ; or, 
in other words, to be voluntarily useful. As we are in 
fact made happy by God, whenever we are happy, it is 
evident that those moral beings who are most happy, 
being made so by him, as a reward of their character 
and conduct, and not merely by the nature of that 
character and conduct, are most approved by him. 
That which is most approved by God, is in itself most 
excellent. But the text informs us, that voluntary useful- 
ness is most approved by God, because it is peculiarly 
blessed by him ; and is therefore the highest excellence. 
A man may be virtuous in receiving good at the hands 
of his fellow creatures ; but his virtue will consist only 
in the disposition with which he receives it ; his grati- 
tude, his desire to glorify God, and his wishes to re- 
quite, whenever it shall be in his power, his created 
benefactors. This is being useful in the only way which 
the situation here supposed allows ; and the only thing 
which is virtuous or excellent in the mere state of re- 
ceiving good. 

To give or communicate good, is a nobler and more 
excellent state of being than that of receiving good can 
be, because the giver is voluntarily the originator of 
happiness. In this conduct he resembles God himself, 
the giver of all good, in that characteristic which is the 
peculiar excellence and glory of his nature. Accord- 
ingly, God loves, and for this reason blesses him in a 
pre-eminent degree. The proof of his superior excel- 
lence is complete in the fact, that he is peculiarly bless- 
ed ; for these peculiar blessings which he receives are 
indubitable evidence of the peculiar favour of God, and 
the peculiar favour of God is equal evidence of pecu- 
liar excellence in him who is thus blessed. But the on- 
ly excellence here alleged or supposed by Christ, is the 
spirit of doing good ; or, in other words, the spirit of 
voluntary usefulness. In this spirit, then, virtue or 
moral excellence consists ; and the only excellence, here 
supposed, is of course founded in utility. 

To the evidence furnished by the text, both reason 






UTILITY THE FOUNDATION OF VIRTUE. 



515 



and revelation add ample confirmatioi). This I trust 
will sufficiently appear in the course of the following- 
observations : — 

1. Virtue is not founded in the will of God. 
Those who hold the doctrine which I have here 
denied, may have been led unwittingly to adopt it from 
an apprehension, that they could not ascribe too much 
to God. This apprehension is without doubt generally 
just ; yet it is not just in the absolute sense. There is 
neither irreverence nor mistake in saying that Omni- 
potence cannot create that which will be self-contradic- 
tory, make two and two five, or recall the existence of 
a past event, because these things would be impossible 
in their own nature. In the same manner, to ascribe 
to God that which is not done by him, though the as- 
cription may flow from reverence to his character, is not 
yet dictated by reverence. That which God in fact 
does, is more honourable to him than any thing else can 
be ; and no error can in its nature be reverential to- 
wards God or required by him of his creatures. 

The doctrine, that virtue is founded in the will of 
God, supposes, that that which is now virtue, became 
such : became excellent, valuable, praiseworthy, and re- 
wardable, because God willed it to be so; and, had 
he not willed it to be so, it would not have been virtue. 
Of course, if we were to suppose intelligent beings cre- 
ated and left, without any law, to choose their conduct ; 
or, if we were to suppose the universe to exist just as it 
now exists, and exist thus either by chance, or necessity; 
that which is now virtuous, excellent, and praiseworthy, 
would at the utmost possess a nature merely indifferent; 
and although all other things remained just as they now 
are, would cease to be excellent, lovely, and deserving 
of approbation. According to the same scheme also, 
that which is now sinful, or vicious, would cease to be 
of this nature ; and no longer merit hatred, blame, or 
punishment. In plainer language, veracity and lying, 
honesty and fraud, justice and oppression, kindness and 
cruelty, although exactly the same things which they 
now are, and although producing exactly the same 
effects, would no more possess their present, opposite 
moral character, but would equally deserve our love and 
approbation, or our hatred and disesteem. If virtue and 
vice are such, only because God willed them to be such; 
if virtue is excellent, and vice worthless, only because 
he willed them to be so ; then vice in itself is just as ex- 
cellent as virtue, and virtue just as worthless as vice. 
Let me ask, Can any man believe this to be true ? 

Farther : the supposition that virtue is founded in 
the will of God, implies, that God willed virtue to be 
excellent without any reason. If virtue and vice had 
originally, or as they were seen by the eye of God, no 
moral difference in their nature, then there was plainly 
no reason why God should prefer, or why he actually 
preferred, one of them to the other. There was, for 
example, no reason why he chose and required that in- 
telligent creatures should love him and each other, 
rather than that they should hate him and hate each 
other. In choosing and requiring that they should ex- 
ercise this love, God acted therefore without any motive 
whatever. Certainly, no sober man will attribute this 
conduct to God. 

This supposition also is inconsistent with the omni- 
science of God. Every thing which exists, or which will 
ever exist, was, antecedently to its existence, or, in 
other words, eternally and immutably, present to the 



divine mind. In the same manner, all other possible 
things, that is, things that God could have created if he 
had pleased, were also present to his view. Every man 
knows that a vast multitude of such things are succes- 
sively present to his own imagination, and that he can 
think of new worlds, new beings to inhabit them, and 
new furniture to replenish them. But, unquestionably, 
God knows all things which are known by his crea- 
tures, and infinitely more. When created things were 
thus present to his eye, antecedently to their existence, 
they were exactly the same things in his view, which 
they afterward were when they began to exist, had 
exactly the same natures, sustained exactly the same 
relations, and were just as good, indifferent, or evil, 
just as excellent or worthless, as amiable or hateful, as 
commendable or blameworthy, as rewardable or pun- 
ishable, as they afterward were in fact This may be 
illustrated by a familiar example. Most persons have 
read more or less of those fictitious histories which are 
called novels ; and every person knows that the several 
actors exhibited in them never had any real existence. 
Yet every one knows equally well, that the characters 
which they severally sustain are as really good or evil, 
lovely or hateful, praiseworthy or blamable, as the same 
characters of the same persons would be, had they all 
been living men and women. It is therefore unanswer- 
ably evident, that moral characters, when merely seen 
in contemplation, are, independently of their actual 
existence in living beings, and therefore before they 
have existed in such beings, as well as when they never 
exist at all in this manner, good or evil to the eye of 
the mind. Of course, they are good or evil in their 
own nature. Of course, they were seen to be good or 
evil by the omniscience of God. It is therefore incon- 
sistent with the doctrine, that God is omniscient, to say 
that virtue is founded in the will of God. 

Again : The scheme which I am controverting, not 
only involves in it, that mankind, with all their impiety, 
injustice, cruelty, oppression, wars, and butcheries, are 
in their nature equally amiable, and excellent as angels, 
with all their truth and benevolence ; but also, that the 
character of fiends is, in itself and independently of 
the fact that God chose it should be otherwise, just as 
lovely, excellent, and praiseworthy as that of angels. If 
then God had willed the character which Satan adopted 
and sustains to be moral excellence, and that which 
Gabriel sustains to be moral worthlessness, these tfto 
beings, continuing in every other respect the same, 
would have interchanged their characters. Satan would 
have become entirely lovely, and Gabriel entirely de- 
testable. Must not he who can believe this doctrine, as 
easily believe, that if God had willed it, two and two 
would have become five ? Is it at all easier to believe 
that truth and falsehood can interchange their natures, 
than that a square and a circle can interchange theirs ? 

Finally : If virtue and vice, or sin and holiness, are 
founded only in the will of God, then I ask, What is 
the nature of that will ? We are accustomed to say, the 
Scriptures reveal God as holy, righteous, good, and 
'glorious in holiness;' expressions, which, together 
with many others of the same nature, indicate that Cod 
himself, and therefore that the will of God, is excellent, 
and supremely deserving of his own infinite love, and 
of the highest love of all intelligent creatures. Does 
this excellence of God depend on the fact, that he 
willed his moral character, and therefore his will, to be 



516 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcix. 



excellent P Or is the character of God, and of conse- 
quence his willy excellent in its own nature? If the 
divine cliaracter he not excellent in its own nature, and 
independently of any act of the divine will determining 
that it should be so - , then, if God had been a being in- 
finitely malevolent, and by an act of his will had deter- 
mined that his character should be infinitely excellent, 
it would of course have become infinitely excellent; and 
he himself would have deserved to be loved, praised, 
and glorified for his infinite malice, cruelty, and oppres- 
sion, just as he now does for his infinite goodness, truth, 
faithfulness, and mercy. According to this scheme, 
therefore, there is no original moral difference between 
the characters of an infinitely malevolent being, and an 
infinitely benevolent one ; because this difference de- 
pends on a mere arbitrary act of will, and not at all on 
the respective natures of the things themselves. That a 
malevolent being would have made this determination, 
there is no more reason to doubt, than that it would be 
made by a benevolent being ; for it cannot be doubted 
that a malevolent being would have entirely loved and 
honoured himself. The question, whether God is a 
benevolent or malevolent being, seems therefore to be 
nugatory ; for all our inquiries concerning the subject 
which have any practical importance, terminate in this 
single question, What has God chosen? We have of 
course no interest in asking what is his moral nature. 

The Scriptures certainly exhibit this subject in a very 
different light. They everywhere consider moral things, 
that is, both moral beings and their actions, as differing 
altogether in their several natures, and, independently 
of any act of the divine will, determining that they 
should thus differ. Particularly they exhibit God him- 
self not only as being holy, righteous, just, true, faithful, 
kind, and merciful, but as excellent on account of these 
things; infinitely excellent, infinitely glorious, infinitely 
deserving of the love, that is, the complacency (the kind 
of love everywhere intended in this Discourse) of his 
intelligent creatures. Accordingly, God is often spoken 
of as excellent, and as excellency in the abstract. Thus, 
he is styled, ' the Excellency of Jacob.' His ' name ' is 
said to be ' excellent in all the earth.' — ' How excellent,' 
saith the psalmist, ' is thy loving-kindness.' — ' The Lord 
of hosts,' says Isaiah, ' is excellent in working.' In all 
these passages it is plainly declared, that God is excel- 
lent in his own nature. In the same manner the Scrip- 
tures assert, that ' his law is perfect,' and ' his command- 
ment pure ;' that ' his statutes are right,' and ' his judg- 
ments altogether righteous ;' and that ' his command- 
ment is holy, just, and good ;' that is, that these things 
possess the several kinds of excellence attributed to 
them, in their own nature. Tor if the Scriptures 
intended only that they were good, because God willed 
them to be so, when they were before neither good nor 
evil, it would have been mere tautology to have used 
this language. It -would have been no more than say- 
ing, that the law, the commandments, and the statutes 
of God were his law, commandments, and statutes ; this 
fact being, according to the scheme here opposed, all 
that in which their excellence lies. In the same man- 
ner, when it is said, ' Thou art good, and doest good ;' 
it ought to be said, ' Thou art what thou art, and doest 
what thou doest ;' for this is all that is meant, according 
to the scheme in question. 

In the same manner, the Scriptures declare, that ' the 
righteous Lord loveth righteousness,' and thus teach 



us, that there is in righteousness a cause, a reason, or, 
in other words, a nature, for which it is, and deserves 
to be loved. They also assure us, that he ' hates wick- 
edness,' and that it is ' an abomination to him.' There 
is therefore a reason why he hates it. As he always 
hated the latter, and loved the former, and therefore, 
before the one was forbidden and the other required of 
his intelligent creatures, it is certain that the one was 
hateful and the other lovely, in its own nature. 

In Jer. ix. 24, it is said, ' Let him that glorieth glory 
in this ; that he understandeth, and knovveth me, that 
I am the Lord, which exercise loving-kindness, judg- 
ment, and righteousness, in the earth : for in these 
things I delight, saith the Lord.' In this passage God 
requires mankind to glory, not merely because he acts, 
but because he acts in such a manner ; because he ' ex- 
ercises loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness in 
the earth ;' and informs us that he himself delights in 
these things ; in other words, because they are lovely 
in his sight. 

In Heb. vi. 1 8, it is said, that ' it is impossible for 
God to lie.' If at any given time it is impossible for 
God to lie, it has been always impossible.' For what 
reason ? If truth and falsehood are in their own na- 
ture indifferent, then certainly it was once just as easy 
for God to lie, as to speak truth. The only reason why 
it is now impossible for him to utter falsehood, is, that 
he is utterly indisposed to this conduct. But if false- 
hood and truth have the same moral nature in them- 
selves, there can be no reason why he was originally 
disposed to speak truth rather than falsehood. Yet 
he is infinitely disposed to speak truth, and infinitely 
indisposed to utter falsehood. Falsehood is there- 
fore totally odious in itself, and truth altogether desira- 
ble. 

Every thing contained in the Scriptures relative to 
this subject is of the same tenor, so far as I have been 
able to understand them, with the passages which I 
have quoted. Nor have I found in them a single hint 
that virtue and vice have not in themselves a totally 
different moral nature, or that they depend for their 
excellence and worthlessness on an act of the divine 
will. On the contrary, the whole drift of the Scrip- 
tures is to exhibit them as possessed of these character- 
istics in themselves ; and as for this reason chosen and 
required on the one hand, and rejected and forbidden 
on the other. 

There are persons, who speak of the will of God as 
constituting the nature of things, when they only mean 
that it gives them existence. These persons appear not 
to discern that the nature of the thing is exactly the 
same whether it exists, or is only seen in contempla- 
tion. The Achilles of Homer, the JEneas of Virgil, 
the Lear of Shakspeare, and the Grandison of -kich- 
ardson, have all the same character which real men, 
answering severally to the descriptions of them, would 
possess. The will of God gives birth to the existence 
of all things. But the things themselves, as seen by 
the divine mind, have exactly the same nature, and sus- 
tain the same relations to each other ; have the same 
value or worthlessness, the same excellence or turpi- 
tude, which they have when they really exist. This 
nature is what makes them desirable or undesirable to 
the eye of God, and induces them either to choose or 
reject them. While it is true, therefore, that the will 
of God gives birth to all things, and to their several 



UTILITY THE FOUNDATION OF VIRTUE. 



517 



natures, as really existing in fact, it is equally true that, 
as seen by the divine mind, the same things had exact- 
ly the same nature before they existed. A house be- 
fore it is built, and when formed merely in a plan, has 
exactly the same figure and pi-oportions as seen by the 
mind of the builder, which it has after it has been built 
according jo this plan. Truth and falsehood, right and 
wrong in creatures, were exactly the same things to the 
eye of Omniscience before and after they existed. 

From these considerations it is, I apprehend, evident, 
that the foundation of virtue is not in the will of God, 
but in the nature of things. The next object of inquiry 
therefore is, Where in the nature of things, shall we 
find this foundation ? I begin my answer to this ques- 
tion by observing, 

2. That there is no ultimate good but happiness. 

By ultimate good I intend that which is originally 
denominated good. Good is of two kinds only : Hap- 
piness, and the causes or means of happiness. Happi- 
ness is the ultimate good ; the causes or means of hap- 
piness are good, only because they produce it. Thus 
fruit is good, because it is pleasant to the taste. The 
tree on which it grows is good, because it produces it. 
Health is good in itself; a medicine is good, because it 
preserves or restores it. 

We are accustomed to hear so much said, and truly 
said, concerning the excellence, beauty, and glory of 
virtue, that we are ready to conceive and speak of it as 
being original or ultimate good, and independently of 
the happiness which it brings with it. Nay, we are 
ready to feel dissatisfied with ourselves and others for 
calling this position in question ; to consider this con- 
duct as involving a kind of irreverence towards this 
glorious object ; as diminishing its importance, and ob- 
scuring its lustre. This, however, arises from mere 
misapprehension. If virtue brought with it no enjoy- 
ment to us ; and produced no happiness to others, it 
would be wholly destitute of all the importance, beauty, 
and glory, with which it is now invested. Let any good 
man ask himself what that is for which he values his 
own virtue ; what constitutes the commendations of it 
in the conversation and writings, particularly the ser- 
mons, with which he is acquainted ; and what is the 
amount of all that for which it is commended in the 
Scriptures ; and he will find every idea which he forms 
of it, distinctly and definitely, completely, summed up 
in these two things ; that it is the means of glory to 
God, and of good to his creatures. I have shown in a 
former Discourse that to glorify God, that is, volunta- 
rily (the tiling which is here intended), is exactly the 
same conduct towards him which, when directed to- 
wards creatures, produces their happiness. It is, in 
iruth, doingall that which it is in our power to do to- 
wards the happiness of the Creator. The happiness of 
tiod consists in the enjoyment furnished, partly by his 
sufficiency for all great and glorious purposes, and 
partly by the actual accomplishment of these purposes. 
I separate these things only for the sake of exhibiting 
them more distinctly to view, and am well aware that, 
as they exist in the divine mind, they are absolutely 
inseparable. ' The Lord,' saith the psalmist, ' shall re- 
joice in his works.' Had these works never existed, 
Cod would not thus rejoice. God is also said to de- 
light in the upright ; and to delight in his church. 
Were there no upright persons, were there no church, 
this delight would cease. It is, therefore, true in the 



proper sense, that virtuous persons, by voluntarily glo- 
rifying God, become the objects of his delight; or, in 
other words, the means of happiness, or enjoyment to 
him. It will not be supposed that God is, for this rea- 
son, dependent on his creatures for his happiness, or 
for any part of it. These very creatures are absolutely 
dependent on him, and are made by himself the objects 
of his delight ; and such they become by the same vo- 
luntary conduct which, in other cases, produces happi- 
ness in creatures. When we consider virtue as it re- 
spects creatures only, the character which I have given 
to it is more easily seen, and more readily comprehend- 
ed. It may easily be seen, in this case, that all its value 
consists in the enjoyment which either attends or fol- 
lows it. All the exercises of virtue are delightful in 
themselves. It is delightful to do good to others, to 
see them happy, and made happy by our means, to en- 
joy peace of conscience, and self-approbation. These, 
and the like enjoyments may be said to attend virtue, 
and, it is well known, enter largely into every account 
which is given of its excellence. The consequences of 
virtue are no other than the good which it produces in 
originating and increasing social happiness ; and these, 
together with the articles involved in the two preced- 
ing considerations, make up the whole amount of all 
the commendations of this divine object, given either 
by the Scriptures, or by mankind. The excellence of 
virtue, therefore, consists wholly in this ; that it is the 
cause of good, that is, of happiness; the ultimate good, 
the only thing for which virtue is valuable. 

Virtue in God, or benevolence, is, on all hands, con- 
sidered as the glory and excellency of the divine cha- 
racter. What is benevolence ? The love of doing good, 
or a disposition to produce happiness. In what does 
its excellence consist? In this, that it is the voluntary 
cause of happiness. Take away this single attribute of 
virtue, and it will be easily seen that its excellence is 
all taken away also. 

These observations prove, if I mistake not, that hap- 
piness is the only ultimate good ; and that virtue is 
termed good, only as being the cause of happiness. 

3. Virtue is the only original cause of happiness. 

It is hardly necessary "to say, that involuntary beings 
can, of themselves, produce nothing, as being absolutely 
inactive ; and that there are no active beings, beside 
those which are voluntary. But voluntary beings produce 
happiness only when they are disposed to produce it ; 
and the only disposition which prompts to the produc- 
tion of it is virtue. This is so obvious, after what has 
been s.iid, as to need no farther illustration. 

Contrivance and activity are the original sources of 
all the effects or changes which take place in the uni- 
verse, particularly of all the happiness which it con- 
tains. Contrivance and activity in the Creator gave 
birth to all existence, except his own. Contrivance 
and activity in intelligent creatures, under God, give 
birth to all the happiness of which they are the sources 
to themselves and each other. 

Minds are active only by means of the power of will- 
ing. The two great dispositions of minds, by which all 
their volitions are characterized and directed, are bene- 
volence and selfishness. Benevolence is virtue, selfish- 
ness is sin. Benevolence aims to promote happiness in 
all beings capable of happiness : selfishness at the pro- 
motion of the private, separate happiness of one, subor- 
dinating to it that of all others, and opposing that of 



518 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. xcix. 



others, whenever it is considered as inconsistent with | even through ten. How much less able must he be to 
that of one's self. Benevolence, therefore, directs the 
whole active power or energy of the mind in which 
it exists, to the production of the most extensive happi- 
ness. This is what I intend by the utility of virtue ; 
and that in which, as it appears to my own view, all its 
excellence is found. Sin is naturally and necessarily 
the parent of misery ; since it arms every individual 
against the interest of every other. 

Were sin in its own proper tendency to produce in- 
variably the same good which it is the tendency of vir- 
tue to produce, were it the means invariably of the 
same glory to God, and of the same enjoyment to the 
universe, no reason is apparent to me why it would not 
become excellent, commendable, and rewardable, in the 
same manner as virtue now is. Were virtue regularly 
to effectuate the same dishonour to God and the same 
misery to intelligent creatures now effectuated by sin, I 
see no reason why we should not attribute to it all the 
odiousness, blameworthiness, and desert of punishment, 
which we now attribute to sin. All this is, I confess, 
impossible, and is rendered so by the nature of these 
things. Still the supposition may be allowably made 
for the purposes of discussion. 

The great objection to this doctrine arises from a 
misapprehension of the subject. It is this ; that if virtue 
is founded in utility, then utility becomes the measure of 
virtue, and of course the rule of all our moral conduct. 
This is the error of Godwin ; and, in an indefinite de- 
gree, of Paley, and several other writers. Were we 
omniscient, and able to discern the true nature of- all 
the effects of our conduct, this consequence must, un- 
doubtedly, be admitted. To the eye of God it is the 
real rule. It will not, I trust, be denied, that he has 
chosen and required that to be done by his intelligent 
creatures which is most useful, or, in other words, most 
productive of good to the universe, and of glory to him- 
self; rather than that which is less so. But to us 
utility, as judged of by ourselves, cannot be a proper 
rule of moral conduct. The real usefulness of our con- 
duct, or its usefulness upon the whole, lies in the nature 
of all its effects, considered as one aggregate. But 
nothing is more evident than that few, very few indeed, 

of these can ever be known to us by our own foresight. 

If the information given us by the Scriptures concern- 
ing this subject were to be lost, we should be surprised 

to see how small was the number of cases in which this 

knowledge was attainable, even in a moderate degree; 

and how much uncertainty attended even these. As, 

therefore, we are unable to discern with truth or proba- 
bility the real usefulness of our conduct, it is impossible 

that our moral actions should be safely guided by this rule. 
The Bible is, with the plainest evidence, the only safe 

rule by which moral beings can, in this world, direct 

their conduct. The precepts of this sacred volume 

were all formed by him who alone ' sees the end from 

the beginning,' and who alone, therefore, understands 

the real nature of all moral actions. No other being is 

able to determine how far any action is upon the whole 

useful, or noxious, or to make utility the measure of 

virtue. As well might a man determine that a path, 

whose direction he can discern only for a furlong, will 

conduct him in a straight course to a city distant from 

him a thousand miles, as to determine that an action, 

whose immediate tendency he perceives to be useful, 

will thereforo be useful through a thousand years, or 



perceive what will be its real tendency in the remote 
ages of endless duration. It is impossible, therefore, 
that utility, as decided by our judgment, should become 
the rule of moral action. 

It has also been objected to this doctrine, that if vir- 
tue is founded in utility, every thing which is useful, 
must so far be virtuous. This objection it is hardly 
necessary to answer. Voluntary usefulness is the only 
virtue. A smatterer. in moral philosophy knows that 
understanding and will are necessary to the existence 
of virtue. He who informs us, that if virtue is founded 
in utility, animals, vegetables, and minerals, the sun, 
and the moon, and the stars, must be virtuous, so far as 
they are useful, is either disposed to trifle with man- 
kind for his amusement, or supposes them to be triflers. 

REMARKS. 

1. From these observations we learn, in an interest- 
ing manner, the desirableness of virtue. 

The whole tendency of virtue is to promote happi- 
ness, and this is its only ultimate tendency. It prefers, 
of course, the greater happiness to the less, and the 
greatest always to that which can exist in a subordinate 
degree. It diffuses happiness everywhere, and to 
every being capable of receiving it, so far as this diffu- 
sion is in its power. In this respect it knows no dis- 
tinction of family, country, or world, and operates to the 
benefit of those who are near, more than to that of those 
who are distant, only because its operations will be 
more effectual, and because, when all pursue this course 
the greatest good will be done to all. Its efficacy also 
is complete. The object at which it aims it can accom- 
plish. It can contrive, it can direct, it can effectuate. 
To do good is its happiness as well as its tendency. It 
will, therefore, never be inattentive, never discouraged, 
never disposed to relax its efforts. Thus it is a peren- 
nial spring, whose waters never fail ; a spring at which 
thousands and millions may slake their thirst for en- 
joyment, and of which the streams are always pure, 
healthful, and refreshing. 

2. We learn, from the same observations, the odious 
nature of sin. 

Sin, or selfishness, aiming supremely at the private, 
separate good of an individual, and subordinating to it 
the good of all others, confines its efforts, of course, to 
the narrow sphere of one's self. All the individuals 
also, in whom this spirit prevails, have each a personal 
good, to which each subordinates every other good. 
There are, therefore, as many separate interests in a 
collection of selfish beings as there are individuals, and 
to each of these interests the individual whose it is, in- 
tends to make those of all others subservient. Of con- 
sequence, these interests cannot fail to clash, and the 
individuals to oppose and contend with each other. 
Hence an unceasing course of hatred, wrath, revenge, 
and violence, must prevail among beings of this charac- 
ter ; of private quarrels and public wars. All who op- 
pose this darling interest are regarded by the individual 
as his enemies ; and thus all naturally become the ene- 
mies of all. Where this disposition is in a great 
measure unrestrained, it makes an individual a tyrant, 
and a society a collection of banditti. Where it is 
wholly unrestrained, it converts intelligent beings into 
fiends, and their habitation into hell. 

The ruling principle, here, is to gain good from 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE FIRST COMMANDMENT. 



519 



others, and not to communicate it to them. This dar- 
ling spirit, so cherished by mankind, so active in the 
present world, so indulged, flattered, and boasted of by 
those who possess it, is, instead of being wise and pro- 
fitable, plainly foolish, shameful, ruinous, and deserving 
of the most intense reprobation. Notwithstanding all 
the restraints laid upon it by the good providence of 
God ; notwithstanding the shortness of life, which pre- 
vents us from forming permanent plans, making great 
acquisitions to ourselves, and producing great mischiefs 
to others ; notwithstanding the weakness, frailty, and 
fear which continually attend us ; notwithstanding the 
efficacy of natural affection, the power of conscience, 
and the benevolent influence of religion on the affairs 
of mankind ; it makes the present world an uncomfort- 
able and melancholy residence and creates three-fourths 
of the misery suffered by the race of Adam. 

All these evils exist, because men are disinclined to 
do good, or to be voluntarily useful. Were they only 
disposed to promote each other's happiness, or, in other 
words, to be useful to each other, the world would be- 
come a pleasant and desirable habitation. The cala- 
mities immediately brought upon us by providence 
would be found to be few; those induced by men upon 
themselves and each other would vanish ; and in their 
place beneficence would spread its innumerable bless- 
ings. 

3. These observations strongly exhibit to us the mise- 
rable state of the world of perdition. 

In this melancholy region no good is done, nor in- 
tended to be done. No good is therefore enjoyed. 
Still, the mind retains its original activity ; and is wise 
and vigorous to do evil, although it has neither know- 
ledge nor inclination to do good. Here all the passions 
of a selfish spirit are let loose, and riot, and reign, and 
ravage. Here, therefore, all are enemies. Here the 



wretched individual surveying the vast regions arcuml 
him, and casting his eyes forward into the immeasurable 
progress, of eternity, sees himself absolutely alone in 
the midst of millions, in solitude complete and endless. 
Here voluntary usefulness is for ever unknown and un- 
heard of; while selfishness in all its dreadful forms, as- 
sumes an undisputed, and unresisted dominion, a ter- 
rible despotism: and fills the world around her with 
rage and wretchedness, with terror and doubt, with de- 
solation and despair. 

4. How delightful a view do these observations give 
of heaven. 

Heaven is the world of voluntary usefulness. The 
only disposition of angels, and ' the spirits of just men 
made perfect,' is to do good ; their only employment to 
produce happiness. In this enjoyment all the energy 
of sanctified and perfect minds is exerted without 
weariness, and without end. How vast, then, how in- 
comprehensible, how endlessly increasing, must be the 
mass of happiness brought by their united efforts into 
being! How ample a provision must it be for all the 
continually expanding wishes, the continually enlarging 
capacities, of its glorious inhabitants ! How wonderfully 
also must the sum of enjoyment be enhanced to each, 
when we remember that he will experience the same de- 
light in the good enjoyed by others, as in that which is 
immediately his own! Who would not labour to gain 
an entrance into such a world as this ? Who would not 
bend all his efforts, exhaust all his powers, encounter 
any earthly suffering, and resolutely overcome every 
earthly obstacle, to acquire that divine and delightful 
character of voluntary usefulness, which makes heaven 
such a world ; which makes it the place of God's pecu- 
liar presence, the means of his highest glory, and the 
mansion of everlasting life, peace, and joy to his chil- 
dren ! 



SERMON C. 

THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE THE FIRST COMMANDMENT. 



Thou shalt have no other gods before me. — Exod. xx. 3. 



In the series of Discourses which I have lately delivered 
concerning the two great commands of the moral law, 
it has, if I mistake not, been sufficiently shown, that 
the disposition required by the Creator of his intelligent 
creatures in this law, is disinterested love, or the spirit 
of doing good. The tendency of this disposition is al- 
ways to do what is right. It will not however 
follow, that the mind in which it exists will be able 
always to discern the course of conduct which it ought, 
upon the whole, to pursue. The disposition may with 
absolute correctness dictate what is absolutely proper to 
be done in a case already before the view of the mind, 
and yet the mind be wholly ignorant whether that case, 
or the conduct in question, is such as would, upon the 
whole, be best for it to pursue, or whether superior wis- 
dom would not be able to devise for it other and much 
aiore desirable courses of action. A child may be per- 



fectly holy, and yet possess too little understanding to 
know in what way he may best act ; in what way he may 
most promote the glory of God, the good of his fellow 
creatures, or the good of himself. His disposition may 
prompt to that which is exactly right in all the conduct 
which is within the reach of his understanding. Yet, 
if he had more comprehensive views, he might discern 
far more desirable modes of action, in which he might 
be much more useful than in any which he is at present 
able to devise. He may be able to apply the two great 
commands of the moral law, which have been so exten- 
sively considered, with exact propriety to all such cases 
as are actually within his view, and yet be utterly un- 
able to devise for himself those kinds of conduct in 
which his obedience to these commands might be most 
profitably employed. 
| What is true of a child is true, in different dfgroes, 



520 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. c 



of all intelligent creatures, God only, as vyas shown in 
a former Discourse, is able to discern and to prescribe 
the conduct which, upon the whole, it is proper tor such 
creatures to pursue. He sees from the beginning- to 
the end, and perfectly understands the nature and the 
consequences of all intelligent action. This knowledge 
which he alone possesses, and which is indispensable to 
this purpose, enables him to accomplish it in a manner 
absolutely perfect. 

What is true in this respect of intelligent creatures 
universally, is peculiarly true of sinful creatures. The 
disposition of sinners leads them of course to that 
conduct which is wrong and mischievous. They are, 
therefore, always in danger of erring from mere dis- 
position. Besides, sin renders the mind voluntarily ig- 
norant ; and in this manner also exposes it continually 
to error. A great part of all the false opinions enter- 
tained by mankind concerning their duty are to be at- 
tributed solely to the biases of a sinful disposition. 
None are so blind, none so erroneous, as those who are 
unwilling to see. 

From a merciful regard to these circumstances, par- 
ticularly, of mankind, God has been pleased to reveal 
to them his pleasure and their duty ; to disclose to them 
all those modes of moral action, all those kinds of 
moral conduct in which they may most promote his 
glory, and their own good. The importance of this re- 
velation is evinced in the strongest manner, by the moral 
situation of that part of the human race to whom it has 
never been published. I need not inform you, that 
they have been wholly ignorant of the true God, and of 
a great part of the principles and precepts of the moral 
system; that they have worshipped men, animals, evil 
spirits, and gods of gold and silver, of wood and stone. 
I need not inform you, that they have violated every 
moral precept, and every dictate of natural affection. I 
need not inform you, that without revelation we should 
have been heathens also; and should, in all probability, 
have been this day prostrating ourselves before an ox 
or an ape, or passing children through the fire unto 
Moloch. 

Among the several parts of the revelation, which has 
raised our moral condition so greatly above that of the 
heathen, the decalogue is eminently distinguished. 
The decalogue is a larger summary of our duty than 
that which is contained in the two great commands al- 
ready considered. The same things, in substance, are 
required in it ; but they are branched out into various 
important particulars, all of them supremely necessary 
to be known by us. To enforce their importance on 
our minds, God was pleased to utter the several pre- 
cepts contained in this summary with his own voice, and 
to write them with his own finger on two tables of stone, 
fashioned by himself. They were published also amid 
the thunderings and lightnings of Mount Sinai, from 
the bosom of the cloud by which it was enveloped and 
out of the flame which ascended from its summit. 

The four first of the commands contained in the 
decalogue regulate our immediate duty to God- the six 
last, our duty to men. The former were written on 
one, properly called the first table ; the latter on an- 
other, usually styled the second table. 

Two of these commands, one of the first and one of 
the second table, are positive, that is, direct injunctions 
of our duty ; the remaining eight are negative, or pro- 
hibitory. Both classes, however, are of exactly the 



same extent ; those which are positive, forbidding the 
conduct which is contrary to what they enjoin ; and 
those which are negative, requiring that which is con- 
trary to what they forbid. 

The first of these commands is the text. The duty 
enjoined in it is of such a nature, that, to a mind go- 
verned by the dictates of reason, an express injunctior 
of it would seem in a great measure unnecessary, if not 
altogether superfluous. So vast is the difference be- 
tween the real God and every possible substitute, that 
sober contemplation would scarcely suspect it to be pos- 
sible for a man, who was not bereft of reason, to put any 
other being into his place, even under the influence of 
the most wandering fancy. How unlike all other be- 
ings must he evidently be, who made the heavens and 
the earth, whose breath kindled the sun and the stars, 
and whose hand rolls the planets through immensity ! 
How infinitely superior does he obviously appear to 
every thing which he has made, and how infinitely re- 
mote from any rival or any second ! Still, experience 
has amply testified, that mankind have almost without 
ceasing, substituted other gods for Jehovah. Nay, it 
has clearly evinced, not only that we need to be taught 
the duty required by him in the text, but that no pre- 
cepts, _no instructions, and no motives have been suffi- 
cient to keep the world in obedience to this first and 
greatest law of moral conduct. Nothing indeed has so 
strongly evinced the madness of the human heart, as 
the conduct which it has exhibited towards the Creator, 
and the idolatry which it has rendered to a vast multi- 
tude of the works of his hands. 

The word f gods,' in this passage, may be regarded 
as denoting, not only the various objects of religious 
worship, but also all the objects of supreme regard, af- 
fection, or esteem. The command, it will be observed, 
is expressed in the absolute or universal manner ; and 
may be fairly considered as including every thing to 
which mankind render, or can be supposed to render, 
such regard. The phrase ' before me,' is equivalent to 
the expressions, in my sight, in my presence; and teaches 
us, that no such gods are to be admitted within the 
omnipresence, or within the view of the omniscience, of 
Jehovah. With these explanations, it will be easily 
seen, that the text indispensably requires us to acknow- 
ledge the real God as our God ; and forbids us to re- 
gard any other being in this character. 

To acknowledge Jehovah as our God, is to love him 
supremely, to fear before him with all the heart, and to 
serve him throughout all our days, in absolute prefer- 
ence to every other being. In this manner we testify, 
that we esteem him infinitely more excellent, venerable, 
and deserving of our obedience than all other beings. 
After the observations which I have heretofore made 
concerning these subjects, it will be unnecessary to ex- 
patiate on them at the present time. I shall only ob- 
serve, therefore, that this is the highest, the noblest, and 
the best service which we can render to any being, and 
the only way in which we can acknowledge any being 
as God. When we render this service to Jehovah, we 
acknowledge him in his true character. He is infinitely 
the greatest and the best of all beings; and we are un 
der infinitely greater obligations to him than to any 
other. Of course, his claims to tiiis service from us, 
and from all other intelligent creatures, are supreme 
and exclusive. When it is rendered by them, God is 
acknowledged to be, what he is, thus divinely great 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE FIRST COMMANDMENT. 



521 



and excellent. At the same time, and in the same 
manner, we declare, that by his character and by his 
blessings he has laid us under the highest obligation! to 
such conduct. 

As this is the only true, natural, and proper acknow- 
ledgment of God, so, when we render the same service 
to any creature, we acknowledge that creature as our 
god. In this conduct we are guilty of two gross and 
abominable sins. In the first place, we elevate the be- 
ing who is thus regarded, to the character and station 
of a god ; and, in the second place, we remove the true 
God in our hearts from his own character of infinite 
glory and excellence, and from that exalted station 
which he holds, as the infinite ruler and benefactor of 
the universe. This sin is a complication of wickedness 
wonderfully various and dreadful. In truth, it is a 
comprehensive summary of iniquity, and the basis of all 
the crimes which are committed by intelligent creatures. 
The evil involved in it may in some measure be learned 
from the following observations : 

1. We are in this conduct guilty of the grossest false- 
hood. 

We practically deny that Jehovah is possessed of 
those attributes which alone demand such service from 
intelligent creatures ; and, on the other hand, assert in 
the same manner, that the being to whom we render 
this service, is invested with these attributes. No false- 
hoods can be so gross or so abominable as these. Nor 
can they be uttered in any manner so forcible, so pro- 
voking, or so guilty. Our practice is the real interpre- 
ter of our thoughts. The tongue ma-y utter any thing 
at pleasure ; but the heart is always disclosed by the 
language of the life. 

2. In this conduct, also, we are guilty of the greatest 
injustice. 

This evil is likewise twofold. First we violate the right- 
ful claim of Jehovah to the service of intelligent creatures; 
and, secondly, we render to a creature the service which 
is due to him alone. The right which God has to this 
service is supreme and unalienable. He is our Maker 
and Preserver. We are in the most absolute sense his 
property ; and are bound therefore by the highest ob- 
ligation, to be voluntarily his ; cheerfully to resign our- 
selves to his pleasure, and to be employed in doing his 
will. The obligations arising from this source are not 
a little enhanced by the fact, that the service which he 
actually requires of us is in the highest degree profit- 
alle to ourselves ; our highest excellence, our greatest 
honour, and our supreme happiness. At the same time 
these obligations are wonderfully increased by the con- 
sideration that God is infinitely excellent and amiable, 
and therefore claims this testimony of the heart as the 
just and perfect acknowledgment of his perfect char- 
acter. Were he not our Creator, nor our Preserver, we 
could not still refuse to render him this regard, without 
the greatest injury to so glorious a being. 

The created object to which we actually yield this 
service, is destitute of all claims to it. In rendering it 
to him, therefore, we add insult to injustice ; and, not 
contented with denying and violating the rights of the 
Creator, we prefer to him, in this manner, a being who 
' is less than nothing and vanity.' 

3. We are also guilty of the vilest ingratitude. 
From the wisdom, power, and goodness of God we 

derive our being, our blessings, and our hopes. He 
created us, he preserves us, and lie daily ' loads us with 



his loving-kindness.' He gave his Son to die for us, 
and sent his Spirit to sanctify us. It is impossible that 
we should be in any circumstances which demand equal 
gratitude towards any, or towards all created beings. 
The service which he actually requires, as the requital 
of all this beneficence, is no other than in our thoughts, 
affections, and conduct, to acknowledge him to be what 
he is ; to reverence him, as being infinitely great ; to 
love him, as infinitely excellent ; and to serve him, as 
the infinitely righteous and reasonable ruler of all 
things. What ingratitude can be compared with that 
of a creature who refuses this service? Yet even this 
ingratitude is mightily enhanced by the wanton wicked- 
ness of transferring the regard which is due to him only 
to one of his creatures, a creature like ourselves, per- 
haps inferior to ourselves ; a being in this view of no 
worth, to whom we are under no obligations, and who 
has not the smallest claim to any such homage. What 
crime can be more provoking or more guilty than the 
preference of such a creature to such a Cod ? 

It was observed above, that the sin forbidden in the 
text is wickedness wonderfully complicated. Nothing 
would be more easy than to show that pride, rebellion, 
hatred of excellence, blasphemy, and many other sins, 
are included in this conduct. It would, however, be 
unnecessary for the present design, and the time which 
such an examination would demand, will, if I mistake 
not, be more profitably employed in attend!) g to the 
following 



1. From these observations we learn, that idolatry is 
a sin of the first magnitude. 

That a sin which combines in itself falsehood, injus- 
tice, and ingratitude, pride, rebellion, and blasphemy, 
all existing in the grossest and most impudent degree, 
is of the first magnitude, cannot be questioned with 
reason or decency. Equally evident is it, that a sin 
which is at the bottom of all other wickedness, must be 
peculiarly enormous. That such is the nature of idola- 
try, is unanswerably proved by the fact, that wherever 
God is acknowledged in the manner above described, 
the moral character is of course spotless and unblam- 
able. The commencement of turpitude in an intelli- 
gent creature, is his alienation from God, and his 
preference of some other object to Jehovah. In pro- 
portion to the prevalence of this spirit, wickedness of 
every kind prevails ; and in proportion to the degree 
in which the soul overcomes and renounces this prefer- 
ence, it becomes possessed of moral excellence in all 
its forms. This truth is strongly seen in the character 
and conduct of all those virtuous men whose history is 
recorded in the Scriptures. In a manner scarcely less 
forcible or certain, it is also seen in the experience of 
mankind. All virtue flourishes wherever Cod is ac- 
knowledged according to the import of the text ; and 
wherever he is not thus acknowledged, all virtue decays 
and dies. The gi'eat, open, public acknowledgment of 
God is exhibited in the solemnities of the sabbath, and 
the sanctuary. Wherever these exist uniformly and 
prosperously, goodness of character and of life will be 
regularly found to prevail. Wherever they decline or 
vanish, virtue invariably vanishes with them. 

Nor is this truth less evident from the personal expe- 
rience of every Christian. Whenever he magnifies in 
his heart his Father, Redeemer, and Sanctilier, all his 
3 u 



>22 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. c. 



affections are purified, evangelical, ami heavenly. His 
conversation is such as becometh godliness ; and his life 
' adorns the doctrine of God his Saviour ;' is a happy 
resemblance of the celestial character, and a delightful 
preparation for celestial enjoyment. But when he 
ceases for a time to yield this glory to his Maker, when 
the importance of the divine character is lessened or 
obscured, in his eyes, when God becomes to the view 
of his mind, less venerable, less excellent, and less love- 
ly, his apprehensions of spiritual objects are clouded 
and dim ; his virtuous affections are cold, inactive, and 
lifeless ; his purposes are bounded by the present world, 
and centered in himself ; and his life is divested of its 
former beauty, worth, and enjoyment. God is the sun 
of the soul. Wherever he shines, there is more moral 
day, warmth, life, and energy. There every thing ex- 
cellent springs up beneath his quickening beams, grows 
unceasingly with vigour and beauty, and ripens into 
usefulness and enjoyment. In the absence of this di- 
vine luminary, the soul is darkened by night, and 
chilled by a moral winter ; its views become dim, its af- 
fections frozen and torpid, and its progress through life 
a scene of desolation. 

2. The same observations teach us that all mankind 
are guilty of idolatry. 

Covetousness is styled ' idolatry ' by St Paul ; and 
' stubbornness ' by the prophet Samuel. To many other 
sins this title is obviously, and to all sin really, appli- 
cable. Sin universally is no other than selfishness, or 
a preference of one's self to all other beings, and of 
one's private interests and gratifications to the well- 
being of the universe, of God, and the intelligent crea- 
tion. Of this selfishness all men are more or less the 
subjects. In the exercise of it, they love and serve 
themselves, ' rather than the Creator, who is blessed for 
ever. Amen.' No beings, except those who inhabit 
the world of perdition, are probably more undeserving 
of this high regard. We are not only little and insig- 
nificant, born of the dust and kindred to animals; but 
we are, and are in this very conduct, odious and abo- 
minable, ' drinking iniquity like water.' To ourselves 
we render that supreme regard which is due to God 
only. Thus we literally idolize ourselves ; and, as every 
man living is guilty of this conduct, every man living is 
essentially an idolater. 

This spirit manifests itself, however, in an almost 
endless variety of forms. The parent often idolizes his 
child ; the beauty, her face and form ; the man of ge- 
nius, his talents ; the ambitious man, his fame, power, 
or station ; the miser, his gold ; the accomplished man, 
his manners ; the ostentatious man, his villa ; and the 
sensualist, his pleasures. By all these, however, a single 
spirit is cherished, and discovered. The parent doats 
upon his child because it is his child. Had it been born 
of other parents, it might indeed be occasionally agree- 
able to him, but would never have become an object of 
his peculiar fondness. 

This is unanswerably evinced by experience ; parti- 
cularly by the fact, that much more promising and en- 
gaging children are never thus doated upon when they 
are the children of his fellow men. What is true of 
this instance is generally true of the others. Our ho- 
mage is rendered to our own talents, possessions, and 
enjoyments ; not to those of our fellow men. One spi- 
rit, therefore, pervades and reigns throughout all this 
varied idolatry. 



3. With these observations in view, we shall cease to 
wonder that mankind have been so extensively guilty of 
continued and enormous sins against each other. 

Sin is one undivided disposition. If it exists in any 
intelligent being, it exists and operates towards any and 
every other being with whom he is concerned. It can- 
not exist towards God, and not towards man ; or to- 
wards man, and not towards God. It is a wrong bias 
of the soul ; and of course operates only to wrong, what- 
ever being the operation may respect. 

That those who are guilty of such falsehood towards 
God, should be guilty of gross falsehood towards each 
other, to whom they are under far less obligations of 
every kind, is certainly to be expected. That those 
who with such gross injustice violate all rights, the 
highest, the most absolute, should, without remorse, 
violate rights of so inferior a nature, is no less to be ex- 
pected. Equally is it a thing of course, that beings, 
guilty of such enormous ingratitude, should be ungrate- 
ful to each other, whenever this conduct will serve a 
purpose. ' He that is unjust, will (in this sense) be un- 
just still ; and he that is filthy, will be filthy still.' 

In this manner are explained the monstrous iniqui- 
ties which filled the heathen world. These evils com- 
menced in their religion. They forsook Jehovah, and 
had ' other gods before him ;' gods of all kinds, natures, 
and descriptions. A rational mind, sufficiently asto- 
nished at their defection from the true God, is lost in 
amazement while contemplating the objects which they 
actually worshipped. No being, real or imaginary, was 
excluded from a list of their deities, or prevented from 
the homage of their devotions, by any degree of stupi- 
dity, folly, or wickedness. They worshipped blocks ; 
they worshipped brutes ; they worshipped men, usually 
the worst of men ; they worshipped devils. 

Their religion, in all its solemn services, was exactly 
suited to the character of their gods. Beyond measure 
was it stupid, silly, impure, and depraved. It was re- 
plete with enormous and unnatural cruelty. Specimens 
of this wickedness, and those innumerable, are found 
in the various kinds of torture enjoined as a religious 
penance for their sins ; and in the sacrifice of human 
victims, adopted as expiations for the guilt of their sur- 
viving countrymen. Among these, youths of the no- 
blest birth, the brightest talents, and the most promising 
character, were in several nations butchered by hun- 
dreds, to satisfy the vengeance of their gods. In Hin- 
dostan, beside other human victims, twenty thousand 
women are declared, with unquestionable evidence to be 
even now offered up annually, as victims to religion, on 
the funeral piles of their deceased husbands. Equally 
replenished was this religion with wonderful falsehood. 
All the oracles, divinations, visions, dreams, and pro- 
phecies of heathenism were a mere collection of lies. 
The same spirit of falsehood pervaded their mythology, 
their mysteries, their doctrines, their worship, and the 
means of preserving it. As their religion had no foun- 
dation in reason or revelation, they were in a sense 
compelled, if it was to be preserved at all, to resort to 
fraud and delusion, for the means both of supporting 
the worship itself, and the authority of those who pre- 
scribed it, among the infatuated worshippers. Thus 
' the gods of the heathen were vanity and a lie ; they 
that made them were like unto them ; and so was 
every one who put his trust in them.' Nor was this 
scheme less deformed by pollution. In Egypt, Syria, 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE FIRST COMMANDMENT. 



523 



Paphos, Babylon, and Hindostan, particularly, both 
matrons and virgins were religiously consecrated to im- 
purity. 

By the cruelty, falsehood, and pollution acted here, 
the heathen nations were effectually prepared to per- 
petuate the same wickedness elsewhere. Here it was 
sanctioned by religion ; the mind therefore could not 
consider it as very criminal elsewhere. As all were 
thus taught, these nations became generally corrupted 
beyond every thing which the most sanguine imagina- 
tion could have conceived. 

All this, however, is naturally the result of idolatry. 
That which is the object of religious worship, is of 
course the most sublime and perfect object which is 
realized by the devotee. When this object therefore is 
low, debased, impure ; when it is fraught with false- 
hood, injustice, and cruelty ; sunk as it is immeasur- 
ably below the proper character of a god, it still keeps 
its station of superiority ; and is still regarded with the 
reverence due to the highest known object of contem- 
plation. Of consequence, all things beside sink with 
it ; and hold a station in the eye of the mind propor- 
tionally depressed. The mind itself particularly, being- 
destitute of any higher conceptions than those which 
respect this debased object, conforms all its views, affec- 
tions, and conduct to the character of its deity, and, 
while it worships him with a mixture of folly and wick- 
edness, it extends the same folly and wickedness in its 
various conduct towards all other beings with which it 
corresponds. Thus a debased god becomes the founda- 
tion of a debased religion, and a debased religion of 
universal turpitude of character. 

4. Hence we see that the Scriptures represent idola- 
try justly, and annex to it no higher punishment than it 
deserves. 

The debased and miserable character which I have 
described was the real character of the Canaanites. 
They were guilty of all these iniquities, and were there- 
fore justly the objects of the divine indignation. Infi- 
nitely remote from that innocence attributed to them by 
infidels, they had grown worse and worse, under the 
ordinary influence of idolatry, from the beginning. At 
length their iniquity became full, and they were wiped 
away as a blot, as a stain upon the creation of God. 

The same things are, with some qualifications, true of 
the Israelites. In the progress of their various defec- 
tions to idolatry, they became corrupted in the same 
dreadful manner ; were guilty of the same impurity, 
cruelty, and falsehood ; butchered each other without 
i remorse ; were disloyal, rebellious, treacherous ; fol- 
lowed abandoned villains, to overturn the government 
established by God himself; waged furious civil wars 
with each other ; and made their sons pass through the 
fire unto Moloch. God, with wonderful patience and 
mercy waited long, and sent many prophets to reclaim 
them ; yet nothing cured them of their idolatry but their 
final overthrow, and their deportation to Babylon. 

What is true of these nations with regard to this sub- 
ject, is true of the heathen in general. All the nations 
who have been devoted to idolatry have addicted them- 
selves to these and all other crimes, and have been 
dreadfully depraved in their whole moral character. 
Wherever men of discernment and integrity have re- 
sided among such nations, and given an account of 
them to the public, this melancholy truth has, not- 
withstanding all the allegations of infidels to the con- 



trary, been evinced beyond every decent denial f or 
reasonable doubt. 

5. These observations teach us the wisdom and good- 
ness of God in separating the Jews from mankind, as a 
peculiar people to himself. 

All the preceding experiments which had been made 
in the providence of God, for the purpose of preserving 
in this corrupted world the knowledge and worship of 
Jehovah, had failed of accomplishing the end. God 
had revealed himself in an immediate and extraordi- 
nary manner to our first parents, and to their descend- 
ants through many generations. All these also he had 
planted in a world which, though under the curse, re- 
tained still so much of its original nature, and was 
fraught with so many blessings, as to continue the life 
of man through a thousand years. Under this dispen- 
sation ' all flesh corrupted his way upon the earth.' 
The world ' was filled with violence,' and became so 
universally profligate, that ' it repented the Lord that 
he had made man.' The deluge then emptied it of its 
inhabitants to sweep away wickedness, which could no 
longer be endured from under the whole heaven. Even 
this did not cure the evil. The same spirit notwith- 
standing the remembrance of this terrible destruction, 
revived almost immediately among the descendants of 
Noah : and at the time when Abraham was called, all 
nations were on the point of losing the knowledge of 
the one, living, and true God. Had not the Jews been 
separated from the rest of mankind, and by mercies 
and miracles of a singular nature recalled, from time to 
•time, to the worship of Jehovah, this glorious being 
would long since have been forgotten in the world. We 
ourselves, and all the inhabitants of this happy land, 
would now have been bowing ourselves to stocks, offer- 
ing up our children as victims to Moloch, and prosti- 
tuting ourselves and our families in religious and regu- 
lar pollution before the shrines of idolatry. The only 
knowledge, the only worship of Jehovah at this day 
existing in the world is derived ultimately from the re- 
velation which he made of himself to the Jews, and the 
various dispensations by which it was preserved. 

6. We learn hence also the malignant nature of 
atheism. 

Atheism, like idolatry, is infinitely remote from being 
a mere innocent speculation, a mere set of harmless 
opinions. In its very nature it involves the grossest 
falsehood, injustice and ingratitude ; and is, of course, 
the parent of all other sins in all possible degrees. The 
mind in which it exists must, in order to the reception 
of it, have become the seat of wonderful depravity, and 
is prepared by it for every conceivable perpetration. I 
do not deny, that an atheist may live decently in the 
world. But, whenever this is the fact, he lives in this 
manner, solely because the commission of the several 
crimes to which he finds a temptation, is accompanied 
by some apprehended danger, some serious difficulty, 
or some painful inconvenience ; some evil so great, as to 
overbalance the pleasure which he expects from com- 
mitting the crime. But he never lives in this manner 
from principle, never from the want of disposition to 
sin. Let it be barely convenient and safe for him, and 
there is no iniquity which his head will not contrive, 
his heart cherish, and his hands carry into execution. 
From an atheist, no man, no people, no human interest 
can ever be safe, unless when danger to himself presetr-«s 
them from the effects of his profligacy. 



i24 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. ci. 



7. We see with what exact propriety the Scriptures 
have represented the violation of our immediate duty to 
God as the source of all other sin. 

Impiety is plainly the beginning, the fountain of 
guilt, from which flows every stream. Those who are 
thus false, unjust, and ungrateful to God, will of course 
exhibit the same conduct with respect to their fellow 
creatures. Virtue is a single, indivisible principle, ope- 
rating as virtue towards every being with whom it is 
concerned ; towards God, towards our neighbour, and 
towards ourselves. Towards all it operates alike ; pro- 
ducing in every case the fruits of virtue, viz., virtuous 
affections and virtuous conduct. As the obligations to 
be virtuous towards God, or, in other words, to be 
pious, are the highest possible, so he who is insensible 
to these obligations, and violates these, will be insensi- 
ble to all other obligations, and violate them also. The 
apprehension that virtue can exist partially, that is, that 
we can be disposed to perform our duty towards God 
and not towards man, or towards man and not towards 
God, is chimerical; the result of ignoi-ance, or incon- 



sideration, and unsupported either by facts or argu- 
ments. 

External virtue, as it is sometimes called, that is, mo- 
ral goodness, supposed to exist in external conduct on- 
ly, and unsupported by virtue in the heart, is a mere 
dream, a mere shadow. Instead of virtue, it is nothing 
but convenience, nothing but a pretence, nothing but a 
cheat. Virtue is inherent in the soul, in the disposition, 
as light and warmth in the sunbeams ; and is the energy 
of an intelligent being, voluntarily directed to that 
which is right and good. If piety therefore be not found 
in a man, he has no pretensions to virtue of any kind. 

Such is the scheme of the Scriptures. How plainly 
is it true ! In laying the foundation of virtue here, 
how evidently have they laid the only possible foundn- 
tion ! And how strongly do they approve themselves 
to the conscience, as truth, and as deserving the cha- 
racter of a revelation from God! At the same time, 
how evidently are all other schemes of morality vision- 
ary and vain ; buildings erected on sand, and destined 
from the beginning to a speedy and final overthrow. 



SERMON CI. 



THE LAW OF GOD—THE DECALOGUE THE SECOND COMMANDMENT. 



Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, nor any likeness of any tiling that is in heaven above, or 
that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to 
them, nor serve them ; for I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon 
the children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me ; and shoiving mercy unto thousands 
of them that love me, and keep my commandments. — Exod. xx. 4 — 6. 



The command in the text diners from that which was 
considered in the preceding Discourse, in this manner: 
that forbade the acknowledgment of false gods, uni- 
versally ; this prohibits the worship of idols ; or idola- 
try, properly so called. All worship rendered to false 
gods is not uncommonly styled idolatry ; but the name 
in the strict sense, is applicable to the worship of idols 
only ; or of those images, pictures, and other symbols, 
which were considered by the heathen as representa- 
tives of their gods. 

In the preceding Discourse I observed, that the duty 
enjoined in the first command is of such a nature, that 
to a mind governed by the dictates of reason, an ex- 
press injunction of it would seem in a great measure 
unnecessary, if not altogether superfluous. Of the 
command in the text it may with equal propriety be 
observed, that to such a mind no precept given in the 
Scriptures could seem more unnecessary, or more su- 
perfluous. Nothing to the eye of reason can appear 
more wonderful, or more improbable, than that beings 
endowed with intelligence should bow themselves before 
the stock of a tree, or acknowledge an image molten or 
carved by themselves, as an object of their worship. 
Experience has, however, in the most ample manner 
refuted these very natural and very obvious dictates of 



reason ; and has shown, to the everlasting disgrace of 
the human name, that not only some, but almost all 
men have, throughout most ages of the world, prostrat- 
ed themselves before these miserable objects ; and in 
their conversation, their books, their laws, and their re- 
ligious services, acknowledged them as their gods. 
The importance, the absolute necessity, of this command, 
therefore, are evinced beyond every reasonable ques- 
tion. 

The observations which I propose to make concern- 
ing it, I shall comprise under the following heads : — 

I. The history of idol-worship ; 

II. Its extent ; 

III. The manner in which it has been performed. 

I. / will recite to you a brief and very general his- 
tory of idol-worship. 

We are not informed in the Scriptures of the precise 
time in which idolatry commenced. It is, however, 
abundantly evident, that it began not long after the de- 
luge. According to the chronology commonly re- 
ceived, Abraham was born in the year 1997 before 
Christ, and in the year of the world 2008 ; three 
hundred and fifty-two years after the flood, and two 
years only after the death of Noah. Early as this date 
is, the ancestors of Abraham seem to have been idola- 



THE LAW OF GOD THE SECOND COMMANDMENT. 



525 



ters for several generations. Joshua, in a solemn as- 
sembly of the tribes of Israel at Shechem, addressed 
the principal men of that nation after the following 
manner: 'Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Your 
fathers dwelt on the other side of the flood, in old time ; 
evenTerah, the father of Abraham, and the father of 
Nahor ; and they served other gods.' From this pas- 
sage it appears, that Terah himself was, in the early 
periods of 1 i f e . a worshipper of false gods. In the fifth 
chapter of the book of Judith, the following account is 
given of this subject, in a speech of Achior, commander 
of the host of the Ammonites, to Holofernes, general of 
the Assyrian army. ' This people are descended of the 
Chaldeans ; and they sojourned heretofore in Mesopo- 
tamia, because they would not follow the gods of their 
fathers which were in the land of Chaldea. For they 
left the way of their ancestors, and worshipped the God 
of heaven, whom they knew : so they cast them out 
from the face of their gods; and they fled into Meso- 
potamia, .and sojourned there many days.' This story, 
which was probably traditionary among the Jews and 
neighbouring nations, and is not improbably true, in- 
forms us, that Terah, and his children with him, wor- 
shipped the true God, before they quitted L T r of the 
Chaldees ; and that they were driven out from this, 
their original residence, by their countrymen, because 
they had addicted themselves to the worship of Jehovah. 
It would seem, therefore, that the Chaldeans had al- 
ready become such bigots to the worship of their gods, 
as to persecute Terah and his family for dissenting from 
what had become their established religion. This 
event took place, four hundred and twenty-two years 
only after the deluge. Gentilism, therefore, or the 
worship of false gods, must have commenced many 
years before this date ; both because it was the religion 
of Abraham's ancesLors, and because it had become so 
universal in Chaldea, as to be the foundation of a na- 
tional persecution of Terah and his family. 

Sir William Jones has, I think, in the most satis- 
factory manner proved that the system of gentilism 
among all the ancient nations, who adopted it, was the 
same. This remarkable fact, if admitted, furnishes un- 
answerable evidence that it was derived from a single 
source. For it is impossible that different and distant 
nations should have severally invented so complicated 
a system ; comprising so many gods, having the same 
names, having the same fabulous history of their origin 
and character, worshipped with the same numerous and 
diversified rights, and having the same various and pe- 
culiar offices assigned to them. The best account of 
this extraordinary fact which I have met with, is con- 
tained in Byrant's Analysis of the Ancient Heathen 
Mythology. This learned and able writer has, in my 
view, rendered it highly probable that the religion was 
begun by the Cushites, or that mixed multitude, who 
attached themselves to Nimrod, according to the com- 
mon chronology, about the year of the world 17 50 ; and 
formed themselves seven years after, into a nation, or 
body politic, under his dominion. These people, in 
their dispersion, spread over many parts of the earth : 
and by their enterprise, heroism, arts, and ingenuity, 
appear to have had the first great and controlling in- 
fluence over the affairs of men, both secular and reli- 
gious ; an influence, the effects of which wonderfully 
remain at the present time. 

The objects and the rites of worship adopted by these 



people seem almost all to have been found in the his- 
tory of the deluge, of Noah, and of his family. At first, 
they probably intended only to commemorate, in a so- 
lemn manner, tills awful and disastrous event, and the 
wonderful preservation of this family. That a man of 
so excellent and extraordinary a character; a man 
singled out by the voice of God from a world, on ac- 
count of his piety ; a man, who was the only pious head 
of a family, amidst all the millions of the human race ; 
a man, who had survived the ruins of one world, and 
begun the settlement and population of another ; a 
man, who had been miraculously preserved from a uni 
versal deluge ; a man, to whom the postdiluvians owed 
all their religion, their knowledge, their arts, and even 
their existence ; should be commemorated with sin- 
gular feelings, particularly with singular veneration, 
was a thing of course. Equally natural and neces- 
sary was it, that the most solemn remembrance 
should be retained and expressed of such an amaz- 
ing event as the destruction of a world. High ve- 
neration for any being easily slides, in such minds as 
ours, into religious reverence ; especially when it is 
publicly and solemnly expressed by ceremonies of an 
affecting and awful nature. When Noah particularly, 
and his sons generally, had been often, and for a series 
of years, commemorated in this manner, the history of 
man has amply taught us that it was no strange thing 
to find them ultimately raised to the rank and charac- 
ter of deities. This event would naturally take place 
the sooner, on .account of the astonishing facts included 
in their singular history. The imagination, wrought 
up to enthusiasm and terror while realizing the aston- 
ishing scenes through which they had passed, could 
hardly fail to lend its powerful aid towards this act of 
canonization ; and would, without much reluctance, at- 
tribute to them a divine character. If we remember 
how much more willingly mankind have ever wor- 
shipped false gods than the true one, we shall, I think, 
witiiout much hesitation, admit the probability of the ac- 
count which has here been given concerning this subject. 

The proofs that the authors of gentilism had a pri- 
mary reference to Noah, his family, and their history, 
appear to me to be complete in the different symbols, 
ceremonies, objects of commemoration, and names of 
persons and things, together with the whole mythological 
history of this subject. Multitudes of allusions are 
found in all these things to Noah himself, his three sons, 
the number of his family, their singular history, the 
deluge, the ark, the dove, the olive branch, and various 
other particulars. Many of these are too explicit to be 
mistaken ; and many others less explicit, yet taken to- 
gether, and in connexion with these, corroborate, with 
no small force, the account which has here been given. 

When this scheme was once begun, it was a thing of 
course, that it should be rapidly progressive. \\ lien 
mankind had departed from the true God, it was na- 
tural for a restless imagination to multiply the objects 
of its dependence and worship. Among the objects 
which would easily engross the religious attention of 
these people, and of all who were inclined to their sys- 
tem, the sun, moon, and stars, would undoubtedly be 
some of the first. The exaltation, splendour, immuta- 
bility, and beneficial influence of these glorious lumi- 
naries are so affecting to the human mind, as to hold 
always a distinguished place in its contemplations. 
Nothing visible is more fitted to excite sublime emo- 



526 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. ci. 



tions, or to awaken curiosity and astonishment, nor, 
when God was once forgotten, to inspire religious re- 
verence. Accordingly we find, that before the days of 
Job, the worship of the heavenly bodies had become 
extensive. This divine writer* says, chap. xxxi. 26 — 
28, ' If I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon 
walking in brightness ; and my heart hath been secretly 
enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand ; this also 
were an iniquity to be punished by the .judge; for I 
should have denied the God that is above.' Job pro- 
bably lived between one thousand six hnndred, and 
one thousand seven hundred years before Christ, or 
about three hundred and fifty years after the birth of 
Abraham, according to the common chronology. With 
this account of the early worship of these celestial ob- 
jects, profane history entirely accords. 

But the mind was unsatisfied even with these deities. 
The business of multiplying them was carried on with 
astonishing rapidity. The worship of deceased men 
had already been rendered to Noah and his family. 
This was soon extended to others, and then to others 
still, in such a manner, that the number soon became 
enormous. Hesiod informs us, that the hxiftouE;, or 
demons, who appear to have been no other than de- 
parted men, and who were supposed to inhabit the mid- 
dle regions between earth and heaven, amounted to 
more than thirty thousand. In opposition to these de- 
ceased beings, God is especially called in the sacred 
volume the living God.f From deceased men the 
transition was easy to animals, to vegetables, to inani- 
mate objects, and to the visionary beings of imagina- 
tion. Gods were soon found everywhere ; in moun- 
tains, rivers, springs, the ocean, the earth, the winds, 
light, darkness, groves, and generally in every thing 
which was particularly interesting to the fancy. 

Among the reasons which influenced the mind to 
this restless and endless creation of deities, the first 
place is due, perhaps, to the apprehension that this con- 
duct was an evidence of peculiar piety ; and therefore 
a direct mode of obtaining blessings from some or other 
of the objects worshipped. Another reason was, the 
complaisance of one nation to another, which led them 
to adopt their respective deities. The objects of wor- 
ship were, to a great extent, the same in different 
nations ; yet, being called by different names, and wor- 
shipped with ceremonies, differing in some degree at 
least, according to the diversity of manners in different 
nations, they came, at length, to be considered as diffe- 
rent gods. The Athenians, under the influence of both 
these causes, appear to have adopted most of the deities 
of whom they had any knowledge. 

Another reason for this conduct, judiciously assigned 
by Dr Blair, is the tendency of the human imagination 
to lend animation, thought, and agency to the several 
inanimate objects with which it is conversant, and by 
which it is strongly affected ; particularly to those 
which are solemn, awful, and sublime. The transition 
from the personification of these objects, to the belief 
that they are really animated by an indwelling con- 
scious principle, and to a consequent religious reverence 
for them, is neither unnatural nor difficult after the 
mind has once become devoted to idolatry. In the 
early stages of society the imagination is eminently 



* I consider .Inb an the author of this book, 
t Farmer on Miracles. 



strong, active, and susceptible. Always ready to ad- 
mire, to be astonished, to be transported, it easily ac- 
quires an ascendancy over the reason, then always 
weak ; and, together with the passions, directs almost 
the wbole conduct of man. 

It is scarcely credible, that the human mind original- 
ly worshipped inanimate objects directly. The absur- 
dity of believing that that which had no life in itself, 
and therefore no agency nor consciousness, could hear 
prayers, or answer them, could be gratified with praises 
or sacrifices, could inflict judgments, or confer benefits, 
is so palpable, that even a savage can hardly be sup- 
posed to have admitted it. Much less can those people 
have admitted it who appear to have been the origina- 
tors of idolatry. So far were the Cushites from being- 
savages, that they appear to have been the most enlight- 
ened and enterprising of the human race at the time 
when gentilism commenced. It is highly probable, that 
all these objects were at first regarded as peculiar mani- 
festations of the real Deity ; fitted especially to display 
his attributes to man, and to make the most forcible 
impressions of his agency. In process of time, however, 
they began to be considered, especially by the ignorant 
multitude, as being really gods : and the worship origi- 
nally addressed to a being supposed to be manifested by 
the symbol, seems ultimately to have been rendered to 
the symbol itself. The stock and the stone, intended 
at first to bring the real Deity before the senses, took 
at length the place of that Deity, and became in the 
end the real objects of worship. 

It is evident, from several ancient writers quoted by 
Shuckford,* particularly Clemens Alexandrinus, He- 
rodian, and Pausanias, that pillars of stone, and after 
them rude blocks of wood, were the first symbols made 
by mankind of their several deities. Such, it is sup- 
posed, were the terapldm of Laban, stolen from him by 
his daughter ; and such, plainly, were the religious 
symbols formed at early periods by the Greeks, and 
some other nations. Stones in their native, rude state, 
such, for example, as that erected by Jacob at Bethel, 
seem extensively to have been set up, at early periods, 
with various religious views and designs, by the wor- 
shippers of the true God. The pillars devoted to idola- 
trous purposes seem to have been derived from these. 
They were not, however, long satisfied with these un- 
sightly objects. The Egyptians appear to have had 
carved images devoted to the purposes of religion, and, 
without any doubt, molten ones also, before the time of 
Moses ; for we find the children of Israel forming a 
molten calf at the foot of Mount Sinai. The practice 
of forming idols in this manner being once begun, seems 
to have spread with great rapidity among the nations 
who maintained a mutual correspondence. In the 
more distant and insulated colonies of men their exis- 
tence began at much later periods. In Italy, all visible 
symbols of the Deity were prohibited by Nuina Pompi- 
lius ; and were not introduced into Rome, according to 
the testimony of Plutarch, so late as one hundred and 
seventy years after the building of that city, that is, A. 
M. 3426, in the time of Nebuchadnezzar. Among the 
sava»es of this country, images seem to have been little 
used. 



* See Shuckford's Sacred and Profane History Competed, vol. i. 
). 315, edit. 1819, published by W. Baynes aud Son, Paternoster Row, 
London. 



THE LAW OF GOD.—THE SECOND COMMANDMENT. 



521 



II. I shall now make a few observations concerning 
the extent of idol worship. 

The system of gentilism commenced, as has been al- 
ready remarked, in the plain of Shinar. The Cushites, 
who were the authors of it, ruled for a short period 
most of their brethren in the neighbouring countries. 
Soon after the confusion of languages, an event which 
seems to have been chiefly confined to them and their 
associates, and which entirely disqualified them for all 
the efforts depending on union and concert, they began 
to disperse into different parts of the earth. Speedily 
after this they appear to have been attacked by their 
brethren of the family of Shem, settled in Nineveh and 
its neighbourhood, and heretofore reduced under their 
dominion. On this occasion the Cushites were com- 
pletely routed, and forced to fly with great expedition 
into different parts of the earth. One body of them 
fled into Hindostan ; in the records of which country, 
various events of their history are still found. Another 
made their way into Canaan, where they were again 
attacked by the same people under the command of 
Chedorlaomer, and again overthrown. Hence they fled 
into Egypt, the western parts of Arabia, and the nor- 
thern and eastern parts of Abyssinia. From Egypt 
they were again driven ; and went into Phoenicia, the 
Lesser Asia, Greece, Thrace, Italy, and other countries 
bordering on the Mediterranean and Euxine seas. 
Whithersoever they went, they carried with them their 
enterprise, arts, learning, and religion. Most of the 
countries in which they settled embraced their idolatry 
at early periods. At a very early period we find it 
the religion of the ancestors of Abraham in Chaldea. 
These were descendants of Shem who outlived Abra- 
ham himself; and who, with all his piety and authority, 
was still unable to prevent this senseless desertion of 
the true religion. In Hindostan also it spread at a very 
early date ; as it did also in the western countries of 
Asia, in Egypt, and most or all of the eastern parts of 
Europe. The worship of the true God was, however, 
not universally renounced, until many ages after the 
commencement of gentilism. Melchizedec, Job, his 
friends, and undoubtedly many of his countrymen, the 
people of the Thebais, or Upper Egypt, and probably 
many others in different parts of the world, still re- 
tained the true religion, long after idolatry had been 
embraced by a great portion of the human race. After 
the settlement of the Israelites in Canaan we find few 
traces of the true religion. We are not, however, to 
suppose it to have been wholly banished from all other 
countries till some time afterward. The precise period 
when the whole world, beside the Jews, became idola- 
trous, I am unable to determine. 

In the fourth century after the birth of Christ a new 
kind of idolatry, or rather idolatry in a new form, be- 
gan to exist in the Christian church. This was the 
worship of saints and angels, and afterward of images, 
pictures, relics, and other fantastical objects of devotion. 
This idolatry, though at first vigorously opposed by the 
body of the church, and afterward by individuals and 
Bmall collections of men, spread speedily over the whole 
of Christendom, and was adopted both by the learned 
and unlearned of every country. Thus in one form or 
another the worship of false gods has prevailed through- 
out most of the inhabited world, and the greatest part 
of the reign of time. I shall now, 



III. Make a few observations on the manner in which 
this worship lias been performed. 

I have already mentioned idols, as being intended 
originally to be means of worshipping God ; symbols of 
the divine character and attributes, designed to impress 
them powerfully on the senses, and thus to excite in the 
mind animated sentiments of awe and devotion. Be- 
side the use of these images, gentilism copied closely 
in its worship the ritual originally enjoined by God, 
and adopted in the pure worship. Prayers, praises, 
sacrifices, and oblations were all offered to its various 
deities. Fastings, ablutions, and penances of many 
kinds, were enjoined to their infatuated votaries. 
Temples were erected on them, altars built, shrines 
formed, and regular orders of priests established, and 
consecrated to an exclusive performance of their reli- 
gious services. Oracles, also, which were sometimes 
pretended expressions of the will of these gods con- 
cerning the immediate duties of men, and sometimes 
professed predictions of future events, were delivered 
in most, or all of the countries where idolatry prevailed. 
The victims offered were to a great extent the same 
which were prescribed in the law of Moses ; probably 
the same which had been offered from the beginning ; 
for we find Noah, immediately after the deluge, ' offer- 
ing of every clean beast, and of every clean fowl, burnt- 
offerings on the altar' which he had made. It well 
deserves to be remarked, that in all the records of hea- 
then worship which have come down to us, the votaries 
appear neither to have asked nor given thanks for 
moral good. Secular enjoyments of every kind they 
universally solicited ; but goodness of heart seems never 
to have been thought of as a gift coming from the gods. 
Accordingly Cicero, who must have been well ac- 
quainted with this subject, says, ' Who ever thanked 
the gods for his virtue ?' 

Processions seem also to have been extensively used 
as a part of the religious ceremonial of gentilism. 
These, together with the magnificence in its temples, 
the costliness of its images, and the pomp of its services, 
were all intended to affect the senses in the deepest 
manner. Indeed, nothing else could be done to keep 
this system alive. Argument was only hostile to it. 
The light of sound reason would have dispelled its 
darkness in a moment. But the senses, and through 
them the imagination, could be strongly addressed: 
and these could entirely govern the man. 

To add to the splendour of all the other objects con- 
nected with this service, and to render the oblation 
more affecting to the suppliant, as well as more accept- 
able to the Deity, offerings of every kind were made 
more and more expensive. Gold, silver, gems, the 
choicest aromatics, and unguents and essences made of 
them, still more precious than gold itself, were frequent 
presents to the gods of idolatry. Hecatombs were early 
substituted for single victims ; and, to render the wor- 
ship still more propitiatory, these were soon exchanged 
for human sacrifices. To complete the efficacy of the 
oblation, these sacrifices were selected from the bright- 
est and most promising youths of the nation, the sons 
of the noble and the princely, and infants in the most 
lovely and endearing period of life. Victims of this 
kind, also, were multiplied to a wonderful degree. 
Twenty thousand human beings are supposed to have 
expired annually on the altars of Mexico alone ; and 






528 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ska. a. 



all these were offered up with circumstances of cruelty 
and horror which, but for the most indubitable testi- 
mony, would transcend belief. To these dreadful ser- 
vices, violating every feeling of humanity, but wonder- 
fully affecting the imagination, were added ablutions, 
burdensome on account of their frequency, and often 
on account of the great distance of the sacred waters 
from the residence of the suppliant; and various kinds 
of penance, terrible and excruciating in their nature, 
and overwhelming by their duration, were customarily 
added. Thus, though reason and humanity were wound- 
ed and prostrated, the imagination was completely pos- 
sessed by the demons of superstition ; and miserable 
man, voluntarily losing the government of himself, be- 
came the sport of fiends and furies, and fitted only for 
the gloom and chains of bedlam. 

With the same design, and under the same impulse, 
mankind sought the most salutary and the most awful 
recesses for the celebration of their religious rites.* In 
dark and lonely groves, on the summits of lofty emi- 
nences, and in the depths of awful caverns, the most 
solemn rites of gentile worship were performed at early 
periods. These scenes of stillness, solitude, and terror, 
were perfectly suited to rouse the imagination to ecstacy, 
and to enhance the gloomy fervours of their religion. 
To them succeeded temples of astonishing magnificence, 
exhausting in their erection the wealth of nations, and 
the labour of ages. These also were ornamented within 
and without with every thing which riches, ingenuity, 
and art could supply, or which was calculated to impress 
the mind of the votary with astonishment, religious awe, 
and profound reverence for the beings to whom these 
structures were consecrated. 

It cannot, I think, be necessary for me to employ 
any arguments for the purpose of enforcing the prohi- 
bition in the text on the minds of my audience. The 
importance of it to the Jews at the time when it was 
given, and to the great body of mankind, both before 
and since, is abundantly evident from the observations 
which have been already made. But in this land, and 
in the present state of religious society here, no trans- 
gression is less likely to exist than that which is forbid- 
den in this passage of Scripture. Instead of attempting 
to enforce this precept, therefore, on those who hear 
me, I shall employ the remaining time in making a few 
practical — 

REMARKS. 

1. How degrading, melancholy, and sinful a' charac- 
ter is here presented to us of man. 

This subject, perhaps more than any other, holds out 
to our view a wonderful exhibition of the depravity of 
the human heart. What sight can be more strange, 
more humiliating, more debasing to an intelligent na- 
ture, than that of rational and immortal minds origi- 
nally virtuous as they came from the hand of God, 
destined to the possession of endless life, and formed 
for such noble and sublime purposes, prostrating them- 
selves not only before the sun, and moon, and e the host 
of heaven,' but before men, evil spirits, visionary beings, 
animals, vegetables, blocks of wood, and figures of 
utone ! All these beings, such minds have converted 
into deities ; and, falling down before them, have said 
unto them, 'Deliver us, for ye are our gods.' Is it not 

* See Mmirice'a Antiquities, vol. ii. 



beyond measure amazing, to see a human being, a ra- 
tional immortal being, go into a forest, cut down a tree, 
transport it home on a waggon, burn one part of it on 
his hearth, hew and carve another part of it into an 
idol, and call it a god! Is it not amazing to see such 
a man confessing himself inferior to a stock fashioned 
by his own hands, acknowledging his dependence on it 
for his life, his blessings, and his hopes, placing his trust 
in it, building to it temples, erecting altars, and offering 
up to it prayers and praises ! Is it not more amazing 
to behold the same man sacrificing living victims to a 
mass of wood, rational victims, nay more, youths of the 
noblest families, the brightest talents, and the fairest 
hopes ; nay, more still, his own beloved offspring, the 
children of his own bowels ! 

What shall we say, then, what shall we not say, when 
we behold kings, heroes, and sages employed in this 
manner? When we see towns, provinces, countries, 
and continents, nay, the whole earth, all uniting in this 
infatuated worship, with a universal forgetfulness of Je- 
hovah, the Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor of all 
beings ; notwithstanding the hourly demonstration of 
his perfections and agency in the visible universe ! 

Still more astonished ought we to be, if we can be 
more astonished, to see the Israelites, after all the won- 
ders of Egypt, Sinai, and Canaan, in the midst of all 
the marvellous blessings given to their nation, with the 
word of God in their hands, while his prophets were 
daily announcing to them his revelations, while his aw- 
ful oracles from the mercy-seat were still sounding in 
their ears, within his temple, before his altar, and be- 
neath the awful splendour of the Shechinah, ' forget- 
ting the God that made them, and lightly esteeming 
the Rock of their salvation ;' wandering after the idola- 
try of the heathen, bowing before their gods, partaking 
of their sacrifices, absorbed in their follies, and embrac- 
ing their wickedness with all their heart. 

To complete this dreadful picture of human depra- 
vity, the whole Christian world, with few, very few, ex- 
ceptions, was for many centuries buried and lost in 
this stupid, shameful, monstrous worship. The progeny 
of Noah, who began this unnatural defection from their 
Creator, became idolaters while the waves of the deluge 
had scarcely ceased to roar around this wasted world. 
The Jews became idolaters at the foot of Sinai, beneath 
the thunders of the Almighty. The Christian world 
became idolaters when the Redeemer was, in a sense, 
bleeding on the cross before their eyes. How debased, 
then, how sinful, how miserable a being is man ! 

2. These observations teach us the indispensable ne- 
cessity of a revelation to such a world as this. 

It has been shown that, at an early period after the 
flood, the whole human race lost the knowledge of the 
true God, and sank into the moral stupidity and wick- 
edness of gentilism. That rational beings should be 
created or exist for any end which does not involve in 
it the knowledge and worship of the true God, is a 
doctrine indefensible by a single rational argument, 
What purpose could beings destitute of this knowledge 
and worship be supposed to answer ? What purpose, I 
mean, which God could propose, or which he could ad< 
mit as useful, as desirable, as worthy of himself? Can 
he be supposed to have formed rational and immortal 
beings to be ignorant of Him, the only source of good, 
of wisdom, excellence, and happiness? Can he be sup- 
posed to have made such beings capable of knowing 






j' • 



THE LAW OF GOD.-=-THE THIRD COMMANDMENT. 



529 



mid glorifying him, for the debased and wretched end 
of worshipping gods of gold, silver, wood, and stone? 
Of worshipping them also with services deformed with 
falsehood, cruelty, and impurity ; and attended by a 
total destruction of all wisdom, and all virtue ? Such, 
however, to a vast extent, has been, and such, without 
revelation, would have for ever been, the condition of 
mankind. Revelation only has taught and preserved 
the knowledge and worship of the true God in this 
guilty world ; and Mohammedans and infidels are no 
less indebted to revelation for this knowledge, than are 
Jens and Christians. 

Piety has been heretofore shown to be the founda- 
tion of all other virtue, the first and greatest branch of 
this glorious subject, without which, the virtue exercised 
towards our fellow creatures, and towards ourselves, 
cannot exist. But piety is impossible on the system of 
gentilism. The great constituents of this divine affec- 
tion of the heart are love, reverence, and resignation. But 
how can love, reverence, and resignation, be exercised 
towards an ox, a crocodile, a cat, a frog, a fly, an onion, 
a stick of wood, or a block of marble ? Here plainly 
there is nothing to be loved, reverenced, or regarded 
with resignation. In the mean time, perpetual frauds, 
falsehoods, cruelties, and impurities, added a total 
corruption of all the affections and conduct of man 
towards himself and his fellow men, to the supreme 
debasement of his character, produced, of course, by 



the acknowledgment and worship of heathen gods. 
This system, therefore, banished moral excellence from 
the mind ; and introduced into its place every thing 
that was despicable, worthless, and wicked. He who 
does not see the absolute necessity of a revelation to 
beings situated as the inhabitants of this world were, 
must be voluntarily blind, and must love to be deceived. 
' You, my hearers, are now in the house of God. You 
know his existence, presence, character, and agency. 
You are employed in his worship. You have heard 
the glorious tidings of forgiving, redeeming and sanc- 
tifying love. The Redeemer of mankind, and the ex- 
piation which he has made of sin, have been announced 
to you from the cradle. This house is to you ' the 
gate of heaven.' Here the highway commences which 
leads to that glorious world. Immortal life here dawns 
upon you. A voice from amidst the throne of God 
invites you here, to take of the water of life freely. 
All these blessings are brought to you by revelation. 
But for revelation, you would have been this day wor- 
shipping a demon or an ox, or falling down before the 
stock of.a tree. But for revelation, you might this day 
have been imbruing your hands in the blood of one of 
your number, butchered as a miserable victim to Mo- 
loch. ' Blessing, and honour, and glory, and thanks- 
giving, be unto our God, for this unspeakable gift,' 
through Jesus Christ our Lord ! Amen. 



SERMON CII. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DECALOGUE THE THIRD COMMANDMENT. THE NATURE OF 

PROFANENESS. 



Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain ; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless, that 

taketh his name in vain Exod. xx. 7. 



In the two preceding Discourses I have considered at 
some length the nature of the sins forbidden in the first 
and second commands of the Decalogue. I did not 
think it necessary, after the ample discussion of the 
duties of piety so lately delivered from this place, to 
dwell anew upon the same duties, as required by the 
former of these commands ; nor on account of the state 
of Christian society in this country, to insist on the 
prohibition contained in the latter. Considering the 
subjects of both as sufficiently canvassed for the design 
of these Discourses, I shall now proceed to examine the 
nature of the precept given to us in the text. 

The name of God, as used in the Scriptures, has by 
divines of all descriptions been generally regarded as 
denoting his name literally ; his titles of every kind ; 
his perfections ; and, generally, every thing by which 
his character and his pleasure are made known to man- 
kind. 

' To take the name of God in vain,' is to use all or 
either of these to no valuable purpose, or to evil pur- 
poses, or with falsehood, or with irreverence. 

Of him who does this, God declares, that ' he will not 



hold him guiltless ;' that is, that he will hold him guilty ; 
especially in the great day of trial and decision. 
In discoursing on this subject, I shall examine, 

I. The nature, 

II. The guilt, 

III. The danger of this sin. 

I. J shall examine with attention the nature of this sin. 

The nature of this sin may be advantageously un- 
folded by considering it as it respects the name and the 
works of God. 

By the name of God, I intend the several names and 
titles by which he has been pleased to distinguish him- 
self, and to manifest his character to mankind. In his 
works I shall include every thing which he has wrought, 
instituted, and declared, as an especial manifestation of 
his presence, perfection, and agency. 

The name of God is profaned, that is, treated with 
the irreverence which is the object of the prohibition in 
the text, 

1. In perjury, or false swearing. 

' Ye shali not swear by my name falsely ; neither 
shalt thou profane the name of thy God : I am Jehovah,' 
3 x 



/ 



530 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sup. cit 



Lev. xx. 12. To swear falsely is to invoke God to wifc- 
nees a lie. It is scarcely possible to conceive of a 
grosser insult to the Creator of the universe than tbis. 
He, as all men perfectly well know, infinitely loves truth 
and infinitely detests falsehood ; and has said, that 
' there shall in no wise enter into the heavenly city any 
one who loveth or maketh a lie.' To call him then in 
this solemn manner to witness a falsehood, is to laugh, 
at his love of truth, his disposition and power to support 
it, and that glorious purity of his character, before 
which '' the heavens are unclean, and the angels charged 
with folly.' 

2. When the name of God is used in any light, irre- 
verent manner, the same sin is committed. 

The most prominent and most usual modes of trans- 
gressing in this manner, are profane cursing and 
swearing. In cases of this nature the name of God is 
frequently employed to accompany and enhance diver- 
sion ; frequently as the means of giving vent with pecu- 
liar force to the violence of anger ; often, also, it is 
used to aggravate denunciations of revenge ; and very 
often dishonoured by unhallowed lips in imprecations 
of evil on our fellow men. In every one of these me- 
thods the name of God is profaned, times without num- 
ber, every day. 

This glorious and awful Being, as I have already ob- 
served, has all possible claims to the highest reverence. 
Every thing teaches us this doctrine : the creation and 
the providence of God, reason and revelation. It is 
enforced by every page of divine truth, and by every 
dictate of the human conscience. In a word, on all 
things within and without us, that ' glorious and fearful 
name, Jehovah our God,' is written in sunbeams. In the 
same clear and luminous manner is everywhere displayed 
the indispensable duty of reverencing him with that 
' fear of the Lord, which is wisdom, and that departure 
from evil, which is understanding.' Nor can his claims 
to the performance of this duty be ever relinquished. 

Indeed, mankind appear almost universally to pos- 
sess a clear conviction of the truth of this doctrine, and 
of the indispensable nature of this duty. In all ordi- 
nary circumstances the worst of men acknowledge both 
without hesitation, even those who most frequently and 
most heinously commit the sin which the doctrine pro- 
hibits. Of this sin, God seems to have established in 
the consciences of mankind a stronger and more 
uniform disapprobation than of most others. In few 
cases of transgression is there so little disagreement as 
in this. Almost all other sins men labour to justify. 
I know not that I have ever heard any man attempt 
soberly to justify profaneness of this nature. He whose 
tongue is still vibrating with cursing and swearing, 
will usually acknowledge that his conduct is inexcusal 
ble. Arguments to prove the reality of this sin are 
therefore unnecessary. 

3. We are guilty of this sin also when we invoke the 
name of God lightly and irreverently in prayer or with- 
out that seriousness, humility, and religious awe which 
are indispensable to the acceptable performance of this 
duty. 

At all times, in all circumstances, are we required 
to render to Jehovah our supreme reverence and un- 
feigned devotion, whenever he becomes the object of 
our contemplation, or our conduct. His character is 
always and immutably the same ; infinitely great, awful, 
Judy, and excellent. Our relation to him, also, is in- 



variably the same, that of rational and dependent crea- 
tures. But especially is this reverence and this devo- 
tion to exist in prayer. In the performance of this 
duty, so solemn in its nature, and bringing us so near 
the throne of majesty and mercy, the character of God, 
our own inferiority, dependence, obligations, sin, guilt, 
danger, and infinite necessity of the divine favour and 
blessing, are brought up in full view, and forced home 
upon the heart. Here, therefore, all inducements to 
reverential thoughts of God, and all advantages for en- 
tertaining them, are represented to the mind. To ex- 
hibit irreverence in this case, therefore, is to break over 
these inducements, and sottishly to neglect these advan- 
tages. God here is not treated irreverently in the 
hour of inconsideration, of strong temptation, and sur- 
prising sin ; but in the season of seriousness, and pro- 
fessed devotion. We worship God acceptably, when 
we worship him ' with reverence and godly fear.' ' God 
is greatly to be feared in the assembly of his saints, and 
to be had in reverence by all them that are about him.' 
The same spirit is in the same manner demanded in otn 
private and secret devotions. When, therefore, the 
mind regards its Maker in this act of devotion with 
lightness and irreverence, it is not only clear that it is 
guilty of the sin forbidden in the text, and of great sin ; 
but it is fearfully probable, when this is habitually its 
conduct, that it is at all times the subject of a general 
spirit of profanation. 

4. A still more heinous transgression, of the same na- 
ture, in using the name of God irreverently in the so- 
lemn act of dedicating the soul to him in the covenant 
of grace. 

In this, the most solemn transaction in which man is 
ever concerned on this side of the grave, all things, 
even some which are not applicable to the taking of an 
oath, or the duty of prayer, conspire in the highest de- 
gree to make it affecting to the mind. The day, the 
place, the occasion, the transaction, are invested with 
peculiar solemnity by their very nature. A pre-emi- 
nent solemnity, also, is thrown upon this transaction by 
the character of the person immediately concerned ; a 
sinner, professedly restored to the divine favour ; the 
subject of dedication, an immortal mind; the Being to 
whom the dedication is made, a pardoning God ; the 
means by which the worshipper has been permitted 
thus to dedicate himself, the righteousness of the Re- 
deemer ; the ends for which he thus offers himself up, 
the glory of God and his own eternal salvation. All 
these things united, plainly render this the most inter- 
esting transaction in which the soul is ever engaged in 
the present world. To act lightly and irreverently 
then in a concern so solemn, so eminently affecting, is 
to be profane against all inducements to our duty ; 
against some not existing in any other religious service. 
In this conduct, all these most sacred things, God y 
Christ, the work of redemption, forgiving love, the 
sabbath, the sanctuary, the restoration and salvation of 
the soul, are, if it be done deliberately and with under- 
standing, treated with the grossest contempt, and the 
most impious mockery. In deliberate conduct of this 
nature, the mind proves itself to be depraved altogether 
beyond the common measure ; and the ' conscience' is 
evidently not far from being ' seared, as with a hot 
iron.' 

Generally, he who regards God with levity and irre- 
verence in any religious service whatever when this 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE NATURE OF PROFANENESS. 



531 



irreverence is directed immediately towards his charac- 
ter, is guilty of profaneness in the mode specified un- 
der the second head. In other -words, he is guilty of 
profaneness of the same nature, and existing substan- 
tially under the same form, with that which is found in 
profane cursing and swearing. The irreverence, which 
constitutes the peculiar guilt of this latter sin exists 
also in the former, and in both is immediately directed 
against God himself. Both therefore are justly con- 
sidered as cases of the same nature. 

As this sin respects the works of God, or, in other 
words, whatever he has done, declared, or instituted, 
the profaneness, whenever it exists, is in its nature, ex- 
actly the same as, but different in the mode of its existence 
from, that exhibited under the former general head. In 
all instances included under that head, it is directed 
against God immediately ; but mediately in those now 
referred to ; the irreverence being pointed immediately 
against the works themselves, and through them against 
their Author. 

God is often treated with irreverence, 

1. In the works of creation and providence. 

The works of creation and providence are merely 
manifestations of their Author. In all of them his cha- 
racter is more or less visible ; his wisdom, power, and 
goodness; his self-existence and independence; his 
omnipresence and omnipotence ; his omniscience and 
immutability. These perfections are so clearly and so 
extensively manifested in his works, that, without more 
than common stupidity, we cannot be ignorant of them. 
Of consequence, we clearly perceive them to be the 
works of God ; and whenever we complain of them, or 
murmur at them, or despise them, or ridicule them, the 
complaints, the murmurs, the contempt, and the ridicule 
are intended ultimately, not against the works them- 
selves, but against their Author. No man ever thought 
of treating in this manner inanimate objects, or mere 
events. He who made these objects and controls these 
events, is the only being against whom the irreverence 
is intentionally directed. This is so obviously true, that 
probably it was never seriously questioned. 

The same sin is committed in the same manner when- 
ever we assert or insinuate that these works were made 
to no end, or to no end worthy of their Author. In 
such a case the character of God is profanely impeached 
through his works, because , we accuse him of weak- 
ness and folly. No folly can be more conspicuous than 
that w : hich is visible in doing any thing, and especially 
very great things, without any end in view, or without 
any such end as is suited to the splendour of the appa- 
ratus, or the character of the workman. Of this folly 
in the case before us we accuse God. 

Profaneness of an exactly similar nature is practised 
when, in considering the works of God, we intentionally 
or negligently keep his agency out of view, and attri- 
bute to second causes that which plainly belongs to the 
first cause. There are philosophers, and ever have 
been, who, through choice or carelessness, have con- 
sidered the beings and events in the earth and the visi- 
ble heavens as proceeding in a manner and from a 
cause resembling that which the heathen attributed to 
fate. Instead of supposing them to be all directed by 
an intelligent cause to purposes formed by unerring 
wisdom, and conducted regularly by that wisdom to 
the accomplishment of those purposes ; they are re- 
garded and spoken of as operating of themselves only, 



without any direction, without any end to be accom- 
plished, without any wisdom to guide, or intelligent 
agency to control. 

The works of God were by him intended to be, and 
are in fact, manifestations of himself ; proofs of his cha- 
racter, presence, and agency. In this light he requires 
men continually to regard them ; and to refuse this re- 
gard is considered by him as grossly wicked, and highly 
deserving of punishment. Accordingly, David says, 
Psal. xxviii. 5, ' Because they regard not the works of 
the Lord, nor the operation of his hands, he shall de- 
story them and not build them up.' Isaiah also, chap, 
v. 12 — 14, speaking of the Jews, says, 'They regard 
not the work of the Lord, neither consider the opera- 
tion of his hands. Therefore my people are gone into 
captivity, because they have no knowledge ; and their 
honourable men are famished, and their multitude dried 
up with thirst. Therefore, hell hath enlarged herself 
and opened her mouth without measure ; and their 
glory and their multitude, and their pomp ; and he that 
rejoiceth shall descend into it.' 

I am apprehensive that even good men are prone to 
pay less attention to the works of creation and provi- 
dence than piety demands, and the Scriptures require. 
We say and hear so much concerning the insufficiency 
of these works to unfold the character of God, and the 
nature of genuine religion, and find the truth of what 
we thus say and hear so clearjy proved, that we are 
prone, not very unnaturally, to consider them as almost 
uninstructive in moral things, and in a great measure 
useless to the promotion of piety. This, however, is a 
palpable and dangerous error. The works alone, with- 
out the aid of the Scriptures, would, I acknowledge, be 
far less instructive than they now are, and utterly in- 
sufficient to guide us in the way of righteousness. The 
Scriptures were designed to be a comment on these 
works ; to explain their nature, and to show us the 
agency, purposes, wisdom, and goodness of God in their 
formation. Thus explained, thus illumined, they be- 
come means of knowledge very extensive and eminently 
useful. He who does not find in the various, beautiful, 
sublime, awful, and astonishing objects presented to us 
in creation and providence, irresistible and glorious 
reasons for admiring, adoring, loving, and praising his 
Creator, has not a claim to evangelical piety. David 
did not act in this manner. All who, like David, feel 
the spirit of the gospel, will like him also rejoice in 
those works in which God himself rejoices ; will delight 
to contemplate them with wonder, reverence, and gra- 
titude ; will find God everywhere in the works of his 
hands ; and, passing beyond those second causes, which 
are merely instruments of his agency, will see every- 
where displayed the finger and character of the divine 
workman. 

2. The same irreverence is abundantly exercised to- 
wards the word of God. 

Irreverence in this particular exists in a multitude 
of forms and degrees, altogether too numerous to be 
mentioned on this occasion. I shall select a few from 
this number. 

(1.) The Scriptures are not unfrequently made the 
object or the means of sport and jesting. David says of 
himself, ' My heart standeth in awe at thy word :' and 
again, addressing his Maker, '0 how sweet are thy 
words unto my taste !' God, speaking by the prophet 
Isaiah, says, ' To this man will I look ; even to hint 



532 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cir. 



tlint is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth 
at my word.' — ' Hear the word of the Lord, ye that 
tremble at his word. He shall appear to your joy ; and 
your brethren that hated you shall be ashamed.' Such 
is the character of good men ; and such are the pro- 
mises to those who ' tremble at the word of God.' But 
how different is the spirit of those who jest with this 
sacred and awful volume ; who can find sport and mer- 
riment in the book which unfolds the infinitely great, 
solemn, and awful character of Jehovah ; which de- 
nounces his wrath against all the workers of iniquity ; 
which opens to our view the Redeemer of mankind on 
the cross ; which discloses to us. all the glories of heaven, 
and the strait and narrow way to that happy world ; 
which presents to us the terrors of hell, with the dread- 
ful road that leads to final perdition ; and which .shows 
us ourselves as objects of the divine indignation, in im- 
minent danger of endless ruin, and yet as prisoners of 
hope, and candidates for life eternal! What can be 
found here to excite diversion ; to become the theme of 
gayety, the subject of laughter, the foundation of amuse- 
ment and trifling ? What must be the spirit of him who 
can divert himself over the grave ; who can make death 
the topic of wit ; who can laugh before the bar of the 
final judgment, and sport with the miseries of perdition ! 
He must, indeed, ! have forgotten the God that made 
him, and lightly esteemed the rock of his salvation.' 

(2.) The same irreverence is exercised, when the 
Scriptures are neglected. 'Thou hast magnified thy 
word above all thy name,' Psal. cxxxviii. 2. This pas- 
sage is thus paraphrased by Dr Watts : — 

' I'll sing thy truth and mercy, Lord: 
I'll sing the wonders of thy word : 
Not all thy works and names below, 
So much thy power and glory show.' 

If God then has magnified his word in this manner ; 
if he has rendered it the means of displaying his cha- 
racter so much more perfectly than the works of creation 
and providence ; if he has thus rendered it immensely 
important to mankind ; if he himself appears in it so 
immediately, so clearly, and so gloriously, how inex- 
cusable must we be, if we do not regard it with the 
solemn concern, the deep attention, and the profound 
reverence, due to his infinite majesty ? But negligence 
of the Scriptures is the absolute prevention, the certain 
death, of all such emotions. What veneration can he 
possess for the Bible, or for the Author of it, who leaves 
it to moulder on a shelf; or who reads it, when he reads 
it at all, with carelessness and stupidity ; who is equally 
regardless of- its doctrines, and its precepts ; and who 
tenders to it universally less respect than to a novel, or 
a play? 

(3.) The same irreverence is exercised towards the 
Scriptures, when we do not duly respect their authority. 
When the Scriptures are acknowledged to be the word 
of God, an end is put to all questions concernino- the 
truth of their doctrines, and the reasonableness of their 
precepts. If they are his word, every tiling contained 
in them, unless it be some error of a transcriber or 
printer, is true and right. Nor is this all. As ' all 
Scripture is given by inspiration of God ;' so he has de- 
clared the whole to be ' profitable for doctrine, for 
reproof, for correction, and for instruction in righteous- 
ness.' . As they are, he has declared that they are the 
genuine means of ' perfecting the man of God,' and of 
' furnishing him thoroughly unto every good work.' 
The plain duty of all men, therefore, is carefully to un- 



derstand, implicitly to believe, and exactly to obey 
them. If then we find some doctrines partially re- 
vealed, some mysterious and inexplicable in their na- 
ture, and these, or others, contradicting our own pre- 
conceived opinions ; if we doubt, or disbelieve such 
doctrines, because our own philosophy is unsatisfied with 
them, opposed to them, or unable to explain them, we 
wholly fail of the reverence due to him who has declarer 
them ; and, in a manner highly affrontive, to impeach 
his wisdom and veracity. 

The Bereans ' received the word ' preached by the 
apostles, f with all readiness of mind ;' and, to be sa- 
tisfied whether it was true, did not appeal to their own 
reason, but to ' the Scriptures,' which they ' searched 
daily' for this end. All who possess the liberal and 
noble-minded disposition ascribed to them, will pursue 
exactly the same conduct ; and will say with St Paul, 
' Let God be true, but every man a liar.' It was from 
this disposition that they believed in the evangelical 
sense, and were saved. All who possess the same spirit 
will share in the same faith, and the same salvation. 
What can be more preposterous, more indecent, more 
irreverential to God, than for beings ' of yesterday, who 
know nothing,' to question the wisdom and the truth of 
his declarations ; and, instead of believing what he has 
said, upon the ground of his veracity, to insist on per- 
ceiving, before we give credit to it, the truth and rea- 
sonableness of the doctrines declared, by means of our 
own philosophy. To men whose sincerity we consider 
as proved, we readily yield our belief, whenever they 
declare such things as they had opportunity certainly 
to know. God knows all things with absolute certainty. 
Ought he not then to be believed in whatever he is 
pleased to declare ? Is not his veracity greater than 
that of men ? 'If,' then, 'we receive the witness of 
men, the witness of God,' saith St John, ' is greater. 
He that believeth not God, hath made him a liar.' 
What wonderful irreverence is this towards God ! 
What an impudent insult ! How tremendous a pro- 
fanation of his glorious character ! 

(4.) Of the same nature is the contempt, obloquy, and 
ridicule often cast upon the Scriptures. The Scriptures, 
in instances not very unfrequent, receive this treatment 
from those who professedly believe them, and much 
more frequently from infidels. A man who has not 
hitherto seen sufficient evidence to prove the divine 
origin of the Scriptures, may be fairly considered as 
warranted to withhold from them his assent. At the 
same time he is indispensably bound to investigate this 
evidence as fast and as far as he is able ; and to yield 
himself to it whenever it is perceived, with candour and 
equity. But nothing can justify, or even palliate, the 
manner in which infidels have conducted their opposi- 
tion to this book. There is no mode of attack which 
they have thought too gross to be adopted in this war- 
fare. The frauds which they have practised upon 
Christianity have been without number, and without 
limits. All the weakness, folly, superstition, and enthu- 
siasm inherent in the nature of man, they have charged 
upon its doctrines ; although these very doctrines con- 
tradict and condemn them all. All the vices inwoven 
in the human character, all the enormities perpetrated 
by the pride, injustice, and cruelty of man, they have 
charged upon its precepts, notwithstanding these very 
precepts prohibit every one of them, and threaten them 
universally with endless punishment. The religion 



THE LAW OF GOD THE NATURE OF PROFANENESS. 



itself, they have regularly styled superstition, enthu- 
siasm, and fanaticism ; and have thus endeavoured to 
prepossess, and to a vast extent have actually prepos- 
sessed, great multitudes of mankind against it, under 
the mere influence of nicknames. Where they could 
not convince or refute, an evil which has universally 
attended their efforts, they have succeeded, at least 
equally well, by perplexing and entangling. Instead 
of open, direct, arguments, fairly stated, and fully dis- 
cussed, they have insinuated doubts, started difficulties, 
and hinted objections, leaving the minds of the young, 
the ignorant, and the unskilful to embarrass themselves 
by dwelling on those subjects which they had neither 
learning to investigate, nor capacity to understand. In 
this situation, such minds are as effectually overthrown, 
from a consciousness of their inability to defend them- 
selves, as by the power of an acknowledged demonstration. 
V^'hat they have been unable to effect in these modes, 

. they have endeavoured to accomplish by wit. A book, 
professing to be the word of God, to communicate his 
will to mankind, and to disclose eternal life and eternal 
death to every human being, together with the terms 
and means by which one of these may be obtained, and 
the other must be suffered ; a book, believed truly to 
sustain this character by a great part of those to whom 
it has been published, particularly by most of the 
learned, and by almost all whom their fellow men have 
regarded as wise and virtuous, has unquestionable 
claims to be examined with solemn thought and 
unbiassed investigation. The question concerning its 
divine origin is of infinite moment to every child of 
Adam. He who can sport with this subject, would with 

• the same propriety laugh while he heard the sentence 
of death pronounced upon him, and dance around the 
grave which was dug to receive him. Suppose the 
Scriptures were in fact the word of God ; suppose the 
infidel at the foot of Mount Sinai ; suppose he heard 
the trumpet sound and the thunders roll, saw the light- 
ning blaze, the cloud embosom the mountain, and the 
flame of devouring fire reach the heavens, and perceived 
the earth to tremble beneath his feet ; suppose the final 
day arrived, and the same infidel to hear the call of the 
archangel, the trump of God, and the shout of the hea- 
venly host, and to see the graves open, the dead arise, 
the Judge descend, the plains and the mountains kin- 
dled with the final conflagration, and the ' heavens and 
the earth flee away ;' would he be inclined to jesting, 
to sport, and to ridicule ? The Scriptures declare 
themselves to be the word of the glorious Being who 
spoke from Sinai, and who will again come to 'judge 
the quick and the dead.' The very terms by which the 
in<idel and all his fellow men will be tried on this dread- 
ful day, the Scriptures profess to unfold ; the very terms 
on which to us are suspended both heaven and hell. 
Should the Scriptures be indeed the word of that God, 
what will become of the infidel ? Should they not, what 
will he lose by believing them? Where, then, is the 
place for his sport? where the foundation for his trifling? 
Could the contempt or the ridicule which he employs 
really affect the question, and exhibit it in any new 
light to the understanding of man, something at least 
might be pleaded in extenuation of this conduct. But 
ridicule, however gross the banter, or refined the wit, 
cannot be proof. A sneer cannot be an argument. The 
question, after every effort of this nature, is left just where 
it was ; while the inquirer is insnared, deceived, and 



ruined. How melancholy an employment, to destroy a 
soul for the sake of uttering a jest ! 

To complete this wretched pursuit of this wretched 
purpose, the infidel assaults the Scriptures with obsce- 
nity. In periods and places in which coarse manners 
prevail, when the animal side of man is left naked, and 
the feelings and conduct of the brute obtrude themselves 
without a blush, this obscenity breaks out in gross 
ribaldry, and the shameless dialect of the workhouse 
and the brothel. In more chastened society, the im- 
purity, lest it should be too offensive, is veiled by decen- 
cy of expression ; steals upon the mind in an innuendo ; 
glances at it in a hint, and peeps from behind an obscure 
suggestion. What a shocking mixture is here presented 
to the thoughts of a sober, and even of a decent man ! 
obscenity blended with the truths contained in the word 
of God ! How obviously must the mind which can 
voluntarily, which can laboriously, unite these things, 
be ' the habitation of devils ;' the hold of every foul 
spirit, and a ' cage of every unclean and hateful bird f 
How irreverent, how profane, how abominable, how 
filthy must it appear to Him ' in whose sight the hea- 
vens are unclean]' 

3. This irreverence is, perhaps, not less exercised 
towards the institutions or ordinances of God. 

God has instituted, as important means of display- 
ing his own character, preserving his worship, and pro- 
moting his religion in the world, the sabbath, public 
and private prayer and praise ; the preaching of the 
gospel, public and private humiliation and fasting, the 
church of Christ, its communion, its sacraments, and its 
discipline. As all these are his institutions, and seen 
to be his, it is obvious that irreverence towards them is 
irreverence towards himself ; and in this manner has 
the subject ever been considered in the Christian world. 
It will be easily seen, that the various ways in which 
this numerous train of sacred things is profaned, are so 
many as to render it impracticable to specify them on 
the present occasion. I shall therefore attempt only 
to mention such as are most usual or most prominent. 

The sabbath is undoubtedly the great support of reli- 
gion in the world ; for wherever it is unknown or un- 
regarded, religion is unknown. Accordingly, God has 
been pleased to make it the subject of one of the com- 
mands of the Decalogue. This holy day is profaned, 
and the author of it treated with gross irreverence, 
whenever it is devoted to pleasure, or to secular busi- 
ness ; whenever we ride or walk, when neither necessity 
nor mercy demands ; whenever we read books of 
amusement and diversion, or devote our conversation 
to any topics unsuited to the holy nature of this day. 
Nor is it less really profaned when we spend its sacred 
hours in idleness or sleep, or when in any other manner 
we refuse, or neglect to employ them in the great duties 
of religion. Equally, and more obviously, are we guilty 
of this profanation when we speak of the sabbath with 
contempt, and ridicule or laugh at others for regarding 
it with the reverence enjoined in the Scriptures, decry 
the institution as useless, as injurious to the interests of 
mankind, and as deserving the regard of none but weak 
and enthusiastic minds ; or when, with direct hostility 
we deny its sacred nature, labour to weaken its authority, 
and endeavour to destroy its holy, heavenly influence 
on mankind. In all these cases we impeach the wisdom, 
equity, or goodness of its author ; declare him, when 
ii stituting it, to have acted unworthily of himself ; and, 



534 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cur. 



in plain language, cast contempt on him, as well as on 
his institution. No man ever thought of treating with 
contempt this holy day, considered merely as a seventh 
part of time ; no man ever directed the shafts of ridi- 
cule at Monday. Aside from the fact, that it was insti- 
tuted by God as a sacred day, the Sabbath would be no 
more despised, and regarded with no more hostility, than 
any other day of the week. The hostility and contempt, 
therefore, are directed against the institution, against 
i ts sacred nature, against its holy and glorious author. 

The worship of God is profaned whenever, for reasons 
plainly insufficient, we refuse to be present in his house 
upon the sabbath ; or, when present, neglect cordially to 
unite in its solemn services, or spend the time allotted to 
them in sleep or diversion ; or when we sport with the ser- 
vices themselves; or when our minds rise in hostility 
against the faithful preaching of the gospel ; or when 
we make the worship of God an object of our scorn and 
ridicule. Nor are we less really guilty of this crime, 
whenever we allure or persuade others to the same con- 
duct. The worship of God was designed to be the great 
means of leading us to eternal life. God appears in it 
as a forgiving God, as a God reconcilable to sinners, as 
redeeming them from under the curse of the law, and 
as reinstamping his own image on their minds. He 
who will not come to meet him, when appearing in this 
most venerable and endearing of all characters, or who 
when he has come will treat him with neglect, opposi- 
tion, and contempt, is guilty of an insult on the Creator, 
at which the stoutest heart ought to tremble. What an ac- 
count of this conductmusthe expect to give atthe final day! 

The Christian sacraments are not often openly pro- 
faned. The elements employed have, indeed, been 
touched with unhallowed hands ; and the ordinances 
themselves have, in solitary instances, been insulted by 
blasphemous mimicry. But the cases have been so rare, 
and have been regarded by those who knew them with 
such abhorrence, as scarcely to need any reprobation 
from me. I shall therefore only say, that, according 
to the first feelings of the human mind, feelings which 
seem never to have been materially weakened, unless 
by absolute profligacy, they are universally held in the 
most reverential estimation ; and all disregard, thought- 
lessness, and levity are not only by th§ Scriptures, but 
by common sense also, proscribed in our attendance 
upon them. If we are not wonderfully insensible, we 
cannot fail of exercising a profound reverence, when 
in this peculiarly solemn and affecting manner we draw 
so near to a forgiving God. 

Private and secret worship is much more frequently 
the object of levity and contempt. Family prayer pe- 



culiarly has been attacked on all sides by loose and 
light-minded men ; and, I doubt not, has been hunted 
out of many a family, and prevented from entering 
many others, by the sneers of scorn, and the jests of de- 
rision. Why should not men pray ? Why should not 
famines pvay ? Are we not dependent creatures ? Do 
we not need every thing at the hand of God ? Who be- 
side God can supply our wants ? Has he not required 
us to pray ? If we do not pray, will he bless us ? Has he 
not made asking the indispensable condition of receiv- 
ing ? The man who will not pray is a madman. The 
family which will not pray are lunatics ! 

God has required us to ' pray always with all prayer,' 
and therefore to perform regularly the duties of both 
private and secret devotion. When we ourselves ne- 
glect either, or when we oppose the performance of 
them in our fellow men, we neglect or oppose the. com- 
mand of Jehovah. He who laughs and sneers at secret 
and family prayer, points his jests, his contempt, and 
his mockery against his Creatoi - . Where can folly or 
frenzy be found more absolute than this ? The wretch 
who is guilty of it is a helpless, sinful, miserable crea- 
ture, dependent for existence, for enjoyment, and for 
hope on the mere sovereign mercy of God ; is promised 
all blessings which he needs if he will pray for them, 
and is assured that if he will not pray, he not only will 
be entitled to no blessings whatever, but that those 
which he regards as blessings, and which, if he faith- 
fully performed this duty, would prove such, will be 
converted into curses. This wretch not only refuses to 
pray himself, but with gross impiety insults his Maker 
anew, by preventing his fellow men from praying also. 

I shall only add, that irreverence, the same in sub- 
stance with that which has been here specified, may ex- 
ist in thought, and in action, as well as in words. In 
some of the cases which I have mentioned, it has been 
indeed supposed to terminate in thought. It may thus 
terminate in all cases which do not involve our inter- 
course with our fellow men. In this intercourse it may 
be exhibited in actions, and those of very various kinds. 
Of these a very few have been mentioned. It is only 
necessary to observe, that whenever our hearts teem 
with irreverent thoughts towards God, or towards any 
thing because it is his, it makes little difference whe- 
ther we express our impiety by the tongue, or by tho 
hands. The irreverence is the same ; the design is the 
same ; the moral action is the same. It is the rising of 
pride, enmity, and rebellion against God ; the open, 
impudent contention of a creature against his Creator ; 
the struggle, the swelling, the writhing of a worm 
against Jehovah ! 



SERMON OIL 

THE LAW OF GOD — THE DECALOGUE THE THIRD COMMANDMENT THE GUILT OF 

PROFANENESS. 



Thou s/talt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless, that 

takelh his name in vain. — Exod. xx. 7. ' 



Ik the preceding Discourse, I proposed, after making 
seve>-il intioductory remarks, to examine, 
I. Tk°, nature. 



II. The guilt, 

III. The danger, of the sin forbidden in this com- 
mand. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE GUILT OF PROFANENESS. 



'0'60 



The first of these I considered at length in that Dis- 
course. I shall now proceed to make some observa- 
tions concerning the second; viz., the guilt of this sin. 
The guilt of this sin is evident, 

1. From the tenor of the command. 
Profaneness is one of the eight great crimes which 

God thought proper to make the express subjects of 
prohibition in the Decalogue. In the order in which 
he was pleased to speak and to write them, it holds the 
third place. All the importance which this wonderful 
law derived from being uttered by the voice, and being 
written with the finger of God, from his manifest ap- 
pearance in this lower world, and from the awful splen- 
dour and amazing majesty with which he appeared, 
this precept, equally with the others, challenges to it- 
self. In addition to these things, it is the only precept 
in the whole number which annexes an express threat- 
ening to the crime which is prohibited. From all these 
circumstances it is abundantly evident, that the guilt of 
this sin is of no common dye in the sight of Jehovah. 
All these circumstances were intended to be significant, 
and are obviously significant, in a manner pre-emi- 
nently solemn and affecting. How should we ourselves 
feel if the Creator of the universe were to inform us 
by the mouth of an acknowledged prophet, that he 
would appear in this world on an appointed day, to 
publish his awful pleasure to mankind ! With what 
anxious, trembling expectation should we wait for the 
destined period ! With what solemnity and apprehen- 
sion should we behold the day dawn ! With what silent 
awe should we see the cloudy chariot descend and hear 
the archangel proclaim the approach of his Maker ! 
How should we shudder at the sound of the trumpet, 
and the quaking of the earth ! Would not our ' hearts 
die within us,' when the thunders began to roll, the 
lightnings to blaze, and ' the flames of devouring fire' 
to rise up to the heavens ! In the midst of these tre- 
mendous scenes, with what silent, deathlike amazement 
should we listen to hear the voice of the Almighty ! 
Would it not seem wonderful, would it not appear de- 
lirious, for any man to call in question the authority of 
his commands, or the absolute rectitude of his pleasure, 
to refuse the duties which he enjoined, or to perpetrate 
the crimes which he forbade ? Who, after hearing from 
the mouth of God the awful prohibition, ' Thou shalt 
not take the name of the T ord thy <od in vain,' and 
the fearful threatening annexed to it, ' for the Lord 
will not hold him guiltless who taketh his name in 
vain,' would not quake with terror at the very thought 
of committing a sin thus alarmingly forbidden ? Who 
would demand an argument to convince him that such 
a sin was eminently evil in the sight of his Maker ? 

2. This sin is an immediate attack on God himself, 
and is therefore peculiarly guilty. 

The hostilities of mankind against any intelligent 
being may be carried on mediately, or immediately. 
Mediately, against his property, if he be a human be- 
ing, or against his other external interests : imme- 
diately against his character and person. In the same 
manner we may attack our Maker by attacking our 
fellow creatures, and violating such commands of his as 
regulate our duties to them ; appropriately and usually 
styled the duties of morality. Or we may attack him 
immediately, by violating those commands which re- 
spect his person and character, and enjoin the various 
duties of piety. All the transgressions which I have 



recited are directed against objects confessedly belong, 
ing to God, and known to be his, in immediate posses- 
sion : his name, his titles, his works, his word, and his 
institutions. As his only do they become the objects 
of irreverence at all. In all these cases, therefore, as 
here described, we attack God in the most direct man- 
ner which is in our power. A king or a parent may 
be insulted by an affront offered immediately to his 
officer, his messenger, or any other acting under his 
authority. No person will deny the affront here to be 
real, nor, as the case may be, to be very serious. Still 
it was probably never questioned, that when this same 
affront was offered directly to the parent or the king- 
himself, it became far more gross, an insult of greater 
magnitude and greater guilt. Accordingly, such af- 
fronts have been always more seriously resented, and 
more severely punished. 

In all the cases mentioned in the preceding Dis- 
course, God is necessarily and most solemnly present 
to the mind of man. Whatever impiety, therefore, 
whatever irreverence, whatever profaneness, is exhibit- 
ed in these cases, is directed immediately against him ; 
against his character, against his person. lie who is 
the subject of it, f stretcheth out his hand against God, 
and strengtheneth himself against the Almighty. He 
runneth on him, even on his neck ; upon the thick 
bosses of his buckler.' How can the man who is sum- 
moned to take a solemn oath, who is employed in the 
eminently solemn duty of prayer, or in the pre-emi- 
nently solemn duty of dedicating himself to God in the 
covenant of peace, fail to have a lively and affecting 
sense of the presence of his Maker! How can he fail 
to realize, that all the levity, thoughtlessness, insince- 
rity, and irreverence of which he is guilty, is levelled 
directly against God! Who else is, who else can be, 
the object of this conduct ? Who else is concerned 
with it? Whose name is here mocked? Whose in- 
stitutions are set at nought? If the criminal be weak 
enough to suspect that he is not in this case trifling- 
with his Maker and wickedly profaning his glorious 
name, he is probably the only being in the universe 
sufficiently bewildered to adopt this unsound and un- 
happy opinion. 

What is true of these acts of worship is true with 
little variation of every other. 

In that light-minded use of the names and titles of 
God which is appropriately called profaneness, the cir- 
cumstances are, I acknowledge, in some respects mate- 
rially different. It seems wonderful, indeed, that when- 
ever the name of God is mentioned, any mind should 
not be filled with awe, and affectingly realize the pre- 
sence of this majestic being. The Jews would not pro- 
nounce the incommunicable name Jehovah, except in 
one peculiarly solemn act of religious worship. Such 
of the Mohammedans as cannot read, carefully lay 
aside any written or printed paper, because they know 
not but it may have upon it the name of God. But in 
this, and in every other Christian country, there is rea- 
son to fear that multitudes, and probably that most or 
all those who are habitually profane, use ' this glorious 
and fearful name ' without even a .thought that God is 
present to hear them. 

In his own proper character of the glorious and 
eternal Jehovah, ' who hath prepared his throne in the 
heavens, and whose kingdom ruleth over all,' it is im- 
possible to regard him with serious, or even with 



538 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cm. 



sober thought, and not be filled with reverential awe. 
It is impossible to realize who, and what, and where 
he is, and not be filled with fear and trembling'. 
He called into being the heavens and the earth, 'up- 
holds them by the word of his power,' rules them 
with an irresistible hand, gives life and death to whom- 
soever he pleases, is present wherever we are, looks 
with an intuitive survey into the secret chambers of the 
soul, records all our thoughts, words, and actions in the 
book of his remembrance, and will bring them before 
our eyes at the final day. On his bounty and forbear- 
ance we live. When he gives, we receive ; when he 
withholds, we die. His smile makes heaven; his 
frown creates hell. Those who fear, and love, and serve 
him, he will bless ; those who rebel against him he will 
destroy. Who then, unless lost to sense and decency, 
will not ' tremble at his presence,' and lie low in the 
dust before him ? 

But in this deplorable transgression, the profane 
swearer brings God into his thoughts (if "he think at 
all) and into his conversation, with a character altoge- 
ther familiar, and with considerations and views of the 
most debasing vulgarity. The same man, when in the 
presence of his fellow men, acknowledged by him to be 
of respectable character, would set a guard on his con- 
duct, particularly on his tongue, and would speak of 
them, and to them, and before them, with sobriety, care, 
and decorum ; and would watchfully give them every 
reasonable proof that he regarded them only with re- 
spect. From this decency in civilized life, a departure 
can scarcely be found ; unless under the influence of 
strong passion, or pressing interest. 

Surely the Creator of all things has as powerful 
claims to veneration as the worm which he has made. 
But, notwithstanding his glorious and awful character, 
notwithstanding we know that he is present to all our 
conduct, notwithstanding we know that he hears what- 
ever we say, and sees whatever we think or do, we 
make this great and terrible Being the subject of the 
most irreverential, impudent thoughts, and of the most 
vulgar, affrontive, contemptuous language. Nay, all 
this is done by the profane person for no purpose, but 
to affront and insult him, and to induce others to affront 
and insult him also. 

All this is done, not once, twice, or in a few solitary 
instances only ; not in the season of forgetfulness, the 
unguarded hour of passion, or the moment of peculiar 
temptation, merely ; but every day, in every place, and 
on every familiar occasion. In this manner God is ha- 
bitually brought up to view, and continually insulted. 
Thus familiarized, thus habituated, to such thoughts 
and to such language, the profane person soon becomes 
unable to think or speak concerning his Maker in any 
other manner. All his thoughts concerning him be- 
come a regular course of irreverence ; and all his lan- 
guage a tissue of impudence and insult. God, the 
great and terrible God, ' in whose hand his breath is ; 
in whom he lives, and moves, and has his being ,' the 
God by whom he is soon to be judged, and rewarded 
with endless life or endless death, becomes speedily to 
liiin a mere object of vulgar abuse and gross derision. 
With what views must this awful Being regard the mi- 
serable wretch who thus degrades his character ? What 
must be the appearance of this wretch at the final day? 

From God, the source and substance of every thing- 
sacred, the transition to all other sacred things is easy, 



and, in a sense, instinctive. From him religion de- 
rives its existence, its obligation, its power, its hopes, 
and its rewards. Separated from him, there can be no 
piety. Separated from him, there can be no moralit;. 
Who does not see that without God there could be no 
Bible, no sabbath, no worship, no holiness, and no 
heaven ? He therefore who is accustomed to profane 
the name of God, cuts off his connexion with all things 
serious and sacred. But nothing else is, comparatively, 
of any use to man. Whatever is gay and amusing, and 
at the same time innocent, and in some sense useful, is 
useful only to refresh the mind for a more vigorous 
application to things of a serious and sacred nature. 
In these lie all the real and substantial interests of man ; 
the foundations of a virtuous, useful, and happy life, 
and a glorious immortality. To lose our connexion 
with them, therefore, is to lose our all. Of course, the 
profane person voluntarily squanders the blessings of 
time and eternity ; and with a portentous prodigality 
makes himself ' poor, and wretched, and miserable ;' a 
nuisance to the world, and an outcast from heaven. 

3. Profaneness is in most instances a violation of 
peculiarly clear and peculiarly solemn inducements to 
our duty. 

I have already remarked under the preceding head 
that, in many of the cases specified in the former Dis- 
course, it is impossible that the presence and character 
of God should not be realized by the profane person. 
But the character and presence of God united, present 
to every mind not wholly destitute of sobriety a com- 
bination of the most solemn and powerful motives to 
the performance of its duty. The Being by whom Ave 
were created, and on whom we depend for life, together 
with all its blessings and hopes, who ' will bring every 
work, with every secret thing, into judgment,' and 
' who will reward every man according to the deeds done 
in the body,' with a retribution final and endless, is an 
object so awful, so interesting, so overwhelming, that 
one would naturally think no sacrifice too great, no duty 
too difficult or discouraging-, if the performance would 
secure his favour. 

To the considerations which have been here men- 
tioned, others of singular importance are always to be 
added, when we are examining almost all the cases 
of profaneness specified in the preceding Discourse. 
In the word and institutions of God, and in all the re- 
ligious services rendered to him according to the dic- 
tates of the gospel, he is presented to us as the Father, 
the Redeemer, and the Sanctifier of mankind, in the 
most endearing and venerable of all offices ; the offices 
of accomplishing an expiation for sin, renewing the 
soul, pardoning its transgressions, and entitling it again 
to the blessings of infinite love. These blessings, liter- 
ally infinite, flowing only from the sovereign and 
boundless mercy of Jehovah, are proffered to a mind 
apostatized, rebellious, and ruined ; a mind incapable of 
renewing itself, and therefore, if left to itself, hopeless 
of the divine favour, and an outcast from the virtuous, 
and happy universe. In such a situation, how deeply 
should we naturally suppose it must be affected with a 
sense of the infinite goodness, engaged so wonderfully 
in its behalf by the glorious blessings proffered to its 
acceptance, and by its own infinite need of a share in 
these blessings. If it will not be influenced by the 
presence of Jehovah, appearing in these amiable and 
wonderful characters, if it will not be moved by the 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE GUILT OF PROFANENESS. 



53 T 



proffer of tliese invaluable and immortal blessings, 
what inducements can persuade it to perform its duty? 
If the pleasure of such a God, if the attainment of such 
a salvation, will not lay hold on the heart, where shall 
we look for motives of sufficient weight to engage its 
obedience ? 

But the profane person does not merely disobey, as 
we commonly understand this term : he disobeys in the 
most provoking mariner. He treats his Maker as the 
Jews treated Christ They did not merely reject this 
divine Saviour. They did not merely crucify him. 
Tliey rejected him with scorn ; they crucified him with 
insult. Thorns they gave him for a crown, and a reed 
for a sceptre. The respect which they professedly paid 
liiin was contempt; and the homage, mockery. Such, 
for substance, is the manner in which the profane per- 
son treats his God. With all the solemn inducements 
which have been mentioned before his eyes, he not only 
rejects this glorious Being, and his benevolent offers of 
eternal life to perishing sinners, but accompanies his 
rejection with irreverence, despite, and insolence; and 
cries, ' Who is the Almighty, that I should serve him ?' 
If the ' ways of God ' were not ' higher than our ways, 
as the heavens are higher than the earth,' what would 
become of this audacious, miserable being ? 

4. Profaneness is a sin to which there is scarcely any 
temptation. 

In the commission of most sins, mankind usually ex- 
pect and believe they shall obtain some natural good ; 
and this is almost always the prime object of their sin- 
ful pursuit: good, forbidden indeed, and therefore, un- 
lawful ; yet still really good in the apprehension of the 
sinner. Thus persons commonly lie and cheat, for the 
sake of some gain ; become intoxicated, on account of 
the pleasure experienced in the use of strong drink; 
are gluttons, to enjoy the delightful taste of dainty 
food ; and thus in almost all other cases of transgres- 
sion. 

But in profaneness there seems to be no good, either 
enjoyed or expected, beside that which is found in the 
mere love and indulgence of sin. No person ever ac- 
quired property, health, reputation, place, power, nor, 
it would seem, pleasure, from profaneness. Those par- 
ticular movements of the tongue which articulate pro- 
faneness, produce, so far as 1 am able to conjecture, no 
more agreeable sensations than any other. The words 
which embody profane thoughts, are neither smoother 
nor sweeter than any other words. If then profaneness 
were not sinful, such words would be pronounced no 
oftener than any other. The pleasure found in pro- 
faneness, such as it is, is therefore found chiefly, if not 
wholly, in the wickedness which it involves and ex- 
presses. The sin is the good ; and not any thing pe- 
culiar to the manner in which it is committed, nor any 
thing which the profaneness is expected to be the means 
of acquiring. It may be said, that the profane person 
recommends himself to his companions, persons with 
whom he is pleased, and whom he wishes to please ; and 
that, at the same time, he secures himself from their 
contempt and rklicule, to which otherwise he would be 
exposed. This, without doubt, is partially true, and 
comes nearer than any thing else which can be alleged 
to a seeming exception to the justice of the remark 
under consideration. Yet it is hardly a seeming excep- 
tion. Nothing, but the wickedness of this conduct 
recommends the profane person to his companions, and 



those to whom he is recommended are sinners only. 
But for the love of wickedness in them, he could not 
become agreeable to them by this evil practice ; and, 
but for the love of wickedness in him, he could not 
wish to be thus agreeable. Can it then be good, can 
it be gainful, will it be alleged to be gain, to recom- 
mend ourselves to sinners by the perpetration of sin ? 
Is not the end which we propose, are not the means 
which we use, altogether disgraceful both to ourselves 
and them ? Instead of being beneficial to either, are 
they not the means of corruption and ruin to both? Is 
the favour of men who love sin, and so ardently love 
it, as to love us merely for sinning, desirable or useful 
to us? Is it worth our labour? Does it deserve our 
wishes ? Can it prove a balance for the guilt which we 
incur? Can it be of any value to us, although in dew 
siring and obtaining it we were to incur no guilt? 

But the profane person is not esteemed, even by his 
sinful companions. 'J hey may desire him as an asso- 
ciate, and they may relish his wickedness ; but they 
approve of neither. Such persons have repeatedly de- 
clared to me, that they approved neither of themselves 
nor others when guilty of this sin ; but regarded it as a 
stain upon the character of both. The companions of 
such a man may be pleased with him and his wicked- 
ness, because both may contribute to keep them in 
countenance, or make them diversion. They may wish 
to see him as bad, or worse than themselves, that the 
deep hues of their own guilt may fade at his side. Still 
they will make him, when he is not present, an object 
of their contempt and derision. In the same manner 
men love treason and treachery ; and in this manner 
also despise the traitor. If the profane person will take 
pains to learn the real opinion of his companions, he 
will find that they invariably condemn his character on 
the one hand, and on the other hold it in contempt. In 
the mean time, he exposes himself uniformly to the ab- 
horrence of virtuous, and even of sober, men. Of this 
no proof is necessary. The experience of every day 
informs us, that profane persons are a kind of Helots in 
society ; men whom youth are admonished to dread and 
avoid ; men, pointed out to children as warnings against 
iniquity, branded as nuisances to society, and marked 
as blots upon the creation of God. 

Virtue is acknowledged to be distinguished and ex- 
cellent, in some general proportion, at least, to the 
disinterestedness with which it is exercised. Sin, com- 
mitted without motives of such magnitude as to be pro- 
perly styled temptations, may be justly termed disinter- 
ested sin ; sin, committed only from the love of sin, and 
not with a view to any natural good, in which it is to 
terminate. This must undoubtedly be acknowledged to 
be wickedness of a dye peculiarly deep, of a nature 
eminently guilty : and the author of it must, with as 
little doubt, be eminently vile, odious, and abominable, 
in the sight of God. 

5. Profaneness is among the most distinguished means 
of corrupting our fellow men. 

This observation I intend to apply exclusively to the 
profaneness of the tongue. It is indeed applicable, with 
much force, to profaneness, manifested in various kinds 
of action ; but it is peculiarly applicable to the kind of 
profaneness which 1 have particularly specified. 

Sins of the tongue are all social sins ; necessarily 
social, and eminently social. 'Ihey are practised only 
when men are present to hear and to witness ; and they 
3 * 



538 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. cm. 



are practised whenever men are present to hear. Thus 
a man is profane before his family ; swears and curses, 
and ridicules sacred things in the social club, in the 
street, before his neighbours, and in the midst of a mul- 
titude. Persons of all ages become witnesses and learn- 
ers. Thus children learn to lisp the curse, and the grey- 
haired sinner to mutter the faltering oath. 

No man was ever profane alone, in a wilderness, or 
in his closet. To the very nature of this sin the pre- 
sence of others seems so indispensable, that we cannot re- 
alize the commission of it by any man, unless in the 
midst of society. All the mischief of evil example is 
found in the social nature of man, and in the social 
nature of those sins to which the whole power of evil 
example is confined. Where sin is in its nature soli- 
tary, and the perpetration of course insulated, whatever 
other guilt it may involve, the sinner plainly cannot be 
charged with the guilt of corrupting others. In order 
to follow us in wickedness, others must know that we 
are wicked. When they hear of our wickedness at a 
distance, they are always, perhaps, in greater or less 
danger of being corrupted ; because sympathy is always 
a powerful propensity of the mind, and because we have 
always a strong tendency to imitation. But when they 
are present to see sin in our actions, and to hear it from 
our tongues, it becomes the means of the most certain 
and efficacious corruption ; because then the impression 
is, ordinarily, the strongest possible. 

There is, however, one case, in which this corruption, 
though usually less efficacious in particular instances, is 
yet much more dreadfully operative, because it is much 
more extensively diffused. An author, when possessed 
of sufficient ingenuity, can spread this malignant influ- 
ence wherever his writings can penetrate, and expand 
the force of an evil example over many countries, and 
through a long succession of ages. Millions of the hu- 
man race may owe to such a man the commencement 
and progress of iniquity in their minds, and may im- 
bibe pernicious sentiments, which, but for him, they 
■would have never known, or would have regarded only 
with abhorrence. In this respect what will not infidels, 
especially those of distinguished talents, have to answer 
for at the final day ? 

But this evil may be very widely diffused without the 
aid of the press, or the circulation of volumes. The 
tongue is an instrument more than sufficiently adapted 
to this unhappy end. One profane person makes mul- 
titudes; corrupts his professed friends, his daily com- 
panions, his near relations, and all with whom he cor- 
responds, so far as they are capable of being corrupted. 
They again corrupt others ; and they, in their turn, 
spread the contagion through successive circles of man- 
kind, increasing continually in their numbers and their 
expansion. Thus a profane inhabitant of this land may 
extend the mischiefs of his evil example to other coun- 
tries, and to future ages ; and a profane student of this 
seminary may, and probably will, be the cause of hand- 
ing down profaneness to students yet unborn. 

The mischiefs of evil example are always great ; in 
the present case they are dreadful. The tongue is ob- 
viously the prime instrument of human corruption, of 
diffusing and perpetuating sin, of preventing the eter- 
nal life of our fellow men, of extending perdition over 
the earth, and of populating the world of misery. ' Be- 
hold,' saith St James, ' how great a matter (in the ori- 
ginal, how great a forest.) a little fire kindleth !' Small 



at first to the eye, it catches all the combustible materials 
within its reach, and, spreading its ravages wider and 
wider, consumes in the end every thing before it with a 
universal conflagration. Among all the evil examples 
which I have heard mentioned, or which have been al- 
luded to within my knowledge, I do not remember, that 
a dumb man was ever named as one. No person, with- 
in my recollection, ever attributed his own sins to the 
example of such a man. Speaking men are the cor- 
rupters of their fellow men ; and they corrupt pre-em- 
inently by their speech. No individual ever began to 
swear profanely by himself; and few, very few, ever 
commenced the practice but from imitation. Like cer- 
tain diseases of the human body, profaneness descends 
from person to person ; and like the plague, is regularly 
caught by infection. Let every profane person, then, 
solemnly remember how much evil will be charged to 
him in the great day of account : how many miserable 
wretches will date their peculiar sinfulness of character, 
and a vast multitude of their actual transgressions, from 
the power of his example; how many of his fellow 
creatures he will contribute to plunge into eternal per- 
dition ; and how dreadfully, as well as justly, all these 
may wreak their insatiable vengeance on his head, for 
producing their final ruin ; while he will be stripped of 
every excuse, and be forced by an angry conscience to 
say, Amen. Let him remember, that in this respect, if 
not in many others, he is a. pest to human society, and 
a ' smoke in the nostrils' of his Maker. Finally ; let 
him summon this character and this guilt before his eyes, 
whenever he repeats his profaneness, with a full convic- 
tion that, however he may flatter himself, all around him, 
as a vast and upright jury, sit daily on the trial of his 
crimes, and with an unanimous and honest verdict pro- 
nounce him guilty. 

6. Profaneness prevents or destroys all reverence to- 
wards God, together with all those religious exercises, 
and their happy consequences, of which it is the source. 

In the Discourse which I formerly delivered on this 
pre-eminently important religious attribute, I showed 
by a numerous train of scriptural passages, that it is 
peculiarly the means of rendering our worship accept- 
able to God ; — of exciting and keeping alive an abhor- 
rence of sin ; — the great source of reformation ; — emi- 
nently the source of rectitude in our dispositions and con- 
duct towards mankind ; — the foundation of peculiar 
blessings in the present world ; and eminently the 
means of securing eternal life in the world to come. 
These blessings, as an aggregate, are infinitely necessary 
and infinitely valuable to every human being. To pie- 
vent them, or to destroy them, that is, to prevent our- 
selves or others from becoming the subjects of them, is 
an evil to which no limits can be assigned. But this 
dreadful work is effectually accomplished by profane- 
ness. Profaneness itself is nothing but a high degree 
of irreverence to God. But no words are necessary to 
prove, that reverence and irreverence cannot exist to- 
gether in the same mind; or that, where reverence 
does not exist, its happy effects cannot be found. 

It is plainly impossible that he who indulges a spirit 
of profaneness should ever worship God in an accept- 
able manner. The spirit, once indulged, soon becomes 
habitual ; and will be present and predominate at all 
times and on all occasions. It will accompany him to 
the house of God, and, if we could suppose such a man 
to attend private or secret devotion, would mingle itself 



THE LAW OF GOD THE DANGER OF PROFANENESS. 



539 



with his family prayers, and, entering with him into 
his closet, would there insult his Maker to his face. 
But the truth is, he will neither pray in his family nor 
in his closet. These exercises of piety he will only ridi- 
cule, and regard those who scrupulously perform ihem 
as the pitiful slaves of fear, voluntarily shackled by the 
chains of superstition. To the sanctuary he may, at 
times, go, from curiosity, a regard to reputation, and a 
remaining sense of decency. There, however, all his 
seeming devotion will be merely external ; an offering 
' of the blind and the lame ; a sacrifice of swine's flesh ; 
an abomination, which God cannot away with ;' a dead 
form, a corpse without a soul, without life, corrupted, 
putrid, sending forth a ' savour of death unto death.' 

Instead of exciting and keeping alive an abhorrence 
of sin in his mind, the profane person, by the very ir- 
reverence which he cherishes, excites and keeps alive 
all his other tendencies to iniquity. God, the only 
object of obedience, imperfectly obeyed by the best 
mind which ever inhabited this sinful world, soon be- 
comes to him, by this very disposition, familiar, insig- 
nificant,, and despised. Who could obey a being re- 
garded in this manner? What anxiety can be occa- 
sioned by the thought of disobeying him ? Who can be 
solicitous concerning the evil of sin, when such is in 
his view the object against which sin is to be commit- 
ted ? Which of us could be at all apprehensive of either 
the guilt or the danger of sinning against a being 
whom we regarded only with contempt ? 

The reformation of a profane person is out of the 
question. His progress is only downward. Profane- 
ness is the mere floodgate of iniquity ; and the stream, 
once let out, flows with a current, daily becoming more 
and more rapid and powerful. There is no crime to 
which profaneness does not lend efficacious and malig- 
nant aid. It is the very nurse of sin — the foster-parent 
of rebellion, ingratitude, and impiety. 

The unjust judge, who feared not God, regarded not 
man. Such will be the conduct, whenever temptation 
invites, of all who do not fear God. Persons of this 



description may, I acknowledge, have originally the 
same natural affections with other men. But even these, 
so far as they are of any real use to others, will, if I 
have observed the conduct of mankind with success, be 
gradually worn away by the spirit of irreverence ; and, 
while they last, will fail of producing their most proper 
and valuable effects. A profane person cannot long 
pray with his family. He cannot teach his children 
their duty. He cannot reprove them for sin. He can- 
not set them an example of piety. He cannot exhort 
them to seek salvation. He cannot take them by the 
hand, and lead them to heaven. 

What blessings can he expect from the hand of God 
in the present world ? He may, indeed, be rich. ' Oft,' 
says the poet, 

' Oft on the vilest, riches are bestnw'd, 

To show their meannes3 in the sight of God.' 

Should he be rich, his wealth will be a curse and 
not a blessing ; the means merely of increasing his 
pride, of hardening his heart, and of inclining him to 
' treasure up wrath against the day of wrath,' and the 
revelation of the righteous judgment of God. He 
may, on account of his talents, his heroism, or some 
other cause, be held in estimation among his fellow 
men. But whatever reputation he may acquire in this 
manner, this, like his wealth, will prove only a curse to 
him; for, although 'highly esteemed among men,' he 
will be ' an abomination in the sight of Uod.' 

Beyond the grave he can expect and can receive 
nothing but ' indignation and wrath, tribulation and 
anguish.' His profaneness is an unceasing and fearful 
provocation of his Maker, and a terrible preparation 
for a future life of eternal blasphemy. All the ruin of 
futurity, and all the guilt and wretchedness of this life, 
he voluntarily brings upon himself by the indulgence 
of this odious, senseless, causeless sin ; and this quietly 
and coolly prepares himself to be destroyed for ever. 
In '• sinning against God,' in this manner, he eminently 
f wrongs his own soul,' and loves, invites, and solicits 
everlasting death. 



brw ywr $d 

''j-r io noiJchmia erfj 

SERMON CIV. " 2 ne(( 

JCf 9n0 ,brrs .» rm 

THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE THE THIRD COMMANDMENT. THE DANGER OF 

PROFANENESS. 



Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain : for the Lord will not hold him guiltless, that 

taketh his name in vain Exod. xx. 7. 

•>9ti 9-iij elm 

In the two * *»*- 



J preceding Discourses I considered at length 
the nature and the guilt of 'Profaneness. I shall now 
proceed, according to the plan originally proposed, to 
examine with some attention the danger of this sin. 

All sin is dangerous. But there are different kinds 
and degrees of danger in different sins. On those 
which especially attend this sin, or which, though com- 
mon to other sinful habits, are connected with profane- 
ness in a remarkable manner, I mean to insist in the 
i • Mowing Discourse. 



1 . Profaneness is eminently the source of corruption 
to the whole character. 

That there is an intimate connexion between the 
thoughts and the tongue, is perfectly well known to all 
men of consideration. The nature of this connexion 
is, however, misapprehended, if I mistake not, by most 
men. All persons perceive, that their thoughts give 
birth to their words ; while few seem to be aware, that 
their words, to a vast extent, originate and modify 
their thoughts. Almost all moral attributes and «>•> 



540 






SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. civ. 



ployments operate mutually as causes and effects, 
Thus irreverence of thought generates profaneness of 
expression ; and profaneness of expression, in its turn, 
generates and enhances irreverence of thought Thus, 
universally, the mind moves the tongue; and the 
tongue again, in its turn, moves the mind. The per- 
son who speaks evil will always think evil. By this I 
do not mean, that evil thoughts must precede evilspeak- 
ing; and that the man must, therefore, have been the 
subject of evil thoughts in order to have spoken evil. 
I mean, that evilspeaking, although an effect of evil 
thoughts* is, in its turn, a cause of new and other evil 
thoughts. He who thinks ill, will, undoubtedly, speak 
and act ill. This all men readily acknowledge. It is 
equally certain, although not equally well Understood, 
that evil speech and evil actions directly corrupt the 
mind, and render it more sinful than it would ever be- 
come, if it were not to speak and act in this manner. 

A familiar example or two will advantageously illus- 
trate this subject. An angry man "becomes at once 
more violent and wrathful, when he begins to vent his 
passion by words. What before was anger, soon be- 
comes fury. Before, he was able to retain his spirit 
within some bounds of decency ; but as soon as his 
tongue is let loose, his countenance will be distorted, 
his eyes flash, and his sentiments be the mere effusions 
of frenzy. A revengeful man kindles like a furnace 
from the moment in which he begins to execute his re- 
venge. What before was the revenge of a human heart, 
is speedily changed into the fell malignity of a fiend. 

St James has exhibited this tendency of the tongue 
to corrupt the mind, in language remarkable, exact, 
and forcible. He styles it an unruly member; a fire; 
a world of iniquity; and declares, that ' it defileth the 
whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature.' 
Its influence on the mind itself, as well as on the affairs 
of mankind, he describes in this strong exclamation : 
' Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth !' 
That the eye of St James was directed to the profane- 
ness of the tongue is obvious from what he says in the 
two succeeding verses : * Therewith bless we God, and 
therewith curse we man. Out of the same mouth pro- 
ceeded blessing and cursing.' Cursing, one dreadful 
kind of profaneness, was, according to his own account, 
in the eye of the apostle a kind Of profaneness, mingled 
always with every other, and inseparable from every 
other. In this very sense, then, ' the tongue is full of 
deadly poison ; a fire that kindles the whole course of 
nature' in the soul, and ' defiles the whole body' arid 
the whole mind. 

Of the correctness of these apostolic declarations, 
experience furnishes ample proof. Among all the 
multitude of persons who have borne the character of 
profaneness, not one was ever believed, on account of 
his other conduct, by any competent judge acquainted 
with him, to be a virtuous man. Many persons have 
begun to be profane from mere inconsideration ; and, 
at the commencement of their career, were no more de- 
praved than such of their companions as abstained from 
this sin. In their progress, however, they became cor- 
rupted much more extensively within the same period 
increased generally in wickedness, and particularly in 
hardness of heart, and lost every serious and even sober 
thought : all that course of thought, whence moral good 
might be derived, or whence might spring any hopeful 
effects towards salvation. This is a case which must, I 



think, have frequently met the eye of every man who 
is seriously attentive to the moral conduct of his fellow 
men, and strongly shows that the practice has itself 
deplorably corrupted them in other respects, and sets on 
fire the whole course of nature in their minds and lives. 
Hence, instea-d of being accounted virtuous on account 
of any thing in their other conduct, persons addicted to 
this sin have been regarded by common sense as gross 
sinners of course. 'A profane person ' is, therefore, as 
you well know, in proverbial language, used regularly 
to denote a wicked, vicious wretch. 

The truth plainly is, and all men discern it to be 
truth, that irreverence to God is a general source of 
wickedness. As I remarked in a former Discourse, 
religious reverence is the direct and peculiar source of 
reformation. Irreverence, its opposite, is in the same 
manner the direct source of degeneracy. This is in- 
deed true of most sins, when habitually and allowedly 
practised. He who practises one sin in this manner, 
will almost necessarily relish other 6ins more. As the 
body, when corrupted and weakened by sickness, is 
more prepared for the admission of any disease which 
may arrest it ; so the soul, corrupted by sin of any 
kind, becomes more fitted for the admission of every 
kind of wickedness which seeks admission. The con- 
science becomes less tender, less awake, less alarmed at 
the apprehension of guilt. The motives, also, which 
should induce us to abstain from iniquity, gradually lose 
their power. The love of sinning, the evil passions 
and appetites, gain strength by indulgence; and temp- 
tation, having repeatedly vanquished us, more easily 
vanquishes us again. 

But irreverence, more than almost any other evil, 
brings us into this danger. Whenever God becomes an 
object of little importance or estimation in our view, 
the evil of sinning vanishes of course. The danger also 
speedily recedes from our view. The only great and 
solemn object in the universe, the only being who is of 
ultimate importance to us, loses all his awfulness and 
sanctity. The great and commanding motive is there- 
fore gone; and there is nothing left to restrain us, but 
reputation or convenience. In this situation the mind 
is prepared for future perpetration, not only by an in- 
creased love to sinning, but by a strong arid habitual 
feeling, operating with much more power than mere 
conviction, that sin is neither guilty nor dangerous; or, 
at the worst, as a thing of small moment. The soul is 
thus left free to the indulgence of its evil propensities ; 
and the restraints, which once operated with no small 
efficacy, lose their hold on the mind. 

An affecting exemplification of this doctrine Jsseen in 
the tendency of one exercise of profaneness to produce 
another. Persons addicted to profane swearing, are, I 
apprehend, much more prone than most others to the 
commission of perjury. An oath is an eminently so- 
lemn act of religious worship. The person who takes 
an oath, calls God to witness the manner in which he 
shall speak or act under the obligation which it im- 
poses. If he shall speak truth, and nothing else ; if he 
shall act faithfully in the office or trust which he is then 
assuming ; he implores God to bless him here and here- 
after. If he shall speak falsely, or act unfaithfully, he 
in the same solemn manner invokes on his head the 
divine vengeance through time and eternity. 

Now it is plain beyond a doubt, that the solemn and 
awful character of God constitutes all the solemnity of 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DANGER OF PROFANENESS. 



541 



nn oath. If he is considered by the person who takes 
it as holy and sin-hating, as the unchangeable enemy 
of faithlessness and falsehood; if he is realized as a 
present and awful witness both of the oath and the sub- 
sequent conduct ; if he is believed to be the future and 
dreadful avenger of perjury and unfaithfulness; then 
we cannot but suppose, that the person who has thus 
sworn, will deeply feel his obligation to be sincere and 
faithful ; will with deep anxiety speak the truth exactly, 
or discharge the duties of the assumed office in the fear 
of Cod. . C 9l0(I9b I 

But if, on the contrary, the juror, whether in evi- 
dence or in office, regards God as an object of little 
importance ; as being either too weak, or too regardless 
of rectitude, to take any serious concern in the moral 
conduct of his creatures ; as destitute of sacredness of 
character, and hatred of sin ; as indifferent to truth and 
falsehood, faithfulness and treachery ; as willing to be 
mocked with impunity, and abused without resent- 
ment ; as existing, only to be a mere caterer to the 
wants and wishes of his creatures, and a mere object of 
proianation and contempt : then, plainly, the oath, in 
which he is invoked, can have little solemnity in the 
eyes, little influence on the heart, and little efficacy 
upon the conduct of the juror. To every such person it 
will become a thing of course ; a mere wind-and-wea- 
ther incident, an empty mockery of solemn sounds on 
a thoughtless tongue. Its obligation he will neither 
feel nor see. The duties which it requires he will not 
perform. There will therefore be no difference of con- 
duct in this case, ' between hiin that sweareth and him 
that sweareth not.' 

But how evident is it, that persons who swear pro- 
fanely, speedily lose all sense of the awful character of 
the Creator. From trifling with him in this wonderful 
manner, they soon learn to consider him as a mere 
trifler. From insulting him daily, they soon regard 
him as a proper object of insult. From mocking him 
with such impious effrontery, they speedily think of 
him in scarcely any other character than that of a mere 
butt of mockery. Thus God is first degraded in the 
view of the mind by its own profaneness, and then in- 
truded upon by perjury. He who swears profanely, 
will, in ordinary cases, soon swear falsely. According- 
ly, custom-house oaths, proverbially false, are usually 
taken by profane men. Nay, such men have by their 
own perjuries rendered these oaths proverbially false. 
Oaths in evidence, also, taken by such men, are justly 
regarded as lying under a general imputation ; as con- 
tributing not a little to unhinge the confidence of man- 
kind in this their last reliance for truth and safety. 

What is true of profane cursing and swearing, as to 
its corrupting power, is true of irreverence in every 
form. Disregard to God is the floodgate to all moral 
evil. He who enters upon this conduct, ought to con- 
sider himself as then entering upon a universal course 
of iniquity, and as then yielding himself as a slave, to 
do the whole drudgery of Satan. 

2. Profaneness is a sin which is rapidly progressive. 

This truth cannot but be discerned extensively, in 
the observations already made. Every act of profaning 
the name, perfections, works, word, and worship of 
God, is obviously a bold, presumptuous attack upon 
this glorious Being. The sinner, having once dared 
so far, becomes easily more daring, and passes rapidly 
from one state of wickedness to another, until he be- 



comes finally hardened in rebellion against his Maker. 
That most necessary fear of God, which is the great re- 
straint upon sinful men, is speedily lost. The sinner 
is then left without a check upon his wickedness, 
and voluntarily induces upon himself a flinty obsti- 
nacy, which is a kind of reprobation on this side of the 
grave. 

At the same time, the tongue is a most convenient 
instrument of iniquity, always ready for easy use. We 
cannot always sin with tbe hands, and are not always 
sufficiently gratified by mere sins of thought. Much as 
it is to be lamented, there is no small source of pleasure 
found by wicked, men in communicating their sinful 
thoughts and feelings to each other. The slanderer is 
never satisfied with merely thinking over slander. The 
liar would soon be discouraged, if he could not utter 
his lies. The profane swearer could hardly fail of be- 
coming a reformed man, were it not for the pleasure, 
little as it is, which he finds jn uttering his profaneness 
to others. The sins of the tongue are perpetrated alike 
with ease and delight every day, and in every place, 
where even a solitary individual can be found to listen. 
Hence transgressions of this kind are multiplied won- 
derfully. The thief steals, and the cheat defrauds oc- 
casionally only ; but the slanderer will slander every 
day. The liar utters falsehood unceasingly. The pro- 
fane person swears and curses everywhere, and multi- 
plies his iniquities ' as the drops of the morning.' From 
the mind of such a person it is reasonably believed, 
that the Spirit of God, t who is of purer eyes than to 
behold iniquity,' will in a peculiar manner withdraw 
his influence. Can it be rationally supposed, that this 
celestial visitant will stay with man, to be a witness of 
irreverence and profanation ? Ought not every pro- 
fane person to feel that he is forcing away from him- 
self those benevolent restraints upon his wickedness 
which constitute his only security, and the only rational 
foundation of his hopes of eternal life? 

3. Profaneness, particularly that of the tongue, natu- 
rally introduces men to evil companions, and shuts them 
out from the enjoyment of those who are virtuous. 

All men love, all men seek, companions of their own 
character. Sinners herd with sinners instinctively. 
Virtuous men seek the company of those who are vir- 
tuous. Men of learning consort with men of learning ; 
philosophers with philosophers ; merchants, farmers, 
mechanics, and seamen, seek the company of those of 
their own class; the mere incidental circumstances of 
pursuing the same kind of business alluring them regu- 
larly to the society of each other. Still more power- 
ful are moral inducements. This is a fact so exten- 
sively observed, that mankind have proverbially re- 
marked, that, ' A man is known by the company which 
lie keeps. no j 

Protane persons are shut out from the company of 
virtuous men by a variety of considerations. They to- 
tally disrelish the character of virtuous men — their pur- 
suits, their sentiments, their conversations- — -and usually 
shun their society on this account. They also dread 
their inspection, and fear to have them witnesses of 
their own character, language, and opinions. For this 
reason, whenever they are in their company, they feel 
obliged to guard themselves, to bridle their tongues, 
and to take care that their language and sentiments be 
not offensive to their companions, and dishonourable to 
themselves. This restraint, like all others, is painful ; 



54a 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. civ. 



and they are unwilling' to subject themselves to it, when- 
ever it can be avoided. 

Virtue also is in its own nature awful to all sinners ; 
and, proud as they are of themselves and their sins, they 
cannot fail, in the hour of sober consideration, to feel 
their inferiority, and accordingly to be humbled, mor- 
tified, and abashed. Christ informs us, that ' he who 
doeth evil, hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, 
lest his deeds should*be reproved.' Eor the very same 
reason profane persons, and other sinners, hate the com- 
pany of religious men ; because their character and 
conduct are a direct -contrast to their own, and hold 
them out in a strong light of unworthiness and debase- 
ment. This contrast few wicked men are willing to 
bear. Almost all of them shrink from it, as a wounded 
patient shrinks from the probe of the surgeon. 

At the same time, virtuous persons loathe of course 
the company and conversation of all open and obstinate 
sinners. But profane persons are among the most open 
of all sinners. Their sin is ever on their lips, and con- 
tinually proclaimed by their tongues. It is impossible, 
therefore, that their characters should not be known. 
Persons so directly opposed in feelings and pursuits, can 
never unite with that mutual agreement of heart or 
conversation, which is indispensable to the pleasant- 
ness, and even to the continuance, of familiar society. 
The virtuous man will, at the same time, find every thing 
lacking in such persons which he seeks for in company, 
whether it be pleasure or profit. 

In addition to these things, his reputation becomes 
stained, and very deeply, if he consorts voluntarily with 
such companions. ' Why,' it will naturally be asked, 
' does he frequent such company ?' — ' Certainly,' it will 
be answered, ' not for profit.' The necessary inference 
is therefore that he frequents it for the sake of pleasure. 
Of course, he must find pleasure in sin, and in this 
peculiarly odious sin. But to find pleasure in any sin 
is a direct contradiction of his religious profession, a 
direct denial of his Christian character. In this man- 
ner then he wounds himself, he wounds the church, he 
wounds the cause of God. What Christian can be sup- 
posed to make such a sacrifice, for the sake of any 
thing which he can gain from sinful companions? 

But the dangers from evil companions are continual, 
extreme, and in a sense infinite. They are found every 
moment, and in every place ; especially in the haunts 
customarily frequented by men of this character. Here 
all the means of sinning are gathered together. 'The 
companion of fools,' or wicked men, saith God, ' shall 
be destroyed.' 

The advantages of virtuous company, on the con- 
trary, are great and unspeakable. Their sentiments 
and conduct are such as their consciences approve, and 
such as God approves. Their sentiments are all con- 
formed to the Scriptures. Their conduct is the natural 
fruit of their sentiments; not perfect indeed, but sin- 
cere, amiable, and excellent. In this character is pre- 
sented a powerful check upon sin, and a powerful support 
to virtue. No person can give so alarming an exhibi- 
tion of the evil, guilt, and danger of sin as they. No 
person can place virtue in so alluring a light. They 
have felt the evils of sin, the foretastes of immortality, 
and the pleasures of holiness. They therefore can 
enter with the heart into both subjects, and can speak 
of both with feelings unknown to other men, and inca- 
pable of being known until they have become virtuous. 



Hence good may be gained, and evil avoided, by means 
of their company, by means peculiar to them, which 
is often unattainable or unavoidable in any other man- 
ner. 

By shutting himself out from this company, the pro- 
fane person therefore voluntarily relinquishes one of 
the chief blessings of life, one of the great means of 
securing life eternal. Nothing, perhaps, beside the 
worship of God, and a religious education, contributes 
more frequently, or more certainly, to bring men into 
the strait and narrow way, to keep them in it after they 
have once entered, or to aid and quicken them in the 
journey towards heaven. Nothing, on the other hand, 
seems more readily or regularly to withdraw them from 
danger, guilt, and ruin. All this good the profane per- 
son voluntarily casts away. Other sinners, of more 
decent characters, often enjoy this blessing, and find it 
a blessing indeed. But the profane person carries 
with him the label of rejection ; the mark of outlawry 
from virtuous society ; a label voluntarily worn ; a 
mark branded by himself. 

At the same time he is consigned in the same volun- 
tary manner to the company of wicked men. Here 
virtue and hope are blasted together. Here all the 
curses, opposed to the blessings above recited, multiply 
and thrive. Here his life is wasted, and his soul 
hazarded, assassinated, and destroyed for ever. 

4. Profaneness exposes men to the terrible denuncia- 
tion of the text. 

The occasion on which this threatening was pro- 
nounced, the person by whom, and the manner and 
circumstances in which it was published to mankind, 
ought to render it peculiarly alarming to every man 
who is guilty of this sin. f Thou shalt not take the 
name of the Lord thy God in vain,' said the Creator of 
all things, with an audible voice from Sinai, while the 
world was trembling beneath him ; ' for the Lord will 
not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.' 
This is the declaration of him who is thus profaned, 
and thus mocked ; of him who is an ear-witness of all 
this profaneness and mockery ; of him by whom the 
wretch guilty of this fearful transgression will be judged 
and condemned at the final day. The threatening is 
denounced against a single transgression of this nature. 
What then must be the guilt and the danger of profane 
persons, deformed as they usually are with transgres- 
sions scarcely numerable by man P What a chain of 
profanation, of oaths and curses, will every such person 
drag after him to the throne of God ! How will he 
tremble at the retrospect, shrink from the dread tribu- 
nal, before his cause is heard ; and realize the sentence 
of condemnation before it is pronounced ! 

The threatening here declared is a sentence gone 
forth beforehand from the tribunal of eternal justice, 
against this particular transgression ; a doom already 
pronounced, and hastening to its execution, by the 
hand of him from whom no sinner can escape. It is a 
sentence which cannot be misunderstood, against a 
crime which cannot be doubted. Many sins are of such 
a nature that the sinner may question the reality of his 
guilt. Here the crime is perfectly known, and the sen- 
tence absolutely decisive. The profane person there- 
fore may consider himself as tried, judged and con- 
demned already ; judged and condemned from amidst 
the thunders and lightnings of the mount of God ; 
and woe be to him, who does not 'believe and trenfiVe.' 



THE LAW OF GOD THE NATURE OF PROFANENESS. 



543 



REMARKS. 

1. These observations exhibit in a strong light the 
depravity of the human heart. 

In the progress of these Discourses it has been clearly 
evinced, that profaneness is a sin perpetrated in an 
almost endless variety of forms ; that it is a sin attended 
with enormous guilt, and exposing the perpetrator to 
immense danger. It has also been shown, that the in- 
ducements to it are very few, and very small ; while 
the motives opposed to it are very many, and very great. 
Yet how evident is it that this very sin is, and ever 
has been, practised by incomprehensible multitudes of 
mankind ! The Jews were profane ; the Mohammedans 
are profane ; the Christian nations are profane ; and 
the heathen nations are, and ever were, profane to such 
gods as they acknowledged. Among all these nations, 
or, in other words, throughout the whole earth, and 
throughout the whole reign of time, innumerable indi- 
viduals have ever been profane. Indeed, in one form 
or another, no man has been guiltless of that irreve- 
rence towards God in which the essence of profane- 
ness consists. The evil therefore spreads over the world, 
and, in one form or another, attaches itself to every 
child of Adam. 

How wonderful a specimen of human corruption is 
presented in the so general profanation of the name of 
God, exhibited in light-minded cursing and swearing ! 
How perfectly at a loss is reason for a motive to' origi- 
nate and explain this conduct! Why should the name 
of the Creator be treated with irreverence ! Why should 
not any thing else be uttered by man, if we consider 
him merely as a rational being, without recurring at 
all to his moral and accountable character, rather than 
language of this nature ? Certainly it contributes not 
in the least degree to the advancement of any purpose 
cherished by the mind of the profane person, unless 
that purpose is mere profaneness. I know well that 
passion is often pleaded for the use of this language. 
But why should passion prompt to profaneness? Anger, 
one would suppose, would naturally vent itself in ex- 
pressions of resentment against the person who had 
provoked us. But this person is always a fellow crea- 
ture, a man like ourselves. In what way, or in what 
degree, is God concerned in this matter ? What has 
the passion, what has the provocation, to do with him, 
his name, or his character ? Why do we affront and 
injure him, because a creature, infinitely unlike him, 
has affronted and injured us? I know that custom also 
is pleaded, as an extenuation, and perhaps as an expla- 
nation, of this crime. But how came such a custom to 
exist ? How came any rational being ever to think of 
profaning the name of God? How came any other 
rational being to follow him in this wickedness ? Whence 
was it, that so many millions of those who ought to be 
rational beings have followed them both ? What end 
can it have answered ? What honour, gain, or plea- 
sure, can it have furnished ? What taste can it have 
gratified? What desire, what affection, can it have in- 
dulged ? What end can the profane person have pro- 
posed to himself? 

Can any explanation be given of this conduct, except 
that it springs from love to wickedness itself, from 
a heart fixedly opposed to its Maker, pleased with af- 
fronting him, loving to abuse his character, and to 
malign his glorious agency ? — a heart in which sin is 



gratuitous; by which, in juster language, nothing is 
gained, much is plainly lost, and every thing is hazard- 
ed ? What, beside the love of sinning, what, buttle 
peculiar turpitude of the character, can be the source or 
the explanation of this conduct ? 

2. These observations teach us the goodness of God in 
alarming mankind concerning this sin in so solemn a 
manner. 

The guilt of profaneness cannot'be questioned ; nor 
can there be any more question concerning the danger 
to which the perpetrator exposes himself. In such a 
situation, how kindly has the lawgiver of the universe 
warned mankind against the perpetration, by announc- 
ing to them, in this affecting manner, the evil to which 
it would expose them. He saw perfectly their tendency 
to this wickedness ; and, with infinite mercy, has been 
pleased to provide those means for their safety which 
are best calculated to insure it. 

If a child were advancing towards the brow of a pre- 
cipice, how kindly would he and his parent regard a 
friend, who should announce to him his danger, direct 
him with sure guidance, and influence him with effica- 
cious motives, to avoid it The threatening contained 
in this command, and, together with it, all those which 
are found in the Scriptures, are calculated for this very 
purpose. They warn us of approaching guilt ; they 
declare to us approaching danger. Thousands and mil- 
lions of the human race have been actually saved by 
them from impending destruction. Terrible are they, 
indeed, to obstinate sinners, because they disturb them 
in their beloved course of sinning, and because they in- 
tend not to cease from sin. Still they are not the less 
mercifully given. They ave the very means by which 
immense multitudes have been ' plucked as brands out 
of the burning.' 

3. Let me warn all those who hear me to shun pro- 
faneness. 

To this end, fix on your minds a solemn and control- 
ling sense of the evil and danger of this sin. Make 
this sense habitual in such a manner, that it may be al- 
ways ready to rise up in the mind, and present itself 
before your eyes. Feel that you will gain nothing here, 
and lose every thing hereafter. 

Under the influence of these views, keep the evil 
always at a great distance. Mark the men who are 
profane ; and avoid their company as you would avoid 
the plague. Shun the places where profaneness abounds, 
or whereitmay be expected to abound, as you would shun 
a quicksand. ' Avoid them, pass not by them, turn from 
them, pass away.' Remember that these places ' are the 
way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.' 

Unceasingly say to yourselves, ' Thou God seest me.' 
Unceasingly say to yourselves, ' The Lord will not hold 
him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. Remem- 
'ber, that he is most mercifully disposed to be your Fa- 
ther and everlasting friend ; that lie cannot be your 
friend, unless you regard him ' with reverence and godly 
fear;' and that, if he be not your friend, you will 
throughout eternity be friendless, and helpless, and 
hopeless. What then will become of you ? 

Carefully avoid mentioning his great name on any 
except solemn occasions, and in any manner which is 
not strictly reverential. Never speak, never think of 
God, his Son, his Spirit, his name, his works, his word, 
or his institutions, without solemnity and awe. Never 
approach his house, or his word, without reverence. 



544 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cv. 



Prepare yourselves by solemn consideration and bum- 
ble prayer for his worship. Shun all that language 
which, though not directly profane, is merely a series 
of steps towards profaneness ; and all those thoughts of 
sacred things which are tinctured with levity. At the 
same time, daily beseech him to preserve you, and let 
your unceasing prayer be, ' Set a watch, O Lord ! be- 
fore my mouth : keep the door of my lips.' 

4. Let me solemnly admonish the profane persons in 
this assembly, of their guilt and danger. 

You, unhappily for yourselves, are those who 'take 
the name of God in vain,' and of course are now, or 
soon will be, subjects of all the guilt and danger which 
I have specified. ' Now, therefore, thus saith the Lord, 
consider your ways.' Remember what you are doing; 
against whom your evil tongues are directed ; who is 
the object of your contempt and mockery. 

Ask yourselves what you gain — what you expect to 
gain — what you do not lose. .Remember, that you lose 
your reputation, at least in the minds of all the wise and 
good ; and all the blessings of their company and friend- 
ship ; that you sacrifice your peace of mind ; that you 



break down all those principles on which virtue may 
be grafted, and with them every rational hope of eter- 
nal life ; that you are rapidly becoming more and more 
corrupted, day by day ; and that, with this deplorable 
character, you are preparing to go to the judgment. 
Think what it will be to swear and curse, to mock God 
and insult your Redeemer through life ; to carry your 
oaths and curses to a dying bed ; to enter eternity with 
blasphemies in your mouths ; and to stand before the 
final bar, when the last sound of profaneness has scarce- 
ly died upon your tongues. 

If these considerations do not move you, if they do 
not make you tremble at the thought of what you are 
doing, if they do not force you to a solemn pause in the 
career of iniquity, if they do not compel you to retrace 
your downward steps, and return, while it is in your 
power, to reformation and safety, 1 can only say, that 
you are hurried by an evil spirit to destruction ; that 
you are maniacs in sin, on whom neither reason nor 
religion has any influence ; and that you will soon find 
yourselves in the eternal dungeon of darkness and 
despair. 



SERMON CV. 

THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE.— THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT. THE PERPETUITY 

OF THE SABBATH. 



Remember the sabbath- day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work : but the seventh day 
is the sabbath of the Lord thy God ; in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy 
man servant, nor thy maid servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates : for in six days 
the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day : wherefore 
the Lord blessed t/ie sabbath-day, and hallowed it. — Exod. xx. 8 — 11. 



The command which is given us in this passage of Scrip- 
ture requires no explanation. I shall, therefore, pro- 
ceed immediately to the consideration of the great 
subject which it presents to our view, under the' follow- 
ing heads : — 

I. The perpetual establishment of the sabbath, 

II. The manner in which it is to be observed. 

I. I shall endeavour to prove the perpetual establish- 
ment of the sabbath in the Scriptures. 

The subject I propose to consider at length ; and 
in the course of my examination, shall attempt to offer 
direct proof of its perpetuity, and then to answer objec- 
tions. 

In direct proof of the perpetuity of thi3 institution, I 
allege, 

1. The text. 

The text is one of the commands of the moral law. 
Now it is acknowledged, that the moral Jaw is, jn the 
most universal sense, binding on men of every age and 
every country. If, then, this command be a part of that 
law, mankind must be under immovable obligations 
to obey the injunction which it contains. 

That it is a part of the moral law, I argue from the 
fact, that it is united with the other commands, which are 
acknowledged to be of this nature. It is twice placed 
in the midst of the decalogue ; in the context, and in 
the fifth of Deuteronomy. 'I his tact, you will remember, 



was the result of design, and not of accident; a de- 
' sign formed and executed by God himself, and not by 
Moses. 

I argue it also from the fact, that this command, to- 
gether with the remaining nine, was spoken with an 
awful and audible voice, from the midst of the thunders 
and lightnings which enveloped mount Sinai. The 
splendour and majesty of this scene were such, that ' all 
} the people who were in the camp trembled. And when 
they saw the thuuderings, and lightnings, and the noise 
of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking, they removed, 
and stood afar off; and said unto Moses, Speak thou with 
i us, and we will hear ; but let not God speak with us, 
lest we die.' Even Moses himself exceedingly feared 
I and quaked.' 

I I argue this doctrine also from the fact, that this com- 
l mand was written by the finger of God, on one of the 
two tables of stone, originally prepared by himself, and 
destined to contain nothing but this and the other pre- 
cepts of the decalogue. It was afterward written again 
by the same hand, after these tables were broken, on 
one of two similar tables, prepared by Moses. A table 
of stone, and a pillar of stone, were in ancient times 
direct symbols of the perpetuity of whatever was ei - 
graved on them. This very natural symbol God was 
pleased to adopt in the present case, to show the per, 
petual obligation of these commands. The remainder 



THE LAW OF GOD PERPETUITY OF THE SABBATH. 



545 



of the law given by Moses was all written in a book; 
and was here intentionally and entirely distinguished, 
as to its importance, from the decalogue. The tables 
of stone on which these commands were written were 
fashioned by the hand of God himself. This, also, 
forms a peculiar article of distinction between the de- 
calogue and the rest of the Jewish law. Nothing but 
the decalogue ever received such an honour as this. It 
was written on one of these tables by the finger of God. 
This, also, is a distinction peculiar to the decalogue. 

When Moses, in his zeal to destroy the idolatry of 
the Israelites, had broken the two tables of stone, fa- 
shioned and written upon in this manner, God directed 
him to make two other tables of stone, like the first. On 
these he was pleased to write the same commands a se- 
cond time. In this act he has taught us, that he was 
pleased to become a second time the recorder of these 
precepts with his own hand, rather than that the entire 
distinction between these precepts and others, should 
be obliterated. 

Every part of this solemn transaction, it is to be re- 
membered, was the result of contrivance and design ; 
of contrivance and design on the part of God himself. 
Every part of it, therefore, speaks a language which is 
to be examined and interpreted by us. Now let me 
ask, whether this language is not perfectly intelligible, 
and perfectly unambiguous. Is it not clear, beyond 
every rational debate, that God designed to distinguish 
these precepts from every other part of the Mosaic law, 
both as to their superior importance, and their perpe- 
tuity ? Is it not incredible, that God should mark, in 
so solemn a manner, this command, together with the 
remaining nine, unless he intended that all to whom 
these precepts should come, that is, all Jews and Chris- 
tians, or all who should afterward read the Scriptures, 
should regard these commands as possessing that very 
importance which he thus significantly gave them ; 
should consider them as being, in a peculiar sense, his 
law ; and hold them as being perpetually and univer- 
sally obligatory ? 

It is further to be remembered, that this command is 
delivered in the same absolute manner as the other 
nine. There is no limitation to the phraseology in 
which it is contained. ' Honour thy father and thy 
mother,' is obligatory on all children to whom this pre- 
cept shall come. ' Thou shalt not steal,' is a precept 
prohibiting the stealing of every man who shall know it. 
Every Gentile, as well as every Jew, ' who sinneth, 
under the law, will' (according to the spirit of the 
apostle's declaration) ' be judged by the law.' Agree- 
ably to this equitable construction, every person to whom 
this precept shall come, is bound to ' remember the sab- 
bath day to keep it holy.' 

But it is acknowledged, that ' all the remaining com- 
mands are indeed universally obligatory, being in their 
own nature moral, and having, therefore, a universal 
application to mankind. This, however, is plainly a 
command merely positive, and, therefore, destitute of 
this universality of application. It may, of course, be 
dispensed with ; may be supposed to have been deli- 
vered to the Jews only, like their ceremonial and judi- 
cial law ; may have been destined to continue so long 
as their national state continued ; and thus may have 
been designed to be of neither universal nor perpetual 
obligation.' 

To this objection, which I have stated at full length, 



that I might be sure of doing justice to it, I give the 
following answer : — 

(I.) It appears to me evident, that, so far as my in- 
formation extends, the distinction between moral and 
positive commands has been less clearly made by moral 
writers than most other distinctions. It will be impos- 
sible for any man clearly to see, and to limit exactly 
what they intend when they use these terms. To re- 
move this difficulty, so far as my audience are con- 
cerned, and to enable them to know what I design 
while I am using these words, I will attempt to define 
them with some particularity. 

A moral precept is one which regulates the moral 
conduct of intelligent creatures, and binds the will and 
the conscience. It is either limited, or universal. It is 
universal, or, in other words, is obligatory on the con- 
sciences of intelligent creatures at all times, and in all 
circumstances, when their situations and relations are 
universally such as to render the conduct required in 
these precepts, their duty invariably, and in the nature 
of things. Of this kind, the number of precepts is cer- 
tainly very small. We are bound to love God, and 
our neighbour, invariably. But the fifth command, in 
its obvious sense, can have no application where the 
relations of parent and child do not exist; the sixth, 
where rational beings are immortal ; the seventh, where 
the distinction of sex is not found. To these precepts, 
therefore, the criterion of universality, generally re- 
garded as the principal mark of the moral nature of 
precepts, is plainly inapplicable; and it is altogether 
probable, that these precepts will have no existence in 
any world but this. Limited moral precepts are those 
which require the duties arising from such relations 
and circumstances as exist only for limited periods, or 
among certain classes or divisions of rational beings. 
Thus various moral precepts found in the judicial law 
of Piloses, obligated to obedience none but the people 
of that nation, and strangers dwelling among them. 
Thus, also, he who has no parents is not required to 
perform the duties enjoined upon a child ; he who has 
no wife, those required of a husband ; and he who has 
no children, those demanded of a father. 

Positive precepts are such as require conduct of moral 
beings which, antecedently, to the promulgation of them, 
was not their duty; and, independently of them, 
would never have become their duty ; but would have 
remained for ever a matter of indifference. It ought 
to be observed here, that some precepts are considered 
as merely positive, because the duties enjoined by them 
were unknown, and would have continued unknown, 
to those of whom they are required, independently of 
the publication of these precepts. These pi-ecepts 
however, are no less of a moral nature, than if the du- 
ties, which they enjoin, and the relations from which 
those duties spring, had always been perfectly known. 
A precept of a merely positive nature creates a duty 
which, but for the precept, would not exist ; which does 
not depend for its existence on the nature of the rela- 
tions sustained by the subject as a rational being ; but 
is intended to promote some useful, incidental purpose, 
and is not due, nor demanded, from the subject in other 
cases, although sustaining exactly the same relations. 
Thus the precept requiring the building of booths at 
the passover, may be considered as a positive precept. 
Thus, also, many others, enjoining particular parts of 
the Jewish ritual. , 



548 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sen. cv. 



(2.) The precept contained in the text is, according' 
to these definitions, a moral, and not a positive precept. 
The sabbath was instituted for the following ends : 

It was intended to give the laborious classes of man- 
kind an opportunity of resting from toil. 

It was intended to be a commemoration of the wis- 
dom, power, and goodness of God, in the creation of 
the universe. 

It was intended to furnish an opportunity of increas- 
ing holiness in man, while in a state of innocence. 

It was intended to furnish an opportunity to fallen 
man of acquiring holiness, and of obtaining salvation. 

In every one of these respects the sabbath is equally 
useful, important, and necessary to every child of Adam. 
It was no more necessary to a Jew to rest after the 
labour of six days was ended, than to any other man. 
It was no more necessary to a Jew to commemorate 
the perfections of God displayed in the work of crea- 
tion ; it was no more necessary to a Jew to gain holi- 
ness, or to increase it ; it is no more necessary to a 
Jew to seek, or to obtain salvation. Whatever makes 
either of these things interesting to a Jew, in any de- 
gree, makes them, in the same degree, interesting to 
every other man. The nature of the command, there- 
fore, teaches, as plainly as the nature of a command 
can teach, that it is of universal application to mankind. 
It has then this great criterion of a moral precept; viz. 
universality of application. 

That it is the duty of all men to commemorate the 
perfections of God displayed in the work of creation, 
cannot be questioned. Every living man is bound to 
contemplate, understand, and adore these perfections. 
But we cannot know them in the abstract, or as they 
exist merely in hiin. We learn them only as displayed 
in his works, and in his word. We are bound, there- 
fore, to learn them as thus displayed, and that in pro- 
portion to the clearness and glory of the display. The 
clearness and glory with which these perfections are 
manifested in the work of creation, are transcendently 
great, and demand, from all creatures, a contemplation 
proportionally attentive, and an adoration proportion- 
ally exalted. To commemorate this glorious work, 
therefore, is a plain and important' duty of all men ; 
this being the peculiar service demanded of them by his 
character, and his relation to them as their Creator. But 
this commemoration was the original and supreme ob- 
ject of the command. It cannot be denied that this is a 
moral service, nor that the precept requiring it is a mo- 
ral precept. 

To perform this service in the best manner is also as 
much a moral duty, as to perform it at all. If'any duty 
be not performed in the best manner, it is only per- 
formed in part, the remainder being of course, omitted ; 
but no words can be necessary to prove, that we are 
equally obliged to perform one part of a duty as an- 
other. 

If we know not, and cannot know, the best manner, 
Ave are invariably bound to choose the best which we do 
know. If, however, the best manner be made known 
to us, we are invariably obliged to adopt it to the ex- 
clusion of all others. 

The best manner in the present case is made known 
to us in this command. We are assured that it is the 
best manner, by the fact, that God has chosen it. No 
man can doubt whether God's manner is the best ; nor 
whether it is his own duty to adopt it rather than any 



other. This manner is a commemoration of the per. 
fections of God, thus disclosed, on one day in seven. 

That a particular day, or set time, should be devoted 
to this important purpose, is indispensable The duty 
is a social one, in which the rational creatures of God in 
this world are universally to unite. But, unless a par- 
ticular day were set apart for this duty, the union in- 
tended would be impossible. 

It is of the last importance, that the day should be 
appointed by God. Men would not agree on any par- 
ticular day. If they should agree, it would always be 
doubtful whether the time chosen by them was the best ; 
and the day appointed by men would have neither au- 
thority, sacredness, nor sanction. In a matter merely 
of human institution, all who pleased would dissent, and 
in such a world as ours, most or all would choose to 
dissent. The whole duty, therefore, would be left un- 
done, and the glorious perfections of God, unfolded in 
the work of creation, would be wholly forgotten. This 
precept is also entirely of a moral nature, as to the whole 
end at which it aims, so far as man is concerned. This 
end is, the attainment and the increase of holiness. Of 
every man living and of every man alike, this is the 
highest interest, and the highest duty. To this end, as 
to the former, which is indeed inseparably united with 
this, the sabbath is indispensable. 

The sabbath is eminently moral, also, as the indis- 
pensable means of preserving in the world a real and 
voluntary obedience of all the other commands in the 
decalogue. Wherever the sabbath is not, religion dies 
of course ; and morality of every kind, except so far as 
convenience and selfishness may keep the forms of it 
alive, is forgotten. But all those means which are in- 
dispensable to the existence of morality, or in better 
language, religion, are themselves of a moral nature, 
and of universal obligation ; since, without them, no- 
thing moral could exist. 

It makes no difference here, whether we could have 
known without information from God, that one day in 
seven would be the best time, and furnish the best man- 
ner of performing these things, or not. It is sufficient 
that we know it now. • 

Thus the fourth command is of a really moral nature, 
no less than the others, and as truly of incalculable im- 
portance, and indispensable obligation, to all the chil- 
dren of Adam. Its place in the decalogue, therefore, 
was given it with consummate propriety ; and ' what 
God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.' 

If it were intended to abolish a command given so 
plainly, and with circumstances of such amazing solem- 
nity, the abrogation would, undoubtedly, have been 
communicated in a manner equally clear with that in 
which the command itself was originally given. But 
the Scriptures contain nothing which resembles an ab- 
rogation of it, communicated either clearly or obscurely. 
When Christ abolished the ceremonial and civil laws of 
the Jews, so far as they might be thought to extend to 
the Gentiles, and taught the true moral system of the 
Old Testament, and when the apostles afterward com- 
pleted the evangelical account of this subject, it is. I 
think, incredible, that, if this precept were to be abo- 
lished at all, neither he nor they should give a single 
hint concerning the abolition. As both have left it just 
where they found it, without even intimating that it 
was at all to be annulled, we may reasonably conclude 
that its obligation has never been lessened. 



THE LAW OF GOD—THE PERPETUITY OP THE SABBATH. 



547 



In the mean time, it ought to be observed, that many 
other precepts comprised in the Mosaic law, which are 
universally acknowledged to be of a moral nature, 
were nevertheless not introduced into the decalogue, 
were not spoken by the voice of God, nor written with 
his finger, nor placed on the tables of stone fashioned 
by himself. Why was this supreme distinction made 
in favour of the precept now under discussion? This 
question I may perhaps answer more particularly here- 
after. It is sufficient to observe at present, that it 
arose solely from the superior importance of the precept 
itself. 

2. The perpetual establishment of the sabbath is evi- 
dent from its original institution. 

Of this we have the following account in Genesis ii. 
1 — 3 : ' Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, 
and all the host of them. And on the seventh day 
God ended his work which he had made. And God 
blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it ; because that 
in it he had rested from all his work, which God created 
and made.' The proofs which this passage affords for 
the perpetuity of the sabbath, respect the time and the 
end, of the institution. 

The time of the institution was the seventh day after 
the creation was begun, and on the first day after it was 
ended. At this time none of the human race were in 
being, but our first parents. For them the sabbath was 
instituted ; and clearly, therefore, for all their posterity 
also. If it was not instituted for all their posterity, it 
was not instituted for any of them ; for, certainly, there 
can be no reason given why it was instituted for one 
more than another. The Jews, particularly, were no 
more nearly connected with Adam than we are ; and 
no more interested in any thing commanded to him than 
are the Gentiles. Accordingly it is, so far as I know, 
universally conceded, that, if the sabbath was instituted 
at this time, it is obligatory on all men to the end of the 
world. 

The resting of God on this day, alleged in the text as 
a primary and authoritative reason why the sabbath 
should be kept holy, is a reason extending to all men 
alike. In my own view it is incredible that God should 
rest on this day to furnish an example to the Jewish na- 
tion merely, of observing the sabbath ; or that so solemn 
a transaction as this, in its own nature affecting the 
whole human race alike, should be intentionally confined 
in its influence to a ten thousandth part of mankind. 
The example of God, so far as it is imitable, is in its 
very nature authoritative and obligatory on every intel- 
ligent creature, and in the present case plainly on the 
whole human race. For man to limit it, where God 
himself has not been pleased to limit it, is evidently un- 
warrantable and indefensible. 

The end of the institution plainly holds out the same 
universality of obligation. I have already observed, 
that this is twofold ; viz. to commemorate the glory of 
God displayed in the creation ; and to attain and in- 
crease holiness in the soul of man. I have also observed, 
that all men are alike interested in both these objects. 
Nor can there be a single pretence, that any nation, or 
P.ny person, is more interested in either, than any other 
person, or nation. Every individual stands in exactly 
the same relations to God, is under exactly the same 
obligations, and is bound in this case to duties exactly 
the same. 

3. The perpetuity of the sabbath is clearly taught in 



Isaiah, lvi. C — S. ' Also the sons of the stranger, that 
join themselves to the Lord, to serve him, and to love 
the name of the Lord, to be his servants ; every one 
that keepeth the sabbath from polluting it, and taketh 
hold of my covenant ; even them will I bring to my 
holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of 
prayer ; their burnt-offerings and their sacrifices shall 
be acceptable on my altar : for my house shall be 
called a house of prayer for all people. The Lord God, 
who gathereth the outcasts of Israel, saith, Yet will I 
gather others to him, beside those that are gathered 
unto him.' 

From this passage it is evident, that when the house 
of God shall become a house of prayer for all people, 
and when the outcasts of Israel, and others beside them, 
shall be gathered unto him, that is, Christ ; then the 
sabbath shall continue a divine institution ; that it shall 
be a duty to keep it from polluting it ; and that those 
who keep it, particularly the sons of the stranger, or the 
Gentile nations, shall be accepted and blessed in thus 
keeping it, and shall be made joyful in God's house' of 
prayer. 

But the house of God was never, in any sense, called 
' a house of prayer for all people,' until after the dis- 
pensation of the gospel began ; viz. until the house of 
God was found ' wherever two or three are met together 
in the name of Christ ;' until the period when mankind 
were to ' worship God, neither in Jerusalem, nor in the 
mountain of Samaria, but wherever they worshipped in 
spirit and in truth.' Under this dispensation, therefore, 
the sabbath was still to continue a divine institution ; 
was to be kept free from pollution ; and the keeping of 
it was to be blessed, according to the declarations of the 
unerring Spirit of prophecy. 

This prediction is a part of the unchangeable coun- 
sels of Jehovah. It could not have been written, unless 
it had been true. It could not have been true, unless 
fulfilled by this very observation of the sabbath. The 
sabbath could not have been thus observed, and men 
could not have been thus blessed in observing it, 'unless 
at the very time of this observance, it had still remained 
an institution of God. For God himself has declared, 
that mankind ' shall not add to his words, nor diminish 
aught from them ;' and that, instead of blessing those 
who add to the words written in the Scriptures, he will 
' add to them the plagues which are written in the Scrip- 
tures.' But to add to the institutions of God, is to add 
to his word, in the most arrogant and guilty manner. 
If the sabbath be not now a divine institution, he who 
observes it as such, adds to the institutions of God, and 
is grossly guilty of this arrogance. He may therefore 
certainly, as well as justly, expect to find a curse, and 
not a blessing ; to be destroyed with a more terrible 
destruction than that which Nadab and Abihu experi- 
enced, for adding to the institutions of God one of their 
own, of a far less extraordinary and guilty nature. 

But how different from all this has been the fact ! 
How exactly, as well as gloriously, has this prediction 
been fulfilled! God has really 'gathered unto Christ 
others, beside the outcasts of Israel.' The Gentiles, 
the sons of the stranger, have, in immense multitudes, 
joined themselves to the Lord — they have served him 
they have loved his name — they have kept the sab- 
bath from polluting it — they have taken hold of his 

covenant they have been made joyful in his house of 

prayer and their sacrifices and their burnt-offerings 



)49 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sfr. cvi. 



have been accepted upon his altar — and his house has 
been called a house of prayer for all people. Thus, as 
Isaiah predicted, there has actually been a sabbath un- 
der the dispensation of the gospel, remaining now for 
almost eighteen hundred years ; and this sabbath has 
been attended with the peculiar blessings predicted by 
this evangelical prophet. 

4. The perpetuity of the sabbath is fairly argued from 
Psalm cxviii. 19 — 26. ' Open to me the gates of right- 
eousness ; I will go into them ; and I will praise the 
Lord. This gate of the Lord, into which the righteous 
shall enter. I will praise thee ; for thou hast heard me, 
and art become my salvation. The stone which the 
builders refused, is become the head-stone of the corner. 
This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our 
eyes. This is the day which the Lord hath made : we 
will rejoice, and be glad in it. Save now, I beseech 
thee, O Lord : Lord, I beseech thee, send now 
prosperity ! Blessed be he that cometh in the name 
of the Lord. We have blessed you out of the house of 
the Lord.' 

This Psalm, particularly the prophecy contained in 
these words, is explained by St Peter, as referring to 
Christ ; the true ' head-stone of the corner ' rejected 
by the Jewish builders; and, of course, as referring to 
the times of the Christian dispensation. In these times, 
then, there was to be 'a day which the Lord had 
made ;' not in the literal sense : for in this sense he had 
made all days ; but in the spiritual sense ; that is, a day 
which he had sanctified, consecrated to himself, devoted 
to his own worship ; of a common and secular day, 
made into a holy and religious one. It was a day on 
which ' the gates of righteousness ' were to be ' opened :* 
that is, the gates of the sanctuary, or house of God; 
and styled ' the gate (or gates) of the Lord.' It was 
a day on which ' the righteous,' as a body, were to 
' enter into them.' It was the day on which ' the Lord 
became their salvation.' It was the day on which ' the 
stone rejected by the builders, became the head-stone 
of the corner.' It was a day on whicli prayers were to 
be offered up, and praises to be sung to God. Finally, 
it was a day in which the righteous were to receive 
blessings from the house of the Lord. 

All my audience must have anticipated the conclu- 
sion, as flowing irresistibly even from this slight exa- 
mination of the passage ; that this was a day devoted 
to religious employments, and particularly to the public 
worship of God. It is equally evident, that it is the 
day on which Christ arose from the dead, or, in other 
words, ' became the head-stone of the corner.' It is, 
therefore, the sabbath ; the only day ever devoted to 
purposes of this nature by the authority of inspiration. 
It is a sabbath also existing under the gospel, or, after 
the resurrection of Christ. Of course, it is to continue 



to the end of the world ; for all the institutions which 
exist under the gospel are perpetual. 

5. The perpetual establishment of the sabbath is evi- 
dent from Revelation i. 10 ; 'I was in the Spirit on the 
Lord's day.' 

The book of Revelation was probably written about 
the year 96, and of course many years after the resur- 
rection of Christ. At this time, there was a day gene- 
rally known to Christians by the name of the Lord's 
day. It was also entitled the Lord's day, by the pen 
of St John, under the immediate influence of inspiration. 
It was therefore so called with the approbation of the 
Spirit of truth. But this could not have been, unless 
it had been originally instituted by God himself. That 
the apostle, in this manner of mentioning it, accords in- 
tentionally with this denomination, as being the proper 
one, will I presume not be disputed ; because the con- 
trary supposition would make him lend his own sanc- 
tion to a false as well as-,an unauthorized denomination 
of this day, and to the false doctrine involved in it ; 
viz. that there was a day consecrated with propriety to 
the Lord ; or, in other words, consecrated by divine ap- 
pointment ; since no other consecration of it would 
have any propriety. If this doctrine were false, as 
according to the supposition it must be, it could not fail 
to prove in a high degree dangerous ; as it would na- 
turally lead all who read this book to hold a religious 
institution as established by God, which he had not in 
fact, appointed ; and thus, by ' worshipping him ac- 
cording to the commandments of men,' to worship him 
' in vain.' The guilt and the mischiefs of this doc- 
trine, thus received and obeyed, would be incomprehen- 
sible. The Spirit of truth, who directed the pen of St 
John, cannot have sanctioned this doctrine, unless it 
were true ; nor have given this denomination to the 
day spoken of, unless it were given by the will of God. 

There was therefore at the period specified, and under 
the gospel, a day holden by the apostle, by Christians 
generally, and by God himself, as the Lord's day ; or a 
day peculiarly consecrated to Christ, the Lord mentioned 
by St John in this passage. There is now, there has 
always been, but one such day ; and but one manner in 
which a day can be the Lord's. This day is the sabbath ; 
a holy, heavenly rest from every sinful and every secu- 
lar concern. It is his, by being authoritatively appro- 
priated to his use by himself; and by his requiring 
mankind, whenever it returns, to consecrate their time, 
their talents, and themselves, to his immediate service 
and religious worship. As then there was such a day, 
a day consecrated to the Lord, a sabbath, at the time 
when the Revelation of St John was written, so this day 
is perpetually established. For every institution under 
the gospel, the last dispensation of God to mankind, 
will remain in full force to the end of the world. 



SERMON CVI. 

THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT—THE CHANGE OF 

THE SABBATH. 



Remember the sabbath-day , to keep it holy, &c. — Exod. xx. 8 — 11. 

In the preceding Discourse, from these words I proposed I I. The perpetual establishment of the sabbath ; and 
to consider, I II. The manner in which it is to be observed. 



THE LAW OF GOD CHANGE OF THE SABBATH. 



549 



The first of these propositions I examined at some 
length in that Discourse ; and shall now go on to offer 
bonie additional observations concerning the same sub- 
ject. If I have proved, as I flatter myself I have, that 
the sabbath is an institution designed to last to the end 
of the world, it will naturally occur to my audience, as 
a question of prime importance in the consideration of 
this subject, ' Why is it, that you and other Christians, 
instead of observing the sabbath originally instituted, 
keep another day as the sabbath ; a day, of which no 
mention was made in the institution, and for the reli- 
gious observation of which we find no express command 
either in the Old or New Testament ?' 

This question is certainly asked with unobjectionable 
propriety ; and certainly demands a candid and satisfac- 
tory answer. Such an answer I will now endeavour to 
give. 

It is unquestionably true, that the institution, what- 
ever it is, is to be taken as we find it in the Scriptures ; 
and that men are in no respect to change it. He who 
made it, is the only being in the universe who has the 
right to abrogate or to alter that which he has made. As 
we find it then in the Scriptures, we are bound to take 
it, whether agreeable to our own ideas of wisdom and 
propriety, or not. 

In order to explain my own views of this subject it 
will be useful to observe, that this institution obviously 
consists of two parts ; the sabbath, or holy rest ; and the 
day, on which it is holden. These are plainly alluded 
to, as distinct from each other, in the text ; where it is 
said, ' The Lord rested on the seventh day, and blessed 
the sabbath-day, and hallowed it.' This language is 
chosen of design ; and, as I apprehend, with a propriety, 
intentionally instructive to us. God did not bless the 
seventh day, nor hallow it as the seventh day ; but only 
as being the day on which the sabbath, or the holy rest, 
was to be kept. Were the sabbath then warrantably to 
be kept, at different periods, on each of the days of the 
week, the blessing would follow it, on whatever day it 
was holden. 

It is plain, then, that the sabbath, being a thing en- 
tirely distinct from the day on which it is kept, may be 
a perpetual institution, and yet be kept, if God should 
so order it, on any, or successively on all, the days of 
the week. If then the day on which the sabbath was to 
be holden, should by divine appointment be a different 
one from that which was originally established, the sab- 
bath itself, the substance of the institution, might still 
remain the same. All that would be changed, would 
plainly be a given day of the week ; a thing perfectly 
circumstantial ; and of no other importance than that 
which circumstances gave it. 

The day, I say, might be altered without altering at 
all the substance of the institution. Still it could be 
altered only by divine appointment. The same author- 
ity which instituted the sabbath, appointed also the day 
on which it was to be holden : and no other authority 
is competent to change either in any degree. If then 
we cannot find in the Scriptures plain and ample proofs 
of an abrogation of the original day, or the substitution 
of a new one, the day undoubtedly remains in full force 
and obligation, and is now religiously to be celebrated 
by all the race of Adam. It shall be the business of 
♦his Discourse to collect to a point the light which the 
Scriptures afford us concerning this important subject. 

1. The nature of the subject furnishes room to sup- 



pose, that the day on which the sabbath was to be cele- 
brated under the Christian dispensation, might be a dif- 
ferent one from that which was originally appointed. 

The end of the institution mentioned in the text, is 
the commemoration of the glory of God in the creation 
of the world. The reason why God chose that the mani- 
festation of himself in that wonderful work should be 
commemorated, rather than that which was made in the 
deluge, or the deliverance of the Israelites from the 
bondage of Egypt, was, it is presumed, the peculiar 
greatness of the work itself, and of the display which it 
furnished of his perfections. If this be admitted, as it 
probably will be by every sober man, it must also be 
admitted, that we ought, according to this scheme, to 
expect any other work of God, of still greater impor- 
tance, and more glorious to the divine character than 
the creation itself, to be commemorated with equal or 
greater solemnity. But the work of redemption, or as 
it is sometimes styled in the Scriptures, the new crea- 
tion, is a more glorious work than that of creating the 
heavens and the earth. This doctrine may be eluci- 
dated by the following considerations : — 

(1.) The agent in both these works is the same. St 
Paul expressly declares, That Christ ' in the beginning 
laid the foundations of the earth ; that the heavens are 
the work of his hands ;' Heb. i. 10; and that 'all 
things visible and invisible were created by him, and 
for him,' Col. i. 16. St John also teaches us, that 'all 
things were made by him; and that without him there 
was not one thing made which has existed,' John i. 3. 
The same person, therefore, is honoured in a comme- 
moration of both these wonderful works. 

(2.) The end of a work, that -is, the reason for which 
it is done, is of more importance than the work itself. 
This truth will be admitted on all hands. No intelli- 
gent being, who claims the character of wisdom, ever 
undertakes a work, without an end sufficiently impor- 
tant to justify the means adopted for its accomplishment. 
Much less will this be supposed of God. But the end 
of creation is providence ; and, of all the works of pro- 
vidence, the work of redemption, or the new creation, 
is incalculably the most important ; the hinge on which 
all the rest turn ; the work, towards the completion of 
which all the rest are directed ; in a word, the end of 
them all. Accordingly, St Paul says, ' Who created 
all things by Jesus Christ, to the intent, that now unto 
principalities and powers, in heavenly places, might be 
known, by the church, the manifold wisdom of God.' 
The display of the wisdom of God, by the church, in 
the work of redemption, was therefore the intent, or 
end, for which all things were created by Jesus Christ. 
Without the work of redemption, then, the purpose of 
God in creating all things, and the real use of the 
things themselves, would have been prevented. 

(3.) The superior importance of the new creation is 
evident in this fact ; that the old creation, by its un- 
ceasing changes, continually decays and degenerates, 
while the new creation becomes by its own changes, 
unceasingly brighter and better. 

(4.) The old creation is a transitory work, made for 
consumption by fire ; whereas the new is intended for 
eternal duration. 

Thus from the nature of the case there is ample room 
to suppose, that the work of redemption might, by di- 
vine appointment, be commemorated preferably in the 
work of creation. 



550 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY, 



[See. cvt. 



2. It is expressly foretold by the prophet Isaiah, that 
the work of redemption shall be commemorated in pre- 
ference to the work of creation. 

Isaiah Ixv. 17, 18. * For behold,' saith God, ' I cre- 
ate new heavens and a new earth ; and the former shall 
not be remembered, neither shall it come into mind. 
But be ye glad, and rejoice for ever, in that which I 
create : for, behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and 
my people a joy.' In this passage of Scripture we are 
informed, that God designed to create what in the first 
of these verses is called, ' new heavens and anew earth.' 
This, in the second verse, is explained in simple lan- 
guage, and is said to be ' creating the people of God 
a joy and a rejoicing.' In other words, it is no other 
than redeeming and sanctifying the souls of men ; by 
means of which, they become a rejoicing to God, and 
to each other. 

In this declaration of the prophet there are two things 
particularly claiming our attention. The first is, that 
the new creation, or the work of redemption, is of far 
greater importance in the eye of God than the former 
creation. The second is an express prediction, that 
the former creation shall not be remembered by the 
church, nor come into mind ; or, in other words, shall 
not be commemorated. This I understand, as almost 
all similar Jewish phrases are to be understood, in a 
comparative sense ; and suppose the prophet to intend, 
that it shall be far less remembered and commemorated, 
as being of far less importance. 

That this passage refers to the times of the evangeli- 
cal dispensation is certain from the prediction itself; 
since the new creation is the very subject of it, and the 
commencement of that dispensation. It is equally evi- 
dent also from the whole strain of the chapter. 

This passage appears to me to place the fact in the 
clearest light, that a particular, superior, and extraor- 
dinary commemoration of the work of redemption by 
the Christian church, in all its various ages, was a part 
of the good pleasure of God, and was designed by him 
to be accomplished in the course of his providence. 
But there neither is, nor ever was, any public, solemn 
commemoration of this work by the Christian church, 
except that which is holden on the first day of the week ; 
or the day in which Christ completed this great work 
by his resurrection from the dead. This prophecy has, 
therefore, been unfulfilled, so far as I see, unless it has 
been fulfilled in this very manner. But if it has been 
fulfilled in this manner, then this manner of fulfilling it 
has been agreeable to the true intention of the pro- 
phecy, and to the good pleasure of God expressed in 
it ; and is, therefore, that very part of the system of his 
providence which is here unfolded to mankind. 

At the same time, it is to be remembered, that the 
former institution is still substantially preserved. The 
sabbath still returns upon one day in seven. The great 
facts, that ' in six days the Lord made heaven and 
earth, the sea and all that in them is, and rested the 
seventh day,' are still presented to the mind in their 
full force. The work of creating the heavens and the 
earth is therefore regularly commemorated, according 
to the original institution of God ; while the new crea- 
tion, as its importance demands, and as this prophecy 
directly foretells, takes its own superior place in the 
commemoration. Thus the institution, instead of be- 
ing abrogated in every respect, is only changed'in such 
a manner as to enlarge its usefulness and importance 



to mankind, and to become a solemn memorial of two 
wonderful works of God, instead of one. The sabbath 
itself is unchanged. It still returns at the end of seven 
days. It is still a memorial of the creation. But the 
institution is enlarged in such a manner, as to comme- 
morate also the work of redemption. 

With this prophecy facts have corresponded in a won- 
derful manner. All Christians commemorate the work 
of creation in their prayers and praises, their religious 
meditations and discourses, from sabbath to sabbath. 
But every Christian perfectly well knows, that the work 
of redemption holds a far higher place in every private, 
and in every public religious service ; and that, accord- 
ing to the declaration of God in this passage, ' the 
former is,' comparatively, ' not remembered, neither 
does it come into mind.' At the same time, the work 
of redemption is not merely the chief, but the only 
means of originating holiness in the soul, and altogether 
the principal means of advancing it towards perfection. 
In every respect, therefore, the Christian sabbath is 
now better suited to the great ends of the institution, 
than the original day. Until the time of Christ's re- 
surrection, the seventh day commemorated the most 
glorious work which God had ever accomplished, and 
the most wonderful display of the divine perfections. 
But by the resurrection of Christ, a new and far more 
glorious work was finished. While the sabbath, there- 
fore, was by divine appointment kept on the seventh 
day, it was exactly suited to the purpose of commemo- 
rating the most glorious work of God which had ever 
taken place. But, after the resurrection of Christ, the 
first day of the week was plainly better fitted than any 
other day to become a religious memorial of both these 
wonderful works, by being the day on which Christ 
arose from the dead, and by returning regularly at the 
end of every six days. Whatever other opinions we 
adopt concerning this subject, it must, I think, be rea- 
dily acknowledged, that no other day could possibly 
combine all these advantages. 

This important consideration seems to be plainly in- 
timated in the text. ' Remember the sabbath-day, to 
keep it holy. The seventh day is the sabbath. In six 
days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all 
that in them is ; wherefore the Lord blessed the sab- 
bath-day, and hallowed it.' It cannot escape the notice 
of every reader of this passage, that the duty of remem- 
bering the sabbath, to keep it holy, enjoined at the be- 
ginning, and the blessing and consecration mentioned 
at the end, are applied to the sabbath, and not to the 
day ; and that the seventh day is declared to be ' the 
sabbath-day,' or the day on which the sabbath is to be 
holden. The meaning of this is, obviously, that the 
seventh day is, or was at that time, the existing day of 
the sabbath ; without determining how long it should 
continue to possess this character. God established it 
indefinitely ; and, unless he should be pleased to change 
it, perpetually, as the day of the sabbath. But on 
whatever day he should think fit to establish the sab- 
bath, it was to be remembered, and kept holy. The 
blessing also, and the sanctification, were annexed to 
the sabbath-day, and not to the seventh. In this man- 
ner the Christian church became informed of their 
duty, whenever the day should be changed ; and, if 
they performed it faithfully, were assured of this pecu- 
liar blessing. Thus, also, they were preserved from the 
fears, which might otherwise arise, of losing the bless- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— CHANGE OF THE SABBATH. 



551 



ing annexed to the sabbath, whenever the day on which 

it should be holden should be charged. Had the bless- 
ed 

ing, in this command, been annexed to the seventh day, 
it would probably have occasioned an immovable perplex- 
ity to the Christian church, had they found the present 
account of the sabbath contained in the New Testa- 
ment. 

3. The hundred and eighteenth Psalm is a direct pre- 
diction, that the day of Christ's resurrection was to be 
the day on which the sabbath should be holden under 
the gospel. 

In the 14th verse of this Psalm the divine writer de- 
clares, that ' the Lord is his strength, and his song ; 
and is become his salvation. ' This fact we know was 
accomplished, when Christ rose from the dead. In 
consequence of this great event, he hears ' the voice 
of rejoicing, and of salvation, in the tabernacles of the 
righteous,' or in the house of God. In the 19th verse 
he says, ' Open to me the gates of righteousness. I 
will praise thee ; for thou hast heard me, and art be- 
come my salvation.' This event he again describes in 
a new, and under a very different image : ' The stone 
which the builders refused is become the head-stone of 
the corner.' He then subjoins. ' This is the day which 
the Lord hath made ; that is, the day which Christ con- 
secrated, or made into a holy day, when he became 
' the head-stone of the corner :' that is, when he arose 
from the dead. He then adds, ' we will rejoice and" 
be glad in it :' that is, we, the righteous, the church of 
God ; for in their name he speaks throughout all the 
latter part of this psalm, whether speaking in the sin- 
gular, or plural. In their name he says, in the follow- 
ing verse, ' Save now, 1 beseech thee, Lord ! 
Lord ! I beseech thee, send now prosperity. Blessed 
is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.' The words 
of the two last mentioned verses are applied directly to 
Christ, by the multitudes who accompanied him in his 
triumphal entry into Jerusalem. ' The multitudes,' 
saith St Matthew, ' cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son 
of David ! Blessed is he that cometh in the name of 
the Lord ! Hosanna in the highest !' The words of 
the last verse are also applied by Christ to himself, 
Matt. xxiv. 39, ' For I say unto you, ye shall not see 
me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that 
cometh in the name of the Lord.' The comment of 
the multitudes is reasonably supposed to be that of the 
Jewish church in general. That of Christ, and that of 
St Peter, mentioned in the preceding discourse, are the 
decisive law of interpretation to the Christian church. 
We are, therefore, warranted to conclude, that the 
psalmist here declares, not only the joy and gladness 
of the Christian church in the resurrection of Christ, 
but in the day on which he arose : for he says, ' This 
is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice 
and be glad in it.' This day he also declares to be a 
day of public worship ; a day on which the gates of 
righteousness were to be opened, and ' the righteous,' 
or the church, as a body, were to enter them, and on 
which the ministers of the gospel were to '' bless' them 
(in the Jewish language, or language of the temple 
service) ' out of the house of the Lord ;' or, in language 
adapted to the Christian manner of worship, in the 
house of the Lord. The substance of this comment 
is beautifully given by Dr Watts, in the two following 
stanzas : 



* The work, O Lord, is thine, 

And wondrous in our eyes ; 
This day declares it ail divine, 
This day did Jesus rise. 

'This is the glorious day 

That our Redeemer made ; 

Let us rejoice, and sing, and pray, 

Let all the church be glad.' 

4. Christ has indicated, that the seventh day should 
cease to be the sabbath after his resurrection. 

In Matt. ix. 14, we are informed, that the disciples 
of John came to him, and inquired of him why his dis- 
ciples did not fast, as well as themselves, and the Pha- 
risees. Christ replied, ' Can the children of the bride- 
chamber mourn, as long as the bridegroom is with 
them? But the days will come, when the bridegroom 
shall be taken from them, and then shall they fast.' 
Christ was crucified and buried on Friday. At the 
close, then, of this day he was taken from the children 
of the bridechamber ; that is, from his disciples. 
Throughout Saturday he lay in the grave. On the 
first day of the week, the Christian sabbath, he was 
restored to them again. This then became to them the 
proper season of fasting, according to his- own declara- 
tion. But the sabbath was a festival from the begin- 
ning. Such it continues to be unto the end. That it 
was to be such to the Christian church is amply proved 
by the passage formerly quoted from Isa. lvi. 6, 7, and 
from the express declarations just now quoted from 
Psalm cxviii. Fasting on this day can, therefore, never 
accord with its original and universal design. But on 
the seventh day, the day during which he lay in the 
grave, as he informs us, it was proper that they should 
fast. In this declaration it is indicated, not obscurely, 
that the seventh day would soon cease to be a season 
fitted for the observance of the sabbath. 

It must be obvious to the least reflection, that this 
season of Christ's extreme humiliation is the most im- 
proper period conceivable for commemorating with joy 
and gladness the wonderful work of redemption. Every 
thing in this season must appear to a Christian to de- 
mand humiliation and mourning, rather than exulta- 
tion. During this period the enemies of Christ pre- 
vailed against him ; and ' the serpent,' according to the 
first prophecy ever given concerning him to this world, 
'bruised his heel;' To rejoice on this day, would be 
to lay hold on the time of our Saviour's greatest suffer- 
ings and deepest humiliation as the proper season for 
our greatest exultation. This, certainly, was not the 
conduct of the apostles. They mourned in the most 
melancholy and distressing manner. Nor do they ap- 
pear ever to have regarded the seventh day afterward 
as the holy, joyful rest of God. On. the contrary, they 
transferred this festival to another day. 

5. The apostles, by their example, have decisively 
taught us, that the day of Christ's resurrection was to 
be the Christian sabbath. 

On the first day of the week, the day of his resurrec- 
tion, Christ met his disciples assembled together. On 
the first day of the week following, he met them, again 
assembled together. On the first day of the week, at 
the feast called Pentecost, the Spirit descended in a 
miraculous and glorious manner upon the apostles. On 
the first day of the week, the disciples assembled together 
customarily, ' to break bread,' and to make charitable 
contributions for their suffering brethren. From the 
three first of these facts it is plain, that Christ thought 
lit to honour this day with peculiar tokens of his appro- 



552 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cvi. 



bation ; from the last, that the apostles thought them- 
selves warranted to devote it to religious purposes. 

I have already shown above, and sufficiently, that 
God has absolutely prohibited all men, under severe 
denunciations, and with terrible expressions of his an- 
ger, either to form religious institutions, or to substitute 
their own institutions for his. It is clearly impossible, 
that the apostles, who have taught us this very doctrine, 
should, under the influence of inspiration, disobey him 
in this interesting particular, by forming so remarkable 
a religious institution ; abolishing that of God, and 
substituting their own in its place. Nothing is more 
evident to me, than that this example has all the weight 
which can be attached to any precept whatever. This 
will especially appear, if we remember that Peter with 
the eleven apostles celebrated the first day of the week, 
and that Paul and his followers did the same. Paul 
received his gospel immediately from Christ ; and in- 
forms us, in Gal. ii. 6, that the apostles at Jerusalem 
' added nothing to him.' For three years he never saw 
one of them ; and had not the remotest correspondence 
with them. All the doctrines, therefore, which Paul 
acknowledged, he received directly from Christ, and 
was indebted for none of them to his companions in the 
apostleship. Yet Peter and his followers observed the 
first day of the week as the religious day, and Paul 
and his followers observed the same. This is evident 
from his direction to the churches at Galatia and Co- 
rinth, to ' lay by them somewhat on the first day of the 
week,' for the poor saints at Jerusalem. The reason 
why the first day of the week is pitched upon for this 
purpose is obviously this ; that they assembled custom- 
arily on the first day of the week for religious pur- 
poses. Accordingly, in Acts xx. 7, we are informed, 
that the disciples in Troas came together on the first 
day of the week to break bread, and that Paul preached 
unto them, continuing his speech unto midnight. But 
whence did these persons, thus separated, derive this 
agreement in their observance of the first day of the 
week. The only answer which can be given to this 
question is, From the inspiration which guided them 
both. Had they been uninspired, their agreement in 
a case of this nature, where they acted independently 
of each other, would have proved, that they derived the 
doctrine, and the practice grounded on it, from a com- 
mon source. Their character as inspired men, and 
apostles, proves beyond debate, that the common source, 
from which they thus harmoniously derived a religious 
institution, was God. 

6. The same doctrine is proved from the already cited 
passage, Rev. i. 10, ' I was in the spirit on the Lord's 
day.' 

From this declaration it is evident, that in or about 
the year 96, when the Apocalypse was written and pub- 
lished, there was a day known and observed by Chris- 
tians generally, as the Lord's day. This appellation 
was, I presume, derived from the passage before quoted 
from Psal. cxviii.; in which it is said concerning the 
day of Christ's resurrection, ' This is the day which the 
Lord hath made :' that is, hath made of a common into 
a holy day ; or, in other words, consecrated to himself. 
But the day pointed out in this passage is the day on 
which Christ rose from the dead. 

That this was in fact the day styled by St John, ' the 
Lord's day,' is unanswerably evident from the history 
of the church ; and it is equally evident, that the sab- 



bath, or holy rest, together with all the religious ser- 
vices pertaining to it, were celebrated by the church on 
this day. Every one who has read with attention the 
New Testament, must have observed that there is no 
hint, as well as no precept, directing Christians to cele- 
brate the seventh day as holy time. The ancient Chris- 
tians, particularly the Jewish Christians, when they had 
occasion to preach to the Jews, or to assemble with 
them, entered into their synagogue on the seventh day, 
and undoubtedly worshipped with them in their man- 
ner ; but there is not the least reason to believe, either 
from the Acts, or from the Epistles, that they ever as- 
sembled of their own accord on that day, for religious 
services in a regular or customary manner. 

Ignatius, a companion of the apostles, says, in so 
many words, ' Let us no more sabbatize ;' that is, keep 
the Jewish sabbath, ' but let us keep the Lord's day, on 
which our Life arose,' 

Justin Martyr, who lived at the close of the first, and 
the beginning of the second, century, says, ' On the 
day, called Sunday, is an assembly of all who live in 
the city or country ; and the memoirs of the apostles, 
and the writings of the prophets,' that is, the Old and 
New Testaments, * are read.' For this he assigns the 
reasons of the Christians ; viz. ' That it was the day on 
which the creation of the world began, and on which 
Christ arose from the dead.' 

Irenseus, a disciple of Polycarp, the disciple of St 
John himself, who lived in the second century, says, 
' On the Lord's day every one of us Christians keeps the 
sabbath ; meditating in the law,' or Scriptures, ' and re- 
joicing in the works of God.' 

Dionysius, bishop of Corinth, who lived in the time 
of Irenajus, that is, in the second century,' says, in his 
letter to the church at Rome, ' To day we celebrate the 
Lord's day, when we read your epistle to us.' 

Tertullian, who also lived in the second century, 
speaks of the Lord's day as a Christian solemnity. 

Petavius declares, that ' but one Lord's day was ob- 
served in the earliest times of the church.' 

It is indeed true, that in that miserable forgery, which 
professes itself to have been written by the apostles, and 
is styled, The Apostolical Constitutions ; but which was 
plainly the work of some impostor, living in the latter 
end of the fourth, or the beginning of the fifth century, 
certainly not earlier, it is directed, that Christians should 
keep both the Jewish sabbath and the Lord's day ns reli- 
gious festivals ; and that every sabbath but one in the 
year, and every Lord's day, should be observed in this 
manner. It is also true, that in the fifth century both 
these days were kept in this manner by Christians ge- 
nerally, except the churches of Rome and Alexandria ; 
who did not observe the Jewish sabbath as a religious day. 
This appears by the testimony of. both Socrates and Sozo- 
men. Concerning this subject Petavius declares, that 
' the most holy fathers agreed, that the apostles never 
ordained any thing of this nature.' He also remarks, 
that the council of Laodicea, which probably sat about 
the year 363, forbade, in their 29th canon, that Chris- 
tians should rest from labour on the sabbath, or seventh 
day. For they say, ' Christians ought not to Judaize, 
nor to rest on the sabbath, that is, the seventh day ; 
but preferring the Lord's day to rest, if indeed it should 
be in their power, as Christians.'* 

* Lardner. 



THE LAW OF GOD CHANGE OF THE SABBATH. 



553 



From these observations it is plain, that although in 
the fifth century many Christians had reverted to the 
observation of the Jewish sabbath, while yet they uni- 
versally celebrated the Lord's day : yet the practice, 
even in this period of miserable declension, was by no 
means universal. The churches of Rome and Alexan- 
dria never adopted it at all ; and others plainly adopted 
it, as they did a great multitude of other corruptions at 
the same time, merely from their own construction of 
the Scriptures. We cannot wonder that those, espe- 
cially when we find among them celebrated ministers of 
religion, who admitted the protection and invocation of 
saints and martyrs, should admit any other corruption ; 
and that they should construe those passages of Scrip- 
ture which speak of the sabbath as erroneously as they 
construed others. 

7. The same truth appears in this great fact, that God 
has perpetually and gloriously annexed his blessing to 
the Christian sabbath. 

If this day be not divinely instituted, then God has 
suffered his church to disuse and annihilate his own in^ 
stitution, and substitute one of mere human device in 
its stead. Will this be believed ? But this is not all ; 
he has annexed the blessing which he originally united 
to the sabbath instituted by himself, to that which was 
the means of destroying it, and which was established 
by human authority merely. After requiring that men 
should add nothing to his words, and forbidding them to 
diminish aught from them ; after threatening the plagues 
denounced in the Scriptures to him who should add unto 
the words which they contain, and declaring that he 
would take away out of the book of life the, part of him 
who should take away from the words written in the 
Scriptures ; can any man believe, that he would forsake, 
that he has forsaken, his own institution ; an institution 
of this magnitude ; an institution, on -which have de- 
pended, in all lands and ages, the observation, influence, 
and existence, of his holy law? Can any man believe, 
that he who so dreadfully punished Nadab and Abihu 
for forsaking his own institution, in a case of far infe- 
rior magnitude, and setting up one of their own in its 
stead, would not only not punish, but abundantly and 
unceasingly bless the Christian church, while perpe- 
trating and persisting in iniquity of exactly the same na- 
ture, and far greater in degree ? The Christian, who 
can believe this, must be prepared to believe any thing. 

Had men known nothing concerning the institution 
of God, the charity of their fellow men might be natu- 
rally enough extended to them, while employed in reli- 
giously commemorating Christ's resurrection. The ap- 



pearance of piety in such a commemoration, and their 
freedom from the impiety of intruding upon a divine 
institution, might induce others to think favourably of 
their conduct. But in the case in hand, the institution 
was begun by the apostles, men inspired, chosen follow- 
ers of Christ, and the erectors of his kingdom in the . 
world. If they sinned, they sinned wilfully, and in de- 
fiance of their inspiration. With them, however, the 
blessing began to be annexed to this day in a most 
wonderful and glorious manner. From them it has 
been uninterruptedly continued to the present time. 
To this day, under God, as a primary mean, mankind 
are indebted for all the religion which has been in the 
world from the days of the apostles. If then the Chris- 
tian sabbath is not a divine institution, God has made a 
device of man a more powerful support to his spiritual 
kingdom, a more efficacious instrument of diffusing 
truth and righteousness, than most, perhaps than all, 
others : while, at the same time, he has, so far as I am 
able to discern, wholly neglected and forgotten a most 
solemn institution of his own. Thus a human device 
has been a peculiar, if not a singular, means of accom- 
plishing the greatest glory to the Father, the Son, and 
the - Holy Ghost ; and men, it would seem, will in the 
end ' have whereof to glory before God.' 

This blessing has been too evident, too uniform, and 
too long continued , to admit of a doubt ; too great and 
too wonderful to be passed over in silence. On this 
day, the perfections of God, manifested in the amazing- 
works of creation and redemption, have, more than on 
all others, been solemnly, gratefully, and joyfully re- 
membered and celebrated. On this day, millions of 
the human race have been born unto God. On this 
day, Christians have ' ever found their prime blessings. 
From the word and ordinances of God, from the influ- 
ences of the Holy Spirit, from the presence of Christ in 
his church, Christians have derived on this day, more 
than on all others, the most delightful views of the di- 
vine character, clear apprehensions of their own duty, 
lively devotion to the service of God, strength to over- 
come temptations, and glorious anticipations of immor- 
tality. Take this day from the calendar of the Chris- 
tian, and all that remains will be clouded and cheerless. 
Religion will instantly decay. Ignorance, error, and 
vice will immediately triumph, the sense of duty vanish, 
morals fade away, the acknowledgment, and even the 
remembrance of God be far removed from mankind, 
the glad tidings of salvation cease to sound, and the 
communication between earth and heaven be cut off" for 



SERMON CVII. 



THE LAW OF GOD.. 



-THE DECALOGUE.— THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT OBJECTIONS 

ANSWERED. 



There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God. — Heb. iv. 9. 

I* the two preceding Discourses I have, according to the perpetual establishment of the sabbath as a divine 
the scheme originally proposed, endeavoured to prove institution ; and to show, that the day on which it is by 



554 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sep.. cm. 



divine appointment to be liolden by the Christian 
church, is the day of Christ's resurrection. 

In the following Discourse I shall proceed to consi- 
der the objections which have been made to this doc- 
trine. As all the important objections within my 
knowledge are adduced by the late archdeacon Paley, 
it is my design to reply to this respectable writer in 
form ; such a reply being, in my own apprehension, all 
that is necessary with respect to the subject at large. 

The text I consider as a direct assertion, that there 
is a sabbath in the Christian church, explained by the 
verse following to be founded on the fact, that Christ 
rested from his labours in the work of redemption ; as- 
the seventh day sabbath was founded on the fact, that 
God rested on that day from his labours in the work of 
creation. ' For he hath entered into his rest, even he 
hath rested from his works, as God did from his own.' 
The word, translated rest, in the text, is Ga.&>a,Tto { u.o;. 
Ainsworth, a man eminently qualified to judge of this 
subject, translates Exod. xvi. 23, thus: ' This is that 
which Jehovah hath spoken : To-morrow is the sabba- 
tism, the sabbath of holiness to Jehovah.' In the same 
manner he translates Exod. xxxi. 15, Lev. xxiii. 3, 
and xxv. 4. In commenting on Exod. xvi. 23, he says, 
' Sabbatism, rest : that is, rest, or cessation. But as 
the Hebrew, shabbath, is retained by the Holy Ghost 
in the Greek cxQQxtov, so the Hebrew shabbathon, 
here used, is by the apostle, aaZZazca^og, in Heb. iv. 
9.' The verse ought therefore to be rendered, ' There 
remaineth therefore a sabbatism (or holy sabbath) to 
the people of God :' and this day the following verse 
proves to be the day on which Christ rose from the 
dead. 

The reason why I have not adduced this passage of 
Scripture, together with those immediately connected 
with it, in proof of the doctrine under debate, is, that 
a comment on a paragraph so obscurely written, and 
demanding so particular an explanation, must be very 
long ; and would probably be very tedious to many of 
my audience. 

I. The first and great objection of Dr Paley to the 
perpetuity of the sabbath is, that the account of its ori- 
ginal institution is found in the following passage ; 
Exod. xvi. 22—30 : ' And it came to pass, that on the 
sixth day they gathered twice as much bread, two omers 
for one man: and all the rulers of the congregation 
came and told Moses. And he said unto them, This is 
that which the Lord hath said, To-morrow is the rest of 
the holy sabbath unto the Lord : Bake that which ye 
will bake to-day, and seethe that ye will seethe ; and 
that, which remaineth over, lay up for you, to be kept 
until the morning. And they laid it up till the morn- 
ing, as Moses bade. And Moses said, Eat that to-day ; 
for to-day is a sabbath unto the Lord : to-day ye shall 
not find it in the field. Six days ye shall gather it ; 
but on the seventh day, which is the sabbath, in it there 
shall be none. And it came to. pass, that there went 
out some of the people on the seventh day for to gather, 
and they found none. And the Lord said unto Moses, 
How long refuse ye to keep my statutes and my laws ? 
See, for that the Lord hath given you the sabbath, 
therefore he giveth you on the sixth day the bread of 
two days : abide ye every man in his place ; let no man 
go out of his place on the seventli day. So the people 
rested on the seventh day.' 

The argument here, is wholly derived from this 



phraseology : 'To-morrow is the rest of the holy sabbath 
unto the Lord.' ' To-day is a sabbath unto the Lord ;* 
and the ' Lord hath given you the sabbath.' In these 
expressions, Dr Paley thinks he finds the first institu- 
tion of the sabbath. In my view, however, after ex- 
amining long and often, the arguments of this respect- 
able writer, they appear to lead to the contrary conclu- 
sion. It is to be observed, that the whole argument 
depends on the first of these passages ; because, that 
being once introduced, the rest would, in the case sup- 
posed, follow it of course ; and because they refer 
directly to it, and are grounded upon it. 

As a preface to the answer which I intend to make 
to this argument, I remark, that the words of Moses 
are addressed to ' the elders of Israel,' who had com- 
plained to him of the improper conduct of their coun- 
trymen, for gathering twice as much bread on the sixth 
day as they customarily gathered on other days. As 
Moses had forbidden them to leave of it till morning, 
and undoubtedly by divine inspiration, the elders sup- 
posed their countrymen to have trespassed in collecting 
this double quantity upon the sixth day. Upon this 
part of -the story I observe, 

1. That, the division of time into weeks was perfectly 
known to the Israelites. This is proved by the phrases, 
' the sixth day,' and the f seventh day ;' obviously refer- 
ring to the^days of the week, and not to the days of the 
month. No,w I ask, Whence had these people this 
scheme in dividing time, unless from the history of the 
creation, traditionally conveyed down to them ? This 
tradition, it will be observed, could come to them from 
Adam through six persons ; Methuselah, Shem, Abra- 
ham, Isaac, Joseph, and Amram. 

2. Although in the 5th verse God informed Moses, 
that the congregation should gather twice as much on 
the sixth day ; it seems highly probable, if not abso- 
lutely certain, that Moses did not inform them : for we 
find that the elders, who would, I think, certainly have 
received this information first, were plainly ignorant of 
it. The people, therefore, seem to have supposed the 
ensuing day to be the sabbath, of their own accord ; 
and for this reason to have ventured to gather a double 
quantity of manna, from an apprehension that the la- 
bour would be improper and unlawfnl on that day. 
Some of them, indeed, went out from a spirit of rebel- 
lion and unbelief, and probably under the influence of 
an idle curiosity, to learn whether the manna would 
descend on that day, contrary to the prediction of 
Moses, or not. But this fact affects not the argument 
in hand. 

Let me now ask, whether the first of these declara- 
tions of Moses, f This is that which the Lord hath said, 
To-morrow is the rest of the holy sabbath unto the 
Lord,' is the language of a man speaking of a thing 
altogether new and unheard of; of a thing totally dif- 
ferent from all other things hitherto known in the 
world ; or the language of a man referring to something 
already known, and speaking to persons, who, although 
acquainted with the institution itself, had an imperfect 
knowledge of the proper day on which it was to be 
liolden ; and were therefore uncertain with respect to 
this point ? Were two of us to appoint a future day of 
the month (say the second of December) for the trans- 
action of certain business, a third, who was present 
would naturally observe, if such were the fact, that the 
second of December will be the sabbath. Or were we 



THE LAW OF GOD— OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



conversing upon the same subject on the first of De- 
cember, the same person would naturally say, ' To- 
morrow is the sabbath.' These, you will observe, are 
the very words of Moses. Here we are unmindful, and 
through forgetfulness, ignorant that the sabbath is to 
take place on that day. Yet we are perfectly acquainted 
with the institution generally ; and that we are ac- 
quainted with it, this phraseology is direct proof, 
because it springs from these very circumstances, and 
would, in the case stated, be used by all men. 

But, if the institution were wholly unknown, would 
not the reply be made in terms equivalent to the follow- 
ing : ' We cannot meet on the morrow, or the second 
of December, for this business ; because the legislature 
has by law forbidden all the inhabitants to do business 
on that day ; and has required them to assemble for the 
worship of God, and to abstain from every secular pur- 
suit.' To this answer would naturally succeed inquiries 
concerning the fact, the time, and the end of passing the 
law ; the motives which led to it ; the terms in which 
it was couched ; its requisitions, and its penalties. No 
instance, it is presumed, can be found, in which the 
conversation concerning a new subject of this nature 
would be such as here recorded by Moses, or in which 
it would not be substantially such as I have recited. 
On the contrary, the conversation in the case which I 
have supposed to be that of the Israelites, is always ex- 
actly that of Moses. 

In this opinion I am established by the remarkable 
fact, that the Israelites make no inquiry concerning this 
supposed novel institution ; although so eminently im- 
portant, and so plain an object of rational curiosity. 
The elders themselves, notwithstanding their zeal against 
the supposed transgression of the people, ask no ques- 
tions, and make no reply. If the institution were new, 
and now first made known to them, this conduct is un- 
accountable. But if they were acquainted with the in- 
stitution, and doubtful concerning the day, it was per- 
fectly natural. 

The reckoning of time at this, as well as many pre- 
ceding and succeeding periods, it is well known, was 
extremely lame and confused. The Israelites, with 
respect to this subject, laboured under peculiar disad- 
vantages. They had been long in a state of servitude ; 
and were of course ignorant, distressed, and naturally 
inattentive to this and other subjects of a similar na- 
ture. A reckoning would, indeed, be kept among them, 
however ignorant. But it must almost necessarily be 
imperfect, doubtful, and disputed. Different opinions 
concerning the time would of course prevail. 

Should it be said, that the causes which I have speci- 
fied would make them forget the institution itself; I 
answer, that other nations, as will he seen hereafter, 
did not forget it, but consecrated the seventh day to re- 
ligious worship; although many, perhaps all, became 
ignorant of the day itself. We ourselves often forget 
the day of the month and week ; while yet we are pos- 
sessed of the most exact reckoning of time, and a per- 
fect calendar ; and are reminded of our time by so many 
books, papers, and other means. 

Dr Paley lays much' stress on the words contained in 
the third declaration of Moses, which I have specified ; 
* The Lord hath given you the sabbath.' In the 23d 
verse, when the elders had reported to him the supposed 
transgression of their countrymen, in gathering a double 
portion of manna on the sixth day of the week, he an- 



swers, I This is that which the Lord hath said ; To-mor- 
row is the rest of the holy sabbath unto the Lord ;' that 
is, God declares to you, that the holy rest unto himsell 
is to be holden on the morrow. ' Bake that which ye 
will bake to-day ; and seethe that which ye will seethe , 
and that which remaineth over lay up for you, to be 
kept until the morning.' The next day he renewed the 
same monition ; and informed them farther, that there 
would be no manna on that day ; nor on the seventh 
day at any future period. They were therefore to ga- 
ther it on six days of the week only, and on every sixth 
day to provide the necessary supply for the seventh. 

Some of the people, however, went out to gather 
manna on that very day, but found none. Upon this, 
God says to Moses, F How long refuse ye to keep my 
commandments ? See, for that the Lord hath given 
you the sabbath, therefore he giveth you on the sixth 
day the bread of two days.' The words, ' The Lord 
hath given you .the sabbath,' are perfectly explained by 
the original declaration of Moses on this subject, made 
the preceding day : ' To-morrow is the rest of the holy 
sabbath unto the Lord.' This is the giving of the sab- 
bath here referred to ; and this, I flatter myself, has 
been shown to be something widely different from ori- 
ginally instituting the sabbath. 

The obvious explanation of these words here given, 
equally explains a passage in Ezekiel xx. 12, and an- 
other in Nehemiah ix. 14, quoted by Dr Paley for the 
same purpose. The former of these is, ' Moreover, 
also, I gave them my sabbaths :' the latter, f. Thou 
madest known unto them thy holy sabbath.' If the 
passage in Ezekiel refers to the sabbath at all, which 
may be doubted, it is merely a repetition of the words 
of Moses. If it refers to the various fasts and feasts of 
the Jews, frequently denominated sabbaths, it has no 
connexion with the subject. The latter of these pas- 
sages accords more naturally and obviously with the 
account which has been here given, than with that of 
Dr Paley. Neither of them, it is perfectly plain, fur- 
nishes the least additional support to his opinion. 

Another argument for the same purpose is derived by 
this respectable writer from the following declaration, 
Exod. xxxi. 16, 17. ' It,' that is, the sabbath, ' is a sign 
between me and the children of Israel for ever.' The 
same thing is also mentioned by Ezekiel, in nearly the 
same terms. Upon this Dr Paley observes. ' Now it 
does not seem easy to understand how the sabbath could 
be a sign between God and the people of Israel, unless 
the observance of it was peculiar to that people, and 
designed to be so.' 

The only question of importance here is, whether the 
fact, that the sabbath is made a sign between God and 
Israel, made it cease to be a memorial of the display of 
the divine perfections accomplished in the creation. If 
not, then the sabbath still remained at that time, and 
remains now, such a memorial. But I presume neither 
Dr Paley himself, nor any other man, would say, that 
God in making the sabbath a sign between him and 
Israel, intended to release them from commemorating 
on that day his perfections, thus displayed in the work 
of creation, and his own solemn commemoration of 
them, when he rested at the close of this work upon the 
seventh day. But if the Israelites were not released 
from this commemoration by the passage in question, 
the rest of mankind could be affected by it in no man- 
ner whatever. 



558 



SYSTEM OF THEOLGG1 



[Ser u cm. 



The truth is that the ordinance which made the sab- 
bath a sign to the Israelites, was subsequent to the pro- 
mulgation of the decalogue, and cannot affect that law, 
even remotely; as I shall soon demonstrate. In the 
same manner the sabbath was made a memorial of the 
deliverance of the Israelites from the bondage of Egypt, 
and a type of the promised rest in Canaan. These 
were all merely additional uses of the sabbath, to which 
it was happily applied, because they perfectly harmo- 
nized with its original design. 

In Deuteronomy vi. 8, Moses, after reciting the 
decalogue, and the summary of it contained in the 
two great commands of the moral law, says to Israel, 
' Thou shalt bind them, for a sign, upon thine hand.' 
A sign which the Israelites, by the command of God, 
were to bind upon their hands, was a sign between God 
and them, in the same manner as was the sabbath. Now 
I ask, whether it would be proper to say, that ' it does 
not seem easy to understand how the decalogue, and the 
two great commands in which it is summed up, could be 
a sign between God and the people of Israel, unless the 
observance of them was peculiar to that people, and de- 
signed to be so.' 

What was intended by making the sabbath a sign be- 
tween God and Israel, is declared by God himself in 
Ezekiel xx. 12 : 'I gave them my sabbaths, to be a sign 
between me and them ; that they may know that I am 
Jehovah, who sanctify them.' It will not be denied, 
that the whole human race are equally interested with 
the Israelites in this knowledge. All that was peculiar 
to them was this ; they alone, for many ages, had, and 
it was foreseen by God that they would have, the know- 
ledge in question ; and would be the only medium of 
communicating it to other nations. The sabbath, there- 
fore, was so far peculiarly a sign to them ; but it is ob- 
viously in its nature, and necessarily, a sign also, in a 
general sense, of the same knowledge to every nation 
afterward acquainted with the sabbath. From this very 
declaration in Ezekiel, in which the object of rendering 
the sabbath a sign to the Israelites is pointed out, it is 
clear that ' the observance of it was not designed to be 
peculiar to that people,' unless this knowledge of Jeho- 
vah was also to be perpetually confined to them. 

Dr Paley farther observes, f if the sabbath be binding 
upon Christians, it must be binding as to the day, 
the duties, and the penalty ; in none of which it is re- 
ceived.' 

It will be remembered, that the sabbath and that day 
on which it is kept, are separate parts of the institution ; 
so separate, that the sabbath itself may be perpetual, and 
yet the day be changed successively, through every part 
of the week. The institution of the day 1 have already 
acknowledged to be no less obligatory than that of the 
sabbath itself; unless it can be fairly shown to have been 
changed by the same authority. Whether , this has, in 
fact, been shown in the preceding Discourse, must be 
left for those who heard it to determine. 

With regard to the duties of the sabbath, I shall only 
observe, that this point will be examined in a future 
Discourse. 

As to the penalty, it will be remembered, that it is not 
contained in the decalogue, but is merely a part of the 
civil law and internal police of the Jewish nation. Still 
it may be useful to try this reasoning with other com- 
mands of the decalogue. In the two first precepts it is 
acknowledged that we, as well as the Israelites, are for- 



bidden to worship idols, or other gods, beside Jehovah. 
Now it is well known that the Israelites who disobeyed 
these commands, were by the law of Moses to be put to 
death. It is presumed, that Dr Paley would not believe 
this penalty to be binding upon us ; and that he would 
still acknowledge the commands themselves to be no less 
obligatory upon Us than upon them. It is presumed, 
also, that he would acknowledge the fifth command to 
be equally binding upon all men. In Deut. xxi. 1 8 — 
21, and in Prov. xxx. 17, it is required, that children 
disobeying this command shall be put to death. Would 
Dr Paley acknowledge this penalty to be binding upon 
us ? Or would he deny our obligation to obey the com- 
mand ? 

II. It is asserted by this writer, that Genesis ii. 1 — 3. 
does not contain an account of the original institution of 
the sabbath. 

This assertion he supports by the following reasons : 
' That the observation of the sabbath is not mentioned 
in the history of the world before the call of Abraham ; 
that it is not mentioned in the history of Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob ; which, he says, is in many parts 
sufficiently circumstantial and domestic ; that in Exodus 
xvi. no intimation is given that the sabbath then appoint- 
ed was only the revival of an ancient institution, which 
had been neglected or forgotten ; that no such neglect 
is imputed to the inhabitants of the old world, or to any 
part of the family of Noah ; and that there is no record 
of any permission to dispense with the institution during 
the Egyptian bondage, or on any other public emer- 
gency.' 

With regard to the last of these reasons, I answer on- 
ly, that there is no record of any neglect of the institu- 
tion, either during the Egyptian bondage, or during 
any other public emergency. During the Babylonish 
captivity, we have no record of any such permission, nor 
of any observance of the sabbath. Yet, as Nehemiah 
and his companions, plainly observed it after their re- 
turn from that captivity, it is presumed Dr Paley will 
not deny that it was observed by the Jewish nation dur- 
ing that whole period. 

That no negligence of the sabbath should be charged 
to the antediluvians, to Noah, or to any others, in cases 
where the sabbath is not even mentioned, can occasion 
no surprise ; and, it is presumed, can furnish no argu- 
ment relative to this or any other question. It deserves, 
however, to be remarked, as an answer to every obser- 
vation which can be made of this nature, that the first 
censure for any impropriety in the observation of the 
sabbath, uttered concerning the Israelites in the Scrip- 
tures, is found in the prophet Isaiah ; about seven 
hundred and sixty years before Christ, and seven 
hundred and thirty-one years after the events recorded 
in Exodus xvi. The second is found in Ezekiel ; writ- 
ten about five hundred and ninety-three years before 
Christ, and eight hundred and ninety-seven years after 
these events. Can it, then, be surprising, when we know, 
from these very passages, that the Israelites merited not 
a little censure for their profanation of the sabbath, and 
when we yet find these to be the first censures cast upon 
them in the Scriptures, that Noah, his family, and the 
antediluvians, should not be censured ? 

The third of these reasons cannot, after what has 
been said in the former part of this Discourse, need any 
answer. I shall, therefore, direct the following obser- 
vations to the two remaining reasons; perhaps with 



THE LAW OF GOD— OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



557 



more propriety considered as one ; viz. the silence of 
the Scriptures concerning the observation of the sabbath 
by those who lived before the call of Abraham, and by 
the three first patriarchs. Concerning this subject, I 
observe, 

1. If all these persons did in fact neglect or forget the 
institution, it would not alter the case at all. The in- 
stitution of booths is declared, in Nehemiah viii. 17, to 
have been neglected and forgotten, from the time of 
Joshua, the son of Nun, until after Nehemiah and his 
companions returned from the captivity ; a period of 
nine hundred and eighty years. Neither Samuel, Da- 
vid, Solomon, Hezekiah, nor Josiah observed it ; and 
let it be remembered, that no censure is cast upon them 
for their neglect, nor any hint given, that they were 
guilty of such neglect until the close of this long period, 
nor even then was any other notice taken of this sub- 
ject, but what is contained in this declaration of Nehe- 
miah. Yet Nehemiah revived this solemnity : and has 
declared it to be obligatory upon that generation, and 
upon those of succeeding ages, in the same manner as if 
it had never been disused. 

2. There is no reason to suppose, that this fact would 
have been mentioned, if the sabbath had been exactly 
observed by the patriarchs, and by all who preceded 
them. If sabbaths, in the plural, be supposed to denote 
the sabbath, then the first mention of this subject made 
after the time of Moses, occurs in 1 Chron. xxiii. 31 , in 
the instructions of David to Solomon concerning build- 
ing the temple, at the distance of near five hundred 
years. The same word occurs thrice in the same book ; 
viz. in the eighth and thirty-first chapters ; in the two 
former of these instances as a repetition of, or allusion 
to, the words of David, and both in the history of Solo- 
mon. The latter instance is in the history of Hezekiah, 
seven hundred and sixty-five years after the period 
above mentioned. The same word occurs in Isaiah, 
about seven hundred and thirty years from that period. 
The word sabbath is mentioned five times in the his- 
tory of the Jewish church before the captivity. The 
first of them is a mere note concerning the business of 
the Kohathites ; which was ' to prepare the shew-bread 
every sabbath.' The time when it was written' was that 
of David, near five hundred years after this period ; 
see 1 Chron. ix. 32. The second is the speech of the 
Shunamite's husband ; ' It is neither new moon, nor 
sabbath ;' not referring, in my opinion, to the sabbath 
at all ; almost six hundred years from the above period. 
The third is in 2 Kings xi. ; a part of the speech of Je- 
hoiada to the rulers of Judah : 'A third part of you 
that enter in on the sabbath, shall even be keepers of 
the king's house ; and two parts of all you that go forth 
on the sabbath, even they shall be keepers of the watch 
of the house of the Lord.' Immediately after this 
speech it is also subjoined, that ' the rulers took every 
man his men that were to come in on the sabbath, with 
them that should go out on the sabbath, and they came 
to Jehoiada the priest.' These, it will be remembered, 
constitute but a single instance of mentioning the sab- 
bath, an instance occurring at the distance of more than 
six hundred years. Another instance occurs in the his- 
tory of Ahaz, and is the following ; ' The covert for the 
sabbath turned he from the house of the Lord, for the 
king of Assyria:' seven hundred and fifty-two years. 
The word is also mentioned in Isaiah lvi. lviii. and 
1-vv. about seven hundred and eighty years. These 



are all the instances, in which the word occurs either in 
prophecy or history, from the time of Moses till after 
the return of the captivity ; a period of one thousand 
years. 

Of this account it is to be observed, 

(1.) That the word sabbaths, in the plural, is men- 
tioned four times in the history of the Jewish church 
and twice in the prophecy of Isaiah, within a period of 
seven hundred and eighty years. The first, second, 
and third occurring incidentally in the mention of the 
duty of the priests in the orders of David ; the second, a 
repetition of them by Solomon ; the third, in an ac- 
count of their execution. These together really con- 
stitute but one instance. The fourth occurs incidentally 
also, in a sentence, giving, in almost the same words, an 
account of the same duty of the priests in the time of 
Hezekiah. The fifth is a censure of the Jews for the 
pollution of the new moons and sabbaths, uttered by the 
prophet Isaiah. The three first of these instances occur 
at the distance of about five hundred years, the others 
between seven and eight hundred from the time of the 
supposed institution. In but one of these, and that the 
last, is there any thing like an account of the manner 
in which the sabbath was kept, or neglected. All the 
rest ai - e merely incidental, and teach us nothing more 
than that sabbaths were in existence, and were involved 
in the Jewish ritual. 

(2.) As the sabbath appears to be regularly distin- 
guished from sabbaths ; and as sabbaths are regularly 
joined with the new moons, and other holidays of the 
Jews, which the sabbath never is ; it is clear to me, that 
the sabbath is not alluded to in any of these instances. 

(3.) The phrase, the sabbath, occurs in three instan- 
ces, (calling those in the account of Jehoiada one,) in 
the history of the Jewish church before the captivity ; 
all of them, however, entirely incidental, and contain- 
ing no account of the sabbath as an institution, nor of 
the observance of it, nor of the neglect. This is all 
which is said of it before the return from the Babylon- 
ish captivity, except what is said by the prophet Isaiah ; 
and there is but a single passage in this prophet, in 
which this phrase is used with reference to the times of 
the Jewish dispensation. 

We are thus come to this conclusion, that there are 
but five passages, in which the sabbath is mentioned in 
the Jewish writings, from the time of Moses to the re- 
turn of the captivity — one thousand years. Two of 
them are found in prophecy, and three of them in their 
history. The first of these is mentioned about five 
hundred years ; the second, six hundred ; and the third, 
seven hundred and fifty-two ; and the two remaining 
ones, which are found in prophecy, near eight hundred ; 
from the time of the supposed institution. 

Now let me ask, can any person wonder that in an 
account so summary as the history of the first three 
Jewish Patriarchs, there should be no mention of the 
sabbath ; when also, during a period of about five hun- 
dred years, containing the histories of Joshua, of the 
Judges, particularly Samuel, and of Saul, it is not once 
mentioned ? The question certainly cannot need an 
answer. The only wonder is, that so sensible a writer 
should have thought this an argument. 

3. God himself has, I apprehend, declared, that the 
sabbath was instituted at this time. 

For, in the first place, this is the true and only ra- 
tional interuretation of the declarations in the second 



558 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



fSiiu. cm. 



of Genesis. Dr Paley supposes that the words of the 
historian, ' And God rested on the seventh day from all 
the work which he had made ; and God blessed the 
seventh day, and sanctified it ; because that in it he had 
rested from all his work, which God created and made ;' 
declare only the reasons for which God blessed and 
sanctified the sabbath, and not the time at which this 
was done ; and that it was mentioned at this time, only 
on account of its connexion with the subject, and not 
because the blessing and sanctification took place at this 
period. To this I answer, Moses has written this story 
exactly in the manner in which he has written the whole 
history of the creation, the paradisiacal state, and the apos- 
tasy ; nay, almost the whole of the history contained in 
the book of Genesis. There is as much reason to be- 
lieve that the sabbath was blessed and sanctified at this 
time, from the manner in which the story is written, as 
there is to believe that our first parents were turned out 
of paradise before the birth of Cain and Abel. The 
order of time is, I apprehend, exactly observed in the 
history, except where the historian has taken up again 
a particular part of the history, for the purpose of de- 
tailing it, and has for this end interrupted the general 
course of his narrative. Of the justice of this observa- 
tion, the bare reading of the story will, I think, con- 
vince any person who has not a pre-conceived opinion 
to support. 

What is thus sufficiently evident from the narrative, 
God appears to me to have decided in the following 
words of the text : ' For in six days the Lord made hea- 
ven, and earth, the sea, and all that in them is ; and 
rested the seventh day : wherefore the Lord blessed the 
sabbath-day, and hallowed (or sanctified) it.' Here 
God, repeating the very words of the narrative, de- 
clares, that he had already blessed and sanctified the 
sabbath, at some time preceding that at which this com- 
mand was promulgated. The sabbath, therefore, was 
blessed and sanctified before this command was given. 
That this was not done at the time when Dr Paley sup- 
poses the sabbath to have been instituted, nor at any 
period between the first sabbath, and the giving of the 
law, seems to me clear from this, that there is not a 
single hint given of the subject, either at the time of the 
supposed institution, or in any other part of the Mosaic 
dispensation, except that in the second of Genesis. 
That the blessing was then given must I think be con- 
cluded, because God himself, relating this great trans- 
action, adopts the same language, and says, ' Where- 
fore the Lord blessed the sabbath-day and hallowed it.' 
That the blessing of the sabbath was a past transaction, 
is unquestionable. There is no hint concerning the 
existence of it, but in these two instances : and in both 
these it is immediately .connected with God's finishing 
the creation and resting on the seventh day. 

4. That it was instituted at the beginning is evident 
from the fact, that other nations, who could not have de- 
rived it from Moses, regarded the seventh day as holy. 

Hesiod says, JZfioopou h^ou ti^a.^ :' — ' The seventh 
day is holy.' 

Homer and Callimachus give it the same title. 

Theophilus of Antioch says, concerning the seventh 
day, ' The day which all mankind celebrate.' 

Porphyry says, ' The Phoenicians consecrated one 
day in seven as holy.' 

Linus says, ' A seventh day is observed amonnf 
tainis, 01: holy people.' 



Lucian says, ' The seventh day is given to school- 
boys as a holiday.' 

Eusebius says, ' Almost all the philosophers, and 
poets, acknowledge the seventh day as holy.-' 

Clemens Alexandrinus says, ' The Greeks, as well as 
the Hebrews, observe the seventh day as holy.' 

Josephus says, ' No city of Greeks, or barbarians, can 
be found, which does not acknowledge a seventh-day's 
rest from labour.' 

Philo says, ' The seventh day is a festival to every 
nation.' 

Tibullus says, ' The seventh day, which is kept holy 
by the Jews, is also a festival of the Roman women.' 

The several nations here referred to, cannot, it is 
plain, have fallen upon this practice by chance. It is 
certain, they did not derive it from the Jews. It fol- 
lows, therefore, that they received it by tradition from 
a common source ; and that source must have been 
Noah and his family. 

III. To the argument from the insertion of tin's com- 
mand in the decalogue, Dr Paley answers, that the 
distinction between positive and moral precepts, or, in 
his language, between positive and natural duties, was 
unknown to the simplicity of ancient language : mean- 
ing, I suppose, that it was unknown to the ancients, 
and, among others, to Moses : otherwise I cannot see 
how the observation is applicable to the question. 

I confess myself surprised at this answer. Did not 
God understand this distinction, when he wrote the de- 
calogue ? Did he not know, that this distinction 
would afterward be made and understood, in all its in- 
fluence ? Was not the decalogue written for all who 
should read the Scriptures? Was it not so written, as 
to be adapted to the use of all for whom it was written ? 
Did not God discern, that this distinction was founded 
in the nature of things ; and did he not foresee that, 
although the Israelites should not perceive it during 
any period of their national existence, yet it still would 
be perceived by innumerable others of mankind ? Did 
he not provide effectually for this fact, whenever it 
should happen ; and for all the difficulties and doubts 
which might arise from the want of such a distinction ? 

From this observation, and several others, Dr Paley 
appears to consider the decalogue as written by Moses 
in the same manner as the other parts of the Penta- 
teuch, and as having no more authority than the civil 
and ceremoniallaw of the Israelites, unless where this 
authority is discernible in the nature of the commands 
themselves. As this opinion appears not only erroneous, 
but dangerous, I shall oppose it with the following rea- 
sons: — 

(1.) The law of the Israelites, both civil and ceremo- 
nial, is distinguished from the decalogue in this great 
particular : that it was written by Moses in a book : this 
was first spoken by the voice of God, and then twice 
written by his finger on tables of stone, amid all the 
awful splendours of mount Sinai. 

(2.) Moses, after reciting the decalogue in Deut. v., 
immediately subjoins these words : ' The Lord spake 
unto all your assembly in the mount, out of the midst of 
the fire, of the cloud, and the thick darkness, with a great 
voice ; and he added no more. And he wrote them on 
two tables of stone, and delivered them unto me. And 
it came to pass, when ye heard the voice out of the 
midst of the darkness (for the mountain did burn with 
fire), that ye came near unto me, even all the heads of 



THE LAW OF GOD.— OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



559 



. your tribes, and your elders ; and ye said, Behold, the 
Lord our God hath showed us his glory, and his great- 
ness, and we have heard his voice out of the midst of 
the fire. We have seen this day that God doth talk 
; with man, and he liveth. Now, therefore, why should 
we die ; for this great fire will consume us ? If we hear 
the voice of the Lord our God any more, we shall die. 
For who is there of all flesh, that hath heard the voice 
of the living God, speaking out of the midst of the fire, 
and hath lived ?' 

To this petition God consented, and promised to de- 
liver his remaining precepts to Moses, and through him 
to Israel. Why was this distinction made ? Why was 
the decalogue spoken by the voice, and written by the 
finger of God ? and why, in the emphatical language of 
Moses, did he 'add no more'? The only reason 
which can be alleged, is the transcendent dignity and 
importance of these commands. The view which Moses 
himself had of the total distinction between the deca- 
logue, and the rest of the law written by him, is evident 
from this fact, that he commanded the Israelites to 
write them plainly, after they had passed over Jordan, 
upon great stones plastered with plaster, and set up by 
the congregation near the altar which they were direct- 
ed to build.* Why were they thus distinguished here ? 

(3.) Christ has distinguished them in a similar man- 
ner. When the young ruler came to Christ, and asked 
' what good thing he should do, that he might have 
eternal life ;' Christ said to him, ' Thou knowest the 
commandments.' The young man asked '. which.' 
Christ in reply, repeated five of the commandments in 
the second table, and the summary which contains them 
all. This shows beyond a doubt, that ' the command- 
ments' was a name appropriated to the decalogue, and 
denoted the same superiority to all other commands, as 
the name, the Bible, or the Book, denotes with re- 
spect to all other books. 

Again : Christ, in answer to the scribe, who asked 
him, ' Which is the first and great commandment ?' re- 
cites the two great commands which Moses had made 
the sum of the decalogue ; and adds, ' On these two 
commands hang all the law and the prophets :' in other 
words, ' On these two commands is suspended the whole 
volume of the Old Testament.' What can be a stronger 
testimony of the superiority of the decalogue to every 
other part of that volume ? 

(4.) St Faul, Rom. xiii. 9, says, ' For this, thou shalt 
not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not 
steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Thou shalt not 
covet ; and if there be any other commandment, it is 
briefly comprehended in this saying ; namely, Thou 
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' Here the apostle, 
after reciting five of the commands contained in the 
second table of the decalogue, adds, ' If there bo any 
other commandment.' Is not this direct proof, that he 
regarded the decalogue as containing all those which 
were, by way of eminence, ' the commandments of God,' 
and as separated by a broad line of distinction from 
every other precept ? 

Fifthly : It is well known, that the Jews always con- 
sidered the decalogue as entirely separated from every 
other part of the Old Testament. The prophets who 
succeeded Moses did nothing, as moral teachers, but 
explain and enforce it. Christ declared, that ' sooner 

• See Kennicott's Dissertations. 



shall heaven and earth pass away, than one jot or one 
tittle of this law shall pass, until all be fulfilled.' The 
apostles have enforced no other precepts as obligatory 
upon Christians. The Jews have at this day these com- 
mands written out in large letters, and hung up in theit 
synagogues, as solemn monitors to all who enter them 
of their duty. In a manner correspondent with this 
have they ever been regarded by Christians. They are 
at this day proverbially known by the name of the Ten 
Commandments, and the Moral Law. 

St Paul in a passage which ought not to be omitted 
on this occasion, Eph. vi. 1 — 3, reciting the fifth com- 
mand, says, ' This is the first commandment with pro- 
mise.' But God had given to Noah, to Abraham, to 
Jacob, to Moses, and to the Israelites, many commands, 
and annexed to them many promises, before the law 
was delivered from mount Sinai. In what sense, then, 
was the fifth command the first to which a promise was 
annexed? Plainly, in this sense only, that it is the first 
in the decalogue which has this mark of distinction. In 
the eye of St Paul, therefore, the decalogue contained 
all those which he thought proper to call the command- 
ments ; and was, in his view, of a character totally dis- 
tinct, and totally superior, to every other part of the Old 
Testament. 

As the apostle recites this command to theEphesians, 
who were Gentiles, as obligatory on them no less than 
on the Jews ; it is clear that the whole decalogue, unless 
some part of it has been plainly disannulled, is entirely 
obligatory on Christians. Had there been any distinc- 
tion in this respect between the different precepts of 
this law, St Paul must, it would seem, have made it on 
this occasion. He would, at least, have made it some- 
where ; and not have left so important a subject without 
a single note of illustration. 

IV. Dr Paley says, that " St Paul evidently appears 
to consider the sabbath as a part of the Jewish ritual, 
and not binding upon Christians, as such : ' Let no man, 
therefore, judge you in meat, or in drink, or in respect 
of a holy day, or of the new moon, or of the sabbath- 
days ; which are a shadow of things to come, but the 
body is of Christ,' Col. ii. 16, 17." 

To this observation I answer, first, that this passage 
refers not in any sense to the sabbath, but merely to 
the ordinary holidays of the Jews. The burden of 
proving the contrary lies upon the disciples of Dr 
Paley. 

Secondly ; If this be denied, I assert that it refers to 
the seventh day only, and not at all to the Christian 
sabbath. Until the contrary is proved, I shall consider 
this answer as sufficient ; especially as the Christian 
sabbath is not in the Scriptures, and was not by the 
primitive church called the sabbath ; but ' the first day 
of the week,' and ' the Lord's day.' 

V. The same writer says, that the observation of the 
sabbath was not one of the articles enjoined by the apos- 
tles, in Acts. xv. upon the Christian Gentiles. 

I answer, Neither was abstinence from theft, murder, 
lying, coveting, profaneness, or idolatry. 

VI. Dr Paley asserts, that the observation of the 
sabbath is not expressly enjoined in the New Testa- 
merit. 

To this I answer, first, that the text is in my own view 
an explicit injunction of this duty. But as this opinion 
has been contested ; as the paragraph in which it is 
contained is confessedly obscure ; as it would require 



560 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cviij. 



one whole discourse of this nature to consider it suffi- 
ciently ; and as the text was written many years after 
the Christian sabbath was effectually established ; I ob- 
serve, 

Secondly ; That the Christian sabbath was originally 
introduced into the church much more succesfully and 
happily than it could have been done by an express in- 
junction. 

In order to judge of this subject, it is necessary to 
bring- up to our view the situation of those to whom the 
gospel was first preached. These were all Jews; intensely 
bigoted to every part of their religion, and peculiarly to 
their sabbath. The day had been appointed by God 
himself; and was acknowledged to be divinely appointed 
by Christ and his apostles. The experiment of interfer- 
ing with the feelings of the Jews concerning the sabbath, 
even in the most lawful manner, had been sufficiently 
tried by Christ to discourage the apostles from every 
unnecessary attempt of this nature. Accordingly, the 
apostles pursued a peaceful and unobjectionable method. 
They celebrated at times, and probably always, the Jew- 
ish sabbath when they were among the Jews. The Jews 
at the same time, without any objection, yielded to their 
example and authority in celebrating the Christian wor- 
ship on the day of Christ's resurrection. They were 
circumcised ; but they were also willingly baptized. 
They celebrated the passover ; but willingly added to it 
the Lord's Supper. They prayed in the temple ; but 
they willingly united, also, in the prayers and praises of 
Christian assemblies holden in private houses, or in the 
fields. While the Jewish service was neither attacked 
nor neglected, they made not the least objection to that 
in the Christian church. In this manner, all these or- 
dinances grew into use, veneration, and habit ; and, in 
the end, gained such a possession of the mind, and such 



a strength of authority, as could neither be overthrown 
nor weakened. 

When the apostles came to declare in form, that the 
Jewish worship was to cease, the minds of the church 
were so well prepared to receive this declaration, that it 
was carried into a general execution. Difficulties and 
divisions arose, indeed, about this subject in several 
churches, particularly about circumcision, and produced 
a course of serious contention. What would have been 
the case, had this part of the system been begun at an 
earlier period? 

About the Christian sabbath, no dispute appears to 
have existed during the three first centuries. All the 
churches appear to have adopted it, and to have ne- 
glected the Jewish sabbath without difficulty. Was not 
this method of introducing so important a change dic- 
tated by true wisdom, and a better method than any 
other? 

The example of the apostles is an example to all 
Christians. Were we then to give up the point con- 
tested in the objection, we have still such a law in this 
example ; and so efficacious, that probably no doc- 
trine has been more generally received than that of the 
Christian sabbath, and no duty more generally per- 
formed than the observation of it down to the present 
time. 

The absolute necessity of establishing the doctrines 
and duties of Christianity among the Jews, in the in- 
fancy of the church, has been shown in a former Dis- 
course. I shall only add, that it seems impossible to 
have introduced among that people the Christian sab- 
bath in any other mannei than that which was adopted 
by the apostles, unless their whole character had been 
miraculously changed. 



SERMON CVIII. 



THE LAW OP GOD.. 



-THE DECALOGUE — THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT. 
WHICH THE SABBATH IS TO BE OBSERVED. 



THE MANNER IN 



// thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and call the sabbath a 
delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable, and shalt honour him, not doing thine own ivays, nor finding thine 
own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words ; then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause 
thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father ; for the 
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it Isa. lviii. 13, 14. 



In the first of the Discourses which I have delivered 
concerning the fourth command, I proposed, 

I. To consider the perpetual establishment of the sab- 
bath ; and, 

II. The manner in which it is to be observed. 

The former of these doctrines, together with the ob- 
jections against it, has been made the subject of the 
three preceding Sermons. The latter shall be the theme 
of the present Discourse. 

The text is the most minute and perfect summary of 
the duties incumbent on mankind with respect to this 
holy day, which is contained in the Scriptures. It is a 



prediction to the Jews, announcing that if they will per- 
form these duties, God will greatly prosper them with 
spiritual and temporal blessings, in the land of their 
fathers. In my own opinion, it especially respects a 
period yet to come. In examining this subject, I shall 
endeavour, 

L To point out the nature and extent of these duties. 

II. To show that they are binding on us. 

I. / shall endeavour to point out the nature and ex- 
tent of these duties. 

In examining this subject, I shall adopt the scheme 
of the text ; and mention, 



MANNER OF OBSERVING THE SABBATH. 



561 



i. The things from which we are to abstain. 

2. The things which we are to perform. 

(1.) We are bound to abstain from sin, in thought, 
conversation, and conduct. 

All who read the gospel know, or may know, perfect- 
ly, that sin may be as easily and as extensively com- 
mitted in thought, as in word or action ; and that the 
real seat of sin is in the heart. With the reformation 
of our hearts, then, we are always to begin our duty. 
We may as easily and grossly profane the sabbath, so 
far as ourselves only are concerned, by thoughts which 
are unsuited to its nature, as we can by any actions 
whatever. If our minds are intent on our business, or 
our pleasures, if our affections wander after them, if we 
are cold or lukewarm with respect to our religious 
duties, if we are negligent of a serious and cordial at- 
tention to them, if we regard with impatience the inter- 
ruption occasioned to our secular concerns, if we wish 
tlie institution had not been appointed, or the time in 
which it is to be kept lessened ; then, plainly, we do 
not esteem ' the sabbath a delight,' nor abstain from 
' finding- our own pleasure.' So long as this is the state 
of our thoughts, all our outward conformity to the pre- 
cept (for such is really the nature of the text) will be 
merely hypocritical. Every oblation from such a mind 
will be vain ; and all its ' incense an abomination.' — 
' The sabbaths, and the calling of assemblies,' among 
persons who act in this manner, will be such as God 
* cannot away with ;' and their ' solemn meeting will be 
iniquity.' 

The heart gives birth to all the movements of the 
tongue. We profane the sabbath, whenever we employ 
the time in worldly conversation. Such conversation is 
in the text denoted by the phrase, * speaking thine own 
words :' — ' thine own ' being supplied by the translators. 
I think this supplement rational ; since, in the two pre- 
ceding clauses, we find ' doing thine own way,' and 
' finding thine own pleasure.' Bishop Lowth, from 
similar phraseology in the ninth verse, supposes it 
should be ' vain words.' The meaning, however, will 
differ immaterially. 

Such conversation is, like our thoughts, directed in- 
differently to subjects of business, and of pleasure ; and 
in both cases the sabbath is subverted, and, so far as 
■this conversation extends, is changed from a holy into 
a secular day. God is robbed of his rights, and of his 
service ; and we are prevented from attaining, and from 
a disposition to attain, the holiness which is indispen- 
sable to salvation. 

There is no way in which the sabbath is more easily, 
more insensibly, more frequently, and more fatally vio- 
lated than this. Temptations to it are always at hand.. 
The transgression always seems a small one, usually a 
dubious one at the worst, and often no transgression at 
all. Multitudes of persons, of sober and well-meaning 
dispositions, nay, multitudes, as there is but too much 
reason to fear, of professing Christians, beginning 
with religious subjects, slide imperceptibly towards 
those which are considered as moral in such a degree, 
as scarcely to differ from religious ones ; thence to se- 
cular themes, bordering upon these : and thence to 
mere matters of business or amusement. Such persons, 
before they are aware, find themselves occupied in con- 
versing about the affairs of the neighbourhood — the 
strangers who are at church — the new dresses — fashions 
— business — diversions — news — and politics. To these 



they are led by mere worldly conversation concerning 
the prayers, the psalmody, or the sermon ; as having 
been well or ill devised, written, spoken, or performed; 
by a history merely secular, of the sickness and deaths 
in the neighbourhood, or elsewhere ; or of the dan- 
gerous or fatal accidents which have lately happened ; 
the state of the weather — the season — the crops — the 
prospects — the affairs of the family — and by innumer- 
able other things of a similar nature. The next step is, 
ordinarily, an habitual employment of this holy day in 
open, cool, and self-satisfied conversation about busi- 
ness, schemes of worldly pursuits, bargains, gains, and 
losses. It is not to be understood, that Christians go 
all these lengths. It is my real belief, however, that 
they go much farther than they can justify ; and fail, 
in this manner, of their duty, their improvement in the 
Christian life, their proper exemplariness of character, 
the evidence of their piety which would spring from 
these sources, the hope which it would inspire, the 
peace which would accompany them, and the joy in 
which they would delightfully terminate. Many sober 
men, however, who, but for this very conduct, might 
probably become Christians, go all these lengths ; and 
thus lose insensibly their tenderness of conscience, their 
soberness of mind, and their desire, as well as their 
hope, of eternal life. Men less well-principled start 
originally at the end of this career, and thus annihilate 
the sabbath at once ; bidding, without anxiety, a final 
adieu to the sabbath itself, and to its rich, exalted, and 
immortal blessings. 

The profanation of the sabbath by actions is seen 
and acknowledged by all decent men, who acknowledge 
it is a day consecrated by God to himself. Actions are 
so open to the view of mankind, are so definite a proof 
of the disposition, and, when violations of a known rule 
of duty, constitute so gross a proof of impiety, that all 
doubts concerning the true construction to be given of 
them vanish whenever they appear. The common and 
favourite modes of profaning the sabbath in this way 
are spending our time in dress, in ministering to a lux- 
urious appetite, in walking or riding for amusement, in 
writing letters of friendship, in visiting, and in reading 
books which are not of a religious, but merely of a de- 
cent character, and ultimately those which are formed 
to be the means of amusement and sport. The end of 
this progress, generally esteemed more gross, though 
perhaps in many instances not more, and in others less 
sinful, is the devotion of this sacred day to downright 
business. Persons who go this length occupy the time 
in writing letters of business, posting their accounts, 
visiting post-o/Rces, making bargains, transmitting mo- 
ney to their correspondents, going or sending to mar- 
kets, making journeys, at first with, and afterward 
without, pretences of necessity ; and, ultimately, labour- 
ing openly in the ordinary employments of life. This 
is what is called in the text ' doing our own ways.' A 
man's way, in scriptural language, is the customary 
course of his life. 

All these things, whether existing in thought, word, 
or action, are called our own, in contradistinction to 
those which are God's : that is, to those which are re- 
quired of us by God ; and every one of them is prohi- 
bited in the text 

(2.) We are required to abstain from idleness. 

Although the sabbath is never to be spent in secular 
business, or amusement, it is still to be, invariably, a 
4 j. 



582 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. CVIIL 



day of industrious exertion. There are some persons 
who feel too much regard to the dictates of their con- 
sciences, to public opinion, to the commands of God, 
or to all of them, to consume the sabbath in business or 
amusement ; still, having no relish for the duties of the 
day, they spend it in idleness, satisfied with abstaining 
from those which they esteem the grosser and more 
direct violations of this divine institution. According- 
ly, they lounge about their houses, gardens, or farms, 
and waste the season of salvation in sloth, sleep, or such 
a course of existence as resembles that of the oyster ; 
a state bordering upon the line which separates ani- 
mated beings from those which are inanimate. This 
course of conduct is an annihilation of the sabbath, the 
death of the day, and a frustration of all the designs 
and blessings of God connected with this heavenly in- 
stitution. The sabbath was intended to be the means 
of honouring God, and of saving the souls of men. But 
idleness is always dishonourable to God, and hostile to 
the salvation of the soul. Both of these great objects 
are accomplished by him only who is ' not slothful in 
business, but fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.' 

(3.) We are bound to abstain, with peculiar caution, 
from acknowledged sins upon this holy day. 

The abstinence which I have hitherto specified re- 
gards business and amusement, ordinarily lawful on 
other days. From that conduct, and those thoughts 
which are universally sinful, we are bound to abstain, 
with peculiar care, upon the sabbath : because then 
they are peculiarly heinous. The sacred nature of 
this day, and the solemn consecration of it by God to 
himself, together with all the advantages which we en- 
joy for religious instruction, and for all the duties of 
piety, furnish such a body of motives to our abstinence 
from sin, as cannot be resisted without peculiar guilt. 
Every sin committed upon this day is aggravated by 
the fact, that we have resisted these motives. At the 
same time, we are, by its very nature, so withdrawn 
from the world, so secured against temptation, and so 
much at leisure for solemn meditation, and for the esta- 
blishment of firm resolutions of obedience in our 
minds, that, if we sin upon this day, we sin with fewer 
inducements to the iniquity than upon other occasions. 
He who indulges his wickedness on the sabbath, will 
be in danger of rioting in it on the other days of the 
week. 

It hardly needs to be remarked, that sinful ways are 
peculiarly our own, and eminently opposed to those 
which are required by God. 

In all the above-recited particulars, those who are 
guilty of them, openly violate the law of God, squan- 
der the accepted time, waste and abuse the means of 
grace, and lessen, sabbath by sabbath, their hopes of 
eternal life. 

The duties which we are to perform, are, generally, 
all the various offices of religion. Good men in ancient 
times entered on the sabbath-day into the house of the 
Lord with praise and prayer. The law, the psalms, and 
the prophets were ' read in the synagogues every sab- 
bnth-day.' They ' feared God in the assembly of his 
saints ; they praised him for his mighty acts ; uttered 
abundantly the memory of his great goodness ; and 
sang of his righteousness. They went on from strength 
to strength ; every one of them in Zion appeared be- 
fore God.' They esteemed ' a day in his courts as bet- 
ter than a thousand. Their souls longed, yea, even 



fainted, for the courts of the Lord ; their heart and 
their flesh cried out for the living God.' Accordingly* 
' the Lord God was to them a sun, and a shield. He 
gave them grace and glory ; and withheld from them 
no good thing.' In the same manner the early Chris- 
tians ' esteemed the sabbath a delight, and the holy of 
the Lord, honourable.' In the times of the apostles, 
' they continued in fellowship, in prayer, and in break- 
ing of bread.' They sang ' psalms, and hymns, and 
spiritual songs.' They prophesied, taught the doctrines 
of the Scriptures, uttered and interpreted revelation, 
and collected alms for such saints as were in peculiar 
circumstances of distress. All these examples abun- 
dantly show us, that good men during the ages of in- 
spiration steadily accorded, and thought it their duty to 
accord, with the requisitions contained in the text. 
What was their duty is curs. All these solemn ser- 
vices therefore, and others connected with Ihem, it is 
incumbent on us to perform ' in spirit and in truth.' 
We are to 'join ourselves to the Lord, to serve him,' 
according to the prediction of Isaiah concerning us 
and the other Gentiles ; ' to love the name of the Lord ; 
to keep the sabbath from polluting it ; and to take hold 
of his covenant.' Particularly, 

(1.) We are to perform all the duties of public 
worship. 

The sabbath, as has been observed, was originally 
appointed for the commemoration of the divine glory, 
manifested in creating the world ; and for the attain- 
ment and improvement of holiness in man. The man- 
ner in which we should commemorate the glory of God 
in the work of creation, on this day, is sufficiently 
taught us by the manner in which the first sabbath was 
celebrated. Then, we are informed, ' the morning 
stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for 
joy.' In the same manner was the work of the new 
creation, and the divine glory displayed in it, celebrated 
by the same illustrious beings, according to the pro- 
phetical account given in the sixty-eighth psalm of this 
wonderful event, an account expressly applied to it by 
the apostle Paul in the third chapter of the Epistle to 
the Kphesians. * The chariots of God are twenty thou- 
sand ; even thousands of angels. The Lord is among 
them, as in Sinai ; as in the holy place.' The very 
hymn which they sang seems to be transmitted to us in 
the followiug words, ' Thou hast ascended on high ; 
thou hast led captivity captive : thou hast, received gifts 
for men ; yea, for the rebellious also ; that the Lord 
God might dwell among them.' 

The manner in which holiness and salvation are to 
be obtained is everywhere taught in the gospel. The 
truth of God in the hands of the Divine Spirit, is the 
great instrument by which we are ' made free from the 
bondage of corruption.' ' Faith,' we know, ' cometh 
by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.' This 
word is therefore to be faithfully explained and enforced 
by the preacher, and faithfully received by those who 
hear him. The prayers and the praises of every reli- 
gious assembly are to spring from the heart, and are to 
ascend up before the throne of infinite mercy with de- 
pendence, with confidence, with love, with reverence, 
with gratitude, with hope, and with joy. Our prayers 
and our praises are also to be presented in the name of 
Christ, as the great and glorious ' propitiation for the 
sins of men,' and the ' true and liring way of access 
to God.' They are to he presented with faith in his 



MANNER OF OBSERVING THE SABBATH. 



5S3 



nnme ; that faith which occupies the whole heart, and 
alone interests us in the blessings of redemption. 

Christians, at the same time, are to unite jn the ad- 
ministration and celebration 'of the evangelical ordi- 
nances, baptism and the Lord's supper ; and are thus in 
a peculiar and most affecting manner to commemorate 
the glory of Christ, manifested in the wonderful work 
of the new creation. 

All these things are to be done ' decently, and in 
order.' At the same time, they are to be performed 
with plainness, simplicity, and no unnecessary rites. 
The Jewish worship was intended by its ceremonious 
magnificence to strike the imagination, during the early 
and ignorant periods of society. To this end it was 
perfectly fitted. All its services were calculated to 
affect the senses in the deepest manner, and to find 
through them access to the heart. The gospel, on the 
contrary, is addressed directJy to the understanding ; 
and makes its way to the heart by means of the power 
of conscience. Unnecessary rites are here both useless 
and noxious ; since they allure the thoughts away from 
the doctrines and precepts which are inculcated, to the 
ceremonies by which they are surrounded. In this 
manner, the spiritual worship of the gospel is ever in 
danger of becoming a mere ' bodily exercise,' unpro- 
fitable in itself, and destructive of piety. The ceremo- 
nies of the Romish church exterminated its devotion, 
and became extensively the cause as well as the effect 
of that corruption, which by men of real religion has 
been justly regarded as a prodigy. 

(2.) On this holy day, also, we are bound to perform 
the various private duties of religion. 

The worship of the family, and that of the closet, 
are the duty of all families, and of all individuals, 
every day they live. Equally is it the duty of all men 
to spend a part of every day in self-examination, in re- 
ligious meditation, and in contemplation on the perfec- 
tions and works of God, on the character of Christ, and 
the wonders of redemption. The Scriptures especially, 
and other religious books generally, are to be read, 
pondered, and cordially received. The amendment of 
the soul, and victory over sin and temptation, are to be 
planned, resolved on, and achieved. We are to hum- 
ble ourselves before God, to devote ourselves anew to 
his service, to cherish the duties of religion, and uni- 
versally to cultivate the Christian character. 

At the same time, children and servants are to be 
carefully instructed in the great and plain doctrines 
and duties of religion, to be restrained, in the same 
manner as ourselves, from all worldly pursuits, and to 
be presented by us with such persuasive examples of 
piety, as may engage them to reverence and embrace 
the gospel. 

Universally, our time, our thoughts, our conversa- 
tion, and our actions are all to be devoted to God. 
This, indeed, is in a sense true of every day. But on 
other days it is our duty to labour in our worldly busi- 
ness ; and, while our thoughts are engaged by pursuits 
of this nature, it is impossible that they should be also 
engaged by religious subjects, with sufficient intense- 
ness and constancy to fulfill all the demands, either of 
our interest, or of our duty. On the sabbath we are 
withdrawn from all worldly pursuits. A solemn pause 
is made in the business of life. A happy season of lei- 
sure is furnished to us for obtaining our salvation. Then 
no worldly business is to intrude, no worldly pleasure 



to solicit, no worldly thought to interfere. The holy 
nature of the day, and the peculiarly solemn nature 
of its services, conspire with eminent felicity to render 
all the duties which have been specified easy, undis- 
turbed, solemn, impressive, and profitable. This then 
is to be carefully seized, and anxiously husbanded, as 
a golden opportunity for performing them all. 

(3.) The sabbath is to be employed, so far as circum- 
stances demand, in performing works of necessity and 
mercy. 

Our authority for this assertion is complete in the 
declaration of God, ' I will have mercy and not sacri- 
fice.' In the illustrations of this precept by our Saviour, 
and in his example, it is equally complete. What these 
works are, beyond the direct import of this example, 
we are to judge as carefully and conscientiously as we 
can. Generally, it is to be observed, that as little of 
our time as the nature of the case demands is to be 
employed in these works, and the remainder to be de- 
voted to those duties of religion, which were the origi- 
nal objects of the sabbath. Whenever the time required 
is so great as to be disproportioned to the value of the 
necessity in question, it is to be given up. That neces- 
sary work which requires but a moment, may be lawfu), 
when it would become unlawful, if it required an hour. 
All works, both of necessity and mercy, are to be re- 
garded as duties which we are bound to perform, and 
never as indulgences, which we are permitted to take. 

The time at which the peculiar duties of the sabbath 
are to commence, is, in my opinion, the time when 
darkness commences on the evening of Saturday. For 
this opinion the following reasons may be alleged : — 

First, The natural day commenced with darkness. 
After God had created the chaos, darkness rested upon 
it for a certain period. This darkness, and the light 
which succeeded it, are declared to have constituted 
' the first day.' In the same manner are reckoned five 
succeeding days of the creation. 

Secondly, The sabbath, at its original institution, 
was a natural day. This is clear, because we are told, 
that God rested the seventh day ; and, from the man- 
ner in which the 6ix preceding days were reckoned, we 
have the fullest proof, that he who by his own choice 
reckoned them in this manner, reckoned the seventh 
day in the same manner. 

Thirdly, When the sabbath was renewedly enjoined 
upon the Israelites, it was required to be kept as a na- 
tural day. This we know, because no alteration of the 
original institution is specified in the fourth command ; 
and because, in Lev. xxiii. 32, God says to that people 
concerning the great day of atonement, ' From even 
unto even shall ye celebrate your sabbath.' 

Fourthly, The Jewish sabbath commenced with the 
darkness ; or with the time which we denote by the word 
candle-lighting. This is evident from Neh. xiii. 19; 
' And ifrcame to pass, that when the gates of Jerusalem 
began to be dark before the sabbath,' &c. It is here 
evident, that the sabbath had commenced on Friday 
evening, when the gates of Jerusalem ' began to be 
dark ;' or, in our customary language, when the dusk of 
the evening commenced in that city. The sabbath also, 
as a natural day, began originally at the same time ; 
the first day of the creation having commenced with 
absolute darkness. The time of darkness to us is the 
time when we can no longer see so as to transact busi- 
ness by the light of the sun. 



564 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cviii. 



Fifthly, The Christian sabbath is the first day of the 
week, and a natural day ; because there is no hint given 
us, in the New Testament, of any alteration made, or to 
be made, in this respect. Dr Macknight informs us, 
that the ancient Christians began their sabbath on the 
evening of Saturday. Some Christians have supposed, 
that the time when our Lord arose from the dead, is 
that at which the present sabbath ought to be begun. 
This is evidently an error, because that time is not de- 
clared in the New Testament, and therefore cannot be 
known by us. Accordingly, these Christians begin the 
sabbath at midnight ; a time of human appointment 
merely. This seems to me unwarrantable. 

II. / shall now attempt to show, that the duties of the 
sabbath are all binding on us. 

On this subject I observe, 

1. That the example of God, in resting from his 
work of creation, and of Christ, in resting from the 
work of redemption, is authoritatively binding upon us ; 
and requires us to rest from our own lawful labours in 
a similar manner. 

2. The fourth command, which has, I trust, been 
shown to be equally obligatory on all men, requires 
the same rest from us, which it required from the Is- 
raelites. 

3. The original institution, the examples of God the 
Father, and the Son, and the injunctions of the fourth 
command, require in substance all these duties. The 
duties which they expressly require cannot be performed 
to any valuable purpose, unless all the duties specified 
in this Discourse are also performed. The true mean- 
ing and real extent of these examples and injunctions, 
as they respected the Jews, are explained in the com- 
ments of the prophets, particularly of the prophet Isai- 
ah, concerning this subject. The text is the most co- 
pious and definite exhibition of this nature contained 
in the Scriptures. In chapter Ivi. of the same prophet, 
is found also a comprehensive account of the same du- 
ties ; and we have several other, less particular and less 
impressive explanations in other passages of the Scrip- 
tures. These injunctions and examples then demanded, 
in the view of the Spirit of inspiration, all these duties 
of the Israelites. Of course, this was the true tenor of 
these examples and injunctions. But, if I mistake not, 
I have proved both to be no less obligatory on Chris- 
tians, than on the Israelites. The same examples and 
injunctions have therefore the same tenor with respect 
to us, and bind us to exactly the same duties. 

4 The New Testament has nowhere dispensed with 
any part of these duties. 

It has been often thought, that Christ has released 
his followers from some part of the duties of the sab- 
bath, and in some degree from that strictness in observ- 
ing it, which were originally required of the Jews. 
Observations to this amount I have not unfrequently 
seen and heard ; but, exclusively of the things observed 
by Dr Paley, and mentioned in the last Discourse, I 
have never been informed of the particulars from which 
Christians are thus supposed to have been released; 
nor do I know in what passages of the New Testament 
they are supposed to be contained. Dr Paley believes 
that the sabbath was never at all obligatory on Chris- 
tians. According to this scheme, therefore, it was im- 
possible for Christ to release them from these duties, 
because they were never incumbent on them. Where 
those who make this supposition find their warrant for 



it, in the discourses of Christ, or of his apostles, I con- 
fess myself unable to determine. The observations 
which our Saviour makes, as an exposition of several 
parts of the decalogue, in his sermon on the mount, he 
prefaces with these remarkable declarations ; » Think 
not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets : 
I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill : for verily, I say 
unto you, Till heaven and earth pass ; one jot or one tittle 
shall in nowise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.' Af- 
ter these declarations, it is impossible that Christ should 
be rationally believed to have altered at all the duties 
of the sabbath, much less to have annihilated it, unless 
he has done it somewhere in plain, unequivocal lan- 
guage. But no such language on this subject can be 
found in the New Testament. Until something of this 
nature shall be definitely pointed out, the duties of the 
sabbath must be acknowledged to have been left by 
Christ and his apostles exactly as fhey found them ; 
and all declarations to the contrary must be regarded 
as merely gratuitous and presumptive. 

5. As the religious privileges of Christians are de- 
clared to be superior to those of the Jews, they cannot 
be supposed to be lessened with respect to the sabbath, 
unless this fact is directly asserted. 

If the duties of Christians on the sabbath are lessen- 
ed, either in number or degree, then their religious 
privileges ate rendered just so far inferior to those of 
the Jews. The duties of the sabbath are all privileges 
of a high and glorious nature, and cannot fail to be ac- 
counted such by every good man. I speak not here of 
the regulations of the civil laws of the Jews ; these have 
nothing to do with the subject of the present discussion. 
I speak of the sabbath, as instituted on the seventh day ; 
as instituted immediately after the creation was finish- 
ed ; as enjoined anew in the fourth command of the 
decalogue ; and as explained and enforced by the pro- 
phets,, particularly by Isaiah. It was a high religious 
privilege to a Jew to have one whole day in seven di- 
vinely consecrated to the duties of religion ; to be re- 
quired to ' esteem the sabbath a delight, and the holy 
of the Lord, honourable ; and to turn away his foot from 
finding his own pleasure ' on that sacred day. It was 
a combination of glorious privileges to a Jew, ' to keep 
the sabbath from polluting it— to join himself on that 
day to the Lord ; to be his servant — to take hold of his 
covenant — to be brought to the holy mountain of God 
— to be made joyful in his house of prayer — to delight 
himself in the Lord,' and to find his various solemn 
services asserted by his Creator. But if these duties, 
or any of them, be lessened in number or degree, just 
so far are the privileges of a Christian inferior to those 
of a Jew. Which of these privileges would a Christian 
be willing to give up? Which of them does the gos- 
pel require him to relinquish ? 

I shall conclude this Discourse with a summary enu- 
meration of several motives, which strongly solicit our 
exact observance of the sabbath. 

1. Such an observance of the sabbath is required by 
the command of God. 

2. It is enforced by the divine example. 

God rested on the seventh day, the day after the 
creation was ended. Christ rested on the first day, the 
day after the new creation was finished. This twofold 
example of Jehovah is of infinite authority ; and en- 
joins, in the most expressive language, the faithful imi- 
tation of all mankind. 



THE LAW OF GOD.—REFLECTIONS ON THE SABBATH. 



565 



3. The nature of the duties enjoined upon the sabbath, 
demands of us such an observance. 

The duties of the sabbath are all of a religious and 
holy nature. Such duties can never be successfully or 
profitably performed, when mingled with secular busi- 
ness or amusements. These will both distract the 
attention of the mind, and withdraw it from that clear, 
strong, affecting sense of spiritual and divine objects in 
which the peculiar benefit of the sabbath is found. The 
soul, in this case, will be divided between God and 
mammon, between the love of the world and the love 
of God. The consequence cannot but be foreseen. The 
world will predominate ; God will be forgotten ; and 
dishonoured, if not forgotten ; the soul will cease from 
a heavenly character, debase its pure, and exalted affec- 
tions, lose those refined and noble views of celestial ob- 
jects, which are fitted both to inspire and to cherish de- 
votion, cease to stretch its wings towards heaven, and 
fall down to earth, loaded with a burden of gross cares, 
and dragged to the ground by an encumbering mass of 
sensual gratification. . ? OT 9 

At the same time, it is far easier to observe the sab- 
bath wholly, than to observe it in part. He who 
intends to divide it between earthly and spiritual pur- 
suits, will never know where to draw the line of divi- 
sion. Perpetually will he find himself wandering, now 
towards religion, and now towards the world ; while his 
conscience will be unceasingly embarrassed by fears 
that he has neglected his duty, and by doubts concern- 
ing what it is. There is no such thing as a half-way 
performance of our duty. If such a performance had 

- 



in fact been required, or allowed, we should have been 
distressed by unceasing perplexity. Happy is it for 
us, that an ordinance of this nature cannot be found in 
the Scriptures. 

4. The blessing of the sabbath is promised to such an 
observance. 

The text is an illustrious proof of this. ' If thou do 
all the things,' says God, required in the first verse ; 
' then shalt thou delight thyself in Jehovah ; and I 
will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the 
earth.' Not if thou do a part of these things. There 
is no promise to a divided service ; there is no blessing 
connected with it. He, therefore, who wishes for the 
blessing of God upon his religious labours, must look 
for it only in the strict and faithful observance of the 
duties which he has required. 

5. It is demanded by our own highest interest. 

The sabbath is eminently j the day of salvation.' ' On 
Zion the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for 
evermore.' On that holy day, and in the holy place, 
this incomprehensible blessing is still to be found. 
Where that day is not observed, and that place is not 
frequented, this blessing ceases to descend. If we love 
ourselves, then ; if we love our families ; if we love our 
country ; if we love mankind ; we shall exert ourselves 
to the utmost to uphold the sabbath in its purity, in our 
hearts, in our conversation, and in our conduct. We 
shall ' keep the sabbath from polluting it ;' shall observe 
it with the most faithful exactness ; and, by precept 
and example, solemnly recommend it to the exact ob- 
servance of others. 

,ano;tena((it hns aslqrosxs ©s 
sfqza ffty 

-ijjsI Jijaqoiq- «»rtl lo ^Irat) 

JX6* 9flT 



9ffi ni vfsn 
him banh $-tutau siito *to notiic 

SERMON CIX. 

il slorfw ono svcri oi wsl £ oi *f»fis »''J }o Inuooor 

THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE.— THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT. 

THE SABBATH. 
"t ol has; i ,bioJe: 

no 's-mafislq ntio aiii y tibnri I as iiub eaarfi fir, t ao 

- 

Wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbaih-day. — Exod. xx. 1 1 



REFLECTIONS ON 






In the four preceding Discourses I have considered the 
perpetual establishment of the sabbath, and the manner 
in which it is to be observed ; and have endeavoured to 
answer such objections as occurred to me, against the 
doctrines which I have felt myself bound to maintain 
concerning these subjects. I shall now close my ob- 
servations on the sabbath, with some of those reflections 
which this very solemn and interesting subject naturally 
suggests to a serious mind. 

The first consideration which strikes such a mind 
when contemplating the sabbath, is the pre-eminent 
wisdom of this divine institution. 

Wisdom, as applied to conduct, denotes the choice 
of desirable ends, and the selection of happy means 
for their accomplishment. The ends aimed at in the in- 
stitution of the sabbath are numerous, and all of them 
eminently desirable. The means by which they are 
accomplished are, at the same time, eminently happy. 
The sabbath, and the things immediately connected 
with it, are the amount of them all. 

Among these ends let me remark, since God himself 



has been pleased to mention it, and to mention it in 
the fourth command of the decalogue ; the provision 
which this holy day furnishes of a season of rest to 
labouring animals. 

' A righteous man regards the life of his beast,' says 
the wisest of all men, Prov. x. 12. In this fact we 
behold a strong resemblance of a righteous man to his 
Creator. The goodness of this glorious Being is forci- 
bly displayed in the provision which he has made for 
the rest and comfort of labouring animals in the moral 
law. In the hands even of prudent and humane mas- 
ters, it is clearly seen, that such animals are sufficiently 
employed when they labour six days of the week, and 
are released to rest and refreshment on the seventh. 
God, who perfectly knew what their strength was able 
to bear, and who perfectly foresaw how greatly they 
would be oppressed by avarice and cruelty, was pleased, 
in this solemn manner, and at this early period, to pro- 
vide for their relief, by securing to them the quiet and 
restoration of one day in seven. In this merciful pro- 
vision the divine tenderness is displayed in a most ami- 



566 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See. cix. 



able and edifying manner. The humble character of 
even these beings did not place them below the compas- 
sionate care of God. Elsewhere he has commanded 
us to supply them with food : here he has commanded 
us to furnish them with rest. In both cases he has 
iaught us, that ' the Lord is good' and kind ' to all ;' 
and that ! his tender mercies are over all the works of 
his hands.' This indulgence to animals is enjoined 
with infinite authority ; and secured by the same sanc- 
tion which enforces justice and beneficence towards 
mankind. By bringing up this subject also in form, 
thus solemnly, regularly, and often, he has formed our 
regard towards these creatures into a habit ; and pre- 
vented us from the possibility of being inattentive to 
this duty. 

In the same manner are rest and refreshment secured 
to mankind. Children and servants particularly are 
by this institution preserved from the oppression of se- 
vere masters, and the unfeeling demands of unnatural 
parents. Every industrious man will tell you, from 
his own experience, that the season of labour is suffi- 
ciently long, and this return of rest absolutely necessary 
for the preservation of health, and strength, and life ; 
that greater toil would fatigue the bodily powers into 
decay ; and that the weekly cessation from business is 
not more frequent than our worldly interests clearly 
demand. Hence, unless when under the dominion of 
avarice, he will consider the sabbath as a benevolent 
provision for his true worldly interest. What will thus 
be approved by the man who labours voluntarily and 
for himself, cannot fail to be cordially welcomed by 
him who i*s compelled, through indigence, to toil for 
others ; the servant drudging for a hard master, and 
the child trembling under the rod of an unfeeling 
parent. 

Nor is the usefulness of the sabbath less visible in the 
promotion of neatness and cleanliness, especially among 
the inferior classes of mankind. No person is willing 
to appear in a religious assembly, unless cleanly and 
decently dressed; so true is this, that probably in all 
countries where the sabbath is observed, every one, not 
prevented by absolute poverty, has what is proverbially 
called a Sunday suit of clothes. The spirit of cleanli- 
ness and decency awakened by the return of this holy 
day is always thus awakened. Excited every week, it 
is of course excited through the week, becomes an im- 
movable habit, extends its influence through all the 
concerns of human life, and in the end constitutes the 
standing character. Individuals are thus prevented 
from becoming brutes in their appearance ; and a 
nation is fashioned into an entire and delightful con- 
trast to the native dirt and slovenliness of man, always 
exhibited in so humiliating a manner by savages. The 
influence of this single fact on the comfort of human 
life cannot be calculated. 

Inseparably connected with this article, is the soft- 
ness and civility of manners to which the sabbath, more 
than any thing else, allures mankind. Every thing 
pertaining to the sabbath generates, of course, this de- 
sirable conduct. The neatness of dress, and the decency 
of appearance, just mentioned, strongly persuade to it. 
A person better dressed than in the ordinary manner 
will regularly behave with more than ordinary decency, 
unless habitually thus dressed. The association in our 
thoughts between the dress and the manners (both of 
which are intended to make us appear with advantage) 



is instinctive, and inseparable. Every thing connected 
with the sabbath also inspires such views and affections 
as contribute to the manners in question. We are, cf 
course, united to a respectable assembly ; on a sacred 
day, in a sacred place, upon a most affecting occasion, 
and for ends the most solemn and important in the 
universe. We are immediately before God, and are 
employed in his worship ; in confessing our sins, in 
seeking the forgiveness of them, and in labouring to 
feel our needy, frail, guilty, dependent character ; to 
see how little and insignificant we are ; how unbecoming 
are pride, unkindness, and insolence; how becoming 
humility, modesty, condescension, and gentleness ; how 
amiable, in the sight of God, is ' the ornament of a 
meek and quiet spirit;' and how necessary, for every 
purpose for which we have assembled, the establishment 
of these things in our hearts. From these considera- 
tions must spring, of course, in every man who is not 
void of all propensity to that which is good, both gentle- 
ness of mind, and sweetness of manners. 

I have already glanced at the tendency of the sabbath 
to abase our pride, and to remove our native rugged- 
ness of disposition. This part of the subject deserves 
a farther consideration. One of the chief deformities 
of character in the rich, the learned, and the great, is 
that haughtiness of mind which, on account of their 
peculiar advantages, they are ever ready to feel ; and 
one of the chief causes of suffering to the poor, the 
ignorant, and the powerless, is that insolence of beha- 
viour, which, from this haughtiness, they are compelled 
to endure. But when the superior classes- of mankind 
assemble in the house of God, they sink at once, even 
in their own eyes, if they open them, down to the same 
level with their fellow worms. In the presence of him, 
f before whom all nations are as nothing,' the glare of 
splendour, the pride of wealth, the self-sufficiency of 
learning, and the loftiness of power, are annihilated in 
a moment. Those who a little while before felt them- 
selves to be rich, and wise, and great, find that they 
are poor, ignorant, little, guilty, odious to God, exposed 
to his wrath, and hopeless, except in the mere character 
of suppliants for mercy. 

When a great man in the sanctuary looks around him 
on a mixed assembly of his equals and inferiors, he will 
be compelled often to feel, and secretly to confess, that 
his poor neighbour, whom perhaps he would have ' dis- 
dained,' on other occasions, ' to set with the dogs of his 
flock,' is, in all probability, more excellent, more wise, 
more lovely, and in every sense greater, ' in the sight 
of the Highest,' than himself. Nothing can humble 
pride more than the elevation above itself of those whom 
it despises. This elevation of the humble, this useful 
depression of the haughty, is nowhere more perfect 
than in the house of God. 

Here, as will be realized from what has been already 
said, the poor and lowly rise, of course, above their 
usual level. ' The rich and the poor,' says Solomon, 
'meet together; the Lord is the maker of them all.' 
In the house of God they ' meet together,' in a manner 
wholly peculiar, are placed exactly on the same level, 
and are more strongly than anywhere else reminded 
that ' the Lord is the maker of them all.' Here they 
assemble as creatures of the same God merely. Here 
all their earthly distinctions vanish ; and a new distinc- 
tion, formed only of sin and holiness, commences; 
which, unless terminated in the present world, will en- 



THE LAW OF GOD REFLECTIONS ON THE SABBATH. 



567 



dure and widen for ever. Here then the poor man 
i rises to his proper independence and distinction ; for- 
gets the depression of his circumstances ; and, without 
the aid of pride, assumes an elevation of character not 
less necessary to him for the faithful discharge of his 
duty, than the humility of the gospel to the lofty-mind- 
ed. Thus the sabbath, like its author, f putteth down 
the mighty from their seats,' and ' exalteth them of low 
degree.' How perfect in this important particular is an 
institution, which produces these opposite and indis- 
pensable benefits in those whose situation so plainly and 
loudly demands them ! 

Another immense benefit of the sabbath is the in- 
struction which it furnishes in morals and religion. 

The value of knowledge is admitted by all civilized 
men. It will usually, and ought ever to be admitted 
also, that moral and religious knowledge is of far 
more value than any other. It is more necessary, more 
practical, more useful, more enlarging to the mind, 
more refined, and more exalted. The least acquaint- 
ance with the subject will place this assertion beyond a 
doubt. 

As the knowledge itself is more valuable, so the sab- 
bath furnishes means for obtaining it, which are far 
cheaper, and far more efficacious, than were ever fur- 
nished by any other institution. Here, on a day de- 
voted to no employment but the gaining of this know- 
ledge, and the performance of those religious duties 
which unite with it in perfect harmony ; in a place 
convenient and sacred; on an occasion infinitely im- 
portant ; and with the strong power of sympathy to add 
and impress ; a thousand persons are taught the best of 
all knowledge ; the most useful to themselves, and the 
most beneficial to mankind ; for a less sum than must 
be expended by a twentieth part of their number, in 
order to obtain the same instruction in any other science. 
No device of the heathen philosophers, or of modern in- 
fidels, greatly as they have boasted of their wisdom, 
can be compared, as to its usefulness, with this„ The 
sabbath particularly is the only means ever devised of 
communicating important instruction to the great mass 
of mankind. 

Here all may assemble, all may learn, from the prince 
to the beggar, from the man of grey hairs to the infant 
of days. Had the sabbath been a device of man, men 
would be able to boast of immensely greater ingenuity 
and wisdom than they have hitherto displayed ; and 
would be justly pronounced to have formed a more suc- 
cessful and more patriotic institution for the benefit of 
mankind, than any which is found on the page of his- 
tory. . Here a real and glorious equality of privileges 
is established, not only without confusion and discord, 
but with strong enforcements of peace and good order. 
In these great blessings all are here alike interested, and 
all partake alike. 

To the blessings of peace and good order universally, 
the sabbath contributes also in a pre-eminent degree. 
Moral and religious knowledge is the knowledge of our 
duty, and of the rewards which God will give to such as 
perform it To this knowledge, the sabbath adds the 
highest motives to the performance which are found in 
the universe. All good, internal and external, in time 
and eternity, allures to it, as a direct and certain re- 
ward. All evil compels to it as a threatening, and de- 
ters from the omission as a punishment inevitable and 
rulless. This knowledge, and these motives, the sab- 



bath furnishes, with a solemnity and force altogether 
unrivalled. From the house of God they are carried 
with us into every concern of life, where duty is to be 
performed ; and duty is to be performed in every con- 
cern. With the influence of the sabbath on his mind, 
man everywhere feels himself accountable to his 
Maker ; and, in darkness and solitude, in the secrecy 
of thought, as well as in the conduct inspected by the 
public eye, realizes that the all-searching God is a con- 
stant witness of whatever he thinks, speaks, or does. 
From this consideration, more than from the dread of 
the dungeon and the halter, most men are inclined to 
restrain their hands from injustice and violence, from 
tumult and confusion. In the meantime, the peace and 
good order of religious assemblies on the sabbath fur- 
nish the highest specimen of this happy conduct, that 
was ever seen in the present world. Fifty-two sabbaths 
every year is this conduct repeated. Hence, it becomes 
a powerful, as well as desirable, habit ; and clings to 
him who steadily visits the house of God, through the 
remainder of every week. In this manner, it is dif- 
fused through the life ; and influences the thoughts, 
words, and actions, towards men of every class and cha- 
racter. The magistrate and the subject, the parent and 
the child, the master and the servant, the friend and 
the neighbour, are benefited by it alike. All of them 
acquire more peaceful dispositions, exhibit a more ami- 
able deportment, pursue a more orderly conduct, and 
fill their respective stations with greater propriety than 
either would do under the influence of every other cause 
except the immediate agency of God. 

It will not be denied, that each of the things which I 
have specified, is an important benefit to mankind, nor 
that all of them united are of advantage inestimable. 
But the sabbath has blessings to give of a still higher 
nature. Among them this is one of supreme moment ; 
that the sabbath is the great mean of preserving in the 
world the knowledge and the worship of the one living 
and true God. Wherever the sabbath is not, there is 
no worship, no religion. Man forgets God, and God 
forsakes man. The moral world becomes a desert, 
where life never springs, and beauty never smiles. The 
beams of the Sun of righteousness never dawn upon 
the miserable waste ; the rains of heaven never descend. 
Putrid with sin, and shrunk with ignorance, the soul of 
man loses its rational character ; and prostrates itself 
before devils, men, beasts, and reptiles, insects, stocks, 
and stones. To these man offers his prayers, his praises, 
•and his victims ; to these he sacrifices his children, and 
to these he immolates the purity and honour of his 
wife. A brutal worshipper of a brutal god, he hopes for 
protection and blessing- from the assumption of every 
folly, and the perpetration of every crime. 

If his mind becomes enlightened by science, and 
these absurdities, as they sometimes may, become too 
gross and too naked to be received by him, he becomes 
an infidel, a sceptic, an atheist. The absurdity here is 
not indeed less, but greater. The only material differ- 
ence, is, that it is less palpable, le.«" exposed to vulgar 
eyes, less susceptible of ridicule. The former is the 
madness of a blockhead, the latter, of a man of learn- 
ing : that the folly of the clown, this of the man of fash- 
ion. In this case, the votary wanders through all the 
labyrinths of subtle disquisition ; proves right to be 
wrong, and wrong to be right ; and demonstrates that 
there is nothing either right or wrong. Freed from 



563 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY, 



[Ser. cix. 



these encumbrances, men of this character cast their 
eyes towards the enjoyments of this world, and ' covet 
their neighbour's house, and their neighbour's wife, 
his man-servant, and his maid-servant ; his ox, and his 
ass ; and every thing- that is their neighbour's.' No- 
thing, now, intervenes between themselves, and the ob- 
jects coveted, but the apprehension of resistance, and 
the dread of punishment. Elevate them to power, and 
the sabbath is changed into the decade, and the house 
of God into a stable , the Bible is paraded through the 
streets on an ass, and consumed upon a bonfire ; im- 
mortal existence is blotted out of the divine kingdom ; 
the Redeemer is postponed to a murderer; and the 
Creator to a prostitute, styled the goddess of Reason. 
The end of this progress might be easily foreseen. Le- 
galized plunder, legislative butchery, the prostitution of 
a kingdom, fields drenched in human blood, and cities 
burnt by inhuman incendiaries, fill up the tremendous 
measure of iniquity, bewilder the gazing world with as- 
tonishment, awaken the shouts of fiends, and cover 
heaven itself with a robe of sackcloth. 

But for the sabbath, this assembly had now been 
prostrate before the stock of a tree, or sitting round the 
circle of a pawwaw ; or, frantic with rage or frenzy, 
had been roaming the mountains in honour of Bacchus ; 
or drowning with shouts and screams the cries of a hu- 
man victim, offered up to appease the wrath of an im- 
aginary deity. 

But ' thanks be to God for this unspeakable gift!' 
The sabbath, ' according to his abundant mercy,' re- 
turns at the close of every week to shine upon us with 
its peaceful and benevolent beams. At the close of 
every week, with t a still, small voice,' it summons us to 
the house of God. Here we meet, and find, and know, 
and serve, our glorious and blessed Creator, Redeemer, 
and Sanctifier. Here, on the mercy-seat, he sits en- 
throned, to hear our complaints and petitions, to re- 
ceive our praises, to accept our repentance, and to for- 
give our sins, for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
Here he makes known his pleasure and our duty. 
Here he promises to those who obey, divine and eternal 
rewards ; and threatens those who disobey with terrible 
and never-ending punishments. Seen every week in 
these awful and amiable characters, God cannot be 
unknown or forgotten. Accordingly, throughout the 
ages of Christianity, his presence and agency are un- 
derstood everywhere, and by every person who fre- 
quents the house of God. The little child is as 
familiarly acquainted with them, as the man of grey 
hairs ; the peasant, as the monarch. * All, 1 in this sense, 
' know God from the least to the greatest ;' and there is 
' no occasion for a man to say to his neighbour, Know 
the Lord.' 

Intimately connected with this vast and interesting 
subject, and in an important sense the effect of the sab- 
bath only, is the attainment of holiness and salvation. 

Man, an apostate, guilty and condemned, infinitely 
needs a renovation of his character, a reversal of his 
sentence, an escape from his punishment, and a rein- 
statement in the glorious privileges from which he has 
fallen. To accomplish these inestimable and benevo- 
lent ends, God, according to the language of the text, 
has hallowed and blessed the sabbath. Through every 
age, and through every land, where the sabbath has 
been kept holy unto the Lord, this blessing has regu- 
larly and uninterruptedly descended. There the glad 



tidings of salvation have been published and received. 
There men have sought and found Jehovah, their God, 
repented of their sins, believed on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, renewed their allegiance to their rightful 
Sovereign, obtained the pardon of their sins and the 
justification of their souls, triumphed over death and the 
grave, ascended to heaven, and begun the possession of 
everlasting joy. ' Wherever even two or three have 
met together in the name of Christ, there he has been 
in the midst of them, and blessed them,' with his pecu- 
liar blessing. This holy, heavenly season, has regularly 
opened the correspondence between this miserable 
world, and the world of life and glory, and preserved 
the connexion between God and men. To it earth 
owes its chief blessings, and heaven no small part of its 
inhabitants, and of its unfading joys. 

But where mankind have ' forsaken the assembling 
of themselves together, as the manner of some is,' all 
these blessings have ceased. ' The fruitful land has 
been converted into marshes, and miry places, which 
could not be healed, and were, therefore, given to salt.' 
In such places the world, and sin, and Satan, take' en- 
tire possession of the heart, and leave no room for God. 
All the thoughts and desires are the offspring of ' the 
lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of 
life.' Like Ahab, men ' sell themselves to work wick- 
edness :' like Jeroboam, they sin, and make all around 
them to sin. There no prayers ascend to heaven, no 
voice of mercy is heard from that happy world, inviting 
sinners to faith and repentance in the Lord Jesus Christ. 
God is neither sought nor found. None ask for mercy, 
and none receive it. None knock at the door of life, 
and to none is it opened. All enter ' into the broad 
and crooked road,' and ' go down to the chambers of 
death ;' while God with an awful voice proclaims con- 
cerning them, ' Ephraim is joined to idols : let him 
alone.' 

Pause now for a moment, and recollect the number, 
the greatness, the glory, of these ends; and tell me if 
the institution which unites and accomplishes them all 
in perfect harmony, is not supremely wise, and worthy 
of God. How easily does it accomplish them, how 
perfectly, how wonderfully ! How happy is the frequent, 
convenient, necessary return of this holy day! After 
how desirable intervals, with what useful regularity, 
with what sweet serenity ! How necessary is it to the 
sinner, to call hina off from the world, from stupidity, 
from sottishness ! How necessary to awaken his at- 
tention to God, to holiness, and to heaven ; to engage 
his thoughts on spiritual and divine objects, to begin 
his repentance, faith, and love, and to place his feet in 
the path which leads to immortal life! How necessary 
to the saint, to rouse him from sloth, to recall him from 
sin ; to remind him of his duty, to increase his faith and 
holiness, and to help him forward in his journey towards 
heaven ! How necessary to Adam in his innocence ; 
how infinitely necessary to all his ruined offspring - . In 
a word, how plainly has the sabbath been blessed, as 
well as hallowed ! Blessed from the beginning to the 
present time, blessed in a multitude of particulars, bless- 
ed in every land where it has been known, with the 
immediate and peculiar favour of God, with the nearest 
resemblance to the blessings of immortality! 

2. The mind of a good man cannot fail also to be 
deeply affected with the solemnity of this institution. 

When God had ended the glorious work of creation, 



THE LAW OF GOD.— REFLECTIONS ON THE SABBATH. 



569 



' he rested the seventh day from all the work which he 
had made.' The creation was now fresh from the 
forming hand of Jehovah. The great Architect had 
' builded his stories in the heaven ; had numbered the 
stars, and called them all by their names ; had ap- 
pointed the moon for seasons, and caused the sun to 
know his going down.' He had filled the world with 
beauty and fragrance, with glory and grandeur, with 
life and immortality. In the full view of this transport- 
ing, this amazing scene, in the strong apprehension of 
the infinite perfections which it unfolded, ' the morning 
stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for 
joy :' while the Author of all things beheld the works 
which his hands had made, and pronounced them ' very 
good.' The praise begun by angels, our first parents 
reiterated on the first morning of their existence, and 
made their delightful residence vocal with hymns to 
their Creator. The first employment of Paradise, the 
first work done by man, was the worship of God. Thus 
the dawn of human existence was opened by the same 
divine employment, which will unceasingly occupy the 
everlasting day of heaven. 

When the command to 'remember' this day was 
given, there were ' in the morning thunders and light- 
nings, and a thick cloud,' upon mount Sinai, and ' the 
voice of the trumpet exceeding loud, so that all the 
people who were in the camp trembled. And mount 
Sinai was altogether on a smoke ; because the Lord de- 
scended upon it in fire, and the smoke thereof ascended 
as the smoke of a furnace ; and the whole mount quaked 
greatly.' In the midst of this amazing grandeur, in 
the midst of these awful terrors, God with his own voice 
spoke this command, and wrote it with his own finger. 
With this example and with these solemnities was one 
day in seven consecrated to Jehovah. 

When the new creation was finished, the creation of 
holiness in the soul of man, the creation of a church, 
comprising immense multitudes of immortal minds, as 
a holy and eternal kingdom unto God, Christ arose 
from the dead to endless life and glory, ' became the 
first-fruits of them that slept,' and their forerunner into 
the heavens. On this divine occasion, the same exalted 
beings, who sang together when the heavens and the 
earth were made, and proclaimed ' glory to God in 
the highest, peace on earth, good-will towards men,' 
when the Saviour of the world was born, now renewed 
their songs, and entered with Christ into the highest 
heavens, with all the pomp and splendour, which in- 
vested Sinai at the promulgation of the law. 

On this day the Spirit of grace and truth descended 
upon the apostles of our Lord and Saviour ; baptized 
them with fire, endued them with inspiration, the gift 
of tongues, and the spirit of prophecy, gave them to 
understand the gospel in its glorious mysteries, and 
enabled them, with wonderful miracles, to prove its di- 
vine origin, and thus to erect the spiritual kingdom of 
God in the world. 

All these examples, the most august, the most amaz- 
ing which the universe ever beheld, leave their whole 
weight, their infinite authority, upon this institution. 
Every Christian, therefore, while he keeps the sabbath 
holy unto God, ought, iu order to quicken himself in 
his duty, to remember that on this sacred day God 
rested ; that his Redeemer rested ; that the Spirit of 
grace descended ; and that angels repeatedly united to- 
gether in enraptured praise. Nor ought he, in any 



wise, to forget that no institution can plead so many 
and so great things done to solemnize and consecrate it 
as holy unto God, and as indispensably binding upon, 
man. 

3. We learn from the observations already made 
with what emotions the sabbath ought to be regarded 
by us. 

We assemble in the house of God, to glorify him in 
the religious worship which he has appointed, to seek 
the everlasting life of our own souls, to obtain and in- 
crease holiness in our hearts, to remember, admire, and 
celebrate the wonderful works of the old and new crea- 
tions, and the glorious perfections of the Creator and 
Redeemer. What emotions ought we to feel while en- 
gaged in this divine employment? Such unquestion- 
ably as angels experienced, when these works were done, 
and these perfections were displayed. 

Particularly, the sabbath demands of all men profound 
reverence and solemn awe. All the things, which have 
been mentioned, are supremely great, sublime, and 
wonderful. The most awful of all beings is brought 
near to our hearts, and presents himself before our 
eyes, in manifestations of a most majestic and astonish- 
ing nature. Had we been present at the work of crea- 
tion, and heard the awful command, which brought into 
being the immense mass of original elements ; had we 
seen the light, at the bidding of the great workman, 
disclose and involve the formless confusion ; the sea and 
the dry land separate; the grass, the herbs, and the 
trees instantaneously arise, and clothe the earth in one 
universal robe of life and beauty ; the sun, the moon, 
and the stars lighted up in the heavens; the various 
animals filling the world with living beings ; and man, 
the lord, the crown, and the glory of the whole, formed 
a rational and immortal being, to understand, enjoy, 
and celebrate the divine work; could we have failed 
to experience the most profound awe, amid this com- 
plication of infinite wonders, and to glorify the great 
Author of them with that ' fear of the Lord ' which is 
' the beginning of wisdom ?' 

Had we again been present at the crucifixion of 
our divine Redeemer, and beheld the eanh tremble, 
the rocks rend, the veil of the temple part asunder, the 
graves open, the saints arise, and the sun hide his face 
in darkness ; had we accompanied his body to the tomb, 
and watched the descent of the angel, the convulsions ' 
of the second earthquake, the lightnings which streamed 
from his countenance, and the swooning of the guards 
who kept the sepulchre ; had we seen our Lord resume 
his life, come forth from the grave to his doubting, 
trembling disciples ; had we seen him rise from the 
earth, enter the bosom of the cloud of glory, and with 
a solemn and magnificent progress, ascend to the hea- 
vens ; must not the same awful emotions have been in- 
stinctively renewed ? 

But all these things, this sacred day, this divine fes- 
tival, places before our eyes. If, at the same time, we 
farther remember, that we are in the house of God ; 
that hither he comes to meet us on designs of infinite 
love, to forgive our sins, to renew, receive, and save our 
souls ; that we stand before him as sinners, as apostates, 
condemned, ruined, helpless, and in ourselves hopeless 
also ; that we are suppliants for mere mercy, dependent 
on the obedience of another, and without any right- 
eousness of our own ; must we not feel our littleness and 
our guilt? Must we r.ot, instinctively, 'lay our hands 
4 c 



570 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cix. 



on our mouths, and our mouths in the dust, and cry, 
Unclean ?' Can we fail to fear ' that glorious and fear- 
ful name, Jehovah, our God ?' 

This emotion every thing in the Scriptures conspires 
to improve and strengthen. The law of God, with all 
its commands, promises, and threatenings, its divine 
rewards and amazing penalties ; the gospel with its 
solemn establishments of the law, its remedies for the 
imperfections of the law, as the means of life for sin- 
ners, its glorious invitations, supreme allurements, and 
heavenly promises ; conspire with infinite force to per- 
suade us to ' fear the Lord our God,' and to ' tremble 
at his word.' He who is thoughtless and irreverent 
here, ought to have considered how he would have felt 
amid the thunders, the lightnings, the earthquake, the 
sound of the trumpet, and the flame of devouring fire, 
from which the Creator said, ' Remember the sabbath- 
day, to keep it holy.' To this man, more than to al- 
most any other sinner, is addressed that humbling re- 
buke, ' The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his mas- 
ter's crib ; but Israel doth not know ; my people doth 
not consider. 7 

At the same time, the sabbath is to be regarded with 
peculiar joy. 

All things relating to the sabbath are not only so- 
lemn, but joyful things. At the creation, a new uni- 
verse started up into being, and life, reason, virtue, and 
immortality were given to an endless multitude of crea- 
tures. At the new creation an endless multitude of 
perishing sinners, destined to eternal sin and eternal 
woe, were recalled from the melancholy regions of 
death and depravity, to immortal holiness, life, and 
glory.- On these stupendous occasions ' all the sons of 
God shouted for joy.' We are still more interested in 
the last of them than they could be ; for we are the 
miserable beings who are redeemed and saved. On the 
sabbath, the great body of the church has been brought 
into the kingdom of grace, and prepared for the king- 
dom of glory. On the first sabbath, upon which began 
the great work of erecting the kingdom of Christ in the 
world by the apostles, three thousand souls were added 
unto the Lord. On the first sabbath, the apostles were 
' baptized with the Holy Ghost, and with fire,' and di- 
vinely empowered to spread salvation through the world. 
On the sabbath, the souls of men have ever since been 
flocking into the kingdom of Christ, and taking posses- 
sion of immortality. The sabbath has been the great 
means of preserving that kingdom. To the sabbath it 
is owing, that the glad tidings of salvation are now 
heard in this desolate world. To the sabbath it is ow- 
ing, that in this land, where, ever since the deluge, no- 
thing was heard but the howlings of wild beasts, the 
war-screams of savages, or the groans of torture and 
death, now through a thousand churches is weekly re- 
sounded the music of heaven, and the proclamation of 
life eternal to mankind. The sabbath is appropriately 
i the accepted time ;' it is eminently ' the day of salva- 
tion.' To the sabbath will our salvation be owed, if we 
attain salvation. On the sabbath, all Christian assem- 
blies meet to offer up their humble prayers ; to send up 
their hymns of praise to their ' Father who is in hea- 
ven ;' to teach, and receive, ' the words of eternal life ;' 
' to be baptized into the name of the Father, of the Son, 
and of the Holy Ghost ;' and to receive the body and 
blood of their crudfied Redeemer. On the sabbath, the 
Christian world bears, in this manner, no unhappy re- 



semblance of heaven ; and a little part of the melancholy 
hours of time become a fair image of the pure and 
never-ending sabbath beyond the grave. 

With these delightful things in view, can we fail to 
unite with ' the church cf the first-born,' and ' the innu- 
merable company of angels,' and repeat and respond 
their divine exultation ? Shall not our songs bear an 
humble unison with theirs? Shall not the joy which 
tliey feel on the great business of the day, the repent- 
ance and return of sinners, find a welcome admission 
to our hearts ? Shall we not i rejoice in him that made 
us ?' Shall not ' the children of Zion be joyful in their 
king?' 

God on this day rejoiced over the creation which his 
hands had made. Angels rejoiced in the wonders of 
the work, and in the divine workman. Christ rejoiced 
over the church, which he redeemed with his own blond. 
Heaven has rejoiced at every return of this delightful 
season, and renewed its transports over all the sons of 
Adam, whom this day has with divine efficacy raised 
from death to life. ■ The Lord God is' now our ' sun 
and our shield.' Now • he gives grace and glory.' This 
day ' he withholds no good thing from them that walk 
uprightly.' Let mortals behold these things with won- 
der and gratulation, and anticipate the pure and per- 
manent transports of the everlasting sabbath in the 
heavens. 

Nor is this holy day to be less regarded with grati- 
tude. 

All the benevolent things which God has done for us, 
this day brings before our eyes. Our being,' our daily 
blessings, our redemption, our salvation, the resumed 
character of holiness, the title to endless life, the final 
escape from sin and misery, this heavenly season pro- 
claims with an unceasing voice. At this season, God 
comes down to dwell among men, divested, with respect 
to all who are willing to receive him, of the awful 
frowns of an offended judge, clothed with the smiles of 
an eternal benefactor, and adorned with the endearing 
titles of the Father, the Redeemer, and the Sanctifier 
of man. Here the calls to gratitude are all united. The 
blessings of earth and heaven, of time and eternity, here 
invite us to love and praise the author of all our mer- 
cies. Can we fail to ' render to him according to his 
benefits ?' Can we fail this day to ascribe f blessing, 
and honour, and glory, and power, to him that sitteth 
on the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever?' 

4. How ought the Christian church to bless God for 
this institution ! 

To thi3 institution we owe far the greater part of the 
spiritual blessings which we enjoy, and, in a high sense, 
we owe them all. But for this day, we should neither 
have sought nor secured eternal life ; for where no sab- 
bath is, there is no religion. But for this day, earthly 
things would have engrossed all our thoughts. Honour, 
wealth, and pleasure, are the real syrens, which charm 
mankind to shipwreck and death. To their songs the 
ear of man is by nature attuned, and the heart beats in 
regular response. But for this day, the world, as a 
canker, would rust, corrupt, and consume all the dispo- 
sition to piety, and all the hopes of heaven. The soul 
would be benumbed. Religion would die. God would 
be forgotten. The death of Christ would be vain. Man- 
kind would cease to be saved ; and heaven would fail of 
her destined inhabitants. How desolate the prospect! 
How strongly would this world resemble the regions of 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OF CHILDREN. 



571 



final despair; where no sabbath dawns, where no prayers 
nor praises ascend, no sermons proclaim pardon and 
peace to sinners, the voice of mercy never sounds, and 
the smiles of forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying 
love never illumine the dreary valley of the shadow of 
death ! 

All things pertaining to salvation are social things ; 
things of general participation and powerful sympathy. 
They exist chiefly in multitudes. Without the sabbath, 
there is no reason to believe that they could exist at 
all. Not where one is employed in religious worship 
merely, nor principally ; but where ' two or three are 
met together in the name of Christ,' is his presence 
promised. Not in the closet, the recess, or the solitude, 
but ' on Zion, whither the tribes go up, has the Lord 
commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.' 

5. What an illustrious type is the sabbath of the ever- 
lasting rest enjoyed by the children of Cod! 

The sabbath is a rest from sin, business, and pleasure ; 
a day in which God is worshipped, divine knowledge 
improved, and holiness attained and increased ; a day 
in which saints delightfully commune, and joyfully cele- 
brate the wonders of creation, and the sublimer wonders 
of redemption. On the sabbath God is peculiarly pre- 



sent, reconciled, forgiving, and sanctifying ; and the 
Spirit of truth eminently communicates comfortable evi 
dence of divine love, whispers peace, and inspires joy. 
The sabbath is, therefore, the day of hope and conso- 
lation, of enjoyment and triumph ; the foretaste of 
heaven ; the entrance to the glorious assembly of the 
blessed. 

The future rest of the children of God is divinely 
formed of these delightful ingredients. Here eternal 
peace begins its undisturbed reign over all the great 
kingdom of Jehovah. Here immortal minds are con- 
summated in that holiness, which is the image of the 
heavenly Adam. Here those minds, in the exercise of 
that holiness,., with exalted friendship and pure un- 
bosomed intercourse, commence their everlasting joy. 
Here ' God is all in all.' Here he unveils his face, and 
discloses the smiles of infinite love to the assembly of 
the first-born. And here, ' the Lamb, the glory of God,' 
and ' the light ' of heaven, illumines all their thoughts, 
quickens all their affections, ' feeds them with living 
bread, leads them to fountains of living waters,' and 
awakens into transport their hymns of never-ending 
praise. 



SERMON CX. 

THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT — DUTY OF CHILDREN. 



Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. — 

Exoo. xx. 12. 



The four first commands of the decalogue enjoin those 
which are called the duties of piety. These were writ- 
ten on the first table, and were summed up by Moses 
and by Christ in this general one ; ' Thou shalt love the 
Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, with 
all thy mind, and with all thy strength.' We are now 
entering upon the consideration of the six last ; direct- 
ing what are commonly called the duties of morality, or 
our duties towards mankind. These were written upon 
the second table, and are summed up by Moses, by 
Christ, and by St Paul, in ' the second great command,' 
6tyled by St James the royal law, f Thou shalt love thy 
neighbour as thyself.' The first of these commands is 
the text. As a general preface to the observations 
■which I propose to make, successively, on these com- 
mands, it will be proper to remark, that they are uni- 
versally to be extended according to the interpretation 
given by our Saviour of the sixth and seventh, in his 
sermon on the mount. In commenting on the former 
of these, Christ teaches us, that to be t angry with our 
brother without a cause,' to { say unto him, Raca, or thou 
fool,' is to be guilty of a breach of this command. In 
commenting on the seventh, he declares, that ' whosoever 
looketh on a woman, to lust after her, the same hath 
committed adultery with her already in his heart.' Gen- 
erally, all these precepts are to be considered as direct- 
ing our duty in all respects which, by inference or 



analogy, can be fairly arranged under them. Accord- 
ingly (to give an example,) I shall consider this com- 
mand as regulating the duties reciprocally owed by 
parents and children, magistrates and subjects, and by 
other classes of mankind in their several relations. That 
I am warranted in this mode of explaining these pre- 
cepts, is, I think, evident from the conduct of our Savi- 
our. I shall only add, that in this manner they have 
been generally understood by divines, and extensively 
declared in catechisms: For example, in that of the 
Westminster Assembly, that of Dr Novell, and that of 
King Edward. In the examination of the subjects in- 
volved in this command, I shall begin with that which 
is directly expressed — the duty of children to their 
parents. 

The word ( honour,' by which this duty is here en- 
joined, is chosen with supreme felicity ; as being suffi- 
ciently comprehensive, and sufficiently definite, to ex- 
press, with as much exactness as can easily be compassed, 
all the several branches of duty which parents can 
equitably demand of their children. Particularly, it is 
explained by Christ, commenting, Matt. xv. 3, on the 
vile fetch by which the Pharisees released their disciples 
from obedience to this precept, to involve the obligation 
of children to support their parents in their indigence 
and old age. It is also explained by St Paul, as en- 
joining the universal obedience of children. In its own 



572 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. ex. 



primary sense, also, it denotes all the affection and ven- 
eration which children owe to their parents, and which 
constitute so extensive and important a part of filial 
piety. 

Filial duties are so numerous, that many volumes 
might be written on this subject only, without particu- 
larizing them all. Within the limits prescribed to these 
Discourses, it is obvious nothing more can be done, than 
to exhibit briefly the prominent things included in this 
and the following precepts. Nothing more, therefore, 
will be attempted. According to this plan filial duty 
may be advantageously comprised under the following 
heads : 

I. Children are bound to regard their parents with 
respect and reverence at all times. 

Particularly, these exercises of filial piety are, 

1. To exist in the thoughts. 

' Keep thy heart,' said David to Solomon, ' with all 
diligence ; for out of it are the issues of life.' All 
good proceeds from this source, as well as all evil, 
lu vain will children labour to perform their duty in 
any other manner, if they neglect it in this. Here 
the whole course of filial piety begins ; and if not com- 
menced here, will never be pursued with any success. 
Thoughts are the soul, the living principle, of all duty. 
Every thing else is a lifeless body without a soul, a 
shadow without a substance. 

Every child is bound to entertain the most respectful 
and reverential thoughts concerning his parents, and 
concerning the parental character. He is to remember 
and regard his parents, as standing in the most vener- 
able and the most endearing of all earthly relations to 
him ; as those to whom under God, he owes his being, 
and the great mass of his blessings. He is to regard 
them as the persons to whose kindness, care, and go- 
vernment be has been committed by God himself. He 
is to consider them as the best of all friends ; the most 
affectionate, the most faithful, the most confidential, 
the most persevering, the most watchful, the most un- 
wearied. 

His affections towards them ought ever to be reve- 
rential, grateful, warm, and full of kindness. Whatever 
his plans or purposes are, he ought invariably to feel, 
that they will be most safely, and, in every case of any 
importance, should be regularly intrusted to them for 
advice and direction. Parents, unless when under the 
immediate influence of some strong passion or preju- 
dice, very rarely oppose of design the real interests of 
their children. Almost all the counsels, injunctions, 
and reproofs which they give, and which the children 
at times consider as unkind, are given, intentionally at 
least, for their good, and ought to be regarded only in 
this manner. Children are bound to fix in their minds 
an habitual sense of the superior station and wisdom of 
their parents, and of their own inferiority in all these 
respects. Their thoughts and affections towards them 
ought, universally, to spring from this sense of their 
superiority ; a superiority originated by the creating 
hand of God, and consummated by his most holy law. 
To this sense ought all their views to be conformed. 
The beginnings of irreverence, the first tendencies to- 
wards disadvantageous, light, disrespectful apprehen- 
sions concerning them, they are bound to crush in the 
bud, and to cultivate with watchful care every affec- 
tionate and respectful emotion. 

13y the providence of God it is frequently brought to 



pass, that parents are, in humble life, uneducated, igno- 
rant, little regarded by the world, irreligious, not 
unfrequently openly vicious, and sometimes plainly 
scandalous. Here filial piety, it must be acknowledged, 
becomes a harder task; and, especially in the last-men- 
tioned cases, is attended with serious difficulty in its 
various duties. Children are, however, to remember 
that God has given even the children of such parents 
no dispensation with respect to their filial duties. The 
command in the text is addressed to them no less abso- 
lutely than to other children. As their case is more 
difficult, they are required to make more careful and 
vigorous exertions ; to forget the personal character, 
and to remember only the parental. The children 
may be better educated, may know more, may have 
better dispositions, and may sustain better characters. 
Let them remember, that to God in the first place, and 
ordinarily to these very parents in the second, they 
owe these blessings ; and let them show their gratitude, 
their superior understanding, to the eye of him from 
whom they derive their all, by cultivating the senti- 
ments which I have urged, and by resisting effectually 
those which I have condemned. He who gave them 
parents, he who made them children, he who said to 
them, ' Honour thy father and thy mother,' has an in- 
disputable right to require this conduct at their hands. 
If the duty is difficult, it is proportionally excellent, 
honourable, and lovely. 

2. The same exercises of filial piety are to be mani- 
fested in the words of children. 

The words uttered by children which respect their 
parents in any manner, are to correspond with the 
thoughts which have been here recommended, and, if 
effectual care is taken to make the thoughts right, the 
words will be right of course. 

When children speak to their parents, they are re- 
quired ever to speak modestly, submissively, and re- 
spectfully. Whatever opinions children may entertain, 
which may differ from those of their parents in any 
case, it is their duty to propose with humility, meek- 
ness, and respect. They are to address them, not as 
disputants, not as equals ; but as children, as modest 
inferiors. Both their words, and their manner of utter- 
ing them, should bear unequivocal evidence that they 
are conscious of this character. 

When children speak of their parents to others, they 
are bound to speak with the most exact caution, and 
with similar respect, and never to say any thing con- 
cerning them which they would be unwilling. to say to 
them when present. It is their duty invariably to en- 
deavour, so far as truth and propriety will admit, to 
render the character of their parents respectable in the 
eyes of others. The faults of their parents it is their 
duty to conceal, their excellencies always readily to 
admit, and to experience and manifest their satisfaction 
when others admit them. They are not, indeed, to 
boast of the good qualities of their parents, as they are 
not to boast of any thing else ; but with modesty and 
propriety to welcome them, when mentioned by others ; 
and, when they have a becoming occasion, to speak of 
them themselves. 

Sometimes children are compelled to the mortifica- 
tion of hearing their parents ill spoken of by others. 
Their duty then requires them, whenever they can do 
it with success, to repel the ungenerous attack, and to 
defend the character of their parents. If this is not in 



THE LAW OF GOD DUTY OF CHILDREN. 



573 



their power, they are bound to manifest their indigna- 
tion and disgust by such declarations as the nature of 
the case demands : and at least to prevent themselves 
from the pain and mischief produced by such conversa- 
tion, by withdrawing finally from persons of this unrea- 
sonable and abusive character. 

3. The same spirit ought to appear in all the deport- 
ment of children. 

The deportment of children, when their parents are 
present, ought to exhibit every mark of respect. The 
1 honour ' required in the text ought, in the literal 
sense, to be here invariably rendered without qualifica- 
tion, without reserve, without reluctance. However 
humble the station, the circumstances, the education, or 
the manners of parents may be, the child, instead of 
discovering that he is ashamed of them, or of assuming 
to himself airs of importance, is bound cheerfully to 
acknowledge their proper superiority, to exhibit to- 
wards them a respectful deference, and always to pre- 
vent even a remote suspicion that he is reluctant to 
give them their proper place. 

II. Chitdren are bound to obey the commands of 
their parents. 

That it is the province of parents to govern, and that 
of children to obey, will not be questioned. Nor will 
it be doubted, that children are equally bound to ab- 
stain from things prohibited by their parents, as to 
perform those which they enjoin. Of this obedience it 
may be observed, 

1. That it ought to be uniform and faithful. 
' Children,' says St Paul, * obey your parents in all 
things ; for this is right and well-pleasing to the Lord.' 
To the universality of this precept there is but one ex- 
ception ; and that is, when the injunction is contrary to 
the law of God. The obedience of little children ought 
undoubtedly to be implicit. They are plainly incapable 
of directing their own conduct, and parents are ap- 
pointed by God himself to direct it. While it is the 
duty of the parent to instruct his child in the nature of 
moral conduct, and the reasonableness and rectitude of 
his own commands, as fast as the understanding of the 
child will permit, and to give no commands which are 
not agreeable to the will of God, it is undoubtedly the 
duty of the child to obey every parental precept, except 
such as are of this nature. To this rule I know of no 
exception. 

Filial obedience is commonly rendered without much 
difficulty, when parents are present. Every child should 
remember that his obligations to obedience are not les- 
sened by their absence ; that God is then present ; that 
he has required them not to obey with eye-service ; and 
that he records all their conduct in the book of his re- 
membrance. 

They are also ever to keep in mind, that they are 
required to obey difficult commands, as well as those 
which are easy ; those which require much self-denial, 
labour, and trouble, as well as those which are attended 
only with pleasure ; those in which their disobedience 
will never be detected, as well as those in which it will 
certainly be known. No other obedience deserves the 
name of faithful. 

2. Filial obedience ought to be ready and cheerful. 
This is the only obedience which commends itself to 
the common sense of mankind, or which is of any value 
in the sight of God. In this obedience the heart is con- 
cerned, and the child active. Every thing else which 



goes under this name is constrained, hypocritical, a 
cheat, a sin. No other is regarded in the Scriptures. 
To sustain this character, the obedience of children 
should be rendered without opposition, and without de- 
lay. A great part of the value of filial obedience arises 
from the manner in which it is rendered. God himself 
' loves the cheerful giver.' Mankind have exactly the 
same views of this subject, and universally consider that 
which is done grudgingly, as little better, and often 
worse, than if it had not been done at all. 

III. Children are bound to do whatever will reason- 
ably contribute to the happiness of their parents, 
whether commanded or not. 

The modes in which this part of filial duty is to be 
rendered are so numerous, that it is impossible to recite 
them. It will be sufficient to observe at the present 
time, that no filial piety is more lovely, or more accor- 
dant with the text, than that which attentively prevents 
the wants, the commands, and the wishes of parents ; 
which adds to their comforts, and lessens their troubles, 
in a thousand indescribable ways, readily offering them- 
selves to the mind of a dutiful child. 

One of the happiest modes of obeying the text is 
found in the discreet, amiable, and virtuous behaviour 
of children. Parents are delightfully honoured when 
their children exhibit excellent conduct before mankind, 
and thus acquire the approbation and good-will of those 
around them. In this case they render a very pleasing 
and very honourable tribute to the parental wisdom, 
care, and faithfulness employed in their education ; and 
show in the strongest manner, that the precepts by 
which they have been trained up have been received 
by them with such reverence and piety, as to have a 
commanding influence upon their lives. In this man- 
ner children become ' the glory of their parents, and 
the crown of grey hairs.' 

The duties of children obviously change with the 
change of age and circumstances. When they are very 
young, their obedience, as I remarked, must be impli- 
cit. They are to obey without investigation, inquiry, 
or doubt ; for this plain reason, that they are incapable 
altogether of judging for themselves. But they are to 
be taught to judge, as early as their years and under- 
standing will permit. This is indispensable ; because 
by learning habitually the reasons on which their pa- 
rents' commands are founded, they will soon learn to 
think that they are all reasonable ; and obey them with 
more readiness and exactness on this account ; and be- 
cause many cases will occur, in which their parents 
cannot be present, and in which therefore they must 
judge for themselves. This, it is plain, they cannot do, 
unless they are taught. As they advance in years and 
understanding, the nature of their obedience will vary ; 
chiefly from this circumstance, that they understand 
their duty, and the reasons on which it is founded ; and 
are therefore required to perform it from a due regard 
to its nature and importance, to the law of God which 
established it, and to the character and kindness of 
their parents which demand it from their reverence and 
their gratitude. In other respects, their obedience is 
founded on the same principle, during the whole period 
of their non-age. 

Nor do the same rules apply to them in a very diffe- 
rent manner after they have arrived at adult years, so 
long as they continue in their father's house, and are 
members of his family. In this situation however, the 



574 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. ex. 



circumstances of both parents and children vary so 
much, that the relations and duties of both are usually 
modified by some plan or compact between them, suffi- 
ciently understood to serve as a rule by which the con- 
duct of the child is to be directed. I shall therefore 
think it necessary only to observe, that when children 
have faithfully performed their duty to this period, they 
rarely fail of performing it afterward. 

When children have left their father's house, their 
circumstances become more materially changed, and 
with them, in several respects, their duties. They then 
have separate interests, and business of their own, and 
usually families also. When God instituted marriage, 
he authorized children to leave the house and govern- 
ment of their parents. ' For this cause,' said the Crea- 
tor, ' shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall 
cleave unto his wife,' Matt. xix. 4, 5. In this situation, 
then, children become parents, heads of families, in- 
vested with all the authority, possessed of all the rights, 
and subjected to all the duties, pertaining to their own 
parents. It is impossible, that in these circumstances 
they should fulfill their former duties as children under 
the government of their parents, unless they neglect 
those which are indispensable in their present situation. 
From many of these duties therefore they are released. 

Still, as they are more indebted to their parents than 
to any other human beings, and incomparably more in- 
debted, at least in ordinary cases, their remaining duties 
to their parents are numerous and important. In this 
situation, more frequently than any other, they are re- 
quired to contribute to the maintenance of their parents. 
This is made by our Saviour to be so important a branch 
of the command in our text, that he declares the Pha- 
risees, who by a fraudulent comment on this precept 
had released men from the duty in question, to have 
' made this command of God of none effect by their 
tradition.' In this period also they are bound, as much 
as may be, to nurse and soothe their parents in pain and 
sickness, to bear patiently and kindly their infirmities 
of body and mind, to alleviate their distresses, to give 
them the cheering influence of their company and con- 
versation, and in these and various other ways to serene 
and brighten the evening, but too frequently a melan- 
choly one, of old age. 

The children of sinful parents have always a difficult 
task to perform. To a pious child, a parent visibly 
going down in the broad and crooked road that leads 
to destruction, is a sight beyond measure distressing. 
That a child thus situated is bound in every discreet 
and efficacious manner to prevent, as far as may be, 
the awful catastrophe, will not be questioned, unless by 
an atheist. What is to be done in so dreadful a case, 
it will be impossible to prescribe here, unless in very 
general terms. Every child win know indeed, without 
information, that his prayers are to be offered up for his 
parent, and his own pious example presented to him, 
without ceasing. Every child also knows that all his 
own measures, whatever they may be in other respects, 
are to be obedient, modest, and reverential. No other 
measures can, in these circumstances, be hopefully 
followed by any good consequences. Still they may 
be sufficiently plain and unequivocal as to their mean- 
ing- 

Among the efforts made by such a child, in addition 
to his own discreet personal conduct and conversation, 
few seem better fitted to answer the end in view, than 



inducing persons possessed of known wisdom and piety, 
especially those of an engaging deportment, frequently 
to visit the parent, and persuading him also often to 
visit them ; placing books of a religious nature, written 
in a pleasing and interesting manner, within his reach ; 
alluring him regularly to the house of God, and to pri- 
vate religious assemblies; and introducing, without any 
apparent design, religious topics, especially those which 
are peculiarly interesting, as often as may be with pro- 
priety. In my own view, the child is also bound 
modestly, submissively, and discreetly, to remonstrate 
against the visible wickedness of the parent. I can see 
no reason which will justify a child in the omission of 
this duty, although I am not unaware of the peculiar 
difficulties which attend it, nor unapprized of the pecu- 
liar delicacy and prudence which it demands. Reproof, 
even from equals or superiors, requires more skill and 
care in order to render it successful, than fall to the 
lot of most men. In a child to a parent it must be sin- 
gularly embarrassing. 

A less delicate task, yet still attended with many 
difficulties, lies in avoiding the influence naturally pre- 
sented, and often but too efficaciously, by the sentiments, 
precepts, and examples, of evil parents. The parental 
character is so venerable, so authoritative, so endearing, 
and so persuasive, that the child who escapes its malig- 
nant influence when employed to encourage sin, may 
well be considered as eminently the object of the divine 
favour. Still it is possible, and has existed in multi- 
plied instances. Abijah escaped even in the house of 
Jeroboam, Hezekiah in that of Ahaz, and Josiah in 
that of Amon. Thus also has the fact often been in all 
succeeding ages of time. Children, therefore, instead 
of despairing, should gird themselves with watchfulness 
and resolution suited to their circumstances ; should 
continually and fervently beseech God to guard them by 
his good Spirit from the dangers in which they stand ; 
should watch their own conduct with peculiar anxiety ; 
should seek for wisdom and direction from religious 
books, especially from the Scriptures ; and should ask 
advice, countenance, and assistance from those among 
their friends who are persons of piety. The company 
of such persons counteracts, in a manner invaluable, the 
influence of evil example. ' He that walketh with wise 
men,' says God, ' shall be wise.' 

Having thus given a summary account of the duties 
of children, I shall now proceed to mention several rea- 
sons to enforce them. 

1. Every considerate child will feel his filial duty 
strongly urged by the excellence of this conduct, and the 
odiousness of filial impiety. 

This is one of the few moral subjects concerning 
which all men are agreed. The writers, of all ages and 
of all countries, have taught us with a single voice, that 
to the common eye of mankind no object is more ami- 
able, or more delightful than a dutiful and virtuous child. 
This charming object commends itself at first view to 
the natural feelings, the judgment, and the conscience 
of all men. It commends itself at once, without delibera- 
tion, and without doubt. It has commended itself to 
persons of every character, in every age, and in every 
country. It is esteemed, it is loved. The affection 
which it excites, and the reputation which it produces, 
are sincere, solid, and permanent. Nothing more cer- 
tainly generates esteem, nothing more uniformly creates 
friends. It is a kind of glory surrounding the child 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OF CHILDREN. 



575 



wherever he goes ; seen, felt, and acknowledged by all 
men, and conferring a distinction otherwise unattain- 
able. All persons presage well of such a child ; and he 
is expected of course to fill every station to which his 
talents are suited with propriety and honour. 

An undutiful child, on the contrary, brands his own 
character with odiousness and infamy. No person sees 
him, or thinks of him, without pain and disgust. No 
parent is willing that his own children should become 
his companions. The vilest persons regard him with 
contempt and abhorrence, the best, with pity and indig- 
nation. A parent on his death-bed hardly knows how 
to ask a blessing for him ; and those who survive are 
still more unable to believe it will descend upon his 
head. ( 

2. Considerate children will find another powerful 
reason for filial duty in the pleasure which it gives their 
parents. 

Nothing which takes place in human life creates a 
higher, more genuine, or more unmingled pleasure, in 
the minds of parents, than the pious and dutiful conduct 
of their children. It is indeed impossible that a child 
should form adequate conceptions of the delight which 
such conduct awakens in the parental heart. Expe- 
rience only can completely teach the nature of this 
emotion. Still, children cannot but know that their 
parents in this manner find exquisite enjoyment ; nor 
can they be ignorant, that to produce it is one of their 
own chief blessings, as well as one of their indispens- 
able duties. Filial piety is a continual feast ; an ample 
reward for every parental care, toil, watching, anxiety, 
and prayer. It sweetens all the bitterness of human 
life; and adds an exquisite relish to every comfort. 
The burdens of life it makes light and easy, and is the 
most supporting stay on this side of heaven to the 
weary steps of declining age. 

An undutiful child, on the other hand, is ' a broken 
reed, on which if a man lean, it shall thrust through his 
hand, and pierce him.'' * A foolish son is a heaviness ' 
alike ' to his' father and ' his mother ;' a spot on their 
character, a trial on their patience, a blast upon their 
hopes, a nuisance to their family, and a thorn in their 
hearts. 

3. The demands of gratitude present a combination of 
such reasons, to every such child, for the same conduct. 

Parental love is unrivalled by any affection of the 
human breast in its strength, its tenderness, its pa- 
tience, its permanency, and its cheerful self-denial. 
The labours which it undergoes, and the willingness 
with which it undergoes them, are unexampled in the 
concerns of man. No other affection toils with the 
same readiness and patience, or voluntarily encounters 
the same watchings, cares, pains, and anxieties. None 
prompts so many prayers, none awakens so many tears. 
Most of human life, after we arrive at adult age, is spent 
in providing for the wants, alleviating the sufferings, 
removing the diseases, furnishing the education, guard- 
ing the conduct, securing the safety, accomplishing the 
settlement, and promoting the salvation, of children. 
More is done by parents, and daily done, than children 
can ever realize, until they are called to do the same 
things for their own offspring. All at the same time 
are efforts of tenderness merely. These efforts are 
almost without number, this tenderness almost without 
degree. What child, who remembers that he is indebt- 
ed to his parents for his being, and under God for al- 



most every blessing which he enjoys, for almost all that 
he is, and almost all that he has, can fail to feel, and to 
acknowledge, that the utmost which he can do in the 
proper course of filial piety, is an imperfect requital for 
such affections and such blessings as these ? That there 
are such beings I am reluctantly compelled to confess. 
Children they ought not to be called. They are un- 
worthy of the name. They are monstrous productions, 
out of the course of nature ; and, like all such produc- 
tions, fill the mind only with loathing and horror. Let 
such children remember, that they are objects of still 
more abhorrence to God, than to men. Let them re- 
member, that this great and awful Being, who has styled 
himself the Father of mankind, and who has imaged 
his own tenderness for his creatures by that of a Father 
to his children, will, at the final day, vindicate the pa- 
rental rights in a terrible manner, by inflicting the 
severest punishment on undutiful children. 

4. The great advantages of filial piety present strong 
reasons for the practice of it to children of every cha- 
racter. 

Of the text St Paul observes, when enjoining the 
duties of it upon the children of the Ephesian Chris- 
tians, that ' it is the first commandment with promise.' 
Accordingly, he urges their obedience to it upon the 
very ground of this promise, that ' their days also might 
be long upon the land, which the Lord their God had 
given them.' This promise, therefore, to such an ex- 
tent, that an apostle thought proper to urge it upon the 
Ephesian Christians, extends to the Gentiles. The 
promises to the Jews, in most instances, announced 
temporal blessings only. Those which are made to 
Christians chiefly convey spiritual blessings. But that 
which is contained in the text conveys temporal bless- 
ings also. In conversing with the plain people of this 
country, distinguished for their good sense, and careful 
observation of facts, I have found them, to a great ex- 
tent, firmly persuaded of the verification of this promise 
in our own days ; and ready to produce a variety of 
proofs from cases in which they have seen the blessing 
realized. Their opinion on this subject is mine ; and 
with their experience my own has coincided. 

Indeed, no small measure of prosperity seems ordi- 
narily interwoven with a course of filial piety. The 
comfort which it insures to parents, the harmony which 
it produces in the family, the peace which it yields to 
the conscience, are all essential ingredients of happiness. 
To these it adds the approbation of every beholder, the 
possession of a fair and lasting reputation, the confi- 
dence and good-will of every worthy man, and, of con- 
sequence, an opportunity of easily gaining those useful 
employments which worthy men have to give. Beyond 
this, it naturally associates with itself that temperance, 
moderation, and sobriety, which furnish a solid founda- 
tion for health and long life. In my own apprehension, 
however, these are not all its blessings. 1 do not be- 
lieve that miracles are wrought for its reward ; neither 
will I say that purer gales breathe to preserve its 
health ; nor that softer suns arise, or more timely rains 
descend to mature its harvests ; nor ,that more propitious 
winds blow, to waft its ships home in safety. But I will 
say, that on the tide of providence multiplied blessings 
are borne into its possession, at seasons when they are 
unexpected, in ways unforeseen, and by means unprovid- 
ed by its own forecast, which are often of high import- 
ance ; which altogether constitute a rich proportion of 






576 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. cxi. 



prosperity, and which usually are not found by persons 
of the contrary character. 

At the same time, those who act well as children, al- 
most, of course, act well as men and women ; and thus 
have taken, without design, the scion of happiness from 
the parental stock, and grafted it upon other stems, 
which bear fruit abundantly to themselves. Here, in 
the language of Dr Watts, 

' It revives, and hears 
A train of blessings for their heirs. 1 

It is also never to be forgotten, that filial piety, if 
derived from an evangelical source, is entitled to the 
peculiar favour of God in the present world, and to the 
everlasting blessings of the world to come. 

5. The declarations of God concerning this important 
subject, furnish reasons at once alluring and awful, for 
the exercise of filial piety. 

The text is an illustrious example of this nature, of 
the most persuasive kind. Deut. xxi. 18, gives us a 
terrible one concerning the stubborn and rebellious son. 
' The eye,' says Agur, ' that mocketh at his father, and 
refuseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley 
shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it' 

One of the most interesting accounts of this subject 
to be found in the Scriptures, as it has struck my mind, 
is exhibited in the thirty-fifth chapter of Jeremiah. 
Jonadab, the son of Rechab, commanded his children, 
and their posterity, ' neither to drink wine, nor to build 
houses, nor to sow seed, nor to jMant vineyards, but to 
dwell in tents from generation to generation.' The 



Bechabites obeyed his voice ; and, at the time of Jere- 
miah, had for three hundred years lived in the manner 
which their ancestor enjoined. As a reward of their 
filial obedience, the prophet Jeremiah was sent unto the 
Rechabites with this remarkable message: ' Thus saith 
Jehovah of Hosts, the God of Israel, Because ye have 
obeyed the commandment of Jonadab, your father, and 
kept all his precepts, and done according to all that he 
hath commanded you ; therefore thus saith Jehovah of 
Hosts, the God of Israel, Jonadab, the son of Rechab, 
shall not want a man to stand before me for ever.' 

6. The example of Christ is a reason of the highest 
import to compel the exercise of filial piety. 

This wonderful person, notwithstanding his great 
and glorious character, and sublime destination, was 
the fairest specimen of obedience to parents ever seen 
in the present world. Let children remember, that, 
1 if they have not the spirit of Christ, they are none of 
his.' He was subject to his parents, as a child of their 
family, until he was thirty years of age ; and forgot 
not, when he hung on the cross, to provide an effectual 
support and protection for his mother. Let all chil- 
dren remember, when they are weary of labouring for 
their parents, that Christ laboured for his ; when they 
are impatient of their commands, that Christ cheerfully 
obeyed ; when they are reluctant to provide for their 
parents, that Christ forgot himself, and provided for 
his mother, amid the agonies of crucifixion. The affec- 
tionate language of this divine example to every child 
is, ' Go thou, and do likewise.' 



SERMON CXI. 



THE LAW OF GOD— THE DECALOGUE— THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT— DUTY OF PARENTS. 



Train up a child in the way he should go, and when lie is old, he will not depart from it Prov. 



xxii. 6. 



In the preceding Discourse I gave a brief account of 
the duties of Children. I shall now proceed to consider 
the duties of parents. This also I must consider in a 
very summary manner, notwithstanding the copiousness 
and importance of the subject. 

In this passage of Scripture, parents are'directed to 
' train up their children in the way in which they should 
go ;' and, to encourage them to this duty, a promise is 
given, that their children, if trained in this way, ' will 
not depart from it' The word train originally denotes 
to draw along by a regular and steady course of exer- 
tions ; and is, hence, very naturally used to signify 
drawing from one action to another, by persuasions, 
promises, and other efforts, continually repeated. In a 
loose and general sense, therefore, it may easily include 
all the duties of parents to their children. 

The way in which a child should go, is undoubtedly 
the way in which it is best for him to go, with respect 
both to his temporal and eternal well-being. 

These duties are customarily, and justly, distributed 
under three heads : 

The maintenance ; 



The education j 

The settlement of children. 

The maintenance of children must unquestionably be 
such as the circumstances of the parents will admit, 
consistently with the dictates of prudence, and such as 
will secure comfort to their children. Their food and 
raiment, their employments and gratifications, ought to 
be all such as to promote their health. They are care- 
fully to be nursed in sickness, and guarded from dan- 
ger. Their enjoyments of every kind ought invariably 
to be innocent. ; reasonable in their number and degree ; 
evident testimonies of parental wisdom, as well as of 
parental affection ; such as shall prevent them from suf- 
fering unnecessary mortification ; and such as shall not 
flatter pride, foster avarice, or encourage sloth or sen- 
suality. They ought also to be such as to place them 
upon the same level with the children of other discreet 
parents in similar circumstances. 

The education of children involves their instruction 
and government 

The instruction of children includes the things which 
they are to be taught, and the manner of teaching them. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OF PARENTS. 



577 



The tilings which children are to be taught, may be 
distributed under the two heads of natural knowledge, 
and moral knowledge. 

Natural knowledge includes, 

1. Their learning, 

By this I intend every thing which they are to gain 
from books ; whether it be learning, appropriately so 
called, or the knowledge of arts and sciences. Of this 
subject I observe generally, that, like the maintenance 
of children, it must comport with the circumstances of 
the parents. It ought also to be suited to the character, 
talents, and destination of- the child. But an acquaint- 
ance with reading, writing, and arithmetic is indispens- 
ably necessary to every child. It is indispensable, that 
every child should read the Scriptures; highly important, 
that he should read other religious books ; and very 
useful, that he should enlarge his mind by such diver- 
sified knowledge, as may render him beneficial to him- 
self and to mankind. 

2. Natural knowledge includes also an acquaintance 
with at least some one kind of useful business. 

Ordinarily, this acquaintance can be gained only in 
the practical manner ; that is, by placing the child, at 
an early period of life, in the business which is to be 
learned. After he has been instructed in reading, writ- 
ing, and arithmetic, which are indispensable to the ad- 
vantageous prosecution of every kind of business, lie 
should be required to do the very business in which he 
is to be educated. 

There is no greater mistake on the part of rich pa- 
rents, than their neglect of educating their children in' 
the thorough knowledge of some useful business. It 
is often observed, and generally felt, that such an edu- 
cation is unnecessary, because their children are to in- 
herit fortunes. The children also feel, and are taught 
by their parents to feel, that such an education is utter- 
ly unnecessary for themselves. Both at the same time 
are but too apt to consider active employments, and 
even the knowledge necessary to direct them, as humi- 
liating and disgraceful to the children. These are 
very great mistakes; the dictates of pride and vanity, 
and not of good sense. Were nothing but the present 
prosperity of children to be regarded, they ought invari- 
ably to be educated in the knowledge of useful business. 
Almost all the wealth in this country is in the hands of 
those who have acquired it by their own industry ; and 
almost all those who inherit fortunes, dissipate them in 
early life, and spend their remaining days in poverty 
and humiliation. Ignorance of business, and its conse- 
quences, idleness and profusion, will easily, and in a 
short time scatter any estate. A fortune is a pond, the 
waters of which will soon run out; well directed indus- 
try is a spring, whose streams are perennial. 

Besides, the man who pursues no useful business, is 
without significance, and without reputation. The 
sound common sense of mankind will never annex cha- 
racter to useless life. He who merely hangs as a bur- 
den on the shoulders of his fellow men, who adds 
nothing to the common stock of comfort, and merely 
spends his time in devouring it, will invariably, as well 
as justly, be accounted a public nuisance. 

Beyond all this, every parent is bound by his duty 
to God and his children, to educate them to useful 
business, in order to enable them to perforin their own 
duty : to become blessings both to themselves and man- 
kind ; and to possess the rational enjoyments furnished 



by a life of industrious activity ; in their very nature 
incomprehensibly superior to sloth and profusion. 

Moral knowledge is all included, as well as enjoined, 
in the Scriptures. It is also in its own nature, either 
directly, or indirectly, all practical. 

Knowledge of this kind is naturally distributed under 
the following heads : 

1. Piety. 

To this head belongs reverence to God. Every child 
should be taught from the beginning to fear that great 
and glorious Being, to whom he owes his existence, his 
blessings, and his hopes. This knowledge is indispens- 
able to all rectitude of character. As I have consid- 
ered the general nature of this subject in a former 
Discourse, 1 shall only observe here, that nothing will, 
in an equal degree, secure a child from sin, strengthen 
him against the force of temptation, or fix his feet im- 
movably in the path of righteousness. 

Inseparably connected with this subject is a sense of 
accountableness. Every child should know, as soon as 
he is capable of knowing, that he is a moral being in a 
state of probation for his conduct, in which he will be 
hereafter judged and rewarded ; that God is an eye- 
witness to all his secret and open conduct alike ; and 
that every thing which he speaks, thinks, or does, will 
be the foundation of his final reward. Proper impres- 
sions of these two great subjects, habitually made in 
the early periods of childhood, will influence the life 
more than any other considerations ; will revive, after 
they have been long thought to have been forgotten ; 
and will produce happy effects, when all other causes 
have lost their power. 

With the same care should children be accustomed 
to read the Scriptures, whenever they have become 
able to read. Here they will find these great subjects, 
as well as all others of a similar nature, placed in the 
strongest light, and taught in the most perfect manner ; 
a manner suited to every mind capable of understand- 
ing such subjects at all. Here, particularly, facts and 
characters of a moral nature are exhibited with a feli- 
city altogether unrivalled. With both of these children 
are delighted ; and fasten on both with that peculiar 
earnestness which prevents them from being ever obli- 
terated. As they are presented in the Scriptures, they 
are eminently entertaining to children; and. to a great 
extent are se.t in so obvious a light, as to be easily un- 
derstood even by very young minds. 

Every child should be taught also, that he is a sin- 
ner ; and, as such, exposed to the anger of God. The 
efficacy of this instruction upon the early mind is of the 
most desirable nature. Nothing more successfully 
checks the growth of pride; the most universal, the 
most pleasing, the most operative, and the most mis- 
chievous of all the human passions. Without this 
instruction, also, all other religious teaching will be in 
vain. He who is not conscious that he is a sinner, will 
never take a single step towards salvation. Happily, 
children very easily receive and admit this instruction. 
In the earlier periods of life the conscience is so far 
unbiassed, and possesses so great power, as to induce 
the heart, however reluctant in itself, regularly to ac- 
knowledge the truth of this important doctrine. 

As soon as it is practicable, every child should be 

conducted to the knowledge of the Saviour. On the 

infinite importance of this indispensable knowledge, I 

need not here dwell. Suffice it to observe, that chil- 

4 D 



578' 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxi. 



dren will sooner imbibe this knowledge than pnrents 
are usually aware, and that childhood is often the only 
opportunity for obtaining- it which they ever enjoy. 

Finally : Children should be carefully instructed in 
all the external duties of piety. They should be effec- 
tually, as well as unceasingly taught to mention the 
name of God, and every thing obviously related to this 
awful Being, with profound reverence only ; to observe 
the Sabbath, from the beginning to the end, with reli- 
gious exactness ; to be present punctiliously at the pub- 
lic worship of God, and to attend to all the ordinances 
of it with reverence and care ; to attend in the same 
manner upon family worship ; and in the same manner 
to perform regularly, every morning and every evening, 
the duty of secret prayer. 

All these things should be explained to children, in 
such a manner as to render their views of them just and 
rational, and their practice of them evangelical, and 
not a mere matter of form. 

2. Morality; or the duties which respect our fellow 
men. 

Among these, truth should hold the first place. As 
I expect speedily to examine the nature and import- 
ance of this subject, as well as most others which will 
be mentioned in this discussion, it will be unnecessary 
to expatiate upon them at present. It will be sufficient 
to say here, that a profound and reverential regard to 
truth should be awakened in the mind of a child, from 
the moment when he begins to assert any thing ; that 
no variation from it, either in jest or in earnest, should 
ever be permitted to pass without animadversion ; that 
its nature and importance should be explained to the 
child, as soon as he is able to understand them ; that 
resistance to falsehood and prevarication should invari- 
ably be made unconditionally, and without any abate- 
ment ; that this resistance should be made in every 
hopeful manner, and to every necessary degree, and 
should never cease, until the veracity of the child shall 
be effectually secured ; that every encouragement to 
veracity which prudence can suggest should be holden 
out to him continually, and that a rigid example of 
speaking truth and fulfilling promises should be set 
before him by all with whom he corresponds, especially 
by the parents and the family, without any variation 
from it, either in reality or appearance ; that all seem- 
ing departures from it should be carefully explained to 
him ; and that he should be obliged to fulfill all his pro- 
mises, if not unlawful, however inconvenient the fulfil- 
ment may be to the parents or to him. 

Justice, by which I intend commutative justice, is a 
kindred virtue to truth, and should be taught from the 
same period with the same care. Every child should 
be taught to pay all his debts, and fulfil] all his con- 
tracts, exactly in the manner, completely in the va- 
lue, and punctually at the time. Every child should 
be discouraged from the propensity to make bargains ; 
so early, so strongly, and so universally visible. He 
should be discouraged also from every wish to make 
what is called a good bargain, the common source of all 
cheating ; and should be taught, that he is bound to 
render an equivalent for what he receives. Every bar- 
gain disadvantageous to himself he should be bound 
scrupulously to fulfill. Every thing which he has bor- 
rowed he should be obliged to return uninjured at the 
time ; and every thing belonging to others which he 
has lost, he should be required to replace. In this man- 



ner he will grow up to that sense of justice, without 
which it is impossible for virtue to exist. 

Morality, begun in truth, and advanced in justice, is 
finished in kindness. The minds of children may be 
easily rendered kind by a wise cultivation ; and by the 
want of it. will easily become unfeeling and cruel. Chil- 
dren should be taught, the first moment they are capa- 
ble of being taught, a lively tenderness for the feelings, 
the sufferings, and the happiness of all beings with 
whom they are conversant. The emperor Domitian 
has proved, that cruelty, when it cannot satiate itself on 
human misery, can be gratified even with the death of 
flies. Every child should be invariably instructed to 
exercise kindness towards animals, and to shun cruelty 
even to an insect. The plundering of birds' nests, and 
the capture of their young, is in all ordinary cases, not- 
withstanding it is so generally allowed, an employment 
fitted only to harden the heart, and prepare it to be in- 
sensible to human sufferings. Still worse is the de- 
plorable practice, extensively allowed also, of setting up 
poultry as a mark, to be destroyed by gradual torture. 
Worse still is the practice, so widely, and shamefully ex- 
tended in some parts of this country, of cock-fighting ; 
abominable for its cruelty, and detestable for its fraud. 
Children should never injure animals without reproof 
solemnly administered, or, as the case may be, without 
punishment. All their unkindness to each other, and 
all the unkindness of others which falls within their 
knowledge, should be strongly and unconditionally 
reprobated. At the same time, every instance of their 
spontaneous tenderness and beneficence should be 
strongly commended, and, as prudence may direct, 
followed by suitable rewards ; while every instance of 
cruelty should he treated with efficacious discounte- 
nance, and strenuous opposition, and should be seen to 
awaken in the mind of the parent detestation and hor- 
ror. Among the exercises of kindness, which are of 
prime importance, one of the most difficult to learn is 
the forgiveness of injuries. On this account it should 
be taught, early, unceasingly, and strenuously, with 
powerful persuasion, and distinguishing rewards. An 
unforgiving and revengeful spirit, on the contrary, 
should, however difficult and discouraging the task, be 
at all events broken down ; and no attempt should be 
omitted, until this work is effectually accomplished. 

3. Self-government. 

Children should, from the beginning, be taught to be 
industrious. The value of time should be explained to 
them, as the means of all usefulness and enjoyment, of 
duty and salvation. To enable them to employ it in 
the best manner, they should be early accustomed to 
methodize it by useful divisions ; allotting regularly one 
period to devotion, another to business, and another to 
recreation. Their business also should be methodized 
by subordinate divisions : one period being regularly 
destined to one employment, and another to another. 
In this manner they will soon see that far more can be 
accomplished than by loose and desultory efforts. In- 
dustry, naturally disagreeable, may be rendered pleasing 
by address and habituation, advice and example. As 
this is the fountain, under God, of all human attain- 
ments and enjoyments, no exertions should be left un- 
tried to establish it, at a very early date, in the minds 
of children. 

Upon industry in his child, every parent should graft 
economy. To economy the human mind is more reluc- 



THE LAW OF GOD DUTY OP PARENTS. 



579 



tant than even to industry. In order to relish it, two 
great difficulties must be overcome. One is the power- 
ful relish for the gratifications which occasion our ex- 
pense. The other is the constant, laborious attention, 
so necessary to the practice of that branch of economy 
which is employed in preserving the various kinds of 
property. The latter of these is usually the greater dif- 
ficulty ; but may, as well as the other, be overcome by 
long-continued, prudent, and unremitted exertion. 

The children of the honest and industrious poor, and 
of persons in moderate circumstances, are usually taught 
economy from necessity ; in most instances, however, 
not so thoroughly and happily as ought to be wished. 
The children of opulent parents, and of the idle poor, 
are to a great extent sadly neglected, as to this neces- 
sary part of their education. The consequence is, that 
the children of the one are kept poor, and the children 
of the other frequently reduced to poverty. Economy 
is at least as necessary to prosperity, even in a moderate 
degree, as industry itself. Equally necessary is it to 
furnish us the power of doing justice to others ; safety 
from temptations to fraud, falsehood, and innumerable 
other evils ; support in sickness, and old age ; the edu- 
cation, and comfortable settlement, of our families ; and 
a host of other blessings. It is therefore an indispens- 
able duty ; and is made such by the example and precept 
of our Saviour. When he had fed a multitude by a 
creative act of his own, he directed his disciples to 
' gather up the fragments, that nothing might be lost.' 
What was their duty, in such a case, is certainly the duty 
of all men, in all cases : and, however it may be despised 
by the proud and the prodigal, or however forgotten by 
the thoughtless, will be found of incalculable importance 
to their children. 

At the same time, they should be carefully guarded 
against all tendencies to covetousness, and to every 
other exercise of a mean and narrow mind. Eco- 
nomy furnishes us with the ability to perform generous 
acts. Meanness prevents their existence, and destroys 
the spirit from which they spring. Meanness also 
roots up, in whatever form it may exist, all the tenden- 
cies to virtue ; every stem on which it may be hopefully 
grafted; 

Another thing which ought to be cultivated with great 
care in the early minds of children, and which may be 
properly ranged under this head, is the exercise of the 
gentle affections. Violent affections seem to be the 
chief preventives of virtue, and its chief enemies. Gentle 
affections are the best preparation for it, and the best 
friends to it, which are furnished by human nature. 
All the affections of virtue are ordinarily gentle, the most 
amiable ones always. This is probably one powerful 
reason why so many more Christians are usually found 
in the female sex than in ours; viz., that the softness 
and sweetness of their affections naturally coincide with 
religious impressions, while the violence of ours natu- 
rally resists them. Children should regularly be check- 
ed and subdued in every ebullition of passion ; particu- 
larly of pride and anger. Nor should they be less care- 
fully opposed in the more unobserved progress of avarice 
and ambition. The mischiefs of all these, and of all 
other inordinate passions are known and acknowledged 
by all men. It will be only necessary to remark con- 
cerning them here, that, while they continue in full 
strength, they absolutely forbid all access of religion, 
and fix the mind in immovable hostility to the divine 



pleasure. He who wishes his children to become the 
subjects of piety, should make it a prime object in 
their education to check all their inordinate passions 
with an efficacy of resistance, proportioned to the de- 
mands of each case ; and should, with equal anxiety, 
teach them to check, restrain, and subdue themselves. 
Usually, this work may in early childhood be easily 
done ; but unhappily is too often neglected. The pas- 
sions in the mind, like weeds in a garden, sufficiently 
tender and feeble at first, soon strengthen themselves 
to such a degree by rankness of growth, that to subdue 
them becomes difficult, if not impossible. Few per- 
sons have then sufficient resolution to undertake the 
task ; fewer have sufficient perseverance to execute it. 
When begun in season it is ordinarily attended with 
little difficulty. 

Gentle affections should be encouraged in children 
by all the means in our power. They should constantly 
witness them in us. The exercise of them in them- 
selves should from time to time be cojmmended ; the 
amiableness of them explained and enforced. Com- 
panions, possessed of such affections, should be selected 
for them ; and books, containing persuasive examples 
and illustrations of this character, should be put into 
their hands. 

Intimately connected with this subject is civility and 
sweetness of manners. Lord Chesterfield justly ob- 
serves, that such manners are directly required by our 
Saviour's practical exposition of the second great com- 
mand of the moral law : ' That we should do to others 
whatsoever we would that they should to us.' All men 
love to be treated with civility, and are bound, there- 
fore, by the law of God, to exhibit such treatment to 
others. The Chinese proverbially and justly observe, 
that a man without civility is a man without common 
sense. Such manners are the proper polish of that 
most beautiful of all diamonds, virtue ; and enable it 
to shine with its own peculiar lustre. They render the 
character lovely, increase exceedingly the power of 
those who possess them to do good, and secure to them 
a thousand kind offices, to which coarse, rough, and 
brutal men are utterly strangers. Children, in order, 
to be taught such manners, beside being particularly in- 
structed in their nature, should especially be accustomed 
to the company of those from whom they may be suc- 
cessfully copied. 

There is scarcely a fault to which children are prone 
which is more difficult to be prevented, than the im- 
prudence of the tongue. Passion prompts them to ex- 
pressions of rashness and violence ; example, to pro- 
faneness ; the love of being listened to, to the betraying 
of secrets ; the telling of marvellous stories, the recita- 
tion of private history, to the utterance of slander. 
In these and other similar ways they often wound their 
own character, and the peace both of themselves and 
their connexions. Every attempt of every such kind 
ought to be repelled at once, and effectually crushed. 
Neglect here is countenance ; inattention, encourage- 
ment. What then shall be said of parents, who di- 
rectly listen to their children while thus employed ; and 
in this manner solicit them to transgress? Few evils 
need to be more steadily watched, or more powerfully 
resisted than this. A prudent and well-governed 
tongue is an invaluable possession, whether we consider 
the peace of the possessor, the comfort of his family, or 
the quietness of his neighbourhood. 'A busy-body in 



580 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxr. 



other men's matters is classed by St Peter with ' mur- 
derers, thieves, and malefactors.' 

Universally, children should be guarded, and taught 
to guard themselves with the utmost care, against temp- 
tations. They should be cautioned not to go, and re- 
strained from going, to places of evil resort. They 
should be anxiously prevented from the company of 
wicked children ; and, as much as may be, from that 
of all other persons from whom they will hear danger- 
ous sentiments, or who will set before them dangerous 
conduct. They should also be never brought, when it 
can be avoided, into contact with dangerous and fasci- 
nating objects. From such objects indeed, and from such 
company, they cannot be entirely secluded in such a 
world as this. By watchful and faithful parents, however, 
much may be done ; it is impossible to say how much ; but 
probably so much as, in ordinary cases at least, perhaps 
in all, to secure the child from the evil to which he is 
exposed. One important mean of security, never to-be 
forgotten, is an early, strong, and habitual impression 
of their exposure to temptation, accompanied by ex- 
plicit and thorough information of the evils which will 
certainly result from yielding to its influence. This 
will prove a safeguard to the child, when the parent 
cannot be present to warn him of his danger. 

It will be remembered, that I originally proposed to 
mention a part only of those things which are to be 
taught to children. Those which have been mentioned 
are, if I mistake not, possessed of distinguished im- 
portance ; and will, I suppose, be acknowledged to claim 
a primary place in parental instruction. I shall now 
proceed to consider the manner in which they should 
be taught. 

1. The instruction of children should be begun in very 
early life. 

Very young children are capable of learning many 
things of incalculable importance to themselves. All 
parents appear to me to labour under serious mistakes 
with regard to this subject ; and begin to teach their 
children many things, at least, at a later period than 
that in which they would advantageously begin to re- 
ceive them. The infant mind opens faster than we are 
apt to be aware. This is the true reason why very 
young children are almost always thought peculiarly 
bright and promising. We customarily attribute this 
opinion to parental fondness ; in some degree, perhaps, 
justly ; but it arises extensively from the fact, that the 
intellect of little children outruns in. its progress our 
utmost expectations : the goodness of God intending, I 
suppose, to provide by this constitution of things the 
means of receiving the instruction, so indispensable to 
children at that period. Of this advantage every pa- 
rent should carefully avail himself. At the same time 
he should remember, that this is the season for making 
lasting impressions. The infant mind lays strong hold 
of every thing which it is taught. Both its under- 
standing and affections are then unoccupied. The 
affections are then also remarkably susceptible, tender, 
and vigorous. Every person knows the peculiarly im- 
pressive power of novelty. On the infant mind every 
thing is powerfully impressed, because every thing is 
new. From these causes is derived that remarkable 
fact, so commonly observed, that early impressions in- 
fluence the character and the life beyond all others ; 
and remain strong and vivid after most others are worn 
away. 



From these remarKS it must be seen with irresistible 
evidence, the immense importance of seizing this happy 
period to make religious impressions on the minds of 
our offspring. He who loses this season, is a husband- 
man, who wastes the spring in idleness, and sows iu 
midsummer. How can such a man rationally expect a 
crop ? To the efforts of the parent at this period the 
professed instructor is bound to add his own. The in- 
structor, who in a school, a college, or a university, 
does not employ the opportunities which he enjoys of 
making religious impressions on the minds of his pu- 
pils, neglects a prime part of his duty ; and so far wraps 
his talent in a napkin, and buries it in the earth. 

2. Children should be, gradually instructed. 
Knowledge plainly should be communicated in tliafc 

progressive course in which the mind is most capable 
of receiving it. The first things which children attain 
are words and facts. To these succeed, after no great 
interval, plain doctrines and precepts. As they ad- 
vance in years and understanding, they gradually com- 
prehend, and therefore relish, doctrines of a more com- 
plicated, and difficult nature. This order of things, 
being inwrought in the constitution of the human mind, 
should be exactly followed. When it is conteracted, 
or forgotten, the task of instruction will ever be diffi- 
cult ; and the progress of the pupil, slow and discou- 
raging. A loose and general attention to. this great 
rule of instruction seems to have prevailed in most en- 
lightened countries, but a far less accurate one than its 
importance deserves. 

Among the facts and doctrines suited to the early 
mind, none are imbibed with more readiness, or fasten- 
ed upon with more strength, than the existence, pre- 
sence, perfections, and providence of God ; the crea- 
tion of all things by his power ; its own accountableness 
to him ; and the immense importance of his favour, and 
therefore of acting in such a manner as to obtain his 
approbation. These things then, together with such as 
are inseparably connected with them should, without 
fail, be always taught at the dawn of the understanding. 

3. The impressions which are useful to children 
should be made continually. 

Children, more than any other persons, need ' line 
upon line, and precept upon precept ; here a little, and 
there a little.' It is in no sense sufficient to have 
taught them either truths or duties. The parent's duty 
is then only begun. He is not only to teach, but to in-. 
culcate ; to recall what has been forgotten, to explain 
what has been imperfectly apprehended, to rectify what 
has been misunderstood, to illustrate what has been ob- 
scure, and to enforce what has been unfelt. A few 
minds are indeed so happily susceptible, as readily to 
understand, deeply to feel, and permanently to retain, 
most of that which they are taught. But such minds 
are rare and solitary. Almost all children demand, 
and ought to receive, instruction in the manner here 
recommended. 

4. Instruction should be communicated to children 
with unwearied patience. 

Christ in this and many other respects, has left in- 
structors a perfect example. Although his disciples 
were ' dull of hearing,' and ' slow of heart to believe ;' 
although they had many, and those often very unrea- 
sonable prejudices ; his patience was never lessened. 
He taught them in the gradual manner which I have 
recommended ; ' as/ in his own language, ' they were 



THE LAW OF GOD DUTY OF PARENTS. 



5S1 



able to bear.' He taught them also without weariness, 
without fretfulness, without discouragement, without re- 
proaches, and without intermission. At times indeed 
he reproved them, and with some degree of severity, 
but always with tenderness and good-will. 

In this manner should parents teach their children ; 
should be patient with their ignorance, their backward- 
ness to receive instruction, their mistakes, their forge t- 
fulness, the necessity of teaching them again and again, 
and the doubts and difficulties which from time to time 
they suggest. In all this, the parents should manifest 
not only quietness of mind, but cheerfulness and will- 
ingness to repeat their instructions. 

5. Instructions should be given persuasively. 

Children are often discouraged from learning by 
being compelled to this employment, and punished for 
not learning ; by the gloomy countenance, morose tem- 
per, and forbidding manners of the instructor ; by be- 
ing unreasonably confined, and unreasonably debarred 
from those harmless gratifications which are necessary 
to preserve their health and spirits ; and not '.infre- 
quently by the imposition of harder tasks than they are 
able to perform. If I supposed such persons to act un- 
derstandingly, I should believe that they intended to 
prevent children from learning, and that their measures 
were skilfully contrived for this purpose. But to the 
end for which they are professedly adopted, they could 
scarcely be fitted in a more unhappy manner. 

To most children learning may be made an alluring 
object. Pleasantness of disposition, affability, conde- 
scension, serenity of countenance, and sweetness of 
manners, in the instructor ; engaging books, moderate 
tasks, reasonable confinement to study, a proper allow- 



ance of recreation, commendation kindly given when 
merited, and well-directed rewards for improvement, 
are usually sufficient persuasives to engage children in 
a spontaneous and pleasurable course of learning. The 
instructor who will not follow this course must be very 
imperfectly fitted for his employment. 

6. Children should be taught by example. 

All men will admit that the moral branches of edu- 
cation can never be taught successfully without the aid 
of example. Example has, in a great measure, t!i? 
same influence on every other part of education. Chil- 
dren do little, beside imitating others. Parents who 
read will have reading children. Industrious parents 
will have industrious children. Lying parents will have 
lying children. Example, therefore, is of the highest 
possible consequence in this important concern. 

7. Children should be taught in such a manner, as to 
be prompted unceasingly to the most vigorous exertion 
of their own talents. 

The human mind is not a mere vessel, into which 
knowledge is to be poured. It is better compared to a 
bee, fed during the first periods of its existence by the 
labours of others ; but intended, ere long, to lift its 
wings in the active employment of collecting sweets 
from every field within its reach. To such excursions, 
and to the accomplishment of such purposes, the mind 
should be early and sedulously allured. This is the 
only way to give it energy and strength. Without the 
active exercise of its powers, neither body nor mind 
can acquire vigour. Without bodily exertions, Goliah, 
six cubits high, would have been only a gigantic boy ; 
without mental efforts, Newton would have been merely 
' an infant of days.' 



SERMON CXII. 

THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE.— THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT DUTY OF PARENTS. 



Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it. — Prov. xxii. G. 



In the preceding Discourse I distributed the duties of 
parents under three heads : 

The maintenance ; 

The education; 

The settlement of children. 

The education of children I proposed also to consider 
under the two heads of instruction and government. 

The first of these general heads, together with the 
former division of the second, were examined in that 
Discourse. I shall now proceed to make some observa- 
tions on the remaining subjects proposed for discussion 
at that time. 

The parental duty which, according to the plan men- 
tioned, next demands our attention, is the government 
of children. The observations which I shall make con- 
cerning this subject, will respect, 

The nature, the end, and the importance of this go- 
vernment ; and the manner in which it is to be admi- 
nistered. 



Concerning the nature of parental government, its 
end, and its importance, my observations must be very 
summary. 

The nature of all government is justly defined to be 
the control of one being over the actions of another. 
This control in the hands of parents over their chil- 
dren, is at once the most absolute perhaps, and clearly 
the most gentle and indulgent dominion which is exer- 
cised by mankind. The parent's will is the only law 
to the child ; yet, being steadily regulated by parental 
affection, is probably more moderate, equitable, and 
pleasing to him, than any other human government 
to any other subject. It resembles the divine govern- 
ment more in its nature, and, when wisely adminis- 
tered, in its efficacy, than any other. Correction, some- 
times esteemed the whole of it, is usually the least part ; 
a part indispensable indeed, and sometimes efficacious, 
when all others have failed. Beside correction, it in- 
cludes advice, commendation, blame, reproof, rebuke, 



532 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. cxii. 



admonition, expostulation, influence, restraint, confine- 
ment, rewards, the deprivation of enjoyments, the 
infliction of disgrace, the denial of favour, and various 
other things ; each possessing peculiar efficacy ; and all 
of them efficacious, not only in themselves, but also by 
the variety of administration which they furnish, and 
the relative power which they derive merely from the 
fact of succeeding each other. 

The end of parental government is undoubtedly the 
good of children. The end of all government is the 
good of the governed. Children are given to parents, 
not to be a convenience to them, but that they may be- 
come blessings to the children. In this way, and ordi- 
narily in this alone, will the children become blessings 
to the Barents. Evei'y parent should fix in his mind a 
strong habitual sense of this end. The good to be 
accomplished for the child, should be the object of 
inquiry in every administration of this nature. The 
kind, the degree, and the continuance of the punish- 
ment and the reward, shall be all determined by it. 
In a word, it should absolutely govern all the conduct of 
the parent towards the child. 

The importance of parental government will demand 
very few remarks, since no man will question it in ear- 
nest. Every parent ought to remember, that his child 
is committed to him ; that all his interests are put into 
his hands ; and that to train up his family for useful- 
ness, and for heaven, is ordinarily the chief duty which 
God requires him to perform ; the chief good which 
he can ever accomplish. If he neglects this duty, he 
ought to expect that it will be left undone ; for no 
other person will usually undertake it. If he does not 
accomplish this good, he ought to believe that it will 
never be accomplished. On the contrary, the child 
will be left to himself, to evil companions, to men whose 
business it is to corrupt the young, to unbridled lusts, 
to unrestrained iniquity, to Satan, and to ruin. He 
ought also to remember that childhood is the seedtime 
for all good, the season when every useful impression 
is most happily made ; the time when almost all that 
which can be done for the child, is to be done. He 
should remember, that the encouragement is very great. 
Experience abundantly proves, that well governed chil- 
dren are almost always well behaved, and that almost 
all religious persons are of this number. What experi- 
ence declares, the Scriptures ratify. The text, if not 
an absolute promise, is yet a glorious encouragement 
to this parental duty. In the mean time, the peace and 
pleasantness of his family, the filial piety, amiable con- 
duct, and fair reputation of his children, furnish a rich 
hope that he will in the end assemble around him his 
little flock, and be able to say with exultation and 
transport, ' Behold, here am I, and the children whom 
thou hast given me.' 

The manner in which parental government ought to 
be administered, demands a more extensive considera- 
tion. 

The observations which I propose to make concerning 
it, I shall arrange under the following heads : 

1. The government of children should begin with the 
dawn of their reason. 

I have already applied this observation to parental 
instruction ; it is still more forcibly applicable to pa- 
rental government. The habit of submission can never 
be effectuated without difficulty, unless commenced at 
the beginning. The first direction of the infant mind 



has been often and justly compared to the first figure 
assumed by a twig, which is ordinarily its figure during 
every subsequent period of its growth. If children are 
taught effectually to obey at first, they will easily be in- 
duced to obey ever afterward. Almost all those who 
are disobedient are such as have been neglected in the 
beginning. The twig was suffered to stiffen, before an 
attempt was made to bend it into the proper shape. 
Then it resumed, as soon as the pressure ceased, its 
former figure. If begun in season, the task of securing 
filial obedience will usually be easy, and the object 
effectually gained. If then neglected, it will be at- 
tended by a multitude of difficulties and discourage- 
ments, and its efficacy will be doubtful, if not fruit- 
less. 

2. Parental government should be administered with 
constancy. 

The views manifested by the parent concerning the 
conduct of the child, should ever be the same. His 
good conduct should be invariably approved, his bad 
conduct invariably disapproved. The measures of the 
parent also should be universally of the same tenor. 
All proper encouragement should be regularly holden 
out to obedience, and all rational opposition be steadily 
made to disobedience. 

The active superintendence of the child should be un- 
remitted. He should feel that he is ever an object of 
parental attention ; ever secure, when his behaviour 
merits it, of parental favour ; and ever conscious that his 
faults will expose him to frowns and censures. This 
unremitted consciousness of the child can never be pro- 
duced but by the unremitted care and watchfulness of 
the parent. Ihe Roman maxim, ' Obsta principi is' — 
Resist the beginnings of evil, is in all cases replete with 
wisdom ; but is applicable to no case, perhaps, with 
such force, as to those of children. All their ten- 
dencies should be watched. Every commencement of 
evil, every tendency towards it, should be observed and 
resisted. 

The efforts of parents in this employment should also 
be unwearied. Discouragement and sloth are two 
prime evils in the conduct of parental government. The 
parent seeing so many and so unceasing exertions neces- 
sary for the accomplishment of his purpose, usually 
feels, either earlier or later, as if it could never be ac- 
complished ; and hence, from mere discouragement, at 
first relaxes, and finally gives over, his endeavours. 
Frequently, also, he becomes, after a moderate number 
of trials, wearied of a duty which he finds so burden- 
some, and through mere indolence desists from every 
strenuous attempt to discharge it Such parents ought 
to remember, that they are labouring for the salvation 
of their children ; that this mighty object is pre-emi 
nently committed to them ; and that these reasons for 
their negligence will be unhappily alleged at the final 
day. 

I have elsewhere compared the mind of a child to a 
rude mass of silver in the hand of the silversmith. A 
single stroke of the hammer, a hundred, or even a 
thousand, change its form in a very imperfect degree, 
and advance it but little towards the figure and beauty 
of the vessel which is intended. Were he to stop, no- 
thing valuable would be accomplished. A patient con- 
tinuance of these seemingly inefficacious efforts, how- 
ever, will in the end. produce the proposed vessel in its 
proper form, and with the highest elegance and perfec- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OP PARENTS. 



5S3 



tion. With the same patience and perseverance should 
parental exertions be made, when employed in forming 
the minds of children. Thus made, they will usually 
find a similar issue. 

3. The government of children should be uniformly 
kind. 

Parents not unfrequently administer discipline to 
their children, because they feel themselves obliged to 
it by conscience, or to gratify anger, or to retaliate 
some offence, or to compel their children to accomplish 
some pleasure of their own. Whenever they act under 
the proper influence of conscience, they are certainly so 
far to be commended. But whenever they intend 
merely to unburden their consciences, and feel that this 
is done by merely punishing their children, whether the 
punishment be wise, just, and useful, or not, either 
their consciences must be very ill informed, or they 
must be very little inclined to satisfy their demands. In 
the other three cases the discipline is mei'ely selfish ; 
and partakes as little of the true nature of family 
government, as that of a den of thieves. There are 
parents who frankly but foolishly declare, that they can- 
not correct their children unless when they are in a 
passion. Such parents I should advise never to correct 
them at all. Children, even at an early age, usually 
understand the nature of such government, and indeed 
almost always discern more perfectly the nature of our 
improper conduct than we either wish or suspect. He 
who thinks his child incapable of understanding his 
open infirmities, will almost of course be deceived. The 
government of passion, children will always perceive to 
be causeless, variable, weak, and sinful. The parent 
who administers it will be dreaded by them, indeed ; 
but he wilLoidv be dreaded in the same manner as a 
■wild beast. He will neither be reverenced nor loved. 
His commands, so far as they cannot be avoided with- 
out danger, will be followed by obedience ; so far as 
they can, they will be neglected. The obedience will 
be a mere eye-service, and never spring from the heart. 
When the parent is absent, therefore, the child will 
pursue his own inclinations; and will generally coun- 
teract his parent's pleasure, whenever his own safety 
will permit. Such a government prompts the wicked- 
ness of children ten times, where it restrains it once. 

The government of retaliation is the government of 
revenge; and, therefore, not the government of a pa- 
rent, but that of an enemy. In this manner it will be 
regularly regarded by the child. Accordingly, he will, 
as far as possible, prevent its effects, by concealing his 
faults, in every way which his ingenuity or circum- 
stances can suggest. In pursuit of this object, he will 
practise every trick, and fetch, and fraud, which his 
cunning can devise, and ultimately utter every equivo- 
/ation, and every direct falsehood, which the necessity 
of extricating himself may require. Nor will it be long 
before he consider his parent as one party, and himself 
as the other. He will then begin to retaliate in turn. 
In this manner a controversy will be instituted, in 
which it will be the business of each to provoke and 
injure the other. The child will not, indeed, be able 
to meet his antagonist in the open field ; but he will 
endeavour to supply this defect by watching every op- 
portunity to do mischief secretly, and by making up in 
cunning what he wants in power. A species of Indian 
hostilities will thus be carried on by him ; and fre- 
quently for such a length of time, as to imbitter the 



peace of the parent, and to ruin the character of the 
child. 

The government which is employed merely in mak- 
ing a child subservient to the caprice and convenience 
of a parent, is too obviously selfish and sordid ever to 
be misunderstood ; and it needs only to be understood, 
to be detested. From parents certainly, if from any 
human beings, we look for disinterestedness; especially 
in the management of their children. But there are 
parents who regard their children as hard masters re- 
gard their slaves ; and value them only as they hope to 
derive profit from their labour, or convenience from 
their subserviency to their selfish wishes. No words 
are necessary to show that such views, feelings, and 
conduct, are contradictions to the parental character 
and duties alike. Equally hostile are they to the good 
of the child, and are calculated only to destroy all his 
tendencies towards becoming a useful man. Persons 
who act in either of these modes, have never set before 
their eyes the true end of parental government, and 
have no conceptions of the real nature of that great du- 
ty to which they have been called by their Maker. A 
little attention to this subject would convince them, that 
all their government is to be administered under the con- 
trolling influence of kindness only, kindness, directed 
solely to the good of their children. They are indeed 
to reprove and to punish them ; but this is to be done 
only for their good, and never to gratify the resentment, 
nor to promote the selfish purposes of the parent. It is 
to be done, because their faults are to be repressed, and 
because these are the proper means of repressing them ; 
because it is necessary that the children should be sober, 
discreet, virtuous, and useful ; and because these are 
the proper means of preparing them to become so. As 
such means only is all discipline to be used. In every 
other view the nature of discipline is subverted. Ke- 
proof becomes reproach, advice contumely, and correc- 
tion an assault. Instead of rendering that child what he 
ought to be, the parent will in this way destroy all the 
worth which he at present possesses, and prevent that 
which he might acquire. 

Among the modes of exhibiting kindness in govern- 
ing our children, calmness and moderation in reproving 
and correcting are indispensable. He to whom this 
office falls, ought, more than in almost any other case, 
to be in perfect possession of himself. Every thing 
which he does or says ought to prove that he is so. His 
countenance ought then to be mild, his accent gentle, 
his words free from all unkindness, and his conduct 
such as to prove that he is compelled to this unwelcome 
office by duty only. 

With this spirit, parents will naturally be led not to 
govern their children too much. Like certain Moham- 
medans, who estimate the degree of their devotion by 
the number of prayers which they utter, some persons 
suppose their duty of governing their children to be 
performed meritoriously, merely because they reprove 
and punish their children very often; and accordingly 
make it their business to find fault with them from 
morning to night, and to punish them from week to 
week. In this way both reproof and punishment lose 
all their power, and only serve to case-harden the child 
against his duty. Children are as easily injured by too 
much government, as by too little. Children ought 
always to be watched with attention and tenderness, but 
not to be harassed. 



584 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



fSfis. cxn. 



Another important office of kindness is to administer 
reproof and punishment privately. Children sometimes 
commit their faults before others, when the parent is 
present ; and necessity may then demand that they 
should be reproved on the spot, and in the presence of 
those who witness the fault. Whenever this is not the 
«-ase, it will, in almost every instance, be desirable to 
administer the proper discipline in private. In this 
case the child will feel that his character is saved ; and 
will be solicitous, in future, to preserve his own cha- 
racter by good conduct. He will feel, also, that lie is 
treated kindly, and will be grateful for the kindness. 
His mind will be left free for the undivided exercise of 
veneration for his parent. The parent, at the same 
time, will enjoy the best possible opportunity for reprov- 
ing him freely, largely, pungently, and solemnly ; with- 
out that embarrassment which will necessarily arise 
from the presence of others. In the presence of others 
the child will feel his pride wounded, his character sa- 
crificed, and himself disgraced ; and all this without 
any visible necessity. He will, therefore, be angry, 
stubborn, pert, and not improbably disposed to repent 
his former faults, and to perpetrate others. These emo- 
tions, and these designs, he will, not unnaturally, dis- 
close to his companions; and they not less naturally, 
will enhance and encourage them. Thus the whole 
force of the parental administration will always be weak- 
ened, and most frequently destroyed. 

4. The government of children should always be ac- 
companied by proofs of its reasonableness and equity. 

Many parents err through too much indulgence, and 
many through too little. Both extremes are unhappy, 
as well as unreasonable. Every child ought clearly to 
see that his parent's censures are not unkind, and that 
his indulgence is not foolish. To this end, he ought 
regularly, as soon as his capacity will admit, to he taught 
the reasons on which the conduct of his parent, from 
time to time, is founded ; not as a piece of respect to 
him, which he may demand ; but as wisely directed in- 
formation, which will be eminently useful to both parent 
and child. To the parent it will be useful, by establish- 
ing his character in the eyes of his child, as a ruler 
whose measures are all originated and directed by solid 
reasons and sound wisdom, steady equity and unfailing 
kindness; as a ruler, whose government is to be reve- 
renced, whose commands are to be obeyed, and whose 
wishes are to be accorded with, from their reasonable- 
ness, as well as their authority ; from the benefit, as well 
as the duty, of obeying ; and from the pleasure univer- 
sally experienced in conforming to the will of such a 
ruler. In this case the parent is secured of the obedi- 
ence of the child, when he is absent (as for the greater 
part of the time he must necessarily be), no less than 
when he is present ; and is assured also, that his obedi- 
ence will be voluntary, and exact, and, on both these 
accounts, delightful. To the child this information will 
be highly advantageous, because it will early accustom 
him to obey from the reasonableness of obedience ; and 
will insensibly lead him to examine, feel, and submit to 
predominating reasons ; not only in cases of filial duty 
but in all others. Thus he will habitually grow up to a 
general accordance with the dictates of reason, and the 
representations of conscience ; will sustain a far more 
elevated and desirable character than a child governed 
by mere authority ; and when absent, abroad, or arrived 
».t the years of self-direction, will be incomparably more 



safe. The family, in this case, will exhibit the delight- 
ful spectacle of rational beings, governed by rational 
beings ; and not the humiliating one of slaves, struggling 
under the domination of a master. 

5. The government of children should be self-con- 
sistent. 

» Every parent ought to possess himself of a scheme of 
governing his children, before he commences the practice. 
In this scheme the same things should be uniformly 
aimed at, the same things required, and the same things 
prohibited. The character of the parent, also, as dis- 
played in the execution of this scheme, should invari- 
ably be the same ; and that should be a character 
formed of reason and principle only. In all the parent's 
measures the child should see, uniformly and irresistibly, 
that the parent hates vice above all things, and above 
all things loves virtue. This hatred to vice, and love to 
virtue, ought to appear to be inwrought in the very 
constitution of the parent's mind ; to be inseparable 
from his habitual views and feelings ; and to be the first, 
the unvarying, and, as far as may be, the only move- 
ments of his soul, with respect to these great subjects. 
Of course, all his conduct ought to present the unques- 
tionable proof, which practice and example furnish, that 
this is his real character. 

In consequence of this consistency, children will uni- 
formly expect the same parental opposition to their 
faults, and the same countenance to their virtuous con- 
duct. Few motives will operate more powerfully than 
such expectations, either to persuade them to virtue, or 
to restrain them from sin. Fewer crimes will, therefore, 
be committed by them ; and, of course, the parent will 
have fewer transgressions to reprove or punish. In this 
manner a great part of the parent's labour will be pre- 
vented, and not a small part of his pain. What re- 
mains to be done will be incomparably more pleasant. 
His encouragement to proceed will, also, be unspeak- 
ably greater. To see the efficacy of our endeavours is 
the most animating of all earthly inducements to con- 
tinue them. 

Besides, children will, in this case, regard their parents 
with far more veneration than in any other. Consis- 
tency of character is essential to all dignity. A changing 
man, even when not a faulty one, is almost necessarily 
regarded as a trifier. A man, on the contrary, exhibit- 
ing' uniform views and principles, in a life uniformly 
directed by them, governed and governing by the same 
rules, and an unchanging regard to them, is always 
possessed of dignity ; and, when seen to be steadily 
opposed to sin and folly, and attached to wisdom and 
virtue, is possessed of high dignity. This character, 
seen in a parent, will invariably engage the highest 
filial veneration. 

When children become satisfied that the restraints and 
corrections which they experience from their parents 
spring only from a conviction that they are right and 
necessary, their consciences will almost always acquiesce. 
What is remarkable, and would, were it not common, 
be surprising, they love the parent who administers 
them, much more than him who neglects them. Be- 
tween parental government conducted in this manner, 
and that which is passionate, desultory, and fraught 
with inconsistencies, the difference can scarcely be cal- 
culated. 

As a general conclusion of my observations concern. 
ing the education of children, I add, that all the efforts 



THE LAW OF GOD— DUTY OF PARENTS. 



535 



of the parent ought to be accompanied with daily prayer 
to God for his blessing. It is the indispensable duty 
of mankind to ' pray always with all prayer.' Few, 
very few, are those employments in human life which so 
loudly call for the faithful performance of this duty as 
that which has been under discussion. Wisdom, pa- 
tience, faithfulness, kindness, and constancy, are rarely 
demanded of man in any concern, either so unceasingly, 
or in so great a degree, as in this. All these qualifica- 
tions are indispensable to our success ; and we need 
them indispensably from ' the Father of lights,' who 
alone can furnish these and all other ' good gifts.' If 
we possessed them all, we should equally need his bless- 
ing to give an efficacious and happy issue to our exer- 
tions. Both the qualifications and the blessing, then, 
are to be ' asked of God, who giveth liberally unto all ;' 
and who hath assured us, that ' every one who asketh 
shall receive.' The parent who educates his children 
with the greatest care, and yet fails to invoke the bless- 
ing of God upon his labours, has done but half his 
duty, and is entitled to no promise of success. 

III. / shall now make a few observations concerning 
the settlement of children. 

The parent's duty with respect to this subject will be 
principally concerned with the following things : — 

1. The choice of that business in which he is to spend 
principally his life. 

In selecting this object, a parent is bound to regard 
the state of his own circumstances, the reasonable ex- 
pectations of his child, his talents, his inclinations, the 
probability of his obtaining a competent subsistence, the 
prospect of his usefulness, and the security of his virtue. 
It will be easily seen, that all these are discretionary 
things ; to be judged of as well as we are able, and re- 
ducible to no precise general rule. Where children are 
not peculiarly froward, and parents not peculiarly pre- 
judiced, the advantage of the child will, in ordinary 
cases, be sufficiently consulted. The principal difficulty 
here will usually be, to determine how far regard is to 
be had to his inclinations. A degree of indulgence is 
always to be given them. When they direct to a pru- 
dent and profitable employment, there can be no con- 
troversy ; nor when they direct to a dangerous one. 
All the real perplexity will spring from cases of a 
doubtful nature. Here the child's inclinations are sup- 
posed to lean one way, and the judgment of the parent 
another. If the parent apprehends the bias of the child 
to be invincible, it will be both prudent and right to yield 
to his own inclinations; if not, he may lawfully require 
the child to make an experiment of the business which 
he has preferred. The child is then bound to submit 
quietly to the choice of the parent, and to endeavour 
faithfully to subdue his own opposing inclinations. If, 
after a fair trial, he finds them unconquerable ; the pa- 
rent is, in my view, bound to yield the contested point. 
The happiness of the child ought here to be the com- 
manding object ; and no child can be happy, who is pre- 
vented from following the business which he loves, and 
compelled to pursue that which he hates. 

Universally, the parent's duty demands of him, to 
place his child, so far as the case will permit, in that 
employment which, upon the whole, is best ; which will 
probably be most productive of his comfort, reputation, 
usefulness, and piety. To some children, on account 
of their peculiar dispositions, certain employments are 
sufficiently safe, which for others are to be regarded as 



eminently dangerous. The business in which children 
are to be placed, when they are exposed by their disposi- 
tions to peculiar temptations, should, as far as may be, 
always be such as to counteract their dispositions. The 
employments which awaken a moderate ambition, and a 
moderate desire of wealth and pleasure, and which yet 
disappoint no reasonable expectations of children, are 
usually preferable to all others. Those of a contrary 
nature, and those particularly which are expected to 
produce sudden opulence, and speedy aggrandizement, 
or which conduct to voluptuousness, are fraught with 
infinite danger and mischief. ' They that will be rich,' 
or great, or voluptuous, ' fall into temptation, and a 
snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, that 
drown men in destruction.' The love of these things 
' is the root of all evil : and those who covet after them, 
pierce themselves through with many sorrows.' Most 
parents wish these things for their children ; but they 
' know not what spirit they are of.' Most parents, also, 
wish their sons to be geniuses and their daughters to be 
beauties. How unfounded, how self-deceiving, are all 
these desires ! I do not deny, that many men of high 
office, and of great wealth, men who have possessed in 
abundance all those which are called the enjoyments of 
life, have been pious ; and, so far as this world permits, 
happy. I do not deny, that such has been the character 
and state of many men remarkable for their talents, and 
of many women distinguished for their beauty. I do not 
deny, that all these things are, in their nature, to be 
regarded as blessings ; or that they sometimes are 
actually blessings. But to most of mankind they are 
plainly curses ; and probably to all who ardently desire 
them. What a melancholy history would the whole his- 
tory be of beauties, geniuses, and men in high office, of 
great wealth, and determined sensuality ! 
2. Marriage. 

With respect to this subject, children are usually 
governed by inclination only, or chiefly ; their parents 
sometimes by judgment, sometimes by avarice, some- 
times by ambition, sometimes by hatred to the family 
or person with whom the child is intended to be con- 
nected, and sometimes by favouritism for other persons 
or families. The parent ought to be influenced by his 
unbiassed judgment only. By every thing else he will, 
without suspecting it, be deceived, and sometimes, in a 
degree which can neither be foreseen nor limited, ren- 
der both himself and his child unhappy through life. 

Parents can never lawfully compel their children to 
marry persons who are objects of their dislike, nor use 
at all for such a purpose that influence or those persua- 
sives which operate upon tender and susceptible minds 
as the worst kind of compulsion. The reasons are 
plain. The child would be made miserable, and could 
not, in any event, without a prevarication of the same 
nature with perjury, take upon himself the marriage 
vows. But, during the minority of his children, he 
may be required by indispensable duty to restrain them 
from marrying, in certain cases. This, however, is an 
extreme exercise of authority ; and should take place 
only where the cases are extreme ; cases, for example, 
in which the intended partner is an infidel, or grossly 
vicious, or of a family scandalous for vice, or in some 
other case of a similar importance. In all inferior 
cases, the parent's duty is, in my view, confined to in- 
formation ; to persuasion, kindly and reasonably con™ 
ducted ; and to such delays of the intended connexion 
4 E 



586 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxiii. 



as will furnish opportunity to give these dissuasives their 
full operation. In these cases, children are bound to 
listen with the utmost willingness and impartiality to 
the parent's reasons, and deeply to feel and to respect 
his pleasure. If the reasons are solid, they ought to 
be influenced by their whole force, and, as far as may 
be, to overcome their own inclinations ; remembering 
that, although their own happiness is the first thing to 
be regarded in forming such a connexion, that of their 
parents is the second ; and that parental opposition to 
their wishes can rarely aim at any thing but their own 
good. When children have used all reasonable expe- 
dients to bend their inclinations to the wishes of their 
parents, and are yet unable to subdue them, their non- 
compliance can lawfully neither be punished, nor re- 
sented. 

". Assistance towards acquiring a competent living. 

When children commence their settlement in life, 
they often need assistance, at least as much as in earlier 
periods. This assistance is, however, principally con- 
fined to two articles ; giving advice, and furnishing 
pecuniary aid. All parents, perhaps, are sufficiently 
willing to give advice ; and most, I believe, are willing 
to befriend their children with pecuniary assistance in 
sucli a degree as is not felt to be inconvenient to them- 
selves. There are those, however, who impart spar- 
ingly enough ; and there are others still who are dis- 
posed to give little or nothing. Avarice sometimes 
influences the parent's conduct in this respect ; and 



oftener, I believe, a reluctance to lessen the heap which 
we have been long gathering, and oftener still the 
wound which pride feels at being thought to possess 
less wealth than the utmost of what we have amassed. 
These are always wretched reasons, and in this case 
reasons for wretched conduct. A child when setting 
out in the world finds himself surrounded by a multi- 
tude of difficulties, to struggle with which he must be 
very imperfectly prepared. Inexperienced, alone, sud- 
denly plunged into many perplexities, and unacquainted 
with the means of relieving themselves, children are 
often distressed, discouraged, and sometimes broken 
down ; when the helping hand of a parent would with 
no real inconvenience to himself, raise them to hope, 
resolution, and comfort. That parents so situated are 
bound by plain duty to assist their children in these 
circumstances can need no proof. He who will not 
thus relieve the offspring of his own bowels, even at 
the risk of being thought rich, or of being actually 
less rich, deserves not the name of a parent, and ought 
to be ashamed to show his face among those who do. 
For my own part, I cannot conceive that a man who 
will not deny himself a little to befriend his own chil- 
dren, can have ever compassed the self-denial of for- 
giving his enemies ; nor understand how he can possess 
sufficient confidence to stand up in morning and 
evening worship, at the head of his family, and say, in 
his own name and theirs, ' Our Father, who art in 
heaven.' 



SERMON CXIIL 



THE LAW OF GOD—THE DECALOGUE— THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT— THE DUTY OF RULERS. 



Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God 

giveth thee.— Exod. xx. 12. 



Beside the direct import of this precept, it has been 
generally and justly considered as, by a very obvious 
analogy, including those duties which are reciprocally 
to be rendered by men in various other relations ; par- 
ticularly those of superiors and inferiors, whatever may 
be the bias of their relative characters. To an exami- 
nation of all these duties it might fairly lead. I shall, 
however, make it my guide to the investigation of one 
class of them only : viz. The duties of magistrates and 
subjects. 

The relations of magistrate and subject are so obvi- 
ously analogous to those of parents and children, that 
magistrates have been often styled the fathers of their 
people ; and their people often called their children. 
No language of commendation is with more frequency, 
or with more emphasis, applied to a prince distin- 
guished for his wisdom, justice, and benevolence, than 
that ' he was a father to his subjects.' In this manner 
mankind have acknowledged the similarity of these 
relations ; and from a similarity of relations, every 
man knows, must arise a similarity of duties. Accord- 



ingly, the duty to magistrates is enjoined in the very 
same terms, as that which is owed to parents. 

• Fear God,' says St Peter ; ' honour the king.' We 
are also directed by St Paul to render ' reverence, hon- 
our, custom, and tribute,' to the several orders of ma- 
gistracy, as from time to time they are due. 

It is my design in this Discourse to state, in a sum- 
mary manner, the nature of civil government ; and the 
respective duties of rulers and subjects. This I shall do 
without even a remote reference either to the past or 
present state of our own government. I never preached 
what is commonly called a political sermon, on the sab- 
bath, in my life ; and I shall not begin now ; although 
to preach such sermons is unquestionably the right, and 
in certain cases as unquestionably the duty, of every 
minister of the gospel. All that I shall attempt to per- 
form is to exhibit some of the primary principles and 
duties which pertain to government, as a branch of 
moral science. The knowledge of these is in some de- 
gree necessary to every man, who wishes to discharge 
either the duties of a ruler, or those of a subject. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OF RULERS. 



5S7 



Tlie foundation of all government is, undoubtedly, 
the will of God. Government, since the days of Mr 
Locke, has been extensively supposed to be founded in 
the social compact. No opinion is more groundless 
than this. The great man whom I have mentioned was 
probably led to adopt it from his zeal to oppose the ri- 
diculous whims of Sir Robert Filmer ; who taught, that 
kings had a divine hereditary right to their thrones, by 
virtue of the original gift of universal dominion to 
Adam. In opposing this monstrous absurdity, Mr 
Locke, fell into another, not a whit more rational, or 
defensible. This doctrine supposes that mankind were 
originally without any government ; and that in an ab- 
solute state of nature they voluntarily came together, 
for the purpose of constituting a body politic, creating 
rulers, prescribing their functions, and making laws di- 
recting their own civil duties. It supposes that they en- 
tered into grave and philosophic deliberations ; indivi- 
dually consented to be bound by the will of the ma- 
jority ; and cheerfully gave up the wild life of savage 
liberty for restraints which, however necessary and 
useful, no savage could ever brook even for a day. 
Antecedently to such an assembly, and its decisions, 
this doctrine supposes that men have no civil rights, 
obligations, and duties ; and of course, that those who 
do not consent to be bound by such a compact are now 
not the subjects of either ; such a compact, in the ap- 
prehension of the abettors of this doctrine, being that 
which creates all the civil rights, obligations, and duties 
of man. 

The absurdities of this doctrine are endless. He 
who knows any thing of the nature of savages, knows 
perfectly, that no savage was ever capable of forming 
such a design ; and that civilized life is indispensably 
necessary to the very perception of the things pre-sup- 
posed by this doctrine, and absolutely pre-requisite to 
the very existence of such an assembly. Every one ac- 
quainted at all witli savages, knows equally well that, if 
they were capable of all this comprehension, nothing short 
of omnipotence could persuade them to embrace such a 
scheme of conduct. There is nothing which a savage 
hates more than the restraints of civilized life ; nothing 
which he despises more than the civilized character, its 
refinements, its improvements, nay, its very enjoyments. 
To have formed such an assembly, or even to have pro- 
posed such a system, men must have already been long 
governed and civilized. 

At the same time, there is no fact more clearly 
evinced by the history of man, than that such a com- 
pact never existed. This even the abettors of it are 
obliged to confess ; and this cuts up the doctrine by the 
roots. For, if the social compact was not a fact, it is 
nothing. 

But it is alleged that, although this compact was never 
an expressed one, it may be stiil fairly considered as a 
tacit and implied compact. To the very existence of a 
compact it is indispensable, that the contracting party 
should be conscious that the subject of the compact is 
proposed to him for his deliberation, choice, and con- 
sent ;*and that he does actually deliberate, choose, and 
consent. But there is not even the shadow of a pre- 
tence, that any man, considering himself as being in a 
state of nature, and subject to no civil government, was 
ever conscious of being invited to become a party to 
such a compact, and of having this question ever pro- 
posed to him for such deliberation, or such consent. 



There is, therefore, as little foundation for the supposi- 
tion of a tacit, as for that of an express, social compact- 
It is farther alleged, that this scheme, although con- 
fessedly imaginary, may yet be advantageously em- 
ployed to illustrate the nature of civil government. In 
answer to this allegation, I shall only observe, that the 
philosopher who believes falsehood to be necessary or 
useful to the illustration of truth, must be very hardly 
driven by his own weakness, or by the erroneousness of 
his system. 

If it were indeed true, that government is thus 
founded, then these fatal consequences would follow : 

Every despotism on earth must stand as long as the 
world continues. Every subject of despotic power is by 
this doctrine supposed to promise his obedience to it ; 
and no man can ever withdraw himself from the obli- 
gation of his own promise. A new government can 
never upon this scheme be substituted for a former, but 
by the choice of the majority of those who are subject to 
it ; and, as men come into the world, there never can 
be in any country a majority of inhabitants who have 
not already promised obedience to the existing govern- 
ment, A minority, therefore, must always comprise 
the whole number of those who can lawfully act in the 
business of modelling the government anew ; nor could 
even these act in concert without being guilty of rebel- 
lion ; nor could those who had already promised obe- 
dience be released from their promise. If, therefore, a 
new government were to be constituted, there must 
be two sets of inhabitants, everywhere intermingled 
throughout such a country, and obeying two distinct 
and hostile governments. 

If any man in any country declines his consent to the 
compact, he is under no obligation to obey the exist- 
ing government. Personal consent, according to this 
scheme, is all that constitutes such obligation. Such a 
man may therefore fix himself in a state of nature. If 
he attacks others, indeed, they may attack him in turn ; 
but the government cannot lawfully meddle with him, 
nor with his concerns. 

If the ruler should violate any, even the least, part of 
his own engagements, then the subjects are released 
from their engagements, and of course from all obliga- 
tion to obey the laws. In other words, from the least 
violation of the ruler's engagements, a state of anarchy 
lawfully and necessarily ensues. If the subjects pass by 
such violation in silence, their consent to it, is equally 
implied with their supposed original compact. Of course, 
the ruler may lawfully commit the same violation again 
as often as he pleases ; nor can the subjects lawfully 
complain, because they have consented to it in the same 
manner as to the pre-existing government. Every such 
violation, therefore, which is not openly resisted, is 
finally sanctioned. 

On the other hand, if a subject violate any of his 
engagements, however small, the ruler may lawfully 
make him an 'outlaw; and deprive him of every privi- 
lege which he holds as a citizen. 

A foreigner passing through such a country, can be 
under no obligation to obey its laws ; and if he does 
any thing which may be construed as an outrage, must 
either be suffered to do it with impunity, or must be 
attacked by private violence. Such attacks, a few times 
repeated, would convert any people into a horde of 
robbers. 

No man could in such a government be punished 



53S 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxm. 



with death, however enormous might he his crimes ; 
because no man ever thought of making, or has any 
right to make, a surrender of his own life into the hands 
of others. 

All these, and a multitude of other deplorable con- 
sequences follow, irresistibly follow, from the doctrine, 
that government is founded on the social compact. 

Government, as I have already remarked, is founded 
in the will of God. The evidence of this position is 
complete. That God made mankind in order to make 
them happy, if they themselves will consent to be so, 
cannot be questioned. As little can it be questioned, 
that government is indispensable to their happiness, 
and to all the human means of it ; to the safety of life, 
liberty, and property ; to peace, to order, to useful 
knowledge, to morals, and to religion. Nay, it is ne- 
cessary to the very existence of any considerable num- 
bers of mankind. A country without government would 
speedily, for want of those means of subsistence and 
comfort, to the existence of which it is indispensable, 
become an Arabian desert ; and that, however fruitful 
its soil, or salubrious its climate. Mankind have never 
yet been able to exist for any length of time in a 
state of anarchy. What reason so completely evinces, 
the Scriptures decide in the most peremptory manner.- 
" The powers that be,' says St Paul, ' are ordained of 
God :' in other words, government is an ordinance of 
God. 

It is not here to be intended, that God has ordained 
a given form of government. This he has never done, 
except in a single instance. He gave the Israelites a 
system, substantially of the republican form. This fact 
may, perhaps, afford a presumption in favour of such a 
form, wherever it is capable of existing, but can do no- 
thing more. Nothing more is here intended, than that 
God has willed the existence of government itself. He 
has undoubtedly left it to nations to institute such modes 
of it, whenever this is in their power, as should best suit 
their own state of society. 

As God willed the existence of government for the 
happiness of mankind, it is unanswerably certain that 
every government is agreeable to his will, just so far as 
it promotes that happiness ; that that government which 
promotes it most, is most agreeable to his will ; and that 
that government which opposes human happiness is 
equally opposed to his will. From these undeniable 
principles both rulers and subjects may easily learn most 
of their own duty. Whatever is conformed to them is 
right ; whatever is contrary to them is wrong of course. 
This, it will be remembered, is the dictate both of com- 
mon sense, and of the Scriptures. 

Every ruler is accordingly bound to remember, that 
he is raised to the chair of magistracy solely for the 
good of those whom he governs. His own good he is to 
find in the consciousness of having promoted that of 
others ; and in the support, affection, and respect which 
they i - ender, and are bound to render him for dis- 
charging this important duty. There is no greater mis- 
take, there is no more anti-scriptural, or contemptible 
absurdity, than the doctrine of millions made for one ; 
of a ruler raised to the chair of magistracy to govern for 
himself; to receive homage, to roll in splendour, to riot 
in luxury, to gratify pride, power, and ambition at the 
expense of the toils and sufferings of his fellow men. 
Such a ruler is only a public robber ! Every man in 
office, however elevated, is bound to remember, as a 



being equally accountable to God with his fellow men, 
that his personal rights are, by the divine constitution 
and pleasure, the same as those of others ; that his per- 
sonal gratification is of no more importance, and can 
claim no greater sacrifices, than that of others ; that 
peculation, fraud, falsehood, injustice, oppression, drunk- 
enness, gluttony, lewdness, sloth, profaneness, irreligion, 
and impiety, in a word, every crime, is accompanied by 
greater guilt in him than in men at large ; because of 
his superior advantages to know, and his superior in- 
ducements to perform, his duty. Forsaking all private 
gratifications, then, so far as they are inconsistent with 
the public happiness, just so much more important than 
his, as those who enjoy it are more numerous, he is re- 
quired indispensably to see that his government has 
that happy and glorious influence upon his people, 
which is described by a man thoroughly versed in this 
subject, in the following beautiful language : ' The 
Spirit of the Lord spake by me ; and his word was 
in my tongue. The God of Israel said, the Rock of 
Israel spake to me, He that ruleth over men must be 
just, ruling in the fear of God : and he shall be as the 
light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morn- 
ing without clouds ; as the tender grass springing out 
of the earth by clear shining after rain,' 2 Sam. xxiii. 
2—4. 

To possess this beneficent influence — like this glo- 
rious luminary, to diffuse light, and warmth, and ani- 
mation, and happiness, to all around him — a ruler ought, 

1. To be a man of absolute sincerity. 

Of the ruler of the universe it is said, that ' it is im- 
possible that he should lie.' ' Mercy and truth,' said 
the wisest ruler that ever lived in this world, ' preserve 
the king.' — ' The lip of truth,' says the same prince, 
' shall be established for ever.' ' If truth,' said king 
John of France, ' were to be banished from the world, 
it ought still to find a residence in the breast of princes.' 
On the importance of truth I shall have occasion to 
dwell hereafter. It ought, however, to be observed 
here, that truth is the basis on which rest all the natural 
and moral interests of intelligent beings ; that neither 
virtue nor happiness can exist without it; and that 
falsehood, generally diffused, would ruin not only a 
kingdom, or a world, but the universe; would change 
all rational beings into fiends, and convert heaven itself , 
into hell. 

There are two kinds of government ; that of force 
and that of persuasion. A government of persuasion 
is the only moral or free government. A government 
of force may preserve order in every case which that 
force can reach ; but the order is that of a churchyard, 
the stillness and quiet of death. The inhabitants of a 
kingdom governed in this manner, are tenants of the 
grave ; moving masses, indeed, of flesh and bones ; 
but the animating principle is gone. The soul is shri- 
velled, and fled ; and nothing remains but dust and 
putrefaction. 

A government of persuasion subsists only in the 
mutual confidence of the ruler and the subjects. But 
where truth is not, confidence is not. A deceitful ruler 
is never believed for a moment. If we could sup- 
pose him desirous to do good, he would want the power ; 
for none would trust either his declarations or his pro- 
mises. The only feelings excited in the minds of the 
community towards him and his measures, would be 
jealousy and hatred. Even fools know that upright 



THE LAW OF GOD.—DUTY OF RULERS. 



589 



and benevolent measures not only need no support from 
falsehood, but are ruined by it. The very connexion 
of falsehood, therefore, with any measures, proves irre- 
sistibly to all men, that the measures themselves are 
mischievous, and that the author of them is a villain. 
Where confidence does not exist, voluntary obedience 
cannot exist. A lying ruler, if his government is to 
continue, makes force or despotism indispensable to his 
administration. So sensible are even the most villa- 
nous magistrates of these truths, that they leave no mea- 
sure untried to persuade their subjects, that themselves 
are men of veracity. Nay, all sagacious despots care- 
fully fulfill their promises to such of their subjects as 
they think necessary to the support of their domina- 
tion, and to the success of their measures. Falsehood 
may, indeed, in the hands of a man of superior cun- 
ning, succeed for a time ; but it can never last long ; 
and, whenever detection arrives, it draws after it a ter- 
rible train of avengers. 

Besides, lying is the most contemptible of all sins. 
' Ye are of your father, the devil,' said our Saviour to 
the Jews ; ' for he was a liar from the beginning, and 
the father of it.' This contemptible resemblance to the 
vilest and most contemptible of all beings, the source of 
complete debasement to every one who is the subject of 
it, is pre-eminently contemptible in a ruler. He is, of 
course, the object both of public and private scorn. No 
degradation is more indignantly regarded than that of 
being governed by a liar. 

' If a ruler hearken to lies,' says Solomon, ' all his 
servants are wicked.' Such a magistrate will be served 
by none but profligate men. The evils of his govern- 
ment will therefore spread, by means of his subordinate 
officers, into every nook and corner of the land. Like 
the simoom of Nubia, he spreads poison, death, and 
desolation over the wretched countries subjected to his 
sway. 

2. A ruler is bound to be a just man. 

' He that ruleth over men,' saith God, ' must be just.' 
This, indeed, is united of course with the preceding 
character. ' He that speaketh truth,' saith Solomon, 
' showeth forth righteousness.' The importance of jus- 
tice in government is, like that of truth, inestimable ; 
and, as it respects the divine government, is exhibited 
with wonderful force in that declaration of Moses, ' He 
is the rock ;' that is, the immovable foundation on 
which the universe rests. Why ? The answer is, ' His 
work is perfect : for all his ways are judgment ' (or 
justice) ; ' a God of truth and without iniquity, just and 
right is He.' On the truth and justice of the Infinite 
Mind the universe is built, as a house upon a rock. 
' Fiat justitia ; ruat coelum ;' is an adage, proverbially 
expressing the judgment of common sense concerning 
this subject. ' Let justice be done, although heaven it- 
self should tumble into ruin.' 

This comprehensive attribute demands, 

(I.) Of the legislator, that he enact just laws. 

Laws are the rules by which rulers themselves, as 
well as the people at large, are or ought to be, go- 
verned. If these are unjust, the whole system of ad- 
ministration will be a system of iniquity ; and the mass 
of guilt thus accumulated will rest primarily on the 
head of the legislator. 

(2.) Of the judge, that all his interpretations of law, 
and all his decisions founded on it, be just. 

' Woe unto them,' saith Isaiah, ' who justify the 



wicked for a reward, and take away the righteousness 
of the righteous from him.' — ' Ye shall do no unright- 
eousness in judgment,' said God to Israel ; ' thou shalt 
not respect the person of the poor, nor honour the per- 
son of the mighty; but in righteousness shalt thou judge 
thy neighbour.' — ' It is not good,' says Solomon, ' to 
have respect of persons in judgment.' — ' He that saith 
unto the wicked (that is, in a judicial sentence), Thou 
art righteous ; him shall people curse : nations shall 
abhor him. But to them that rebuke him shall be de- 
light; and a good blessing shall come upon them.' 
Tribunals of justice bring laws to every man's fire-side ; 
and apply them directly to his property, liberty, per- 
son, and life. How just soever, how reasonable soever, 
laws may be, an iniquitous tribunal may prevent all 
their good effects, and render a country as miserable 
by its decisions as it could be by the operations of ori- 
ginal tyranny in the legislator. When God established 
the government of Israel, he himself formed the consti- 
tution and enacted the laws. All the political evils 
which that people suffered, therefore, were effectuated 
by the unjust application of those laws. They were, 
however, oppressed, at times, as intensely as the nations 
who have been under despotic dominions. The guilt 
and the mischiefs of this oppression are in the Scrip- 
tures charged wholly and truly to the judicial and exe- 
cutive magistracy. The same evils in the same degree 
may be derived to any people from the same sources. 
A wise and upright judiciary is a public blessing, which 
no language can adequately exhibit, which no people 
can too highly prize, and too strenuously vindicate ; and 
without which no people can be safe or happy. 

(3.) Of the executive magistrate, that he execute the 
laws faithfully, invariably, and exactly. This is so 
plain a truth, and so universally acknowledged, as to 
need no illustration. The end of all legislative and 
judicial efforts is found here ; and, if this great duty is 
unaccomplished, both legislative and judicial efforts, 
however wise, and just, and good they may be, are a 
mere puppet-show. 

3. A ruler must be a benevolent man. 

Of the universal Ruler it is said, ' God is love.' Of 
the same character ought all his earthly delegates to be 
possessed. 

Und6r the influence of this spirit, infinitely impor- 
tant to the happiness of intelligent beings, rulers are 
bound to make the public good their sole object in go- 
verning. Their own personal interests, compared with 
the general interest, are a unit to many millions ; and 
are immensely better promoted by securing the com- 
mon good, than by any possible pursuit of that which 
is private and selfish. If they think otherwise, it is 
either because they cannot, or will not, discern the 
truth. 

Under the influence of this spirit also, he is bound 
to administer justice with mercy. In the conduct of 
such beings as men, there are very many cases in which 
a rule, generally just, becomes unjust by a rigid appli- 
cation. For these cases wise governments have endea- 
voured to provide, by intrusting the proper magistrate 
with a discretionary authority ; in the exercise of which, 
clemency may be extended wherever it may be extend- 
ed with propriety. Even where a strict application of 
law is right and necessary, there may be a harshness 
and unkindness in the manner of application, some- 
times scarcely less cruel than injustice in the applica- 



590 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seu. cxiii. 



tiovi itself. A benevolent ruler will never administer 
government in this manner. 

Universally, a benevolent ruler will prevent, redress, 
relieve, and remove the wrongs both of the public and 
of individuals, as far and as soon as it shall be in his 
power. He will cast an affectionate eye on all the con- 
cerns of his countrymen, and wherever he sees cala- 
mities arise, will kindly interpose with those means of 
relief which God has placed in his hands. The exten- 
sive power of doing good with which he is intrusted by 
his Creator, he will consider as thus intrusted, only that 
he may do good ; and will feel himself delightfully 
rewarded by having been selected as the honourable 
instrument for accomplishing so glorious a purpose. 
That all this is demanded by his duty, it is unnecessary 
even to assert. 

4. A ruler is bound to respect the laws of his country. 
By this I intend, particularly, that he is bound to 

conform to them in all his conduct, personal and public. 
The laws of every free country prescribe alike the 
conduct of the ruler and the ruled. The official con- 
duct of all magistrates, whatever be their office, is 
directed by particular laws. To every one of these, so 
far as his own duties are marked out by it, each magis- 
trate is bound to conform with absolute exactness ; not 
generally and loosely only, but with respect to every 
'jot and tittle.' The personal conduct of the ruler is 
prescribed by the same laws which direct that of his 
fellow citizens. These laws, also, it is his duty faith- 
fully and scrupulously to obey : a duty enforced by 
higher obligations than those which respect men in 
general ; because he is fairly supposed to understand 
more perfectly the duty and importance of obeying, 
and because, in violating law, his evil example will 
weaken the government, and prompt others to the same 
violation, more than that of any private individual. 
The ruler who violates the laws of the land, and yet 
attempts to compel or persuade others to obey them, 
labours, with the Danaides, to fill with water a tub full 
of holes. 

Concerning the king, whom God foresaw the Is- 
raelites would one day elect to govern them, Moses, by 
his direction, says to Israel, ' It shall be, when he sitteth 
upon the throne of the kingdom, that he shall write a 
copy of this law in a book, out of that which is before 
the priests, the Levites ; and it shall be with him ; and 
he shall read therein all the days of his life; that he 
may learn to fear the Lord his God, to keep all the 
words of this law, and these statutes, to do them ; that 
his heart be not lifted up above his brethren ; and that 
he turn not aside from the commandment to the right 
hand or to the left,' Deut. xvii. 19, 20. 

5. A ruler ought to be a man of piety. 

That a ruler is bound to sustain this character, by 
all the obligations which are incumbent on other men, 
will not be questioned. I intend something more. A 
ruler is under peculiar obligations to sustain this cha- 
racter, beside those which are common to other men. 
As a private citizen, he was under all the common 
obligations to sustain this character. As a ruler, lie is 
under new ones. His duties are become more impor- 
tant and arduous ; and demand, in an eminent degree, 
the blessing of God to enable him to perform them 
aright. He has greater means of doing good put into 
his hands, and needs, in a peculiar degree, the divine 
assistance, to enable him to use them. If he should be 



left to unwise or wicked measures, they will be far 
more mischievous to his countrymen, than any thing 
which he could formerly have done, when he was a 
private citizen. His personal conduct also cannot fail to 
be much more beneficial, or much more noxious, to his 
country, than if he had not been invested with a public 
character. 

In accordance with these observations, the Scriptures 
inform us, that the rulers of Israel and Judah were 
eminent blessings, or eminent curses, to the people over 
which they presided. David, Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, 
and Josiah, are remarkable examples of the glorious 
influence which a ruler may possess, towards reforming 
a nation, and rendering it happy. Jeroboam and Ahab 
are terrible proofs of the power which a ruler may 
exert, to change a nation into a horde of profligates. 
What magistrate, except such as Ahab and Jeroboam, 
would not covet the character and influence of the four 
first of these princes! What man of common sobriety 
would not shrink with horror from the thought of. 
resembling the two last ! But the four first were men 
of exemplary piety, while the two last were impious 
beyond example. 

At the same time, God usually blesses a nation for 
the sake of pious rulers; whereas an impious one can- 
not fail to become a curse. But all blessings are given 
in answer to prayer. ' Ask, and ye shall receive,' is 
the only promise of good to man ; involving the condi- 
tion without which it is never promised. If rulers, then, 
would obtain blessings either for themselves or their 
people, they, like all other men, must pray for them. 
' But the sacrifice of the wicked,' and of wicked rulers, 
as well as of other wicked men, ' is an abomination to 
the Lord ;' while ' the prayer of the upright is his de- 
light.' Which of these men ought we here to suppose 
that God will answer and bless ? 

6. A ruler is bound to become a blessing by his ex- 
ample. 

The character of a good ruler is forcibly and per- 
fectly described by St Paul, when he styles him ' a 
minister of God, for good' unto his people. This is his 
whole business ; and, while he pursues it, he is acting 
in his only proper character. To form this character, 
every thing which I have mentioned contributes, as an 
essential part. But every thing which has been said, 
except what was observed concerning his personal obe- 
dience to the laws of the land, and his piety, respects 
his official duties. The observation now to be illus- 
trated respects his conduct as a man. As a man, he is 
peculiarly required to be an example of all the Chris- 
tian virtues. Whatever he does, others will do, be- 
cause he does it ; and many more will imitate him, than 
if he were a private person. The weight of power, and 
the splendour of office, give to the example of the ruler, 
especially in an elevated station, an authority, a persua- 
siveness, a charm, which fascinates multitudes. If his 
example be virtuous, it will greatly discountenance 
and check vice ; and greatly encourage, diffuse, and 
strengthen virtue. If vicious, it will become pestilen- 
tial ; and spread contagion, decay, and death through 
all around him. No man can be so great a blessing or 
so great a curse, in this respect, as a ruler ; and the 
example of every man in high office will invariably be 
either a public curse, or a public blessing. Jeroboam 
and Ahab were incomprehensible curses to the Is- 
raelites, through every succeeding age of their national 




THE LAW OF GOD DUTY OF SUBJECTS. 



591 



existence. What man of common sense, in such an 
alternative, can balance a moment concerning the 
choice, which he shall make ? 

7. Every ruler, vested with the appointment of subor- 
! dinate officers, is under indispensable obligations to select 
men of the very same character which has been already 
described. 

' Moreover thou shalt provide,' said Jethro to Moses, 
' out of all the people, able men ; such as fear God ; 
men of truth, hating covetousness ; and place such over 
them, to be rulers of thousands, and rulers of hundreds, 
rulers of fifties, and rulers of tens ; and let them judge 
the people at all seasons.' ' Judges and officers,' said 
Moses to the Israelites, ' shalt thou make thee in all 
thy gates, which the Lord thy God giveth thee through- 
out thy tribes : and they shall judge the people with just 
judgment. Thou shalt not wrest judgment : thou shalt 
not respect persons ; neither take a gift ; for a gift doth 
blind the eyes of the wise, and pervert the words of the 
righteous.' — ' Him,' says David, speaking of this very 
subject, ' him that hath a high look, and a proud heart, 
I will not suffer. Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful 
of the land, that they may dwell with me ; he that 
walketh in a perfect way, he shall serve me. He that 
worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house, he that 
telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight.' These passages 
need no comment. The voice of God has here deter- 
mined this point in a manner which cannot be mis- 
understood. 

With this decision exactly accords that of experi- 
ence, and that of common sense. Subordinate officers 
are eyes and ears, and hands and feet, to their supe- 
riors in office. They are the means of furnishing them 
with the most necessary information ; that of the wants, 
circumstances, dangers, and sufferings, of the nation ; 
that of the real influence of governmental measures, 
whether beneficial or mischievous ; and, generally, all 
that on which future regulations ought to be grounded. 
They are the immediate means of executing every law, 
and carrying into effect every measure of administra- 
tion. Their own conduct, example, and influence, 
reach every neighbourhood, every fire-side. Nations 
have almost always suffered incomparably more from a 
multitude of little tyrants, than from a single great 
one ; and have been immensely more corrupted by a 
host of evil examples, than by a solitary pattern of 
wickedness, however great and splendid. In vain will 
the wisest, most upright, and most benevolent ruler, 
labour to promote public happiness, if he commits the 
administration of his measures to profligates and vil- 
lains. It is, however, to be remembered, that a ruler 
will, of course, appoint to subordinate offices men I 



whose character corresponds with his own. A wise and 
good ruler, so far as his information extends, will choose 
none but wise and good men to aid him in the business 
of governing. A bad ruler will find none but bad as- 
sistants convenient for his purposes. 

8. A ruler is under the highest obligations to be in- 
dustrious. 

Industry is the duty of all men, and pre-eminently 
that of a ruler. The various, complicated, and arduous 
business of governing, demands the full exertion of all 
the talents, and the full employment of all the time, 
allotted to man. Persons in high offices, particularly, 
are bound to improve their talents by every well di- 
rected effort. They are under indispensable obliga- 
tions to gain, so far as it is in their power, the most en- 
larged and exact information of their official duties, 
and the best modes of discharging them, of the interests 
of the people and country over which they preside, of 
the means by which their rights may be most effectually 
secured, of the dangers, either at home or abroad, to 
which they are exposed, and of the ways in which those 
dangers may be averted ; of the best means of private 
safety and national defence ; and, in a word, of all those 
measures by which may be insured the safety, peace, 
good order, and universal happiness of the nation. 

On this information ought to be founded a course of 
unremitted industry in effectuating, by the most useful 
measures, all these great and good purposes. A weak 
and ignorant ruler may deserve pity ; a lazy one can 
only merit abhorrence. Both are, of course, public 
nuisances. When God was about to punish the Jews in 
a terrible manner for their sins, he announced the 
alarming judgment in this remarkable prediction : 
' Behold, the Lord, the Lord of hosts, doth take away 
from Jerusalem, and from Judah, the stay and the staff; 
the whole stay of bread, and the whole stay of water ; 
the mighty man, and the man of war ; the judge, and 
the prophet, and the prudent, and the ancient ; the cap- 
tain of fifty, and the honourable man, and the coun- 
sellor, and the cunning artificer, and the eloquent 
orator. And I will give children to be their princes ; 
and babes shall rule over them. And the people shall 
be oppressed, every one by another, and every one by 
his neighbour. The child shall behave himself proudly 
against the ancient, and the base against the honour- 
able.' In the view of God, therefore, the loss of wise 
and able rulers, and the government of weak and 
foolish ones, such as indolent men in office always are, 
are both terrible judgments upon a nation, and severe 
inflictions of the divine vengeance upon guilt of no 
common dye. 



SERMON CX1V. 

THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT DUTY OF SUBJECTS. 



Honour thy father and thy mother ; that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee — 

Exod. xx. 12. 



Ih the last Discourse I considered, at some length, the i subjects. As a free government is that with which 
duty of rulers. I shall now go on to examine that of I alone we have any practical concern, my observations 



592 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxiv. 



will be especially referred to a government of this kind. 
All subjects have, indeed, many duties in common ; but 
there are some which are peculiar to men living under 
despotic dominion. These I shall not think it neces- 
sary to particularize. 

Every free government is more or less elective. The 
privilege of choosing those who are to govern them, is 
to every people possessing it, a blessing of inestimable 
importance ; and, like other blessings, brings with it 
the corresponding duties. Out of it particularly arises, 

1. The great duty of free citizens, which is to elect 
always, as far as may be, rulers possessing the several 
characteristics mentioned in the preceding Discourse: 
such as are sincere, just, benevolent, disposed to respect 
the laws of their country, pious, exemplary, industri- 
ous ; and thus prepared to select for subordinate offices, 
whenever vested with the power of selecting, men of 
the same character. 

That such rulers are agreeable to the will of God, 
and that he has required all rulers to be such, cannot 
be questioned. No more can it be questioned, that one 
great reason why he has required them to be of this 
character, is the establishment in this way, of the hap- 
piness of the people whom they rule. In every ordi- 
nance of this nature God has directly consulted the hap- 
piness of his creatures, and has undoubtedly chosen the 
very best means of accomplishing it. The establish- 
ment of national happiness then demands, indispensa- 
bly, that rulers be of this character. But, in the case 
supposed, the people themselves elect their rulers. 
They are, therefore, bound indispensably to elect such, 
and such only, as are agreeable to the will of God, as 
unfolded in his word; such and such only, as will 
contribute directly to the establishment of public hap- 
piness. 

Every people ought to remember, that in this case 
the magistracy is of their own creation ; that just such 
men are introduced into it, as they please ; and that 
if they are not men of wisdom and virtue, the electors 
are the sole and blameworthy cause. In the very act 
of electing weak and wicked men to places of magis- 
tracy, they testify publicly to God and the world, that 
they choose to have weak and wicked men for their 
rulers. All the evils of a wicked and weak admini- 
stration of government are, therefore, chargeable in the 
first instance, and in the prime degree, to themselves 
only. By what solemn obligations, then, are they 
bound to take the most effectual care, that those whom 
they elect be men of acknowledged wisdom and virtue ! 
To choose men of the contrary character is to rebel 
against the known will of God, to sport with their own 
happiness, and to hazard that of their posterity. The 
only part of this subject about which a question will 
be raised, and the part about which no question can 
consistently, either with' the Scriptures or common 
sense, be ever raised, is the declaration, that a ruler 
ought to be a virtuous man. To the question concern- 
ing this subject the scriptural answer is 6hort. ' As a 
roaring lion, and a ranging bear ; so is a wicked ruler 
over the poor people.'* This, it is to be remembered, is 
the decision, not of Solomon only, but of God. Com- 
mon sense, directed by its own unerring rule of expe- 
rience, has regularly given the same decision ; and 
mustered before the eyes of mankind a long host of 

• Prov. xxviii. 15. 



tyrants and public plunderers, of profligate legislators 
and abandoned magistrates, whose names have been 
followed by the hisses, and loaded with the execrations 
of mankind. Virtuous rulers, on the contrary, have 
always, unless in times of peculiar violence and preju- 
dice, been seen and acknowledged to be public bless- 
ings. Indeed, it may be doubted whether the general 
proposition now under consideration was ever seriously 
questioned by a sober man. All the doubts concerning 
it, all the opposition which it has met with, seem to 
have arisen in seasons of party and dissension; from 
the wish to carry some favourite point, or the desire of 
advancing to place and power some favourite person. 

In the preceding Discourse I have illustrated this 
subject, in a summary manner, from the political his- 
tory of Judah and Israel, recorded in the Scriptures. 
This illustration, corresponding exactly with every 
other of the same nature, and, in the light and convic- 
tion which it communicates, totally superior to them 
all, deserves to be resumed in this place, and to be in- 
sisted on particularly ; much more particularly, indeed, 
than the present occasion will permit. Every virtuous 
prince of Judah was regularly a public blessing ; be- 
loved of his people ; devoted to the advancement, and 
sedulously engaged in employing the means of accom- 
plishing the actual and extensive advancement of their 
happiness ; the acknowledged object of peculiar Divine 
favour ; the cause, in this manner, for which peculiar 
blessings descended on his nation ; and the honourable 
instrument of producing a sudden, general, and impor- 
tant reformation, not only in his court, but throughout 
his kingdom. Whenever such a prince ascended the 
throne, piety and morality immediately lifted up their 
heads, and began to find friends, to exert their influ- 
ence to abash vice, to silence murmurs, to diminish suf- 
ferings, and to create, what they always create, public 
and individual happiness. Such princes also regularly 
appointed, so far as it was in their power, men resem- 
bling themselves to the subordinate offices of govern- 
ment ; and thus stationed public benefactors in every 
corner of their country. For all these reasons, their 
names, as a sweet memorial, have been wafted down 
the stream of time with distinction and honour, and 
have commanded the esteem of every succeeding gene- 
ration. Such rulers were Moses, Joshua, Gideon, De- 
borah, Samuel, David, Solomon, before his declension, 
Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, Josiah, and Nehemiah. Such 
also were the brave and virtuous Maccabees. I shall 
only add, that these rulers strenuously defended the 
country which they governed. 

Take now the reverse of this picture. The wicked 
princes, to whose dominion these nations were at times 
subjected, blasted both their virtue and their happiness. 
Ahaz, Manasseh, Anion, and the three last kings of 
Judah, were malignant and affecting examples of this 
truth. Weak, as well as wicked, these princes ruined 
their people at home, and provided no means for their 
defence against enemies abroad. With an unobstructed 
and terrible rapidity, the nation which they ruled slid 
down the steep of declension, and plunged suddenly in 
to the gulf at the bottom. 

Still more instructive is the account given us con- 
cerning the kings of Israel. Of Jeroboam, the first of 
these princes, the most dreadful of all characters is 
communicated to us in this remarkable declaration ; 
that ' hs sinned, and made Israel to sin.' A polluted 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OF SUBJECTS. 



593 



and profligate wretch himself, he converted all around 
him into profligates ; and began a corruption of re- 
ligion and morals, which, extending its baleful influ- 
ence through every succeeding age, terminated in the 
final ruin of his country. The evils introduced by him 
operated -with a commanding and universal efficacy ; 
' and they were cherished and promoted by Nadab his 
' son, Baasha his murderer, Elah his son, and Zimri his 
; murderer; and by Omri, Ahab, and every one who 
1 followed them. By their pestilential example, and un- 
der their deadly influence, the nation became abandon- 
1 ed. Truth, justice, and piety sighed their last farewell 
to the reprobated race, and took their final flight. A 
nuisance to the world, and an object of the Divine ab- 
horrence, the unhappy nation became lost to every hope 
of recovery, and was finally given up as a prey to the 
Assyrian, at that time the general scourge and destroy- 
er of mankind. 

It is impossible for any people, with its eyes open, to 
■wish for such rulers as these. When it is remembered, 
that this testimony concerning evil rulers is the testi- 
mony of God himself; that the same causes will always 
produce the same effects; and that evil rulers were no 
more injurious to Israel, than they will be to every 
other people, governed by them ; it is plain, that no 
people can elect such rulers, without assuring them- 
selves, that in this very act they are accomplishing their 
own ruin. A nation which elects wicked rulers, it 
ought ever to be remembered, is chargeable, not only 
with the guilt of being corrupted, as Israel was, but 
-with the additional and peculiar guilt also of originat- 
ing' tile means of its own corruption. It not only be- 
comes wicked, but makes itself wicked, by giving to 
evil men the power and influence which enable them 
to spread the plague of vice through every part of the 
political body. What man of common sense and sober 
reflection can consent to make himself chargeable with 
these evils ? 

But it may be said, that those who elect will often be 
unable to distinguish virtuous men from such as are not 
virtuous. I answer, that churches of Christ are also un- 
able to make this discrimination with certainty; yet, 
wherever they are faithful and vigilant, they find no se- 
rious difficulty in keeping themselves, to a good degree, 
pure, and safe from gross and unhappy mixtures. I an- 
swer, farther, that a steady, regular aim, on the part of 
a whole nation, or other body politic, to choose virtuous 
rulers, and none but such as are virtuous, will ordinarily 
accomplish this invaluable purpose. Should it fail in any 
instance, the nation will still have done its duty. As to 
extreme cases, such as those in which no virtuous man 
can be found to fill the office contemplated, they must 
occur so rarely, as hardly to require rules of direction. 
It will always be in the power of a people to select from 
the candidates the best man ; and sucli a selection will 
undoubtedly answer the demands of duty in a case of 
this nature. The true difficulty does not lie in our in- 
ability to determine who are virtuous men, nor in their 
want of the proper qualifications for office ; but in the 
want of a fixed and general determination to choose 
them, in our defective estimate of the importance of 
virtue to public office, in our preference of other quali- 
fications to this, in party attachment, in personal fa- 
vouritism, and in gross and guilty indifference to the 
public good. All these are deplorable prejudices, and 
palpable crimes ; miserably weak, as well as dangerous- 



ly sinful ; fraught with innumerable evils, not always im- 
mediate, perhaps, but always near, certain, and dreadful. 

2. Subjects are bound faithfully to obey their rulers. 

Concerning this truth in the abstract, there will pro- 
bably be no debate, except what is excited either by 
passion or by frenzy. The only serious questions which 
can rationally be made here, are, How far is this obe- 
dience to extend ? and, What are the cases in which it 
may be lawfully refused ? The importance of these 
questions must be deeply felt by every man. By St 
Paul ' every soul' is required to ' be subject to the 
higher powers ;' because, as he informs us, ' the powers 
that be are ordained of God.' By the same apostle we 
are farther told, that ' whosever resisteth the power, 
resisteth the ordinance of God, and shall receive to him- 
self damnation :' that is, not damnation in the proper 
sense, or as the word is now understood ; but the con- 
demnation denounced by the law of God against all sin. 
By St Peter we are directed to ' submit to every ordi- 
nance of man, for the Lord's sake : whether it be to the 
king', as supreme ; or unto governors ;' that is, gone- 
rally, to all persons possessing lawful authority ; ' for 
such,' he declares, ' is the will of God.' With these 
precepts in his hand, no Christian can fail to believe 
the questions mentioned above to be of incalculable im- 
portance to him and his fellow men. It is as really the 
duty of a minister to explain this part of the gospel to 
his congregation, and to enforce upon them these pre- 
cepts, as any other. Nor can he be at all excused in 
passing them by. I shall therefore exhibit to you, on 
the present occasion, my own views concerning this 
long and vehemently disputed topic. 

(1.) Subjects are not bound to obey the commands of 
magistrates, as such, when they are not warranted by 
law. 

The law creates magistrates, and defines all their 
powers and rights. Whenever they require that which 
is not warranted by law, they cease to act as magistrates, 
and return to the character of mere citizens. In this 
character they have plainly no authority over their fel- 
low citizens. It is not the man but the magistrate, 
whom God requires us to obey. 

(2.) Subjects are bound to obey magistrates, when 
acting agreeably to the laws, in all cases not contrary to 
the will of God, as unfolded in the Scriptures. 

This I take to be the true import of the directions 
given by St Peter and St Paul. These apostles cannot, 
I think, be rationally supposed to enjoin upon subjects 
obedience to those commands of a ruler, which contra- 
vene the laws of the land ; or which lie beyond the 
limits of his lawful authority. They require our obe- 
dience to the magistrate, acting as a magistrate, or 
within the limits of his lawful authority ; and not to the 
magistrate, transgressing the bounds of law, and acting 
merely as a private individual, according to the dictates 
of his own discretion, caprice, or whim. Much less 
can they be supposed to require our obedience to those 
commands of a ruler which are opposed to the law of 
God. Whether we should ' obey God rather than men,' 
can never be seriously made a question by common 
sense, any more than by piety. 

There may be, there often are, cases in which, from 
motives of prudence and expediency, we may feel our- 
selves bound to obey magistrates, for the time at least, 
when acting beyond their authority, and aside from law. 
This subject is too extensive to be particularly consi . 
4 F 



591 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



JSer. cxtv. 



dered on the pvesent occasion. I shall only observe, 
therefore, that we are bound to fix in our minds a high 
sense of the duty and importance of obeying rulers ; and 
of the danger always threatening the public peace and 
prosperity from unnecessary disobedience. Such a sense 
will, it is believed, prevent most of the real difficulties 
to be apprehended in cases of this nature. 

The observations already made concerning this ge- 
neral subject, will prepare the way for settling our 
opinions concerning a particular question involved in 
it, which is of high importance to mankind. It is this ; 
Whether a nation is warranted to resist rulers, when 
seriously encroaching on its liberties? It is my inten- 
tion to confine the answer which will now be given to 
this question, to the lawfulness of such resistance. The 
expediency of it I shall suppose to be granted, so far 
as the safety and success of the resistance is concerned. 
In other words, I shall suppose the people immediately 
interested in the question, to have as fair an opportu- 
nity as can be reasonably expected, of preserving or 
acquiring political liberty ; and of establishing, after the 
contest is ended, a free and happy government. In 
this case, the resistance in question is, in my own view, 
warranted by the law of God. It is well known, that 
this opinion has been adopted by some wise and good 
men, and denied by others. But the reasons alleged by 
both classes for their respective doctrines, have, so far 
as they have fallen under my observation, been less sa- 
tisfactory than I wished. 

A nation, already free, ought, whenever encroach- 
ments upon its freedom are begun, to reason in some 
such manner as the following : — 

' Despotism, according to the universal and uniform 
experience of man, has regularly been fatal to every 
human interest. It has attacked private happiness, and 
invaded public prosperity. It has multiplied sufferings 
without number, and beyond degree. It has visited 
regularly the nation, the neighbourhood, and the fire- 
side ; and carried with it public sorrow, and private an- 
guish. Personal liberty has withered at its touch ; and 
national safety, peace, and prosperity, have faded at its 
approach. Enjoyment has fled before it ; life expired, 
and hope vanished. Evils of this magnitude have all 
been suffered, also, merely to gratify the caprice, the 
pride, the ambition, the avarice, the resentment, or the 
voluptuousness of one, or a few individuals ; each of 
whose interests is of the same value in the sight of God, 
and no more, than those of every other individual be- 
longing to the nation. Can there be a reason, do the 
Scriptures furnish one, why the millions of the present 
generation, and the more numerous millions of succeed- 
ing generations, should suffer these evils, merely to 
gratify the lusts of ten, twenty, or one hundred of their 
fellow men ?' 

' If an affirmative answer should be given to this 
question, let it be remembered, that the same despotic 
power has, with equal regularity, cut off from subjects 
the means of usefulness and duty. Mankind are sent 
into the world to serve God, and to do good to each 
other. If these things are not done, we live in vain, 
and worse than in vain. If the means of doing them 
are taken away, we are prevented, just so far, from an- 
swering the end of our creation. In vain is mental and 
bodily energy, in vain are talents, opportunities, and 
privileges, bestowed by our Creator, if they are to be 
wrested from us by our fellow men, or the means of 



exerting them taken away. In vain are we constituted 
parents, if we are precluded from procuring the com- 
fortable sustenance, providing for the education, and 
promoting the piety and salvation of our offspring. In 
vain are we made children, if we are forbidden to per- 
form the filial duties. In vain are we placed in the 
other relations of life, if we are prohibited from per- 
forming the duties to which they give birth. Take 
away usefulness from man, and there is nothing left 
which is good, but every thing which is bad. This 
usefulness, however, despots have in a dreadful manner 
either prevented, or destroyed. They have shrunk the 
talents, and palsied the energy of the mind ; have shut 
the door of knowledge, and blocked up the path of 
virtue ; have wilted the human race into sloth and im- 
becility, and lowered the powers of man almost to the 
level of brutism. The little spot of_Greece exhibited 
more energy, and more specimens of mental greatness, 
in one hundred and fifty years, than the Chinesian 
world has exhibited in two thousand.' 

' But this is not all. Despotic rulers have exercised 
a most malignant influence upon the virtue of mankind. 
They have assumed the prerogatives of heaven ; and 
prescribed, as the will of God, a system of religious 
doctrines and duties to their subjects. This system has 
invariably been absurd, gross, and monstrous. The 
morality which it has enjoined has been chiefly a code 
of crimes fitter for the regulation of banditti, than of 
sober men. The religion which it has taught, has been 
a scheme of impiety. Yet this system they have en- 
forced by the most terrible penalties ; by the loss of 
property, liberty, and life ; by the jail and the gibbet, 
the wheel and the rack, the fagot and the cross. Blood 
has stained the sceptre — martyrs have surrounded the 
throne.' 

' Even this is not all. Despots, bad men themselves, 
must be served by bad men. The baleful and deleteri- 
ous influence of the head and the members united, has 
extended everywhere, even to the corner and the cot- 
tage ; and, like the deadly damp of the cavern, has 
imperceptibly and silently extinguished light and life, 
wherever it has spread. Virtue has fallen amid the 
exhalation, unobserved and unknown. In its place has 
arisen and flourished a train of monstrous corruptions, 
which, with continually increasing strength, have finally 
gained an entire possession of the land. Degenerated 
beyond recall, and polluted beyond hope, a people un- 
der this influence has sunk into remediless ruin ; and 
only continued to exist, until mercy was wearied out 
by their profligacy, and reluctantly gave the sign for 
vengeance to sweep them away. One regular and 
complete example of all these evils is given us by the 
voice of God himself in the kingdom of Israel. Profane 
history records a multitude. Is there any principle, 
either scriptural or rational, which demands of any na- 
tion such a sacrifice ?' 

' But were we to admit, that such a sacrifice might 
lawfully be made by us, so far as ourselves only are 
concerned, it is farther to be remembered, that we are 
intrusted with all the possessions, privileges, blessings, 
and hopes of our offspring, through every succeeding 
generation. Guardians appointed by God himself, how 
can we fail of discharging punctiliously this sacred 
trust? The deposit is of value literally immense. It 
involves the education, the comfort, the safety, the use- 
fulness, the religious system, the morals, the piety, and 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUTY OF SUBJECTS. 



595 



the eternal life of millions, which can neither be known 
nor calculated. This is a trust which cannot lawfully 
be given up, unless in obedience to a known and un- 
questionable command of God ; and no such command 
can be pleaded. Equally important is it, that we pre- 
vent (for, under God, none but we can prevent,) the 
contrary innumerable and immeasurable evils.' 

' At the same time, it is ever to be remembered, that 
under a free government, all the blessings which I have 
mentioned, so far as they are found in the present 
world, live and prosper. Such a government is the 
soil and the climate, the rain and the sunshine of hu- 
man good. Despotism, on the contrary, is the combined 
drought and sterility of Nubia, the frost and darkness 
of Zembla ; amid which, virtue, comfort, and safety can 
never spring.' 

With these considerations in view, it is unquestion- 
ably evident to me, that nations are bound, so far as it 
is possible, to maintain their freedom, and to resist 
every serious encroachment upon it, with such efforts 
as are necessary for its preservation. 

(3.) Subjects are bound to obey every magistrate, 
acting lawfully, in the same manner. 

The constable and tithing-man are, in their own 
sphere, as truly armed with the authority of the state, 
as the governor and the prince : and the divine com- 
mand is ' Submit to every ordinance of man,' that is, 
to governmental authority in every department, ' for 
the Lord's sake.' To resist rulers in high stations 
may be productive of more mischief, than to resist 
those in low ones. In other respects, the guilt of the 
resistance is the same. 

3. Subjects are bound to honour their rulers. 

They are bound to treat them with all the becoming 
marks of respect and reverence. Rulers, when treat- 
ed with little external respect, will soon cease to be re- 
spected. 

They are bound to support them honourably. This 
is one of the few doctrines in which all ages and na- 
tions have united. Avarice alone has, in any case, 
prompted men to believe the contrary doctrine, or hin- 
dered them from carrying this into proper execution. 
An honourable support to rulers is that which the gene- 
ral sense of propriety pronounces to be of this nature. 

Subjects are bound also to speak respectfully of their 
rulers. On this subject it will be necessary to be some- 
what more particular. 

' Thou shalt not speak evil of the ruler of thy people,' 
is certainly a precept dictated by reason as well as re- 
velation. Still it cannot, 1 think, be denied, that the 
taiks of rulers are, on certain occasions, to be exposed, 
as well as those of private individuals. The prophets 
frequently exposed the faults of their rulers; and Christ 
and his apostles those of the magistrates of their day. 
The question, When, and in what manner this may be 
done by us, becomes, therefore, a serious topic of in- 
vestigation. 

Concerning this subject, the following thoughts have 
occurred to me : 

(1.) Censures of rulers, in order to be lawful, must 
be true. 

(2.) There must be a real and solid reason for utter- 
ing them. It is not enough, that a ruler has done evil. 
In order to be justified in publishing it, we must be 
assured that some important good will, with high pro- 
bability, spring from the publication. The evil arising 



from this source is, in the abstract, always real and im- 
portant. Where there is no good sufficiently probable 
and sufficiently important to balance this evil, we can- 
not be vindicated in bringing it into existence. 

(3.) We must sincerely aim at doing this good. 

A watchful and faithful determination of this kind, 
accompanied by a scrupulous and conscientious sense 
of its high importance, as a part of our duty, will ordi- 
narily preserve us from the danger of transgression. 
He who, in a proper and evangelical manner, has formed 
such a determination, and made it an habitual part of 
his character, will almost always perform his duty with 
respect to this subject ; and rarely, or never, censure a 
ruler, unless on solid grounds. 

(4.) Such censures should in all ordinary cases be 
uttered in the language of moderation, and not of invec- 
tive, or ridicule. 

A great part of the evils done in this way flow from 
the manner in which the censure is conducted. Where 
this is sober and temperate, there is usually little room 
to fear. Where it is not, the censurer is always exposed 
to the danger of criminality. 

4. Subjects are bound to defend their rulers. 

This duty equally includes opposition to private and 
civil violence, and resistance to open hostility ; and is so 
obvious and acknowledged, as to need no illustration. 
In defending their rulers, subjects are only employed in 
ultimately defending themselves. 

5. Subjects are bound to furnish all necessary supplies 
for the exigencies of government. 

' For this cause,' says St Paul, (that is, ' for con- 
science' sake ' ) ' pay ye tribute also. For they ' (that 
is, rulers) ' are God's ministers ; attending continually 
upon this very thing. Render, therefore, to all their 
dues ; tribute to whom tribute is due, and custom to 
whom custom.' Taxes are, ordinarily, the only national 
supplies. Every public object almost demands some 
expense ; in peace not a little, in war much more. If 
the necessary supplies be not furnished, these objects 
must either languish, or fail. God has, therefore, wisely 
and benevolently required mankind to render tribute 
and custom, when lawfully demanded. It is to be re- 
membered, that this requisition is made by infinite au- 
thority ; and can no more be dispensed with, than any 
other command of God. - / 

6. Subjects are bound to pray for their rulers. 

To the performance in this duty no virtuous subject 
can ever want motives. The arduous nature of those 
duties to which rulers are called, the responsibility of 
their stations, the difficulties which they have to en- 
counter, and the discouragements under which they la- 
bour, teach us in the strongest manner, that they daily 
and eminently need the divine blessing. This blessing 
like all others, will be given only in answer to prayer, 
to the prayers, indeed, of the rulers themselves: and 
still more to the united prayers of both rulers and peo- 
ple. Mere benevolence then, mere compassion for men 
struggling with peculiar difficulties in their behalf, de- 
mands this duty from subjects. 

At the same time, it is loudly called for by the regard 
which we owe to the public welfare. National blessings 
are given in answer to national pi'ayers. Of these bless- 
ings rulers are the chief instruments. Rut they can- 
not be the means of good to a nation unless their 
efforts are crowned with a divine blessing. If nations 
then would receive public blessings, they are bound 



596 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxv. 



indispensably, to supplicate for their rulers the favour of 
God. 

Finally, God has required such prayers at our hands. 
' I exhort, therefore,' says St Paul, ' that, first of all, 
supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of 
hanks, be made for all men : for kings, and for all that 
are in authority ; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable 
life, in all godliness and honesty; for this is good and 
acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour.' 

The only remark which I shall annex to this Dis- 
course, is, that, connected with the preceding one, it 
shows, unanswerably, the groundlessness and folly of 
an observation, repeated proverbially by multitudes of 
men in this and other countries ; viz. that religion has 
nothing to do with politics, or, in other words, with go- 
vernment. 

These Discourses, summarily as the subjects of them 
have been considered, prove beyond all reasonable de- 
bate, that the whole vindicable conduct of rulers towards 
their subjects, and of subjects towards their rulers, is 
nothing but a mere collection of duties, objects of mora] 
obligation, required by God, and indispensably owed 
to him by men. The Christian religion, therefore, the 
rule of all duty, and involving all moral obligation, is so 
far from having nothing to do with this subject, that it 
is inseparably interwoven with every part of it. Ac- 
cordingly, the Bible regulates, and, were it not sinfully 
pi - evented from its proper influence, would exactly and 
entirely control, all the political doctrines and actions 



of men. It is, indeed, as easy and as common to deny 
truth, and refuse to perform our duty, to disobey God, 
and injure men, in political concerns, as in any other. 
In truth, there has been no field of iniquity more ex- 
tensive than this ; none in which more enormous crimes 
or more terrible sufferings have existed. All these 
crimes and sufferings have sprung from the ignorance 
of, or disobedience to, the Scriptures. Were they al- 
lowed to govern the political conduct of mankind, both 
the crimes and the sufferings would vanish ; every duty, 
both of rulers and subjects, would be performed, and 
every interest would be completely secured. In what 
manner the doctrine against which I am contending 
ever came to be received by any man, who was not 
peculiarly weak or wicked, I am at a loss to determine. 
It would seem, that even the careless and gross exami- 
nation of the most heedless reflector must have evinced 
both its folly and falsehood. A dream is not more un- 
founded ; the decisions of frenzy are not more wild. To 
villains in power, or in pursuit of power, office, and 
public plunder, it is undoubtedly a most convenient 
doctrine ; as it will quiet the reproaches of conscience, 
where conscience has not ceased to reproach ; and 
throw the gate which opens to every crime and selfish 
gratification from its hinges. To subjects, to a state, to 
a nation, it is literally fatal. The people which have 
adopted it, may be certainly pronounced to have bidden 
a final adieu to its peace and its happiness, its virtue 
and its safety. 



SERMON CXV. 



THE LAW OF GOD. 



-THE DECALOGUE.— -THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT. 
LAWFUL AND WHEN UNLAWFUL. 



KILLING— WHEN 



Thou shall not kill. — Exod. xx. 1 3. 



In the five preceding Discourses I have considered sum- 
marily several classes of duties involved in the fifth 
command. Had I no other object before me, beside 
the examination of this precept, I should feel myself 
obliged to investigate also the mutual duties of men in 
various other relations of life, particularly those of 
husbands and wives, masters and servants, ministers 
and their congregations. All these, together with the 
duties of friends and neighbours, of the aged and the 
young, are, I think, obviously included in this precept, 
and are of sufficient importance to claim, not only a 
discussion, but a more extensive and minute investiga- 
tion, than I have given to those already examined. But 
a work of this nature, although it may seem large, must 
necessarily be compendious. The field is too vast even 
to be wandered over by any single effort, and many 
parts of it must be left unexplored by any traveller. 

The command, which is given us in the text, is ex- 
pressed in the most absolute manner : ' Thou shalt not 
kill.' To kill, is the thing forbidden ; and by the 
words it is forbidden in all cases whatever. Whenever 
we kill any living creature, therefore, we are guilty of 



a transgression of this command, unless we are per- 
mitted to take away the life in question by an excep- 
tion which God himself has made to the rule. 

This consideration of the absolute universality of the 
command in the text, ought invariably to be remem- 
bered in all our comments upon it. These, it is ever 
to be remembered, are the words which God himself 
has chosen. They accord, therefore, with the dictates 
of infinite wisdom concerning this subject, and bind us 
with infinite authority. Man cannot alter them. Man 
cannot lawfully originate an exception to them, nor in 
any other manner limit their import. Every comment 
upon them must, of course, be derived from the words 
themselves, or from other precepts, or from comments 
on this precept, found in other parts of the Scriptures. 
At the same time, a scrupulous attention to the words 
themselves will, if I mistake not, remove several diffi- 
culties concerning this subject, and contribute not a lit- 
tle towards settling finally some important doctrines of 
morality. 

In examining this subject, I shall endeavour to point 
out, 



KILLING; WHEN LAWFUL AND WHEN UNLAWFUL. 



597 



I. Those instances in winch life may be lawfully 
taken away, agreeably to scriptural exceptions under 
this law; 

II. Some of those instances in which life is destroyed, 
in contradiction to this law. 

I. / shall mention those instances in which life may 
be lawfully taken away under scriptural exceptions to 
this law. 

1. The life of animals may be lawfully taken away 
in two cases ; when they are necessary for our food, 
and when they are hostile and dangerous to us. 

In Gen. ix. 3, ' God said to Noah and his sons, 
Every thing- that moveth shall be meat for you ; even 
as the green herb have I given you all things.' That 
this permission was necessary, we know, because it was 
given. But if it was necessary, men had no right to 
eat the flesh of animals before it was given. The same 
thing is evident, also, from the terms of the permission, 
' Even as the green herb have I given you all things.' 
If God gave men all things, that is, all animals, to be 
their food, then men have no original, natural, or pre- 
vious right to use them for food. Accordingly, the an- 
tediluvians, abandoned as they were, appear plainly 
never to have eaten animal food. Noah and his de- 
scendants began this practice, under this permission. 
Here is found the only right of mankind to this food. 
Animals belonged originally and solely to their Crea- 
tor. We, therefore, could have no right to their lives, 
unless he who alone possessed that right, had transferred 
it to us. 

From these observations it is plain, that infidels, who 
deny the divine revelation of the Scriptures, can plead 
no right to eat the flesh of animals. The only being 
who can possibly communicate this right to us is God, 
since he is the only being who possesses the right to 
dispose of them. But God has nowhere communicated 
this right to mankind, unless he has done it in the 
Scriptures. But this communication they deny to have 
been made ; and are, therefore, without any warrant 
for the use of animal food. Nor can they ever make 
use of it, without contravening the dictates of a good 
conscience, and violating the plainest principles of jus- 
tice and humanity. 

The arguments by which infidels have endeavoured 
to defend this conduct in themselves, are, in my view, 
miserable fetches of a disingenuous mind, struggling 
hard to justify itself in a practice which it is loth to 
give up, and not the honest reasons of fair conviction. 
They are these : ' It is the analogy of nature, that the 
stronger should prey upon the weaker ; that we feed 
animals, and have therefore a right to their lives, and 
their flesh, as a retribution for our kindness to them ; 
and that, if we did not destroy them, they would mul- 
tiply in such a manner, as ultimately to destroy us.' 

These reasons are characteristically suited to the 
mouth of a wolf, or a tiger, but proceed with a very ill 
grace from the mouth of a man. Were a savage, of 
superior force, to attack an infidel, plunder his pro- 
perty, and destroy his life, in order to convert his flesh 
into food ; and were he, beforehand, to allege, as the 
justifying reason for this conduct, that it was the ana- 
logy of nature for the stronger to prey upon the 
weaker; the argument, it is believed, would scarcely 
satisfy the infidel. Were the ox endued with speech, 
he might unanswerably reply to the allegation, drawn 
from the kindness of men to oxen, that their labour 



was an ample compensation for their food ; and that 
men fed them for their own benefit, and not theirs. 
With respect to the third argument, he might ask, with- 
out fearing any reply, Where, and when, did oxen ever 
multiply in such a manner as to become dangerous to 
mankind ? If infidels can be satisfied with these argu- 
ments for the use of flesh, we can no longer wonder, 
that they are equally well satisfied with similar argu- 
ments against the revelation of the Scriptures. 

The truth is, they are not thus satisfied with either 
the one or the other. Inclination, and not conviction, 
is probably the source of their conduct in both cases. 
Were they as scrupulous, as all men ought to be, they 
would, like the Hindoos, and even the antediluvians, 
abstain entirely from eating the flesh of animals. 

Animals hostile and dangerous to men, God has not 
only permitted, but commanded, us to put to death ; at 
least whenever they have intentionally destroyed human 
life. In Genesis ix., he says to Noah and his children, 
' Surely your blood of your lives will I require : at the 
hand of every beast will I require it : and at the hand 
of man.' Agreeably to this law, which makes animals 
in this situation punishable with death, the ox, which 
gored a man, or woman, was commanded to be stoned. 
As the beast which had perpetrated this act could be 
punished only by men, men were required to put him 
to death. It will not, I suppose, be contended, that we 
are not warranted to anticipate this mischief, and pre- 
vent the tiger from shedding human blood, as well as 
to destroy him after his depredations are completed. 

In all other cases we are unwarranted to take away 
the life of animals, because God has given us no warrant. 
There are persons who destroy their domestic ani- 
mals by compelling them to labour beyond their strength, 
or their capacity of enduring fatigue. There are 
others, who beat them, under the influence of furious 
passions, in immoderate degrees, or afliict them by 
other exertions of violence and cruelty. There are 
others, who deny them the necessary food, and keep 
them continually half famished through hunger. There 
are others, who take away the lives of birds, fishes, and 
other small animals, for the mere purpose of indulging 
the pleasure of hunting, or fishing. And there are 
others still, who find an inhuman pleasure in merely 
distressing and torturing this humble and defenceless 
class of creatures. Of the first of these modes of cruelty, 
horse-racing is a scandalous example. A brutal speci- 
men of the last is presented to us in cock-fighting. 

' A righteous man,' says Solomon, ' regardeth the life 
of his beast,' Prov. xii. 10; that is, a righteous man 
realizes, in a just manner, the value of the life of his 
beast, entertains a steady conviction, that he has no right 
unnecessarily to shorten or imbitter it ; and feels the 
solemn obligation which he is under, to use all the means 
dictated by humanity and prudence, for preserving the 
life of those animals which are under his care, and for 
rendering them comfortable. 

In all these instances of cruelty, the life of animals is 
not immediately taken away. But in all of them it is 
either suddenly or gradually destroyed ; and often with 
greater cruelty, and more abominable wickedness, 
where the process is slow, than where it is summary. 
The spirit of this command is violated in them all. 

Children, who are either taught, or permitted, to ex- 
ercise cruelty towards animals in early life are effica- 
ciously fitted in this manner to exercise cruelty towards 



598 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxv. 



their fellow men. If they escape the dungeon, or the 
gibbet, they will be little indebted for this privilege to 
those who had the charge of their education. It is 
remarkable, that the law which punished murder with 
death, was immediately subjoined to the permission to 
take the life, and eat the flesh, of animals. In this fact, 
if I mistake not, the Creator has taught us, that the 
transition from shedding their blood, to shedding that 
of man, is so short and obvious, as to render a new law 
necessary for the prevention of murder ; a law which, 
it would seem, had not been demanded by the circum- 
stances of preceding ages. 

2, The life of man may also be lawfully taken away 
in certain cases, according to the Scriptures. 

(1.) This may be done, when this act is necessary for 
our own defence. A sufficient warrant for this is given 
us in the case of the thief, mentioned Exod. xxii. 2, ' If 
a thief be found breaking up, and be smitten that he 
die ; there shall no blood be shed for him.' In this 
case, the thief was killed in the defence of a man and 
his family ; and the act of killing him is plainly war- 
ranted. By parity of reason, the warrant extends to 
all cases, which in substance compare with this. In 
other words, we are justified in putting to death the 
person who assails the life of ourselves, or others, 
wrongfully, whenever our own defence, or theirs, make 
it necessary. 

In every case of this nature, we are, however, indis- 
pensably bound to be sure, that we act only in the de- 
fence of ourselves or others ; and that there are no per- 
ceptible means, beside this extreme one, of warding off 
the threatened evil. Wherever such means exist, it is 
our indispensable duty to employ them. We are bound, 
also, in no case to take away life for an injury already 
done, and in the indulgence of anger, malice, or re- 
venge. At the same time, if the right invaded, or the 
injury to be done, is of moderate importance, we are 
prohibited from proceeding to this extremity. 

On this ground alone, that it is an act of self-defence, 
can war be justified. Aggressive war is nothing but a 
complication of robbery and murder. Defensive war 
is merely the united efforts of several persons to defend 
themselves against a common inroad, or enemy. It is 
therefore equally lawful with self-defence in an indivi- 
dual. By aggressive war, here, I do not intend that 
which is first commenced under the name of war; but the 
original outrage, or series of outrages, out of which the 
war has lawfully arisen, on the part of the injured nation. 

A numerous, and on many accounts respectable, class 
of Christians, the Friends, have denied the lawfulness 
of war. It is to be wished that the world would univer- 
sally adopt the practice of these pacific men. But, so 
long as the present disposition of mankind predomi- 
nates— =-so long as men will attack and destroy the life, 
liberty, and property of their fellow men- — defensive 
war is absolutely necessary, and absolutely lawful. A 
nation which should adopt the contrary doctrine, would 
be undone. This society of Christians could not pos- 
sibly exist in a national state. The province of Penn- 
sylvania, and perhaps the rest of the British colonies 
together with it, came very near being finally destroyed 
by the prevalence of this very doctrine in its House of 
Representatives. Such a nation would publicly pro- 
claim itself an unresisting prey to the rest of mankind ; 
and, like the deer, would become a victim to the fangs 
of the wolf and the tiger. 



That war is lawful in the abstract, we know with cer- 
tainty ; because it has been directly commanded, unequi- 
vocally approved, and miraculously prospered, by God. 
He commanded Israel to make war upon Amalek, until 
the name of that guilty nation should be blotted out 
from under heaven. In the same manner, he com- 
manded them to make war upon the inhabitants of 
Canaan ; and approved of their conduct in making war 
upon that people. In the same manner, he commanded 
the Israelites to make war repeatedly upon Midian and 
upon Hazer ; censured the tribe of Reuben, and by his 
angel commanded the Israelites to ' curse Meroz,' be- 
cause they neglected or refused to make active exer- 
tions in this war. He also miraculously aided the 
Israelites against Midian, Amalek, the Philistines, and 
others. See Exod. xvii. 8 ; Judges vii.; 1 Sam. vii.; 
and 2 Sam. v. 

But all that has been commanded, approved, and 
miraculously prospered by God, is in itself right. For 
it is impossible that God should either command or 
approve of that which is wrong. The only question, 
therefore, which can be rationally made in this case, is, 
In what circumstances is war lawful ? With this ques- 
tion it cannot be supposed that I have here any con- 
cern. 

(1.) The life of man may be lawfully taken away, 
when by crimes it has been forfeited to the law of the 
land. 

Mankind are commanded, in the original law con- 
cerning murder, given us in Gen. ix., to put the mur- 
derer to death. ' Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man 
shall his blood be shed.' In the Mosaic code the same 
punishment is annexed to a variety of crimes ; such as 
adultery, filial stubbornness, idolatry, and several others. 
In each of these cases men are required to take away 
human life, as the proper punishment of a crime by 
which it has been forfeited; and are not merely war- 
ranted to do this by a permission. In the former case, 
the command is addressed to all men. Accordingly we 
find it repeated by Solomon, as a universal precept, in 
the most absolute terms. ' A man that doeth violence 
to the blood of any person, he shall flee to the pit ; let 
no man stay him.' It is also made a part of the Jewish 
law in various places. Exod. xxi. 12, 14 ; Lev. xxiv. 
17 ; and very comprehensively, Numb. xxxv. 16, &c. 
In the latter cases, the command is addressed to the Is- 
raelites. The Jewish law is binding upon other nations, 
only in those cases whose nature is unchangeable and 
universal ; or in those in which the circumstances are 
precisely the same. Still, this law is a complete proof 
of the absolute rectitude of that conduct which it pre- 
scribes. For God cannot possibly prescribe that which 
is wrong. The same law also teaches, that in the same 
circumstances, the same conduct may, with the strictest 
propriety, be pursued by us. For God cannot command 
that which, in the given circumstances, is unwise. It 
is evidently lawful therefore for other nations, as well 
as the Jews, to put men to death for other crimes be- 
side murder. 

But in every case of this nature, we are, in my view 
forbidden by the general spirit of the gospel, and as I 
apprehend, by the plain dictates of reason also, to take 
away life, wherever a milder punishment may be safely 
substituted. Murder, we are bound invariably to pun- 
ish with death. For every other crime a milder 
penalty may, and ought to be, adopted, whenever it 



KILLING; WHEN LAWFUL AND WHEN UNLAWFUL. 



599 



will answer the proper ends of punishment. All evils 
which are suffered beyond the necessary purposes of 
penal jurisprudence, are suffered gratuitously ; or, in 
other words, without any justifying cause. In this 
case the infliction ceases to be justice, and becomes op- 
pression. 

It is ever to be remembered, that, even when the 
punishment of death is lawfully to be inflicted, it can 
be warrantably executed only by the magistrate ; and 
by him only when acting according to the decisions of 
law. Private individuals have no more right to inter- 
fere, than if the man condemned were innocent; and 
were they to lay violent hands on him, although proved 
to be guilty, and rightfully condemned, they would 
themselves become murderers. Nor can the judge Jaw- 
fully condemn any man, whatever he may think con- 
cerning the rectitude of the decision, unless upon ade- 
quate legal testimony, fairly exhibited in open court, 
and in exact conformity to the modes of trial, by law 
established. Neither can the executive magistrate war- 
rantably do any thing, in a case of this nature, beside 
merely executing the sentence of the judge ; whether he 
esteems that sentence just, or unjust. The time, the 
manner, and the circumstances of execution, ordered 
by law, he is bound exactly to observe. A criminal, al- 
though condemned to death, may, instead of being exe- 
cuted, be murdered : and that as truly as any other man. 
The sheriff also can easily lay aside the character of a 
magistrate, and assume that of a murderer. 

At the same time, all magistrates, in whatever station 
they act, are indispensably prohibited from the exercise 
of hatred, or revenge, in every form and degree, against 
the criminal. Magistrates here, as well as elsewhere, 
are 'ministers of God for good' to his people. In the 
awful"employment of executing penal justice, it is their 
unalterable duty to exercise the benevolence of the gos- 
pel ; to be exactly just and faithful ; and to ' rule in 
tiie fear of God.' As instruments in his hands, disposed 
conscientiously to do that, and that only, which is re- 
quired by his will, and demanded by the public safety, 
they will be approved by him ; and ought ever to be 
highly honoured by their fellow citizens. But, if they 
turn aside from their duty, and indulge their own pas- 
sions, instead of obeying the dictates of public justice, 
they assume the character of oppressors, and lay aside 
that of rulers, merit the severest censures of their fellow 
men, and prepare a terrible account of their stewardship 
against the final day. 

II. I shall mention several instances in which life is 
destroyed in contradiction to this command. 

Of these, the only one which I shall mention at the 
present time, is that which is appropriately called mur- 
der ; usually defined the killing our neighbour with pre- 
meditated malice. 

On this subject, so long, so often, and so thoroughly 
canvassed, so perfectly understood, and so harmonious- 
ly considered by mankind, it cannot be necessary to 
dwell. I shall dismiss it therefore with the single ob- 
servation, that the very necessity of forbidding this 
crime, a necessity daily and unanswerably manifested, 
is a most dreadful proof of the extensive depravity of 
man. 

I shall now proceed to make several observations, 
more necessary, and more instructive to this audience, 
concerning several crimes, more or less intimately con- 
nected with this subject. 



1. All those actions which involve murder, are un- 
doubtedly of the same nature. 

Such are the burning of a house, supposed by the in- 
cendiary to be inhabited ; making a dangerous leak in 
a ship having men on board ; shooting or casting the 
instruments of death into a crowd ; treason, rebellion, 
and other acts of a similar nature. It is to no purpose 
here for the perpetrator to allege that death may possi- 
bly not be the consequence of his nefarious conduct. 
Had he any other regard to the value of human life, 
and to the sacred obligation which he is under, not only 
not to invade, but to preserve it, beside what a murderer 
feels, he would never be guilty of the conduct, nor think 
of this reason as a justification of it. A bare possibility 
of this nature must be alleged, if alleged at all, not to 
convince, but to affront the understanding. 

2. Under this head are also included all those actions 
by which the life of man is destroyed through a criminal 
negligence. 

There are many cases in which we may easily foresee 
that the death of others will be a consequence of our 
negligence. A sacred regard to the value of human life 
duly felt by us, would necessarily produce that attentive 
care which, so far as is in cur power, would ensure safety 
to the lives of our fellow men. 

3. To contrive the death of others is a crime of the 
same general nature. 

The crime of murder lies in the dispositions and de- 
signs of the heart. To constitute us murderers in the 
sight of God, it is not necessary that we should be guilty 
of any overt act whatever. It is amply sufficient to con- 
trive the death of others. So plain is tin's truth, that it 
has been generally acknowledged by mankind. The real 
and the prime guilt, probably, almost always lies here. 
The providence of God not unfrequently prevents the 
contrivance from being executed. But the contriver is 
still a murderer in his sight. 

4. To wish the death of others, although Ave form no 
plans for accomplishing it, is a crime of the same general 
nature. 

' He who looketh on a woman to lust after her,' saith 
our Saviour, ' hath committed adultery with her already 
in his heart.' By parity of reason, wishes indulged 
against the life of our neighbour, are the commission of 
murder. There are probably many persons who secretly 
wish the death of their fellow men, and who yet never 
form, nor think of forming, any plan to accomplish 
their death. Most, if not all of these, perhaps, feel 
little remorse at the remembrance of their conduct, 
and probably rarely suspect themselves of being even 
remotely concerned in transgressing this command. 
Every such person is grossly deceived, and will be 
found charged with the guilt of murder at the final 
judgment. 

5. To wound our neighbour, and deprive him of the 
use of his limbs or faculties, is a crime of the same na- 
ture ; though I acknowledge, of inferior guilt. 

Although to destroy another's limbs is not to take 
away his life, it is yet to take away a part of the useful- 
ness and comfort which make life desirable. We may 
continue to live, when we are rendered chiefly useless, 
and unhappy. But life itself, so far as this world is con- 
cerned, must be of little value to the possessor. Nor 
can it easily be believed, that he whose malevolence can 
be gratified by depriving his neighbour of his limbs, or 
other peculiarly important blessings, would, under a 



600 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxvi. 



little additional provocation, be reluctant to take his 
life. 

6. Quarrelling and fighting are crimes evidently of 
the same nature. 

A great part of the murders committed in this world 
are merely the conclusions, or catastrophes, of these 
crimes. So evident is this, that nothing is more com- 
mon with respect to an existing quarrel, than to hear 
the persons who mention it express their apprehensions 
that it may terminate in murder. Indeed, the spirit 
which begets contentions of this nature is only an infe- 
rior degree of that which malignantly destroys the life 
of man. ' The beginning of strife,' says Solomon, ' is 
as when one letteth out water :' an evil, the degree, the 
mischiefs, and the end of which can never be antici- 
pated by the human mind. 

7. All violent, unreasonable anger, envy, and hatred, 
are evils of the same nature. 

Christ, in commenting on the sixth commandment, 
says, ' Whosoever shall be angry with his brother, with- 
out a cause, shall be in danger of the judgment ; and 
whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in 
danger of the council ; but whosoever shall say, Thou 
fool' (or, as Doddridge seems inclined to render it, 
' Thou villain,') ' shall be in danger of hell-fire.' St 
John, in a manner more summary, and still more ex- 
plicit, observes, ' He that hateth his brother is a mur- 
derer.' From these passages it is evident, that all the 
several things which I have considered as involved in 
the general crime of murder, or as acts of disobedience 
to this precept, are actually of this general nature. 
They are not, indeed, ail marked with the same malig- 
nity as the crime usually known by this name. But 
they all partake of the same nature, and are either 
murder in the proper sense, or steps which lead directly 
to it ; seeds, impregnated with that very poison which, 
more perfectly connected in the future growth of the 
plant, becomes so rank and so fatal to the life of 
man. 

Finally : I hesitate not to pronounce that unkindness, 



which, especially when exercised towards inferiors and 
dependents, wears upon the spirits and often breaks 
the hearts of our fellow creatures, to be a crime of the 
same nature. 

In order to shorten human life, it is not necessary to 
use a bludgeon, nor a pistol. Servants may be easily 
brought to an untimely grave by stinting them with re- 
spect to their necessary food, clothes, lodging, or fuel ; 
or by a repetition of tasks unreasonably burdensome. 
A delicate and susceptible child may be easily driven 
into a consumption by parental coldness, fretfulness, 
severity, the denial of necessary indulgences, or the ex- 
action of undue compliances. Mere conjugal indiffe- 
rence may easily break the heart of an affectionate 
wife. Faithless friendship may destroy at once the life 
of a friend. Ungrateful subjects have shortened the 
life of an affectionate ruler by their ingratitude merely. 
Rulers have, probably, in millions of instances, put 
their subjects to death, without any immediate violence, 
by the gradual but sure operations of a comprehensive 
and hard-handed oppression. 

From these observations it is evident, that murder, in 
the proper sense, is begun in unkindness; and that un- 
kindness is begun in the early and unrestrained indul- 
gence of human passions. This indulgence, therefore, 
parents, and all other guardians of children, are bound 
faithfully to restrain from the beginning. The first 
tendencies towards cruelty, the first evidences of an un- 
feeling disposition, should be repressed, discouraged, 
and, as far as may be, destroyed. Tenderness, on the 
contrary, a spirit of general benevolence, and an active, 
affectionate beneficence to others, should be cultivated 
in every child, with care, sedulousness, and constancy, 
resembling that with which an impassioned florist 
watches, nurses, and cherishes a choice flower, pro- 
cured with great expense from a distant climate, his 
own favourite possession, pre-eminent for its fragrance 
and beauty, and regarded by him as the pride and 
boast of the country in which he lives. 



SERMON CXVI 



THE LAW OF GOD— THE DECALOGUE.— THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT. DUELLING. 



Thou shalt not kill. — Exod. xx. 13. 



In the preceding Discourse from these words I pro- 
posed to point out, 

I. Those instances in which life may be lawfully 
taken away, agreeably to scriptural exceptions under 
this law ; 

II. Some of those instances in which life is destroy- 
ed in contradiction to this laio. 

The first of these heads I discussed at that time ; and 
made several observations under the second. The re- 
maining subjects included in this division, are duelling, 
suicide, and drunkenness. The first of these, viz., duel- 
ling, shall be the topic of immediate investigation. 



That duelling is a violation of the command in the 
text, is evident, 

1. From the words of the precept itself; ' Thou shalt 
not kill.' 

I have already observed, that these words contain a 
command entirely absolute, without either condition, or 
exception. I also observed, that, as this is a command 
of God, man cannot, without impious presumption, at- 
tempt to limit it ; and that no other exceptions, there- 
fore, can be made to it, beside those which God himseli 
has made. But God has made no exception which the 
most ingenious mind can so construe, as to render it, 



top 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DUELLINCx. 



601 



even in the most remote degree, favourable to duelling. 
As this assertion will neither be denied nor doubted, it 
will only be necessary to add, that this precept stands in 
full force against duelling; and that every duel is a 
gross violation of its whole authority. 

Nor is this all ; duelling is a violation of this precept 
of the very worst kind ; superior in its guilt to most 
other crimes of the same nature, and inferior to none. 
For, 

2. A duel is always the result of a design to take away 
human life. 

I say always. It is not, however, my intention to 
deny, that there may be exceptions to this general de- 
claration. But these are probably as few as. to any 
general rule concerning human conduct. The chal- 
lenge originally contains a proposition to kill, or to be 
killed. It is accepted with an expectation of killing, 
or of being killed. Each of the combatants also takes 
his aim at the seat of life, and intends to destroy his 
antagonist, if he can. No pretence, therefore, is more 
unfounded, than that duellists do not design to kill each 
other. 

3. Duelling always involves efforts to destroy life. 

The weapons used in it are always the proper instru- 
ments of death ; and they are used with the utmost skill 
and care which the parties possess, for the direct pur- 
pose of producing this dreadful catastrophe. 

4. Men are put to death in duels with more delibera- 
tion than in almost any other case whatever. 

The challenger has always ample opportunity to deli- 
berate, before he gives the challenge. This opportunity 
also, it is reasonably supposed, he extends as far as he 
pleases, both because the case is of the utmost impor- 
tance to himself, and because he manages it according 
to his own choice. To him it is entirely optional, 
whether he will fight at all ; and, when he has deter- 
mined this point, at what time he shall give the chal- 
lenge. Whatever time, therefore, he chooses to take 
for consideration, he actually takes ; and this he him- 
self will not deny to be a sufficient time. Dining this 
period, also, the subject, being of the highest impor- 
tance, and necessarily making the strongest impressions, 
must be often, if not always, in his mind ; must there- 
fore be viewed in its various lights, and must receive 
all the examination which such a mind is capable of 
giving to subjects of the highest consequence. Of course, 
a duel is invariably the result, if it be not the chal- 
lenger's own fault, of the most ample deliberation. It 
must be his own fault also if this deliberation be not 
cool and thorough. All these observations, it is to be 
remembered, are applicable with the same force to the 
person challenged. 

5. Duelling is, probably, always perpetrated with a 
spirit of revenge. 

I say probably always. For that this is usually the 
fact, no sober man can doubt for a moment. To me it 
; seems inconceivable, that any man, whatever may have 
been his feelings in the earlier parts of this transaction, 
ishould go into the field, and employ himself in the 
iseveral measures adopted by duellists for the purpose of 
(taking away each other's lives, and not be under the 
•influence of predominating passions. These passions 
•ran be no othei than hatred and revenge. If we trace 
lithis subject with even a moderate degree of attention, 
|*from its commencement to its close, it will, I think, be 
, impossible for us to adopt any other opinion. The 



challenger receives, or at least believes himsejf to have 
received, an injury (of what kind it is a matter of per- 
fect indifference) sufficiently great to demand of him 
the exposure of his own life to probable destruction, 
and the death, so far as he is able to compass it, of the 
injurer. Now r , let me ask, and let every sober man 
answer the question, whether an injury, felt to be of this 
magnitude, was ever regarded, or can possibly be re- 
garded, by such men as duellists always are, without 
strong feelings of wrath and revenge ? Duellists, every 
one knows, are men pre-eminently proud, haughty, 
insolent, and proverbially irritable ; jealous to an ex- 
treme of what they call their own rights ; disdaining to 
have them determined, as those of other men are, by 
tribunals of justice. They regard the forgiveness of 
injuries, and all the peaceful and gentle virtues of man, 
with supreme contempt ; and claim to themselves, in 
opposition to the laws of God and their country, the 
adjudication of their own disputes, and the retribution 
of their own injuries. What should hinder a man of 
this character from indulging or executing revenge in 
any case, especially in a case of this importance ? The 
rectitude of revenge is a prime principle of his creed ; 
a principle to which he adheres with such tenacity and 
uniformity, as, in a better cause, would do honour to 
the most exemplary Christian. He does not come to 
the consideration of this subject with doubts concerning 
the rectitude, or a conviction of the sinfulness, of re- 
venge ; but with a determination, long since established, 
and never called in question, that it is right; a deter- 
mination to which he gives the extensive and com- 
manding influence of a maxim. From the indulgence 
and the execution of revenge, he is restrained there- 
fore by no moral consideration whatever. On the 
contrary, it is sanctioned by the very first principles of 
his morality. Of course, it becomes his boast; and is 
regarded by him as a part of his moral worth ; as the 
ornament and glory of his character. It is evident, 
then, that there is nothing to hinder him from the indul- 
gence of this passion in any case ; especially in a case 
to which he attaches this high importance. 

Should it be said, that the injury in question is not 
considered as being of such magnitude; but that the 
laws prescribed by duellists to themselves compel a man 
of honour to resent injuries, which they themselves 
esteem small, in this manner: I answer; that the in- 
jury, how insignificant soever it may be in reality, is 
still such in the estimation of duellists as to subject the 
challenger, unavoidably, to this exposure, and to all 
the evils by which it is followed. In this view only it 
is regarded by him ; and all the resentment, all the 
feelings of revenge, naturally flowing from an injury of 
this magnitude, will be awakened in his breast. 

In the mind of the challenged the same emotions will 
be roused, of course, by the challenge itself. The 
challenge, in his view, infers the same obligation on his 
part to expose his own life, and either to lose it, or 
destroy that of his antagonist. Against his antagonist, 
therefore, all that hostility will be excited in his mind, 
which is the natural result of such an injury. Now, let 
me ask any man of common candour, whether it is 
credible, that in two men, thus circumstanced, strong 
feelings of revenge will not of course be kindled? 
They are men, not only wrathful and revengeful in 
their nature, but glorying in the indulgence of wrath 
and revenge. They openly declare the exercise of 
4 e 



(302 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Suit, cxvi. 



these passions in this extreme manner to be right, 
honourable to themselves, and ornamental to the human 
character. For this very exercise of these passions 
they esteem themselves superior to other men ; style 
themselves ' brave,' ' men of honour,' and ' gentlemen :' 
and name others ' cowards,' ' scoundrels,' and ' ras- 
cals;' Is it possible that, habitually entertaining 
these opinions, and habitually indulging these pas- 
sions, they should not exercise them peculiarly on such 
an occasion ? 

I well know that duellists profess themselves to be 
free from these passions in cases of this kind ; and 
declare, that they proceed to these horrible rencounters 
with entire coolness and good nature. These pro- 
fessions, however, have not the most distant claim to 
credit. All men who feel themselves exposed to the 
censures of mankind, endeavour to rebut them in the 
best manner in their power. Fair professions are the 
most obvious means of rebutting them. In the same 
manner, the bully conceals his cowardice, and the hy- 
pocrite his irreligion ; and both have as good claims to 
be believed, as the duellist. Cool, indeed, he may be in 
some instances ; that is, not agitated by fear ; but every 
thing- in his situation and in his conduct proves, that he 
is angry and revengeful. 

6. Duellists take the utmost pains to prepare them- 
selves for this dreadful employment. 

In places where duelling is generally practised, it has 
become a regular employment ; and may be fairly con- 
sidered as a branch of the regular education of children 
and youths, to acquire skill and adroitness in the art of 
destroying human life by this species of violence. 
Children, at a very early period, employ themselves 
daily and yearly, through long periods of time, in shoot- 
ing with pistols ; and acquire skill by this practice, just 
as penmanship is acquired ; with as much coolness, and 
with as much success. Men also who have not received 
this education in early life, employ the sober years of 
maturer age in learning the same horrid art. To ex- 
cel in it is regarded, by the adept himself, and his fel- 
lows, as an attainment of high distinction. To be able 
to split a ball upon the edge of a knife, or extinguish a 
candle with a pistol ball, at the distance of the utmost 
goal of duelling, is, in the view of these men, to have 
arrived at glory not a little resembling that of Turenne, 
or Marlborough. 

In all this conduct is seen, with the slightest glance, 
a deliberate design, a cold-blooded system, of taking 
away the life of man with the hand of violence ; a de- 
sign, a system, begun in childhood, and cherished, cul- 
tivated, and perfected through every succeeding period. 
What dupe of credulity can be so absolutely blind to 
the whole nature of evidence, as not to see in this con- 
duct, designs equally hostile against human life, more 
deliberate, and certainly not less guilty, than those of 
the professed assassin ? 

7. The duellist takes away the life of his neighbour 
without a cause. 

In this respect, the murderer, in the appropriate 
sense, nay, the professed assassin, can, in many instances 
at least, more speciously justify himself than the duellist. 
The murderer attacks his victim under the domination 
of furious passion ; at the moment when he has lost the 
possession of reason and conscience, and the consequent 
government of himself ; under the consciousness of a 
real and intense injury ; or with the hope of delivering 



himself from a persecutor. Brutus expected to free his 
country from a tyrant ; and Charlotte Corde, to deliver 
hers from another. These, I acknowledge, are far 
from being solid or justifying reasons ; yet they are 
specious. They are such as, in the moment of provo- 
cation and bitterness, -would have great weight, and go 
far, in the phrenetic mind of a man violently in a passion, 
towards vindicating him to himsglf. But the duellist is 
roused to battle by a contemptuous look, a slight word, 
or some other wound given to mere pride. All these 
and the like things are perfectly harmless, if passed by 
with serenity and self-possession. At the worst, they 
are mere expressions of the opinion which the provok- 
ing person entertains of our character; an opinion 
which, if we are faithful to ourselves, can do us no 
harm ; and which usually merits nothing but disregard, 
contempt, or pity. This the duellist has ample time to 
investigate, and to know: for the very manner of ex- 
ecuting his resentment postpones the execution beyond 
the ordinary period of violent passion. Every duellist 
must confess, unless he will acknowledge his whole life 
to be a paroxysm of rage, that the seasons in which he 
acquires the skill of directing surely the weapons of 
death, in which he determines to become a professed 
duellist, in which he settles the principles, and learns 
the rules of his profession, in which he fixes in his mind 
the proper causes of a challenge, the proper motives for 
fighting, and the proper modes of conducting it, are not 
seasons of violence and provocation. He will confess, 
that the time of his future life, independently of the 
little periods of actual combat, which he spends in 
avowedly professing his deliberate intention of acting 
as a duellist on every occasion which he thinks a proper 
.one, is not a time of agitation, wrath, and partial in- 
sanity. 

Nor is the duellist more happy with respect to the 
final cause of his conduct, or the end which he expects 
to accomplish by this species of controversy. 

Reparation for an injury received, is commonly al- 
leged as this end. But the death of his antagonist fur- 
nishes no such reparation. His neighbour's less of life 
lessens in no manner or degree any injury which he 
has received from him ; and cannot possibly restore to 
him lost property, or lost reputation. The fact, that he 
has challenged and killed a man, will make him nei- 
ther richer, nor more honourable, nor more happy. He 
may, indeed, acquire honour in the opinion of a few 
men, as foolish, unprincipled, and abandoned as him- 
self; but the good opinion of these men is disgrace. 
In the view of every wise and good man he renders 
himself deeply shameful, and supremely guilty. He 
may, perhaps, enjoy what men of furious passions some- 
times call happiness, viz., the fell pleasure found by such 
men in revenge. That revenge is sweet to the taste oi 
a bad man, 1 am not disposed to question ; but it is 
bitter and dreadful in the end. Let the duellist re- 
member, that God hath said, ' To me belongeth ven- 
geance and recompense :' that he has forbidden us to 
' avenge ourselves ;' or to ' bear any grudge against our 
neighbour :' subjoining this solemn and authoritative 
reason, ' Vengeance is mine, I will repay it.' Let him 
read and ponder the parable of the servant who owed 
ten thousand talents ; and, when he finds that servant 
' thrust into prison, and delivered over to the tormen- 
tors,' as his final and irrevocable doom, let him ask 
himself what will become of him who, instead of inv 






THE LAW OF GOD—DUELLING. 



603 



prisoning his fellow servant, piits him to a violent 
death, and sends him into eternity, with all his sins 
upon his head ? Then let him farther ask, whether the 
pleasure of revenge is sufficiently great to balance the 
immense hazard, which he incurs for the sake of his 
gratification ? 

In the mean time, a duel, allowing that it should ter- 
minate in the death of him who gave the provocation, 
alters not in the least the state of the supposed in- 
jury, nor of him who received it. If he has been 
charged with cowardice, and is really a coward, he 
will still remain so ; if he is not, the charge will not 
make him a coward. If he has been charged with ly- 
ing, and has really lied, he will still remain a liar; un- 
less he becomes an honest man by repentance and refor- 
mation. If he has not lied, the charge can never seri- 
ously affect his reputation, nor persuade a single sober 
man to believe him a liar. Men, in this country at 
least, have usually little to fear from such charges as 
these. If they will be faithful to themselves ; if they 
will exhibit the virtues which are denied to them, on 
all such occasions as call them into exercise ; and re- 
nounce or avoid the opposite vices, the world, bad as 
it is, will almost always discern their true character, 
and will most generally do justice to it. Sometimes, 
I acknowledge, they may, even while they exercise a 
good degree of patience smart under the lash of un- 
merited censure. These seasons, however, can rarely 
be of long continuance ; and while they last, will to a 
wise man, in most cases, be eminently profitable, by 
teaching him to moderate the inordinate attachment, so 
commonly, so foolishly, and so dangerously indulged, 
to the applause of mankind. This is one, and in my 
view the chief, exercise of that ' love to the world .J 
which the Scriptures declare to be incompatible with 
' love to God.' The effectual mortification of this at- 
tachment, strange as it may seem to the duellist, would 
yield him more serene, unmingled, and enduring plea- 
sure, than all that which has been found in all the gra- 
tifications furnished by duelling since the beginning of 
lime. Let the duellist also remember, that in this very 
act of attempting to destroy his neighbour's life, he more 
grossly injures his own character, than ten thousand 
charges, such as those which he thus furiously resents, 
could possibly do. In the view of every man of sober 
reflection, he brands upon his character the stamp of 
murder, the blackest mark of infamy which can be worn 
by man. 

But it will be replied to these observations by the 
duellist, that the anguish which he suffers is such as he 
cannot possibly bear ; and that there is no way in which 
he can render life even supportable, under such an im- 
putation on his character, without taking the life of the 
slanderer. This plea has been often seriously made. 
1 will therefore examine it. 

(I.) The allegation contained in it is untrue. The 
anguish complained of might be easily supported, with- 
out the death of its author. There are no words which 
more frequently delude those who use them, than can 
and cannot, possible and impossible. We often say and 
believe, that we cannot do that, which we merely will 
not ; and frequently pronounce that conduct to be im- 
possible which is only very disagreeable. The apostles, 
and the Christian martyrs of every age, were, in many 
instances, possessed of as much understanding and sen- 
sibility, and therefore understood the nature of the in- 



juries which they received as well, at least, as the duel- 
list in question, and felt them as deeply. Yet they bore 
slanders more gross, more frequently repeated, more 
extensively believed, and continued through a much 
longer duration. They bore them also, without repin- 
ing, often without complaining, and always without sink- 
ing. Women also, of extreme delicacy, and exquisite 
sensibility, have sustained, not with patience only, but 
with fortitude also, the most brutal accusations. Cer- 
tainly a man who boasts so much of his firmness of 
character, as a duellist always does, must be ashamed of 
possessing less hardihood than women and Christians. 

(2.) This anguish chiefly is voluntarily created by 
himself. It is nothing but the pain of wounded pride, - 
a passion more injurious to his peace, and more hostile 
to his moral character, than the slander which he feels 
so deeply ; a passion which, if he were a wise and good 
man, he would use every hopeful exertion to mortify 
and subdue. Independently of the feelings occasioned 
by this passion, the slander of which he complains 
would do him very little harm. 

But he has been called a coward. So have thou- 
sands and millions of others, who regarded the imputa- 
tion only with sport. But he has been called a liar. 
So have vast numbers of the best men who have ever 
lived ; who, though not insensible of the slander, have 
nevertheless passed quietly on through life, in much the 
same manner as if it never had been uttered. Were 
the duellist possessed of the same spirit, he would feel 
as little anguish from this source as they felt. The 
whole difference between him and them is created, both 
foolishly and sinfully, by his own pride. 

(3.) The murderer, in the appropriate sense, can 
usually make the same plea, in his own behalf, and with 
more force. It cannot be doubted, that, in the hour of 
extreme provocation and abuse, such as awakens, for the 
first time, the dreadful purpose of murder, an agitation 
must be felt, and an anguish suffered, far more intense 
than that which is ordinarily experienced by the duellist 
He has made it a part of his general system, and a de- 
liberate purpose, to destroy human life. To a mind 
thus prepared, no event of this nature can come wholly 
unlooked for, or be, as in the other case, a matter of 
mere and absolute surprise. A mind thus circum- 
stanced can hardly sutler in the same degree from the 
very same provocation. But the provocations usually 
given to the duellist are injuries far inferior in their 
degree to those which ordinarily excite in the human 
breast a purpose, so new to it, and so horrible, as mur- 
der. The duellist has been disciplined to this object, 
and comes to it with the cool feelings of a veteran. The 
murderer is a raw adventurer, who has never seen this 
terrible object in a near view before. He is therefore 
urged to the conflict by extreme provocatives only, with 
intense agitation, and with an impelling anguish suffi- 
ciently great to overcome his dread and horror. 

(4.) The laws of the land provide, in the mean time, 
a reasonable reparation for all those injuries which the 
wisdom of legislators has thought it proper, or been able, 
to redress, and, at least, as ample reparation for him, as 
for his fellow citizens. With this reparation he is 
bound to be contented, until the legislature shall pro- 
vide farther redress. If he has a right to adjudicate 
his own cause, and redress his own injuries, every citi- 
zen has the same right. But if this pretended right 
were to be universally exercised, government would be 



604 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skk cxvi. 



at an end. Anarchy, the real box of Pandora, would 
empty all its miseries upon mankind, and the nation be 
converted into a band of murderers. He who, in this 
plainest of all cases, will not ' submit to the ordinances 
of man for the Lord's sake,' will certainly receive the 
' condemnation' which he has threatened. 

(5.) There are innumerable other cases, in which 
greater injuries are done to mankind than those which 
are done to the duellist, and in their nature far more dis- 
tressing-. Those who have suffered them have therefore, 
according to this argument, a right to relieve themselves 
of their distress, by taking away the lives of those who 
have occasioned it. My neighbour, for example, has 
ejected me from my farm by an injurious lawsuit, and 
left me and my family beggars. He has accused me, 
as a merchant, of negligence, fraud, or bankruptcy ; 
and, by bringing my creditors suddenly upon me, has 
not only stripped me of my property, but precluded me 
from acquiring any more. He has negligently brought 
the smallpox into my family, and has thus produced the 
death of my child. He has impeached my Christian 
character, and has thus procured my excommunication 
from the church of Christ. All these injuries are in- 
comparably greater than those which usually occasion 
duels. But who that has any conscience, or any com- 
mon sense, will say, that I am warranted for any or all 
of them to put my neighbour to death? Who does not 
see that, were these and other injuries of a similar na- 
ture to be retributed in this manner, a nation would be 
converted into banditti, and their country into a field 
of blood. 

8. The duellist acts against the most powerful and 
persuasive reasons ; unanswerably obliging him to ab- 
stain from this guilty conduct. 

(1.) He most wickedly exposes his own life to destruc- 
tion. On this subject I shall not dwell at present, be- 
cause I expect to. consider the subject of suicide in the 
succeeding Discourse. 

(2.) He wickedly deserts the duties which he owes to 
his family and friends. If he has parents, he owes them 
reverence, gratitude, strong affection, filial care in sick- 
ness and old age, support if they need it, and the innu- 
merable consolations which that evil day so aftectingly 
demands, and which none but a child is either able or 
willing to give. Particularly, he owes them that ex- 
quisite enjoyment, which is found in the affectionate, 
virtuous, and amiable conduct of our beloved offspring. 
If he has a wife, he owes her all that provision for her 
wants and for her comfort, the consolations in sickness 
and in sorrow, the kindness and tenderness, the faith- 
ful and affectionate attention to her happiness, which 
he has engaged in the marriage covenant; a covenant, 
involving substantially the same obligations with those 
of an oath. If he has children, he owes them suste- 
nance, education in knowledge, business, and religion ; 
his instructions, and his government, his example, and 
his prayers. But all these duties, required by the infi- 
nite authority of God, and in the two last cases volun- 
tarily assumed also by himself, he basely deserts ; and, 
by entering the field of slaughter, cuts them oft' from 
the possibility of receiving, and himself from the power 
of performing them. At the same time, he leaves them 
all buried through life in the hopeless agonies of re- 
membering and feeling, that he voluntarily went ' as 
an ox to the slaughter' — 'died as a fool dieth' — and, 
m the combined perpetration of suicide and murder, 



entered without a prayer, and without a hope of for- 
giveness into the presence of his Judge. 

But should he (a thing which he has no right to ex- 
pect) survive the conflict, he survives only to present 
to his parents a son, to his wife a husband, and to his 
children a father, blackened with the guilt of cold, de- 
liberate, murder. In the mean time, he has tempted 
his neighbour to the same enormous sin ; and entailed 
upon his family and friends also the same tremendous 
evils. 

(3.) He does incalculable and irreparable injuries to 
his country. He weakens the government of his coun- 
try by practically adopting a principle which, if right 
in him, would be equally right in all others ; and which, 
if adopted by them, would destroy social order in a 
moment : viz. that an individual is to be his own judge 
in his own cause. He injures his country also, by rob- 
bing it of the services and life of one of its members ; 
in allprobability more important, as the case may be, 
and has been, to its safety and welfare, than those of 
millions like himself. Finally, he injures his country 
boundlessly, as well as irreparably, in contributing by 
his opinions and example, to authorize, extend, and 
perpetuate the same baleful iniquity in his fellow men. 



1. The observations made in this Discourse present to 
us one of the strongest examples of human depravity. 

Life to man is his all. On it every thing is suspend- 
ed which man can call his own : his enjoyments, his 
hopes, his usefulness, and his salvation. Our own life 
is to us, therefore, invaluable. As we are most reason- 
ably required to ' love our neighbour as ourselves ;' his 
life ought, in cur estimation, to possess the same value. 
In conformity to these views, mankind have universally 
regarded those w : ho have violently deprived others of 
life, with supreme abhorrence, and branded their names 
with singular infamy. Murderers have been punished, 
in every age and country, with the most aw-ful expres- 
sions of detestation, with the most formidable array of 
terror, and with the most excruciating means of agony. 
On the heads of murderers, at the same time, mankind 
have heaped curses without bounds. The city of re- 
fuge, nay, the altar itself, a strong tower of defence to 
every other criminal, has lost its hallowed character at 
the approach of a murderer, and emptied him out of its 
sacred recesses into the hands of the ' avenger of blood.' 
God hath said, ' A man that doeth violence to the 
blood of any person, he shall flee to the pit : let no man 
stay him.' In solemn response, the world has cried, 
' Amen.' 

But all these sentiments, all these rights, all the ob- 
ligations of this law, the duellist has violated. Nay, he 
has violated them in cool blood, with the deliberation of 
system, in the season of serenity, in the tranquillity of 
the closet. This violation he has made a part of his 
creed, and settled purpose of his life ; a governing rule 
of his conduct. All this he has done amid the various 
advantages of birth and education, under the light of 
science, with the Bible in his hand, and before the altar 
of his God. He has done it all also in the face of ar- 
guments, which have commanded the conviction of all 
mankind, except himself; and which would have con- 
vinced him, had his mind been honestly open to the 
force of argument. His opinions have been a thousand 
times exposed ; his arguments have been a thousand 



THE LAW OF GOD.— SUICIDE. 



605 



times refuted. Ag-ainst him have been arrayed in every 
Christian country, the common sense of mankind, the 
feelings of humanity, the solemn voice of law, and the 
infinitely awful command of the eternal God. With- a 
moral hardihood, not often exampled even in this 
world, he encounters them all, overcomes them all, and 
goes coolly onward to the work of destruction ; as coolly 
as if he were only performing a duty. How sinful must 
that heart be which can act in this manner ? 

2. The government of every country is bound, indis- 
pensably, to punish duelling with exemplary severity ; 
and, wherever death has been the consequence, with 
death. 

From the observations which have been made in this 
Discourse, it is clear, that few cases of murder occur 
among mankind equally atrocious, or equally deserving 
of death, with that which is committed in a duel. Every 
thing pertaining to this subject also tends towards this 
issue, as regular and uniform means towards their pro- 
per ends. The crime, being as gross and heinous as 
murder in other cases, deserves the same punishment. 
It is also far more dangerous to a community, than 
murder in the customary acceptation. The persons 
whom duelling especially threatens are, in many in- 
stances, persons of distinction ; formidable obstacles to 
the ambition of duellists ; persons who, by their influ- 
ence and talents, would naturally become important in- 
struments of the public good; persons, against whom 
the vulgar assassin rarely aims the stroke of his dagger. 
At the same time, the ravages of duelling are far more 
widely extended ; and the number of its victims is of 
course far more multiplied, 



The manner in which God has judged, concerning 
this subject, is awfully displayed in the following pass- 
age : ' If a man smite any person with an instrument 
of iron, so that he die ; he is a murderer : the murderei 
shall surely be put to death. And if he smite him with 
throwing a stone, wherewith he may die, and he die ; 
he is a murderer : the murderer shall surely be put to 
death. Or if he smite him with a hand-weapon of 
wood, wherewith he may die, and he die ; he is a mur- 
derer : the murderer shall surely be put to death. The 
revenger of blood himself shall slay the murderer ; 
when he meeteth him, he shall slay him. And if he 
thrust him of hatred, or hurl at him by lying of wait, 
that he die ; or in enmity smite him with his hand, that 
he die ; he that smote him shall surely be put to death : 
for he is a murderer. The revenger of blood shall slay 
the murderer, when he meeteth him. Whoso kilieth 
any person, the murderer shall be put to death by the 
mouth of witnesses; but one witness shall not testify 
against any person, to cause him to die. Moreover, ye 
shall take no- satisfaction for the life of a murderer, 
which is guilty of death ; but he shall be surely put to 
death. And ye shall take no satisfaction for him that 
is fled to the city of his refuge, that he should come 
again to dwell in the land, until the death of the high- 
priest. So ye shall not pollute the land, wherein ye are : 
for blood, it defileth the land ; and the land cannot be 
cleansed of the blood that is shed therein, but by the 
blood of him that shed it. Defile not, therefore-, the 
land which ye shall inhabit, wherein I dwell ; for 1, Je- 
hovah, dwell among the children of Israel.' 



SERMON CXVII. 



THE LAW OF COD THE DECALOGUE THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT SUICIDE. 



Thou slia.lt not kill. — Exod. xx. 13. 



The next violation of this command which I shall have 
occasion to consider, is suicide, or self-murder. In ex- 
amining this subject. I shall, 

I. Consider the principal arguments urged in justi- 
fication of suicide ; and, 

II. Shall allege several proofs of its criminality. 

Before I proceed to the consideration of the argu- 
ments which have been supposed to justify suicide, it 
will be necessary to observe, that there are two totally 
distinct classes of mankind, by which this crime is com- 
mitted : those, who are labouring under the disease of 
melancholy, or that of derangement : and those who 
act in the same manner, in the full possession of their 
faculties. In the former of . these classes the mental 
powers are so much disordered, as greatly to change, if 
not absolutely to annihilate, the criminality. The latter 
are guilty of this crime in the same sense as of any other. 
To the former class, it is obvious, arguments on this 
or any other topic can be of no use, if addressed to them 



while under the influence of these infirmities. An ha- 
bitual conviction of the turpitude of this crime, estab- 
lished in their minds, when possessed of their full 
strength and soundness, may indeed, and not improba- 
bly, so far influence them as to prevent this terrible 
catastrophe. In their diseased state, such of them as 
have fallen under my observation, have been incapable 
of being controlled by the force of argument. The 
observations which I shall make concerning this subject, 
will therefore be directed to those of the latter class : to 
men who, in the full possession of their reason, from 
sudden passion, from disappointment in the pursuit of 
some darling object, such as fame, power, wealth, or 
pleasure, the loss of some important enjoyment, the 
sufferance of some severe disgrace, or the dread of some 
expected evil, put an end to their lives. These men, 
though acting thus irrationally under the pressure of 
violent feeling, may yet be reasoned with in their cooler 
moments. In these moments a conviction may perhaps 



606 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. 



be wrought, and principles established in their minds, 
which may control the distempered thoughts, and pre- 
vent the dangerous decisions, too naturally springing 
up in seasons of violent agitation. 

The general doctrine insisted on by Mr Hume, the 
only writer whom I shall 'attempt to answer, or whom I 
consider as having any claim to an answer on this sub- 
ject, is, that man has a right to dispose of his own life. 
This he asserts in various forms of expression ; all of 
them contributing to show, that he considered this right 
as to be exercised according to the pleasure of the in- 
dividual. Indeed, if such a right exists, the exercise of 
it cannot be limited in any other manner, unless the 
limitation be directly expressed by him who alone can 
give or limit the right. But no such limitation has 
been expressed by him. In the Scriptures this is not 
even alluded to ; and, whatever proof the light of nature 
may furnish that God has given us this right, there 
cannot be a pretence that it discovers to us any such 
limitation. The right itself therefore is to be exercised 
according to every man's judgment ; or, what will in 
this case be exactly the same, according to every man's 
pleasure. 

But where is the proof, that God has given this right 
to mankind ? The arguments which Mr Hume adduces 
to this purpose are chiefly the following : — 

1. That we are created for the end of effectuat- 
ing our own enjoyment in the present life. ' Men,' he 
says, ' are intrusted to their own judgment and discre- 
tion, and may employ every faculty with which they are 
endowed, to provide for their ease, happiness, or pre- 
servation.' 

In a former Discourse I have explained the end for 
which man was made ; and have, 1 trust, satisfactorily 
proved that man was made to glorify his Maker, by 
knowing - , reverencing, loving", serving, and enjoying 
him for ever. The accomplishment of this end in the 
creation of man, I have, unless I have been deceived, 
shown to be in the highest degree honourable to God, 
and in the highest degree productive of happiness to 
man. That this end, whether the real end for which 
man was created, or not, is incomparably nobler, better,' 
and more worthy of God, than the end proposed by Mr 
Hume, which is no other than the enjoyment of the plea- 
sures of sense in this world, cannot be denied. No more 
can it be denied, that of the ends which were capable of 
being answered by the creation of man, God selected that 
'which was noblest, best, and most worthy of his cha- 
racter ; unless it be also denied, not only that he is in- 
finitely wise and good, but that he is wise and good at 
all. As therefore there are ends for which man might 
be created, nobler and better than that alleged by Mr 
Hume, as one infinitely nobler and better has been 
pointed out, it is certain, that that proposed by him is 
not the true end of the creation of man. 

Besides, the enjoyment of this pleasure in the man- 
ner exhibited by Mr Hume himself, is inconsistent 
with the existence of virtue in man, and much more 
with the existence of perfect virtue. But to be virtuous, 
is to render more honour to our Creator, to be more 
conformed to his pleasure, and to enjoy more happiness 
than is possible, if we are destitute of virtue. To be 
perfectly virtuous is to render the highest honour to our 
Creator, to be perfectly conformed to his pleasure, and 
to be perfectly happy. If then God regarded either 
himself, or us, he did not propose, as the end of creating 



man, the enjoyment of the happiness mentioned by 
Mr Hume. 

2. Mr Hume alleges, as another argument for this 
right, the insignificance of human life. — ' In the sight 
of God,' he says, ' every event is alike important : and 
the life of a man is of no greater importance to the uni- 
verse, than that of an oyster.' 

Our Saviour informs us, on the contrary, that ' men 
are of more value in the sight of God than many spar- 
rows.' Common sense irresistibly subscribes to the 
truth of this declaration. It is impossible to believe the 
contrary declaration. God unquestionably sees things 
as they are. But, as unquestionably, a mind possessed 
of the powers of thought, volition, and motivity ; a mind 
capable of knowing, and in many instances actually 
knowing, loving, serving, and glorifying its Creator ; a 
mind which can originate and diffuse important good 
toils fellow creatures; a mind formed for immortal 
being, and destined to an endless improvement in know- 
ledge, virtue, and enjoyment, is certainly of more value 
than many oysters. All this, however, depends on the 
life of man. The life of man therefore is of more value 
than that of an oyster. Were it not, parents, so far 
as the light of nature teaches us, might, in agreement 
with the doctrine of Diogenes, and other cynics, law- 
fully roast and eat their children, as lawfully as they 
may now roast and eat oysters. A man of common 
sense would hardly be persuaded, that Moses, Paul, 
Louis the Good, the two Custavuses, Alfred the Great, 
and Washington, were of no more importance to the 
universe than oysters. With a view, probably, to 
strengthen this allegation, Mr Hume asks, ' Where is 
the crime of turning a few ounces of blood out of their 
channel ?' By this question he undoubtedly intends, 
that his readers shall suppose suicide to be nothing 
more than merely diverting the course of a few ounces 
of blood. If Mr Hume believed this, he deserved very 
little of that reputation which he lias acquired for un- 
derstanding. If he did not believe it, the question does 
very little honour to his candour or sincerity. It is no 
crime to turn a few ounces of blood out of their chan- 
nel ; often it is a duty ; because it is the means of pre- 
serving or restoring health. Many ounces of blood 
may be thus diverted from their course, and life be not 
only continued, but invigorated, and prolonged. In 
this case, the sphere of man's usefulness, and duty, and 
comfort, may in this world be enlarged, and his happi- 
ness in the world to come secured and increased. But 
the destruction of human life, by whatever means it is 
accomplished, terminates usefulness, duty, and comfort 
in the present world, and, if voluntarily accomplished, 
prevents the existence of happiness in the world to come. 
The difference between these things, as intended by Mr 
Hume, is of course infinite. The phraseology, which 
appropriately expresses the one, cannot therefore be em- 
ployed, consistently with propriety, nor even with vulgar 
honesty, to denote the other. 

3. The same writer argues this right from the small- 
ness of the objects and accidents by which the life of man 
is frequently destroyed without his concurrence. ' A 
hair,' he says, ' a fly, an insect, is able to destroy this 
mighty being, whose life is of such importance. Is it 
'an absurdity then,' he asks, 'to suppose, that human 

prudence may lawfully dispose of what depends on such 
insignificant causes ?' 

To this question the reply is easy, and complete. 



THE LAW OF GOD SUICIDE. 



607 



The destruction of human life by a fly, an insect, or a 
hair, is accomplished, as every man perfectly well knows, 
and as every man habitually says, by the immediate pro- 
vidence of God. In the case of suicide, it is destroyed 
by the will of man himself. God, who gave life, has an 
unquestionable right to take it away. It is yet to be 
proved, that man, who has only received it from God, 
has a right to destroy it without the known permission 
of its author. 

4. This assertion is, however, denied by Mr Hume ; 
and he directly declares, that suicide is as absolutely the 
work of God, as any of those events specified under the 
preceding head. ' When I fall upon my own sword,' 
he says, ' I receive my death equally from the hands of 
the Deity, as if it had proceeded from a lion, a preci- 
pice, or a fever.' 

Mr Hume does not in this Essay anywhere, in form, 
discuss the question, ' Whether man is a moral agent, 
in such a sense as to be accountable for his actions, and 
to be deserving of praise or blame, punishment or re- 
ward.' But it is evident, that he all along proceeds 
upon the supposition, that man is not such an agent. 
Of this he has given very numerous and very plain 
indications. A very clear and decisive one is found in 
the declaration which I am now considering. If man 
is not such an agent, all the observations in this Essay 
might have been spared. For plainly no action of man 
could in this case be of a criminal, because it could 
not be of a moral, nature. In this case, it would be 
equally just to censure a post or a wall for falling upon 
a man, and killing him, as to censure an assassin for 
producing the same catastrophe by an act of murder. 
If man be not such an agent, all inquiries concerning 
the moral nature of his actions are nugatory ; because 
they are unmeaning. Mr Hume, particularly, ought 
never to have written the numerous things which he 
has so strenuously urged concerning right and wrong, 
in the different parts of his works. Neither rectitude, 
nor its opposite, are predicable of brutes. Why? Be- 
cause they are not moral agents. If men are not moral 
agents, neither would these attributes be any more 
predicable of them. But if men are moral agents, then 
those which are called human actions, are not in any 
such sense the acts of God, as to prevent men from be- 
ing accountable for them, or to prevent them from be- 
ing truly commendable and reuardable for one class of 
such actions, and blameworthy and punishable for the 
opposite. All nations, in all ages, have accordingly 
censured and punished such as were guilty of one class 
of these actions, and praised and rewarded such as 
performed the other. On this foundation rests all hu- 
man intercourse, and all human discipline. The child 
is punished at home and at school, because he is con- 
sidered as having done that which is wrong; and re- 
warded in both, because he is considered as having 
(lone that which is right. On the same grounds men 
are disesteemed, hated, censured, and punished even 
with death ; or approved, loved, applauded, and have 
their merit acknowledged by the most ample reward. 
As this has been the universal conduct of men from the 
beginning, it is a clear and full testimony of the views 
entertained by the human mind concerning this sub- 
ject. It is farther to be observed, that men cannot act 
in any ether manner. The admission of the doctrine, 
that mankind are not such agents, would ruin the 
world. Nor ought it to be forgotten, that, although 



many persons have thought proper to assert this doc- 
trine, not an individual among them has ever been 
found who acted in conformity to it ; not one, who did 
not as bitterly complain of what he called wrongs, or 
vindicate as strenuously what he called his rights, as 
his fellow men. But should we admit this argument, it 
will prove more than either we, or even Mr Hume, may 
be aware, of ; at least, more than he intended. If men 
are not moral agents, if their voluntary actions are 
merely the acts of God, then it will follow that, equally 
with suicide, their frauds, lies, oppressions, and mur- 
ders, are acts of God. Should a swindler cheat Mr 
Hume out of his estate, or an assassin plunge a poniard 
into his bosom, it would, I think, be a very odd, a very 
unsatisfactory consolation to him, to be told by the vil- 
lain, that he ought to be perfectly contented with the 
villany, since it was only an act of his Creator. 

5. Another argument alleged by Mr Hume for the 
right in question is, that suicide does not disturb the 
order of the universe. ' There is no being,' he says, 
1 which by ever so irregular an action can encroach 
upon the plan of the Creator's providence, or disorder 
the universe.' 

If Mr Hume intended by this declaration, that God 
rules all things with such a universal and absolute do- 
minion, as that ' none can stay his hand,' nor any be- 
ing lawfully ' say unto him, What dost thou?'. — as that 
he will bring ' good out of the evil, and order out of the 
confusion,' occasioned by sin — he has undoubtedly de- 
clared here a truth of high importance. Unfortunately 
for him, however, this truth will contribute nothing to 
the support of his cause. No being can indeed resist 
the hand of God : but every sinner wishes to resist it ; 
and in this wish becomes guilty, hateful, and deserving 
of punishment. 

In this declaration, and many others contained in 
the same treatise, the author studiously avoids mention- 
ing, what he ought everywhere to have strongly insisted 
on, the broad and obvious distinction between the pro- 
vidential and the preceptive will of God. It is unques- 
tionably a part of the providential will of God, to per- 
mit (for reasons inscrutable by us, at least in most in- 
stances, but undoubtedly sufficient in themselves) the 
existence of sinful actions ; but it is no part of his pre- 
ceptive will, either to require or to allow them. His 
preceptive will, or, in other words, the moral law, re- 
quires of all intelligent beings perfect holiness; a dis- 
position perfectly loving what he loves, and hating what 
he hates. So evident is this truth, that all nations, not 
absolutely sunk in ignorance, have discerned it to a 
considerable extent by the mere light of nature. The 
savages of the western wilderness .have acknowledged, 
equally with the Greeks and Romans, that reverence 
and gratitude were due to their gods, and that they re- 
quired of men justice, truth, and kindness to their fel- 
low men Mr Hume himself would not dare to say, 

that God does not love these things ; nor that he does 
not require them of his creatures, any more than he 
loves and requires impiety, ingratitude, injustice, false- 
hood, and cruelty. He would not say, that God at all 
love3 or requires the things last mentioned. Loose as 
his apprehensions concerning religion or morality were, 
he would not say, that God does not hate the crimes 
which I have specified ; nor that he has not forbidden 
them to mankind. He would not say, that these crimes 
! are equally agreeable to the will of God, equally pleas- 



603 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxvii. 



ing to him, as actions of his intelligent creatures, with 
the virtues mentioned above. But all this he must say, 
in order to make this allegation an argument to his 
purpose. 

If no action of any being can be so irregular as to 
be opposed to the preceptive will of God : then it will 
follow, that impiety, ingratitude, profaneness, atheism, 
fraud, lying, oppression, injustice, adultery, rape, and 
murder, are equally agreeable to the Creator with 
piety, justice, truth, benevolence, purity, and mercy. 
Then it will follow also, that God is wholly indifferent to 
all these objects ; and that all which is meant by right and 
Wrong, holds exactly the same place in his estimation 
and pleasure. In other words, it will follow, that the 
Creator of the universe is wholly regardless of the mo- 
ral character and conduct of his creatures. 

6. Mr Hume insists, that suicide does no harm to 
society ; or, at the least, that, as by cutting off his life 
in this manner he only ceases to do good, he does the 
least supposable harm to society. 

To this I answer, that if he has friends, he compels 
them to lament his death, with views peculiarly dis- 
tressing by their perplexity, and with feelings of agony 
and despair. Perhaps no object, unless the person who 
is cut off in the unrepented guilt of murdering another, 
is regarded with more painful emotions, than a beloved 
friend, who has voluntarily terminated his own life. 
The minds of those whom he leaves behind him sink 
under the remembrance of what he has done in this 
world, and tremble to follow him to another. Keen 
indeed must be the edge of that distress which finds its 
only consolation, and its only hope, in the doubting be- 
lief, perhaps in the faint conjecture, that the friend 
whom it deplores was hurried out of life by the impulse 
of delirium. 

If the suicide had a family, he has robbed them of 
all that advice, consolation, sympathy, and those kind 
offices universally, which he owed to them in a peculiar 
manner. All these he has vowed to his wife. God 
has made it his duty to render them to his children. 
To both also he is bound by the same obligations to 
furnish support. This perhaps he may have provided. 
If he has, he has still robbed his children of that pa- 
rental instruction, government, habituation, and exam- 
ple which together constitute in most cases far the most 
arduous, the most important, and the most useful labour 
of man, and the chief duty which, ordinarily, he has it 
in his power ever to perform. 

Society at large he robs of one of its members, and 
of all the duties which that member owed to society. 

At the same time he has presented to all these an 
example, which, if followed by them, would destroy at 
once the family, the community, and the world. Yet, 
if he has acted right, it would be equally right for them 
to follow him. No rule can be formed concerning this 
subject, but a universal one. Mr Hume has made it 
6uch. If his rule be right, then, by merely adhering to 
rectitude, the present inhabitants of the world may ex- 
terminate the race of man in a moment. But, 

7. Mr Hume, supposing that men would not make 
use of this right, unless in circumstances of distress, 
considers this, at least, as a justifying cause for sui- 
cide. 

' Most people,' he says, ' who lie under any tempta- 
tion to abandon existence, are in some such situation ; 
that is, in age, or under infirmities ; incapable of pro- 



moting the interest of society, a burden to it, or afflicted 
in some manner or other.' 
On this subject I observe, 

(1.) That this situation, whatever it may be, is one in 
which God by his providence has placed the man. It is 
therefore a situation of which we cannot reasonably or 
lawfully complain, unless we can lawfully and reason- 
ably complain of the dispensations of God. 

(2.) It is a situation in which, if we perform our 
duty, we may glorify our Maker, by voluntarily fulfil- 
ling such designs as infinite wisdom and goodness has 
thought proper to accomplish by our instrumentality, 
and has put it into our power to accomplish. It may 
be said, that, should we put an end to our lives, God 
will still be glorified. I grant it. But we shall not be 
voluntary instruments of his glory. This is our duty, 
and our only duty. If this then be not done, our whole 
duty is left undone. If we refuse to do this duty, we 
refuse to obey the will of our Maker, rebel against his 
government, and voluntarily oppose his designs. This 
is sin, and the only sin. What the duties are, to which 
we are called in cases of affliction, common sense, even 
without the aid of revelation, might, one would think, 
determine with no great difficulty. They are obviously 
the duties of submission, dependence, patience, and for- 
titude ; prayer for our support and deliverance ; and 
such efforts for this end as are consistent with the spirit 
here specified. By this character God is as really and 
certainly glorified, as by any other which man can ex- 
hibit. It scarcely needs the aid of revelation to discern, 
that submission to God must be an acceptable offering 
to him. But, if we put an end to our lives because we 
are afflicted, we declare, in the decisive language of 
action, that we will not, or cannot bear what God has 
been pleased to lay upon us. In the former case, we 
declare that we will not submit to his dispensations ; in. 
the latter, we moreover declare, that the burdens which 
he lays upon us are such as we cannot, and therefore 
such as we ought not, to endure : of course, that they 
are oppressive, and unjust. 

(3.) The case is falsely stated by Mr Hume. 

There is no situation which is intolerable, except 
those by which life is brought to an end without our 
intervention; and these are incapable of being referred 
to the case in hand. In every other case, we can sus- 
tain our afflictions, if we please. That it is our duty to 
sustain them, and to sustain them willingly, cannot be 
denied, unless by him who also denies, that it is our 
duty to obey God in any case. 

(4.) The position of Mr Hume, that we are useless to 
society, in any situation in which we can become guilty 
of suicide, is also false. 

It will be remembered, that I all along except cases 
of melancholy and delirium. It is however true, that 
even in these cases no man can know that he will not, 
at some future time, be useful to his fellow men. In 
every other case a man, possessed of the power of con- 
triving and executing his own destruction, may be, and 
can know that he may be, useful to the world. I can 
think of no case more favourable to the position of Mr 
Hume, than that of a person confined for a long period 
to his bed ; or, as it is commonly termed, bed-rid. A 
man, even in this situation, may, if he pleases, he ex- 
tensively useful. The patience, fortitude, and piety, 
with which he may sustain this trying affliction, may be 
among the most edifying and persuasive proofs of the 



THE LAW OF GOD._SUICIDE. 



609 



reality, power, and excellence of the religion which he 
professes, and the efficacious means of conversion and 
salvation to multitudes. Mr Hume himself says, that 
' the damnation of one man is an infinitely greater evil, 
than the subversion of a thousand millions of kingdoms.' 
This evil the man who is bed-rid may prevent with re- 
gard to himself, and with regard to others ; and may 
also be the means of accomplishing the contrary inesti- 
mable good. It cannot be said, that such a man is use- 
less. At the same time, it is a false supposition, that a 
man can be useless who acts as he ought ; or, in other 
words, does his duty in any situation in which God is 
pleased to place him. God does nothing in vain. Still 
less can it be supposed that he places an intelligent be- 
ing in any situation in which his obedience to the divine 
will must be useless. 

(5.) Neither is it true that any man is necessarily a 
burden to society. 

A vicious man is, I acknowledge, often such a bur- 
den. But he is not necessarily vicious. His sloth, 
prodigality, insincerity, profaneness, falsehood, fraud, 
cruelty, or whatever vice he may be guilty of, is wholly 
the result of his own choice. The moment he re- 
nounces these evils, he will become, not a burden, but 
a blessing. 

A virtuous man may become unable to support himself, 
may be incurably sick, or hopelessly bereft of his most 
useful faculties, and in either of these situations may be 
esteemed a burden to society by the lazy, the covetous, 
and the unfeeling. But he will be esteemed such by no 
virtuous man. He who remembers that ministrations 
of kindness to the ' least of Christ's brethren' will be 
accepted as offerings to himself, will never, unless in 
some unhappy moment of sloth, or worldliness, think 
the performance of it burdensome. Christ has informed 
his disciples, that ' the poor they will always have with 
them.' On his part the legacy was not unkind ; to us 
it is obviously a blessing. Nothing more enlarges the 
heart, refines the affections, or improves the character, 
than kindness freely rendered to the afflicted. Nothing 
more excites a spirit of dependence on God, or awakens 
gratitude for his blessings to us, or expands the feelings 
of benevolent sympathy, or endears to us our fellow 
men, particularly our fellow Christians, or assimilates 
our disposition to that of the Redeemer. He to whom, 
without any fault of his own, mankind are indebted for 
these benefits, cannot be a burden to society. 

I have now reviewed every argument of Mr Hume 
which, in my opinion, merits an answer ; and his argu- 
ments, so far as I know, are all of any importance which 
have been hitherto alleged in favour of suicide. I 
shall only add one observation to those which I have 
already made under this head. It is this : All the dis- 
tresses almost which give birth to this wanton destruction 
of human life are the mere effects of predominant wick- 
edness in the mind of the suicide. Losses at the gaming- 
table, disappointments of ambition, mortified avarice, 
wounded pride, and frustrated hopes of sensuality, are 
usually the immediate sources of this crime. Instead 
of killing himself for such reasons as these, the true in- 
terest of the unhappy man demands of him, with infi- 
nite force, that he should live, repent, and reform. 

II. / shall now allege several proofs of the crim- 
inality of suicide, in addition to those which have been 
unavoidably specified in answering the arguments of 
Mr Hume. 



Of these, the first which I shall mention is the text. 
In the first Discourse from this passage it was ob- 
served, that the command which it contains is expressed 
in the most absolute manner. ' Thou shalt not kill ;' 
that to kill is the thing forbidden, and by the words is 
forbidden, in all cases whatever ; that the words were 
chosen by God himself, and bind us therefore with in- 
finite authority ; and that man cannot lawfully originate 
an exception, nor in any other manner limit their im- 
port. These observations, it is presumed, cannot be 
denied to be true. But if they are true, the text for- 
bids suicide in the most absolute manner. 

Mr Hume indeed observes, that the law of Moses is 
abolished, except so far as it is established by the law 
of nature. A Christian will probably be satisfied of 
the authority of the decalogue, without this condition, 
when he finds it expressly established by Christ. 

2. In addition to this decisive proof, a proof so de- 
cisive, as to need no addition, I observe, that the suicide 
hurries himself to the judgment in the commission of a 
gross crime, of which he cannot repent. If we should 
even allow, that the criminality of this act was not ca- 
pable of being proved, so far as the act itself only is 
concerned, it cannot be denied, that he who commits it, 
is in some degree, at least, uncertain whether it be law- 
ful, or not. To abstain from it, he at the same time 
knows to be lawful. In this case, to commit suicide is 
a gross sin ; because the perpetrator refuses to do that 
which he knows to be right, and does that, of whose 
rectitude he has no assurance. 

Farther: No person who thus puts an end to his life 
is assured that his salvation, independently of this act, 
is secured. Of course, even on the most favourable 
supposition, he puts his eternity at hazard, and ven- 
tures, in an inexcusable and dreadful manner, upon 
perdition. 

Finally : There are, to say the least, strong, and 
hitherto unanswered, reasons to prove suicide a crime ; 
and that of enormous magnitude. 

These reasons will never be answered. It will al- 
ways be true, that there are important ends to be ac- 
complished by every man during the whole period 
through which his life would extend, did he not lay 
violent hands on himself. These ends are constituted, 
and set before him by God himself. In refusing to 
accomplish them, the suicide violates the highest obli- 
gations under which he is or can be placed. He is, 
according to the supposition, in affliction. This afflic- 
tion both reason and revelation declare to be sent by 
his Creator. It is sent for the very purpose of amend- 
ing his character, awakening in him patience and sub- 
mission, faith and fortitude, enabling him to feel his 
dependence, softening his heart with tenderness towards 
his fellow creatures, exciting in him a spirit of univer- 
sal obedience, and thus preparing him for endless life. 
I need not say, that these designs, on the part of God, 
are pre-eminently benevolent ; nor that in refusing to 
accomplish them, nor that ' in sinning against God,' in 
this manner, he supremely ' wrongs his own soul.' 

Human life is plainly intended by the Creator to be 
a mere course of duty and obedience. This is the di- 
rect appointment of the Creator. To wish to frustrate 
or reverse this appointment, much more to attempt the 
frustration or reversion of it by overt acts, is sinful of 
course. How sinful then must be this violent attempt 
to oppose the divine will ! 

4 H 



610 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. cxviii. 



But the suicide cuts himself off from every opportu- 
nity, from the very possibility, of repenting of these 
multiplied crimes. Hurried into eternity by his own 
hand, he appears before the bar of God, with all his 
guilt upon his head. Should it be said, that he may 
secure himself an opportunity of repentance by a gra- 
dual death ; I answer, that neither the temper of mind 
with which he destroys his life, nor the views which 
God cannot but entertain of this violent act of rebellion, 
furnish him -with any hope that he will become peni- 
tent, 

3. The Scriptures expressly forbid us voluntarily to 
sink under any affliction. 

' My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, 
neither faint when thou art rebuked of him.' — Christ 
has said to all his disciples, ' In the world ye shall have 
tribulation :' but he has most benevolently subjoined. 
' in me ye shall have peace :' that is, peace, awakened 
in the midst of your afflictions, or flowing from them 
as a regular consequence of your submission and sanc- 
tification. Accordingly, St Paul declares, that, al- 
though no affliction is for the present joyous, but all 
are grievous: yet nevertheless they afterward yield the 
peaceable fruits of righteousness. 

In these passages we are required, unconditionally, 
to sustain our afflictions with submission, patience, and 
fortitude. This command we cannot disobey, even in 
thought, without sin ; much less in so violent an act of 
opposition. Suicide is the result, not only of a total 
want of submission, but of direct and violent hostility 
against the will of God. It is a declaration, that we 
will not ' endure the chastening of God ;' and that the 
afflictions with which he is pleased to visit us are in- 
tolerable ; and that they are therefore unreasonable 
and unrighteous specimens of oppression in his admi- 
nistrations. No charge can be more obviously blas- 
phemous than this ; more unsuited to the character of 
the Creator, or more unbecoming the mouth of a crea- 
ture. 

4. The suicide is always bound to prolong his life, by 
personal duties, which are indispensable. 

He is bound to secure his own salvation. He is 
bound to provide for his family. If he performs not 
these so long as they need them, and so long as it is in 
his power, ' he denies the faith, and is worse than an 
infidel.' He is bound to train up his children ' in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord.' He is bound to 



promote the happiness and salvation of those around 
him ; and, generally, of his fellow men. Universally, 
whatever is his situation, he may, if he lives, do good 
to himself, and to mankind ; and this good he is bound 
to do, so long as God is pleased to spare his life. When 
he destroys himself, he is guilty of gross rebellion 
against God in refusing to perform these duties. 

5. The Scriptures never exhibit suicide as the conduct 
of any but very wicked men. 

Job, David, Elijah, Jeremiah, Daniel and his three 
companions, Christ and the apostles, underwent afflic- 
tions incomparably more severe than those for which 
the suicide destroys his life. Yet neither of these 
thought it proper voluntarily to terminate his own life. 
Daniel and his companions, Christ and his apostles, 
were in most instances, however, destined to a violent 
and scandalous death ; one of the very cases which 
Mr Hume has selected to show the lawfulness of sui- 
cide. This they perfectly well knew ; but not one of 
them appears to have thought of preventing the pain 
and disgrace by laying violent hands on himself. This 
case is plainly an extreme one. None can be more so. 
Yet the perfect piety of Christ, and the exemplary 
piety of these virtuous men, instead of dictating this 
desperate course of conduct to them, taught them, se- 
verally, to wait with humble resignation for the will of 
God, and patiently to receive their destiny from his 
hand. The example of these persons will be followed 
by every virtuous man. 

Saul, an open rebel against his Maker, and the inten- 
tional murderer of David and Jonathan ; Ahithophel, a 
traitor to his lawful sovereign ; and Judas, a traitor to his 
Redeemer — were suicides. This conduct in them was the 
result of their dispositions, the product of such principles 
as controlled these abandoned men. It is therefore 
rationally argued, that suicide, in the view of the Di- 
vine mind, is the moral consequence of the worst prin- 
ciples only. On the contrary, it is equally clear, that 
virtue, in the evangelical sense, is totally incompatible 
with the perpetration of this act, and absolutely forbids 
the voluntary destruction of our own lives. He who 
meditates the voluntary termination of his own life, 
ought solemnly to remember, that he is indulging a 
spirit which is directly opposed to that of Christ, and 
strongly assimilated to that of Saul, Ahithophel, and 
Judas. 



SERMON CXVIII. 



THE LAW OF GOD — THE DECALOGUE—THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT DRUNKENNESS. 



And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess. — Eph. v. 18. 

In the preceding Discourses I have considered several I Drunkenness is nearly allied to suicide. It is an 
methods in which life is destroyed, in opposition to the equally certain means of shortening life. The principal 
sixth command of the decalogue. In this Discourse I I difference, so far as the termination of life is concerned, 
shall make some observations concerning another off lies in the mode. What is appropriately called suicide, 
these methods ; viz. Drunkenness. I is a sudden or immediate termination of life. Drunk- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DRUNKENNESS. 



611 



enness brings it gradually to an end. The destruction 
in both cases is equally certain, and not materially dif- 
ferent in the degree of turpitude. In many instances, 
indeed, this catastrophe is brought to pass, at least as 
suddenly, by drunkenness as by suicide. There is also 
another difference between these crimes. The suicide 
intends directly to destroy his life, and makes this his 
prime purpose; the drunkard thinks of nothing less: 
the prime object in his view is the gratification of his 
relish for strong drink, united with that bewildered 
elevation of spirits, which he feels in the hour of in- 
toxication. 

In the text we are expressly and universally forbid- 
den to commit this sin. The penalty incurred by the 
commission is as expressly declared in 1 Cor. vi. 10; 
where it is said, that ' Drunkards shall not inherit the 
kingdom of God.' This threatening we are not indeed 
to consider as absolute, any more than others expressed 
in a similar manner. Undoubtedly, no person who 
enters eternity in the character of a drunkard will 
' inherit the kingdom of God.' But I know of no 
reason to conclude, that he who, though once a drunk- 
ard, has become a penitent, will not be accepted. 

This interesting subject I design to consider at large 
under the following heads : — 

I. The nature, 

II. The causes, 

III. The evils of drunkenness, and 

IV. The means of avoiding it. 

I. I shall make a few observations concerning the 
nature of this sin. 

Drunkenness is that singular state of man in which 
he loses, either partially or wholly, the use of his bodily 
and mental powers, under the operation of spirituous 
drink, opium, or other means of intoxication. 

Drunkenness is either occasional or habitual. 

Occasional drunkenness exists only in irregular, se- 
parate, solitary, or even single instances ; and is pro- 
duced sometimes by design, and sometimes by accident. 

Habitual drunkenness is a frequent, and usually a 
regular intoxication ; occasioned by that increased and 
peculiar love of strong drink, which is generated by 
occasional drunkenness. 

Habitual drunkenness will be the principal subject 
of this Discourse. It will only be necessary to remark 
concerning occasional drunkenness, that all the obser- 
vations almost concerning habitual drunkenness will be 
applicable to it, although in an inferior degree ; and 
that, wherever the subject shall appear to demand any 
serious discrimination, I shall endeavour to make them 
in the progress of the discussion. 

II. The causes of this sin (by which I intend, not 
the immediate, and properly efficient causes, such as 
those already mentioned ; but those which, although 
more remote, are yet deeply concerned in the produc- 
tion of it) are principally the following : — 

1. Example. 

By this I intend, that we gradually acquire a habit 
of drunkenness, by seeing others drink; and, if I may 
be allowed the expression, catching the practice merely 
from the fact, that we often witness it in others. Wher- 
ever the character of those who set the example is the 
object of particular affection, esteem, or reverence, the 
influence of the example becomes proportionally great 
and dangerous. Parents in this manner become pecu- 
liarly, and other relations and friends generally, power- 



ful means of seduction and ruin to their children, and 
other relatives. In this case I suppose nothing but the 
example, and the veneration and endearment by which 
it is accompanied, to produce the corruption of those to 
whom it is exhibited. 

2. Frequenting those places where strong drink is 
conveniently obtained. 

A tavern, especially a vulgar one, or a dram-shop, 
or an ale-house, newly opened, usually exhibits 
strongly, as well as clearly, the efficacy of this cause. 
Each of them soon begins to attract its train of drink- 
ing customers ; and within a moderate period becomes 
surrounded by its circle of drunkards. There is 
scarcely a greater nuisance to society than houses of 
this nature ; in which spirituous liquors are sold in small 
quantities to the neighbouring inhabitants. Millions 
of the human race have in these baleful haunts taken 
the first fatal step towards perdition. 

3. Evil companions. 

These usually combine all the efficacy of the former 
causes, with many additional temptations. They pre- 
sent the example, they provide the retreat, and the 
convenience. At the same time, they add to these the 
force of direct and powerful solicitations, the spright- 
liness of wit, the gayety of sports and songs, the pun- 
gency of ridicule, the influence of good natur.e and 
affection ; and the power of that sympathy which is 
always found in social festivity. Such a combination is 
too powerful to be resisted by common minds ; perhaps 
by any mind which is voluntarily, for any length of 
time, within its reach. He who frequents the society 
of jovial companions in an habitual manner, may fairly 
consider himself as destined in the end to become a 
sot. 

4. Customary and regular drinking. 

Multitudes of persons accustom themselves to take a 
moderate quantity of strong drink, day by day, at re- 
gular periods ; in the morning, immediately before 
dinner, or in the evening. Labouring men in this 
country are, to a great extent, accustomed to use ardent 
spirits at certain given times of the day; considering thein 
as necessary to recruit their strength, which is supposed 
to be wasted by their toil. Some of them, less atten- 
tive to particular times of drinking, demand stated 
quantities of strong drink, which they regard as indis- 
pensable to enable them to pursue their daily labour. 
Men of wealth and fashion, with nearly the same regu- 
larity, consume large quantities of wine at and after 
dinner. In these, and in all other, cases of regular 
drinking, an habitual attachment to strong drink is in- 
sensibly begun, strengthened, and confirmed. The 
man who drinks spirits regularly, ought to consider 
himself as having already entered the path of habitual 
intoxication. 

5. Affliction also is, not unfrequently, a cause of 
drunkenness. 

The affliction here referred to is both bodily and 
mental. Certain diseases of the body, it is well known, 
bring with them lowness of spirits, discouragement, and 
melancholy. The patient oftentimes resorts to the use 
of strong drink, as a remedy for these evils, and finds 
in it a temporary relief from the pressure. Oftentimes 
the physician prescribes this remedy in form, and thus 
adds the sanction of his skill and character to the pa- 
tient's inclination. In every case of this nature a de- 
gree of pain is usually experienced in that part of the 



613 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxvisi. 



stomach which is sometimes called the second sensory. 
This is commonly relieved, at least in some degree, by 
the use of strong drink, taken at first in moderate 
quantities. The remedy, however, leaves the disease 
worse than it found it. To produce the desired effect 
a greater quantity is soon necessary, and then a greater 
still. In this manner multitudes of persons become 
drunkards. 

The mental evils which give birth to this unhappy 
habit are numerous. Most or all of them, however, are 
such as, instead of exciting, waste or destroy the energy 
of the mind. Of this nature are a strong sense of irre- 
trievable disgrace, a painful consciousness of perplexed 
or desperate circumstances, merited loss of esteem and 
affection highly valued by ourselves, long-continued 
suspense concerning some important interest, final dis- 
couragement of ardent wishes or favourite pursuits, 
together with several other very anxious and hopeless 
situations of the mind. From the distress suffered in 
these and the like cases, it often betakes itself for relief 
to spirituous liquors. The relief is necessarily transient ; 
and, in order to be enjoyed to any great extent, must 
therefore be often repeated. By this repetition the 
sufferer soon becomes, of course, habitually intemperate. 

6. A small number of persons find a cause of drunk- 
enness in an original, native appetite for strong drink. 

The number of these is so small, and the cause itself 
so little needs explanation, that it is unnecessary to 
dwell on this part of the subject. 

III. The principal evils of drunkenness are the fol- 
lowing : 

1. It exhibits the subject of it in the light of extreme 
odiousness and degradation. 

Drunkenness always deprives a man, either partially 
or wholly, of his reason, and very often of his bodily 
faculties. A man without reason is either a maniac, or 
a brute ; and, for the time, presents the eye with a 
spectacle more sunk than the brute, and more painful 
than the maniac. The loss of reason is to man the 
loss of all which renders him either comfortable, respec- 
table, or useful. How painful, how humiliating is the 
sight of an idiot ! How excruciating the appearance of a 
lunatic ! How lowering to human pride and indepen- 
dence, to sober contemplation and real dignity, a 
respectable man, transformed by age or sickness into a 
driveller ! Such a transformation the drunkard accom- 
plishes for himself, during every period of his intoxica- 
tion ; and adds to all the other circumstances of degra- 
dation, the peculiarly humbling and hateful one, that 
he has voluntarily degraded himself. 

In this situation the drunkard becomes, in the literal 
and most emphatic sense, a fool. His conversation is 
that of a tongue, vibrating without a mind ; moving, 
because it has been accustomed to move ; lisping and 
babbling an imperfect, cluttered, and dragging articu- 
lation ; a kind of instinctive effort, resembling that of 
the idiot, who having learned to count the strokes of a 
clock, continued to count after the clock had ceased 
to go. 

In the mean time, many drunkards, who partially lose 
their reason, set their passions on fire. All restraints 
in this case vanish with their reason. The mind be- 
comes a furnace of frenzy ; and the bodily powers, 
stimulated to more than ordinary vigour, are employed 
only as the instruments of rage and violence. In the 
former case, the man sank down to the level of a swine ; 



in this, he converts himself into a tiger. In the former 
case, he became loathsome and despicable ; in this, lie 
becomes equally the object of hatred and terror. 

There is, however, a stage in the progress of both, at 
which they lose alike, and absolutely, the powers of 
both body and mind. Each then becomes absolutely 
stupid ; a mass of flesh, in which a soul once lived, 
thought, animated, and controlled ; but from which it 
has fled, indignant at the brutal abuse which it has suf- 
fered. It has become palsied, lifeless, and, for the 
period, extinct under a shock which it was unable to 
sustain. 

2. Drunkenness exposes the subject of it to many, and 
those often extreme, dangers. 

The drunkard is always exposed to be overreached 
and defrauded during the seasons of his partial insanity. 
At these seasons, many persons, devoted to the use of 
strong drink, are peculiarly inclined to manage business, 
and make bargains. The weakness, the want of self- 
control, and the incapacity of forming just estimates of 
men and things, always visible at these seasons in such 
men, mark them out as prey for the cheat and the 
sharper. Accordingly, they often take such measures 
to produce in them such a degree of intoxication, as 
they well know will effectually answer their own pur- 
poses. Without any such pre-concertion, there are, 
howevei - , always sharpers enough, ready to arrest the 
drunkard in his intoxication, and drunkards enough to 
furnish them with victims. At almost all such periods, 
the losses incurred are material, frequently they are 
great, and sometimes they are fatal. 

At other seasons, when the intoxication is complete, 
the subject of it is exposed to extreme personal dan- 
gers. Few men in this situation are aware, so long as 
they retain a partial use of their limbs, and some faint 
glimmerings of understanding, how incompetent they 
have become to direct their own conduct with safety. 
Of course, they venture without apprehension into such 
situations as demand the full exercise of their bodily 
and mental powers. Hence, one of them' has fallen 
from his horse, and broken his limbs or his neck. An- 
other has fallen into the fire, and either terminated his 
life, or made himself through the remainder of it a 
miserable cripple. A third has lost himself in a wintry 
storm, and perished, because he could not find the way 
to his own house. A fourth hath fallen overboard, and 
been drowned. A fifth has killed himself by swallow- 
ing a larger quantity of ardent spirits than he was 
aware, or than his nature could sustain. By these and 
many other accidents, to some or other of which the 
drunkard is almost always exposed, multitudes have 
come to an untimely end. 

Nor is the danger much less to the intoxicated per- 
son of doing, without any design, and even in contra- 
diction to his prevailing wishes, serious injuries to those 
around him. Not a small number of dwelling-houses 
have been consumed by these undesigning incendiaries. 
In the conflagration, the inhabitants, whoever they may 
have been, most frequently his family, and perhaps as 
frequently the drunkard himself, have perished. Who, 
that has the least share of sober reflection or common 
sense left, would not tremble at the first approach to- 
wards this terrible catastrophe ? 

3. The drunkard exposes himself to many tempta- 
tions, and many sins. 

Of this nature indeed are all those things which have 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DRUNKENNESS. 



613' 



been mentioned under the preceding heads. But, be- 
side these evils, the use of spirituous liquors produces 
many others. It excites to a high degree of intense- 
ness most of the vehement passions of man, particularly 
anger and lust. As the government of reason is lost, 
and the power of conscience laid asleep, the passions, 
at all times sufficiently strong, assume, with increased 
strength, the absolute control of the man, and spur and 
goad him on to every crime within his reach. In this 
situation, it is to be remembered, he is rarely alone. 
Other drunkards are usually around him, whose reason 
is equally enfeebled, and whose passions are equally 
awake. Among men of strong passions, and little rea- 
son, disputes cannot fail to arise. In such men, dis- 
putes generate anger of course. Anger here regularly 
issues in quarrelling; and quarrelling terminates in 
maimed limbs, bloodshed, and death. A large part of 
the murders which have existed in this world have 
grown out of intoxication. 

4. A drunkard necessarily wastes his own property. 
This he often does, as I have already observed, by 

the foolish and mischievous bargains which he makes 
during the hours of intoxication. But this is far from 
being all. In the mere purchase of strong drink he 
expends greater sums than any man, without an arith- 
metical calculation, would suspect, and obviously greater 
than moderate property can bear. 

Nor is this all. A great part of his time is spent in 
preparing the means of intoxication, in the haunts to 
which he resorts for it, among his drinking companions, 
and in sleeping and wearing off" its immediate effects. 
All this time would otherwise have been employed in 
useful business, and would have thus been the means of 
increasing, instead of diminishing, his property. 

Nor is he less a sufferer by that gradual diminution 
of bodily and mental powers mentioned above. His 
frame and limbs are of course diseased. In this man- 
ner he becomes, at times, disabled from pursuing his 
business at all ; and, at other times, obliged to pursue it 
to very little purpose. What he does in this situation 
is but half done; and would often have been as well or 
much better omitted. His judgment, also, and skill, 
are equally impaired ; and, instead of directing his 
business with success, are wasted on feeble, fruitless 
plans, miserably executed. As these powers decay, he 
becomes careless, listless, and negligent of his concerns ; 
and sees them continually declining, and himself daily 
approaching towards beggary, without either the power 
or the will to stay the deplorable progress. 

Thus he voluntarily robs himself of a comfortable 
support in old age, and in the sickness to which he is 
so eminently exposed ; and, at an untimely period, 
withers the power and wastes the means of enjoyment. 

5. The drunkard destroys his health. 

No constitution is able to resist the scorching effi- 
cacy of that liquid fire, which this slave of sense and 
sin incessantly swallows. Pain, sorrow, and disease, 
are its inevitable effects. The stomach becomes speedily 
too much weakened to receive, and the appetite to re- 
lish, food, until both have been stimulated by a new 
draught. Speedily, the limbs complain and decay, the 
senses become obtuse, and all the energy of the body 
gradually wastes away. 

In this situation, also, the skill of the physician and 
the power of medicine are rendered useless. A large 
y.iportion of all the useful medicines, those particularly 



which the diseases of drinking men chiefly demand, are 
stimulants. But these men have used one of the most 
powerful of all stimulants so often, and so long, that 
medicines of this nature cease to operate upon their 
constitutions with their proper sanative power. They 
are left, therefore, in a peculiar degree to the ravages 
and sufferings of disease, without the usual means of 
cure, alleviation, or hope. 

6. The drunkard wastes his reputation. 

' A good name is better than great riches.' It would 
be no small consolation therefore to a man of this de- 
scription, under the loss of his property and his health, 
if he could at the same time preserve his character. 
But, unhappily for him' his reputation is squandered 
faster than his property, and destroyed more suddenly 
than his health. Drunkenness is a sin which, after it 
has once become habitual, is so rarely relinquished, as 
hardly to admit the feeblest hope of reformation. In 
a very early part of his progress, therefore, he becomes 
branded with the full and entire character of a drunk- 
ard. His reputation, of course, is lost at an untimely 
period ; and his infamy is of a premature growth. But 
what character can be more degrading, more indicative 
of the loss of virtue and common sense, and of the vo- 
luntary assumption of folly and self-pollution ? What 
name is more scandalous ; more evidential, that a man 
has left his proper rank in the creation and sunk him- 
self down to the level of brutes, than that of a sot ? But 
on this reputation, thus wantonly and profligately wast- 
ed, hangs almost all the comfort and usefulness of men. 
To preserve it fresh and untainted, therefore, is alike 
their interest and their duty ; a duty indispensable, an 
interest which cannot be estimated. He who does not 
highly value it is a fool ; he who wantonly throws it 
away is a madman ! 

7. The drunkard destroys his reason. 

Reason has been often, and justly, styled ' the light 
of the mind.' Mr Locke, with great force and beauty, 
styles it ' the candle of the Lord, shining within man.' 
It is our only ultimate directress. Even the doctrines 
and precepts of revelation can be nothing to us, until 
reason has first discerned it to be a revelation, and de- 
termined the real import of its precepts and doc- 
trines. Still more absolutely is it the arbiter of all 
our ordinary concerns. For these we have no other 
guide, and can submit them to no other control. In a 
word, reason makes us men ; and without it we should 
be brutes. 

But this invaluable possession, this essence of his cha- 
racter as a human being, himself, his all, the drunkard 
rapidly wastes away. 

8. The drunkard destroys his usefulness. 

This evil is dreadfully involved in the loss of his pro- 
perty, health, reputation, and reason. The perpetual 
degradation with which he daily appears to the eyes 
of those around him, not only forbids the esteem and 
confidence which are indispensable to the attainment 
of useful business, but renders him an object of ab- 
horrence and loathing. Thus, without reputation to 
recommend him to others, or property, or even incli- 
nation to befriend them ; with health and reason so de- 
cayed, as to be unable to befriend himself; he ceases 
to be of any serious use to either. Of course, he be- 
comes a burden, a nuisance, a calamity to the world. 
' Good would it have been for this man, if he had never 
bean born.' 



6H 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxvjn. 



In the mean time, sunk and lost as he is, he continues, 
and usually for a length of time, to be a merry and 
jovial haunter of taverns and dram-shops ; and, like a 
vessel of variolous matter occasionally opened, spreads, 
from day to day, a pestilential contagion through the 
clusters of miserable wretches who frequent these dan- 
gerous resorts. Few men injure a community more 
dreadfully than a drunkard. The sin which peculiarly 
constitutes his character is almost wholly derived from 
example. Every such example, therefore, is the real 
cause of extending the evil to succeeding generations, 
as well as of corrupting his contemporaries. Were the 
injurers of mankind to receive their real deserts, New- 
gate would exchange many of its present tenants for the 
mischievous slaves of strong drink. 

9. The drunkard ruins his family. 

In this comprehensive and affecting article, several 
particulars merit the most serious consideration. 

(1.) He spreads through his family the habit of in- 
toxication. 

The influence of parental example, especially when 
an evil example, I have already had occasion particu r 
larly to unfold. In the present melancholy case, all 
the power of such an example is felt to the utmost It 
is an example seen daily, in the house, and in the pa- 
rent. It is seen by children so soon as they can see 
any thing, and long before their minds are capable of 
distinguishing its nature or its tendency. The parent 
visibly regards spirituous liquors as a peculiarly interest- 
ing enjoyment of sense, at a time when they know no 
enjoyments but those of sense ; of course, they cannot 
but think it eminently valuable. The means of intoxi- 
cation are also provided to their hand ; and their own 
home, so far as a dangerous and malignant influence is 
concerned, is changed into a dram-shop. The mother, 
in the mean time, not unfrequently contracts the same 
evil habit from the father ; and thus both parents unite 
in the unnatural and monstrous employment of corrupt- 
ing their children. What a prospect is here presented 
to our view ! A husband and wife, to whom God has 
given children, to be trained up by them for heaven, 
united together in taking them by the hand, and lead- 
ing them coolly to perdition ! What heart, not made 
of stone, can look at such a family, without feeling ex- 
quisite distress, and the most terrible forebodings? 
Contemplate, for a moment, the innocent, helpless 
beings, perfectly unconscious of their danger, and in- 
capable of learning it, thus led as victims to the altar of 
a modern Moloch, less sanguinary indeed, but not less 
cruel, than the heathen god, before whom the Is- 
raelitish parents burnt their own offspring ; and say, 
whether you most pity the children, or detest the pa- 
rents. 

(2.) By squandering his property he deprives them of 
both comfort and respectability. 

The comfort which we enjoy in the present world, so 
far as the world itself is concerned, is principally found 
in realizing the expectations which we have rationally 
and habitually formed concerning our future circum- 
stances in life. These expectations are, of course, 
grounded on the circumstances of our parents. We 
expect what we are thus taught to expect ; and this na- 
turally is, that we receive such an education, and pass 
(through life in such a manner, as is common to the 
children of those who are in similar circumstances. 
These expectations the drunken parent gradually frit- 



ters away with the gradual diminution of his estate. 
The mind of the child sees, with more and more dis- 
couragement, one expected gratification vanish after an- 
other, till it ceases to expect at all ; and sinks down into 
sullen or broken-hearted despair. 

Among the evils which children suffer, a prime one 
is the loss of education ; of that education, I mean, which 
is suited to their condition in life. The instructions 
which children receive are a debt which no parent can, 
without extreme guilt, refuse to discharge ; and of 
which no child can be prevented, but by robbery, as 
well as fraud. They are the chief means of his fu- 
ture comfort and his futui-e usefulness. They take him 
out of the list of savages, and place him in the rank 
of men. They form him to wisdom, to worth, and to 
honour. Beyond this, they open to him the gates of vir- 
tue, glory, and immortality, and point to him the path 
to heaven. 

The most important of these instructions the parent 
himself is able, and therefore bound, to give ; the in- 
structions, especially of a moral and religious nature, 
which are given and received with incomparably the 
greatest efficacy in the morning of life. But what in- 
structions can a drunkard communicate ? What must 
be the efficacy, even of truth itself, proceeding from 
disturbed reason, a reeling frame, and a babbling 
tongue ? With this image before him, what child can 
sufficiently withdraw himself from shame and anguish 
to learn at all? With what a contradictory and mon- 
strous deformity of character must religious truths and 
precepts be inculcated on his child, by a man imbruted 
by strong drink ! 

The government of children is obviously of no less 
importance than their instruction. But what must be 
the government exercised by a sot ? A mixture of con- 
tradictions, imbecility, and rage ; a mixture which every 
child six years old perfectly understands, and which 
no child of that age can respect or love. How can he 
reprove them for their faults ? His own life is nothing 
but a tissue of faults. How can he enjoin upon them 
virtuous conduct ? His own life is a perpetual war upon 
virtue. How can he recommend to them religion ? His 
whole character is an insult upon religion. All this 
his children perfectly know ; and their meaning eyes, if 
he will look into them, will tell him the story in lan- 
guage unutterable. 

(3.) He breaks their hearts by subjecting them to in- 
supportable mortification. 

The drunkard presents his family witli the melan- 
choly sight of an intoxicated parent ; an image always 
before their eyes ; an image which sinks them in the 
dust ; an image which overwhelms them in despair. 
What child can look at such an object, and remember 
that this object is his parent, without a broken heart ? 

The distresses thus experienced he renders double- 
edged by his own fretful and passionate temper. All 
drunkards almost assume this temper of course ; and in 
this manner become intolerable nuisances to those with 
whom they are most intimately connected. The house 
of a drunkard is always the seat of discontent and tur- 
moil. The suffering's of his family soon become too 
great to be borne with patience. Complaints, which 
nature cannot stifle, beget criminations, reproaches, 
abuses, and quarrels ; terminating not unfrequently in 
wounds, bloodshed, and death. 

In this manner the temper of his family is ruined. 



THE LAW OF GOD DRUNKENNESS. 



615 



They are taught, and in a sense forced, to become hos- 
tile to each other ; and prepared to become enemies to 
mankind. At the same time, they are rendered un- 
comfortable to themselves ; and, should they have fa- 
milies of their own, are made curses to them also. 

Their spirits, in the mean time, are broken down by 
an unceasing consciousness which they cannot escape, 
that their disgrace, in all its complication, is known and 
published wherever they are known. The head, at 
least, of their domestic body is not only distressingly, 
but scandalously sick ; and sick with a hopeless, as ■well 
as shameful disease. The members in greater or less 
degrees, suffer with the head, and for it, at least, suffer 
inexpressibly. 

To all these things ought to be added their continual 
apprehension, that their husband and parent will come 
to some dreadful disaster, or to an untimely end, by 
some one of that numerous train of accidents to which 
he is daily exposed ; and the terrible conviction that, 
should he even escape these evils, he is still going regu- 
larly onward to final perdition. This consummation of 
evils they are compelled to expect, with an assurance 
little short of absolute knowledge ; and cannot fail to 
tremble in the morning, lest the dreadful event should 
arrive before the close of the day. 

10. The drunkard destroys his life. 

The drunkard is as really a suicide, as if he com- 
passed his death by the pistol or the halter. The differ- 
ence is, principally, that the destruction is slower, and 
accomplished by a long succession of sins, and not by 
one bold and desperate effort of turpitude ; and that 
the drunkard, instead of aiming at his life, aims merely 
at the gratification of his appetite ; while the suicide 
makes his own destruction his prime purpose. The 
drunkard is a negligent, the suicide an intentional self- 
murderer. Often, indeed, the drunkard destroys him- 
self in a moment. Often, as I have already observed, 
he falls from his horse, or into the fire, or into the wa- 
ter, or is brought to an untimely end by some other fatal 
accident. Most usually, however, he wastes gradually 
the taper of life before the time ; and thus cuts off one- 
fourth, one-third, or one-half of his ' accepted time ;' 
even while he lives, by his desperate progress in sin he 
terminates all his hopes of salvation. 

11. The drunkard ruins his soul. 

It has been heretofore observed, that the drunkard 
destroys his reason. In this manner he is unfitted for 
all profitable use of the means of grace, and for all at- 
tention to eternal life. Every call of mercy finds him 
stupid and regardless. To every threatening his ears 
are deaf; to every promise his heart is insensible. The 
power of motives he knows not how to feel ; and even 
their nature he cannot comprehend. To temptations, 
on the contrary, he is always exposed, alive, and awake. 
Around him therefore temptations throng, and every 
tempter fastens on him as his prey. Sin, of course, be- 
comes his business ; and ' he draws iniquity as with a 
cart rope.' 

In the mean time he is, beyond most other men, hope- 
less of reformation. The hopeless condition of a sot is 
proverbial. Amendment in this case is so rare, as 
scarcely to admit belief. Indeed, heaven seems to 
have stamped this sin almost always with reprobation. 
To complete his miserable condition, he is cut off from 
prayer. No person who intends to sin can pray. No 
person who intends to tempt himself, as the drunkard 



always does, can say, ' Lead me not into temptation ; 
but deliver me from evil ;' and no person who cannot 
pray can be saved. Thus the drunkard holds out to his 
family and to the world the deplorable spectacle of a 
sinner hardened beyond the common measure ; expos- 
ing himself to sin of every kind, and in every degree, 
and yet voluntarily depriving himself of the usual means 
of repentance ; hastening to perdition, and yet closing 
his eyes to the dangers of the precipice on which he 
stands, and to the terrors of the gulf which opens be- 
neath. 

IV. I shall now endeavour summarily to point out the 
means of avoiding this dreadful evil. 

1. Among these means, it will be readily seen, must 
be the avoidance of the causes by which intoxication is 
solicited or encouraged. 

Most of these causes may ordinarily be avoided by a 
little care, and a little resolution. No persons, except 
the family of the drunkard, are obliged to be present, 
unless casually, to examples of this nature. No person 
is necessitated to frequent the places in which, or the 
company of the persons by whom, this evil habit is en- 
couraged. Every man can avoid regular drinking. 
That all this is the duty of every man, a duty of the 
most pressing kind, will not be questioned. Every 
thing here depends on resisting, or avoiding, ' the be- 
ginnings of evil.' 

Peculiarly is it the duty and wisdom of all men to 
abstain from the haunts of drunkenness, from drinking 
companions, and from regular drinking. Almost all 
habits of intoxication are originated by one or other of 
these causes. He who becomes familiar with these 
temptations, is advancing to perdition with his eyes 
open. 

2. The man who finds in himself any peculiar relish 
for spirituous liquors, is bound to abstain from them 
wholly. 

The relish for these increases invariably with every 
instance and degree of indulgence. To cherish it 
therefore, is to make ourselves drunkards ; and it is 
cherished most efficaciously by repeated drinking. No 
man will do this, who is not a fair candidate for Bed- 
lam. 

3. All persons who have already begun the habit of 
intoxication, are bound to desist absolutely from all use 
of strong drink. 

Every effort at gradual reformation will only cheat 
him who makes it. At first it may seem to promise 
something ; but it will soon be found to perform no- 
thing of any use. The candidate for reformation will 
speedily find himself more entangled than ever, and at 
a greater distance from the reformation intended. Hard 
as the case may be, he must break off at once, or be 
ruined. 

4. Persons not peculiarly in danger of this evil, are, 
nevertheless, bound scrupulously to guard against it. 

No reputation, no wisdom, nor hardly any worth, will 
secure man against drunkenness. This sin is found in 
the cottage, and in the palace ; in the study of the phi- 
losopher, and in the sacred desk ; in the hall of coun- 
cil, and on the bench of justice; and, contrary to what 
would seem the dictates of nature, as well as delicacy, 
in the female sex ; even in instances where distinction, 
understanding, amiableness, and refinement would ap- 
pear to forbid even the suspicion. In most, if not all 
of these cases, the evil creeps insensibly on the unhappy 



818 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. cxix. 



subject, and overcomes him before he is aware. A prime 
object to be here regarded, is therefore, to keep the 
danger always before our eyes. We are ever to feel 
that we ourselves are in danger ; and to consider an 
habitual lively dread of it as our safety. We are to 
form also vigorous and standing resolutions, that we 
will not be overcome. These we are invariably to form 
in the fear of God, with a solemn recollection of his 
presence, with a humble dependence on him to bless us, 
and with fervent supplications for his blessing. To 
strengthen our resolutions, and to keep our fears awake, 
we are to mark the miserable victims of this sin with 
anxiety and terror; to regard the sin itself as 'the 
highway to hell ;' and to realize, that in yielding to it 
we seal our own reprobation. 

To all this conduct motives can never be wanting. 
Multitudes of the highest import, and the most com- 
manding efficacy, have been already suggested in the 
progress of this Discourse. Every heart in this house, 
which is not formed of adamant, must have felt their 
force. Nothing pleads for it, except the mere appetite 



for strong drink; an appetite usually unnatural, and 
created by casual indulgence. All things else in heaven 
and in earth exclaim against it with a single voice. 
Our health, our reputation, our safety, our reason, our 
usefulness, our lives, our souls, our families, and our 
friends, in solemn and affecting union, urge, entreat, 
and persuade us to abstain. God commands, Christ 
solicits, the Spirit of grace influences, us to abstain. 
Angels and glorified saints behold our conduct with 
such anxiety and alarm as happy beings can feel, and 
watch and hope to see our escape. The law, with a 
terrible voice, thunders in our ears that dreadful de- 
nunciation, ' Drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom 
of God.' Even hell itself, hostile as it is to our salva- 
tion, follows the rest of the universe ; and, in spite of 
its own malevolence, subjoins its dreadful admonition, 
by marshalling before us the innumerable hosts of mi- 
serable wretches whom this sin has driven to its man- 
sions of despair. Who, that does not already sleep the 
sleep of death, can refuse to hear, awake, and live? 



SERMON CXIX. 



THE LAW OF GOD—THE DECALOGUE.— SEVENTH COMMANDMENT,— THE ORIGIN, 
NATURE, AND BENEFITS OF MARRIAGE. 



Thou shalt not commit adultery — Exod. xx. 14. 



Before I enter upon the direct consideration of the 
precept in the text, it will be useful, for the purpose of 
illustrating and enforcing it, to examine the nature of 
marriage. The sin immediately forbidden in the text 
derives, in some respects, its existence from this in- 
stitution ; and is in all respects intimately connected 
with it, in whatever manner or degree the sin may 
exist. Such an examination also derives particular im- 
portance from the fact, that it has been rarely made in 
the desk. Indeed, I do not know where it has been 
made in such a manner as to satisfy my own wishes. 

In discussing this subject I shall consider, 

L The origin, 

II. The nature, 

III. The benefits of marriage. 

I. The origin of marriage is from God. In other 
words, marriage is a divine institution. 

The proof of this position is complete in the follow- 
ing passage. Matt. xix. 3 — 6 : ' The pharisees also 
came unto him, tempting him, and saying unto him, is 
it lawful for a man to put away his wife for every 
cause ? And he answered, and said unto them, Have 
ye not read, that he which made them at the beginning, 
made them male and female ; and said, For this 
cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall 
cleave to his wife : and they twain shall be one flesh ? 
Wherefore, they are no more twain, but one flesh. 
What therefore God hath joined together, let no man 
put asunder.' 



In this passage of Scripture our Saviour declares, 
that when God had created man male and female, he 
said, ' For this cause shall a man leave father and 
mother, and shall cleave unto his wife ; and they twain 
shall be one flesh.' These, it is ever to be remembered, 
are the words of God himself, as they are here declared 
to be by Christ; and not, as they have often been er- 
roneously supposed to be, the words of Adam. God 
made man male an^ female for 'this end, and in these 
words delivered hir own ordinance to mankind ; at 
once permitting and directing that a man henceforth 
should leave his father and mother, and that lawfully, 
notwithstanding his high and otherwise indissoluble 
obligations to them, and be united to his wife. Accord- 
ingly he declares them henceforth to be ' no more 
twain, but one.' 

That these words contain an institution of God, and 
that this institution is marriage, cannot be doubted 
for a moment. The only question which can be 
asked concerning the subject is, for whom was this in- 
stitution designed ? Plainly it was not designed for 
Adam and Eve ; for they had neither father nor mother, 
and were therefore not included in the terms of the ordi- 
nance; and, being already married by God himself, were 
necessarily excluded from any ordinance succeeding that 
event. The ordinance then respected their posterity only; 
and, as it is delivered in absolutely indifferent terms, 
terms unrestricted to any individuals, or collections of 
mankind, it respected all their posterity alike. 



THE ORIGIN, NATURE, AND BENEFITS OF MARRIAGE. 



617 



In this manner it is directly explained by our Sa- 
viour, in the passage quoted above. The Pharisees 
asked him ' whether it was lawful for a man to put 
away his wife for every cause ?' Christ replies, that 
in consequence of this institution, a man and his wife 
are no more twain, but one ; that is, a man and his 
wife, at the time in which he was speaking, and from 
the time when this ordinance was made, are no more 
twain, but, from the day of their marriage, are by this 
ordinance constituted one. Accordingly, he subjoins, 
' What God hath joined together, let not man put asun- 
der.' As if he said, ' God hath joined together by this 
ordinance all men and women who are lawfully mar- 
ried ; or, in other words, every lawfully married pair. 
Man, therefore, cannot lawfully disjoin them.' Here it 
is evident beyond a debate, that our Saviour pro- 
nounced men to be married, or joined together, at the 
time when he made these declarations, by God himself 
in this ordinance. Of course the ordinance extends to 
all lawfully married persons. 

II. The nature of marriage may be explained in the 
following manner : 

Marriage is a union between two persons of different 
sexes. It is carefully to be remembered, that the ordi- 
nance of God, which gave birth to it, limits the union 
to two. God said, ' For this cause shall a man leave 
father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife ;' not, 
Men shall leave their fathers and mothers, and shall 
cleave unto their wife ; nor, A man shall leave his 
father and mother, and shall cleave unto his wives, and 
they twain shall be one : Not, they indefinitely, without 
declaring how many ; nor, they three, four, or five ; 
but ' they twain.' The ordinance, therefore, on which 
alone marriage is lawfully founded, limits this union, 
in the most express and definite manner, to two persons. 
What God has thus established, man cannot alter. 

It is the most intimate union which exists in the pre- 
sent world. The persons who are thus united are joined 
together in a more intimate relation than any other 
which exists, or can exist, among mankind. No attach- 
ment is so strong, no tenderness so great, as that which 
is originated and cherished by this institution. This is 
directly predicted, and very forcibly declared, in the 
passage which I have quoted from St Matthew. ' For 
this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and 
shall cleave to his wife, and they Wain shall be one.' 
Accordingly, the union of affections, interests, labours,, 
and life here existing, has no parallel in the present 
world. 

It is also a perpetual union. The connexion is en- 
tered into by both parties for life. God has constituted 
it, by joining the parties with his own infinite authority ; 
and has forbidden man to put them asunder. It is 
indissoluble therefore on any ground but that of crime ; 
a crime of one kind only ; and in its nature fatal to all 
the blessings and hopes intended by the institution. 

It is a union also formed by a most solemn covenant. 
In this covenant God is appealed to, as a witness of the 
sincere affection and upright designs of the parties ; 
both of whom engage mutually the exercise of those 
affections, and the pursuit of that conduct, which toge- 
ther are the most efficacious means of their mutual 
happiness. This covenant plainly approaches very 
near to the solemnity and obligation of an oath.; and 
exclusively of that in which man gives himself up to 
God, is, without a doubt, the most solemn and the 



most important ever entered into by man. When the 
duties of it are faithfully performed, they furnish a fair 
foundation for the best hopes that the union will be im- 
mortal. 

III. The benefits of this institution are incalculably 
numerous, and inestimably important. 

This truth is clearly evident from the observations 
already made, concerning the origin and nature of mar- 
riage. It is also forcibly evinced by the manner in 
which the subject is elsewhere exhibited in the Scrip- 
tures. 

The violation of the marriage covenant was of such 
consequence in the view of the Divine mind, that it 
was made the subject of one of the commands in the 
decalogue. 

In the laws concerning this subject given to the Is- 
raelites, curses were pronounced in form against the 
direct violations of the marriage vow, and the violators 
were punished with death. 

Of adulterers, and all other transgressors of the 
seventh command, it is declared in the New Testament, 
that ' they shall have their part in the lake which burn- 
etii with fire and brimstone.' — ' None of those who go 
in to the strange woman,' says Solomon, ' turn again ; 
neither take they hold of the paths of life.' 

The relation between Christ and his church, is 
throughout the Scriptures, exhibited as a marriage. 
God says to his church, ' Thy Maker is thy husband : 
Jehovah of Hosts is his name.' The angel in the 
Revelation styles the church, ' The bride, the Lamb's 
wife.' 

From these, and other similar exhibitions of this sub- 
ject in the Scriptures, it must necessarily be supposed, 
that God regarded marriage as pre-eminently impor- 
tant and beneficial to mankind. 

The benefits of marriage, however, like those of every 
other practical concern, are chiefly to be learned from 
facts. I shall therefore apply directly to that extensive 
source of information ; and exhibit, with a brief survey, 
such of these benefits, unfolded by human experience, 
as the present opportunity will permit. 

1. Marriage is extensively the means of comfort to 
the married pair. 

This was originally proposed by God as an important 
end of the institution. ' And the Lord God said, It is 
not good that the man should be alone : I will make 
him an help meet for him.' Accordingly, this end has 
been regularly accomplished from the beginning. 

Licentious men, both of ancient and modern times, 
have carried on a course of open and incessant hostility 
against this institution ; as they have, indeed, against 
all the real interests of mankind. In the progress of 
this warfare, they have arraigned the wisdom, and de- 
nied the benefits of it ; charged upon it evils which it. 
does not produce, and enhanced those which are inci- 
dent to the marriage state. The unhappy marriages 
which have been contracted in violation of the law of 
our nature and of the Scriptures, comparatively few ii> 
number, and only exceptions to the general truth under 
discussion, they have multiplied without consideration 
or integrity ; and have brought them up to public 
view as just exhibitions of the marriage state in general. 
In a word, they have treated this subject as they cus- 
tomarily treat others of a serious nature ; they have 
misstated facts/ they have sophisticated arguments, and, 
where neither would answer their purpose, they have 
4 i 



618 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxix. 



endeavoured to accomplish it by contempt, sneers, and 
ridicule. 

This conduct, censurable and mischievous as it is, is 
perhaps not to be wondered at, in men of such a cha- 
racter. But it is to be. wondered at, that men of a far 
better character should have followed their steps. A 
man of even moderate reflection must be equally sur- 
prised and wounded, to see how many otherwise re- 
spectable writers in the peculiarly enlightened king- 
dom of Great Britain have, in a greater or a less degree, 
lent their names to foster the wretched calumnies and 
falsehoods heaped so undeservedly upon this subject. 

That there are unhappy marriages, and that the num- 
ber of 'them is considerable, I am not disposed to ques- 
tion. There are many persons whose passions are too 
violent, or whose temper is too sordid, to permit them 
to be happy in any situation. Persons marry at times 
whose dispositions are wholly incompatible with each 
other. There are vicious persons, who will neither be 
happy themselves, nor suffer others to be happy. All 
these, it is readily conceded, will find little happiness 
in the marriage state. 

The propensities, inwrought into our nature as a law, 
and the declarations of Scripture, teach us alike, and 
irresistibly, that this union is to be formed only on the 
ground of affection, regulated by prudence. On this 
plan, and on this only, can marriage be reasonably ex- 
pected to be happy. We are not therefore to wonder, 
that persons who marry for the purpose of allying 
themselves to families of distinction, acquiring or re- 
pairing fortunes, obtaining rank, or gratifying in any 
manner ambition, avarice, or sensuality, should after- 
ward find themselves unhappy. These persons do not 
intentionally marry either husbands or wives. They 
marry distinction, fortunes, titles, villas, luxury, and 
grandeur. The objects to which they intentionally 
unite themselves they acquire. It cannot be wondered 
at, that they do not gain those which they never sought ; 
nor that they do not find the blessings of marriage fol- 
lowing plans and actions which, unless incidentally, 
have no relation to marriage. These persors, it is true, 
find the objects to which they are really wedded, en- 
cumbered by beings who stand in the places of husbands 
and wives. Still, they cannot form even a pretence for 
complaining; since, with their eyes open, they volun- 
tarily subject themselves, for the sake of such gratifi- 
cations, to all the evils arising out of the encumbrance. 
The person who wishes to obtain the blessings designed 
by this or any other institution of God, must intention- 
ally conform to the nature and spirit of the institution 
itself, and to all the precepts concerning it by which he 
has manifested his own pleasure. 

I have lived in very many families, and those often 
in plain as well as polished life. With very many 
more, extensively diversified in character and circum- 
stances, I have been intimately acquainted. By the 
evidence arising from these facts, I am convinced, that 
the great body of married persons are rendered more 
happy by this union, and are as happy as their charac- 
ter and their circumstances could permit us to expect. 
Poverty cannot, whether in the married or single state, 
enjoy the pleasures of wealth ; avarice, those of gene- 
rosity ; ambition, those of moderation ; ignorance, 
those of knowledge ; vulgarity, those of refinement ; 
passion, those of gentleness ; nor vice, in whatever 
form, those of virtue. The evils here specified, mar- 



riage, it is true, cannot remove. Nor are they remov- 
able by celibacy ; and where these evils exist, neither 
celibacy nor marriage can confer the contrary blessings. 
' Grapes, here, will not grow upon thorns, nor figs upon 
thistles.' Nothing but folly can lead us to expect that 
this institution will change the whole nature of those 
who enter into it ; and, like a magical spell, confer 
knowledge, virtue, and loveliness upon beings who have 
neither. 

2. Another end of this institution, is the preservation 
and comfort of children. 

The experience of all ages and countries, so far as it 
has extended to this subject, has uniformly shown, that 
the offspring of illicit concubinage suffer innumerable 
evils to which those born in wedlock are not subjected. 
In a prodigious multitude of instances they perish be- 
fore, or immediately after, they are born. In a vast 
multitude of others, they die in the early periods of 
childhood. They suffer from hunger, cold, nakedness, 
negligence, the want of nursing, watching, medicine, 
and every other comfort of life. The peculiar affection 
of married parents, and the peculiar efforts to which it 
gives birth, have ever been indispensable to the pre- 
servation of children from these evils, the establishment 
of their health, and the continuance of their lives. 
Children need ten thousand supplies, cares, and ten- 
dernesses, which nothing but this affection will ever 
furnish ; and without which, they either die suddenly 
or waste away with a lingering dissolution. 

This work of raising up children from infancy to 
manhood, is the most laborious of all our worldly con- 
cerns ; and requires more efforts of both body and mind, 
more toil, care, patience, and perseverance than any 
other. To most men, indeed, it is a great part of all 
which ordinarily they find to do in their secular busi- 
ness. 

For this great work, God, with wisdom which can 
never be sufficiently admired, has made effectual pro- 
vision by the parental tenderness, always existing and 
flourishing in married parents with so few exceptions 
as to demand no attention here ; but always withered, 
and commonly destroyed, by promiscuous concubinage. 
This tenderness neither time nor toil, neither care nor 
anxiety, neither trouble nor disappointment, neither 
filial ingratitude nor filial profligacy, can overcome, ex- 
haust, or discourage. Other affections become cold, 
wearied, and disheartened ; and are often converted 
into negligence, or hatred. But this, like the celestial 
fire in the Jewish temple, burns by night and by day ; 
and is, through this world, an everlasting flame, which 
cannot be extinguished. Without it, what would be- 
come of children in poverty, in their rebellion, and in 
their profligacy ? Who would watch over them ; who 
relieve, supply, endure, and forgive ? 

In promiscuous concubinage children would be left 
to the mercy of the world, to the supplies of accident, 
to the charity of the street, to the bleak and desolate 
waste, to the frozen hospital, and to the inclemencies 
of the sky, to pine with hunger, to chill with nakedness, 
to shrivel with unkindness, to consume with, premature 
disease, to die an untimely death, and, denied a grave, 
now the privilege even of beggars, to feed the beasts of 
the field, and the fowls of heaven. 

3. This institution is the source of all the natural re- 
lations of mankind. 

By these I mean the relations of husband and wife 



THE ORIGIN, NATURE, AND BENEFITS OF MARRIAGE. 



619 



(which in a subordinate sense may be called natural), 
those of parents and children, of brothers and sisters, 
together with many others, which are of considerable, 
although of inferior importance. These relations are 
immensely more interesting and useful to the world 
than any, nay, than all others. They connect mankind 
1 by bonds far more intimate, delightful, and enduring; 
resist incomparably more the irregular, evil, and stormy 
passions of man ; soften his rugged nature, overthrow 
his violent purposes, and spread through the world a 
degree of peace and moderation which, without them, 
would be impossible. 

4. This institution is the source of all the gentle and 
useful natural affections. 

These are conjugal tenderness, parental love, filial 
piety, and brotherly and sisterly attachment; far the 
most amiable, endearing, permanent, and useful, native 
affections of man. No other affections have originally 
any softness, sweetness, or loveliness ; but all owe to 
these every thing which is of this nature. All our na- 
tive amiableness is awakened by the presence of those 
whom we love ; and we originally love those only who 
form the domestic circle within which we were born ; 
these from whom we early received the offices of ten- 
derness. Here natural affection first springs ; here also 
it grows and flourishes ; and from its stem, deeply rooted 
here, sends abroad its boughs and branches, its blos- 
soms and fruits. The mind here strengthened and re- 
fined, begins to wander abroad into the neighbourhood, 
to find new objects for attachment in other families. 
Relations, less near, easily slide into affection, and are 
enrolled by it in the list of those whom it loves. To 
these succeed, in their turns, a train of friends, neigh- 
bours, and countrymen ; until the sphere swells beyond 
the limits of its comprehension. What would this world 
be without these affections, and without the conduct to 
which they give birth ? Nothing good would ever be 
begun, much less be carried on, and conducted to a pros- 
perous conclusion. But these affections commence, are 
cherished, and confirmed in families only ; and without 
them would either never exist at all, or be mere abortions. 

5. This institution is the source of all industry and 
economy. 

Industry is the source, and economy the preservation 
of all the comfortable subsistence of man. But indus- 
try, as is proverbially observed, is not natural to the 
human race. On the contrary, it is the result of educa- 
tion and habit only. Accordingly, the savages of all 
countries, being uneducated to industrious exertion, are 
lazy in the extreme, and are roused to toil only by the 
calls of hunger. This habit cannot even be begun, as 
the education whence it is derived cannot exist to any 
considerable extent, but in families ; nor by any other 
persons, except parents ; nor at any other period, beside 
childhood. Without families, indeed, industry would 
not exist; and without industry the world would be a 
desert. 

Economy is not less necessary to human comfort than 
industry, and is still more unnatural to man. It de- 
mands the attention of every day to those things which 
Ave are to preserve ; and this attention is more irksome 
than labour itself. Fewer persons overcome their re- 
luctance to it. Savages are always squanderers. Ex- 
posed as they perpetually are to want and famine, and 
frequently and distressingly as they suffer from these 
evils, such is their reluctance to this employment, that 



they go on from' age to age, wasting, suffering, and 
perishing. 

Early, watchful, and long-continued education will 
alone establish a habit either of industry, or economy. 
The attention, the authority, and the example of pa- 
rents are all equally and indispensably necessary to the 
creation of this habit ; and without them all, it cannot 
in any extensive mariner exist. Savages, indeed, have 
families ; and are married parents. It may, therefore, 
be asked, why their children are not educated to these 
habits? The answer I have already given. Neither 
the attention, authority, nor example of savage parents 
are at all exerted for this end, so far as their male chil- 
dren are concerned ; and very imperfectly with respect 
to those of the other sex. Of these, however, both the 
industry and economy fully answer to the degree, of 
education which they receive, and to the opportunities 
which they enjoy of exercising them. My position is, 
that, without a domestic education, these things would 
never exist; not that that education, be it what it may, 
or that a mere domestic existence, will give them birth. 
Besides, savage parents neither understand nor perform 
the great body of duties created by this institution. Yet 
even they, in these, as well as in other important par- 
ticulars, derive real and considerable advantages from 
the domestic state. 

Without industry and economy, what would become 
of mankind? Their enjoyments, their improvements, 
their virtues, and their hopes, would all vanish at once : 
nay, their very subsistence would disappear. The earth 
within a few years would be emptied of ninty-nine 
hundredths of its inhabitants. Europe would be changed 
into a Lapland waste ; and these states into a Pata- 
gonian forest. 

6. This institution is the source of all education in use- 
ful knowledge, and to civility and sweetness of manners. 

Parents are the only persons who love children suffi- 
ciently well to be anxious about their education in any 
thing. Nor would any others support them, while ob- 
taining their education. No others would teach them 
those indispensable things which they learn at home. 
By whom are schools built? By a collection of fami- 
lies. By whom are the instructors supported ? By a 
collection of families assembled in a neighbourhood. 
By whom are colleges erected, instructors sustained, 
libraries furnished, and other means of superior edu- 
cation supplied? By large collections of families; 
such collections as have actually raised these buildings, 
stocked them with all their furniture, and sent hither 
the youths who are now before me, for education. 

Education occupies a great part of childhood and 
youth ; and is a long-continued, laborious, expensive, 
and often a discouraging concern. Ordinary feelings 
would supply neither the labour, nor the expense. Pa- 
rents only experience the necessary affection. Families 
only could sustain the necessary expense. 

Much of the education of children is furnished by 
example, and is dependent on the propensity to imita- 
tion. This principle operates powerfully upon children 
in the early periods of life, because it is stronger at that 
than at any future age ; and because they are continual- 
ly in the midst of those whose example they are most 
disposed to follow, both from peculiar affection, and 
from the fact, that it is always before them. 

But the efficacy of this principle operates powerfully 
also in another way. Parents love to be like other pa- 



620 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxix. 



rents, and to have their children like other children. 
When, therefore, the children of one family are fur- 
nished with the advantages of education, the parents of 
other children in the neighbourhood are prompted to 
educate them also ; not only by ambition, but by the 
general disposition which we have to be like others. 

At the same time, and under the same authority of 
parents, civility and softness of manners are begun 
and established in families. Here only arise the affec- 
tions out of which this ornamental part of the human 
character, springs. In no other place, among no other 
persons, and in no other circumstances, can these affec- 
tions find their proper objects, or their proper motives.- 
Of course, in no other place can they begin to exist. 
Much less can they elsewhere find room for that conti- 
nual exercise, that delightful interchange, which is 
absolutely necessary to their strength and permanency. 
From families only, therefore, can the world derive 
the innumerable blessings flowing from these sources. 

7. This institution is the source of all subordination 
and government ; and, consequently, of all order, peace, 
and safety in the 'world. 

In a family children are taught, as soon as they are 
taught any thing, to obey ; and to obey those who, lov- 
ing them tenderly, are the fit, and the only fit, persons 
to govern them, and to teach them submission and obe- 
dience. Others would rule them only with the rod of 
power ; with a despotism, from which they would think 
it a privilege to escape ; a dominion, from which, as 
soon as possible, they would revolt ; an authority, 
which they would hate ; and submission to which would 
be such an evil, as naturally to make them hate all 
other authority. 

But parents rule with tenderness and love ; and usu- 
ally engage the strong affection of children to the au- 
thority which they exercise, and to themselves while 
exercising it. The children learn to obey from choice, 
and are pleased with the very employment of obeying. 

Obedience is also taught here in that early period of 
life, at which it is impressed so deeply as never to be 
effaced. Impressions of every kind made at this period 
are, it is well known, indelible, and survive all others ; 
especially, when made by those in whom tenderness 
and authority are united, and to whom reverence and 
affection are rendered in the highest degree. This, 
however, is not all. These impressions are daily and 
hourly repeated ; and by this repetition are gradually 
wrought into an immovable habit. In this manner 
they become the only visible nature of the child, and 
constitute his chief, and often his only character. 

In this manner, and only in this manner, are chil- 
dren effectually prepared to submit to all other lawful 
authority. In this manner they become peaceful and 
orderly through life, imbibe a spirit of respect and 
kindness towards others, are formed into good members 
of society, and fitted to sustain the character of good 
neighbours and good friends. Equally necessary is 
this discipline to make them good subjects, and good 
magistrates. Few persons are good subjects of civil 
government, who have not been trained to this charac- 
ter by a wise domestic administration : and not one of 
these would sustain this character, but for the example 
of thosje who have been thus trained. It is proverbially 
true also, that none are qualified to govern, except 
those who have early learned to obey. 

In hardly any thing is the institution of marriage, 



and the consequent formation of families, exhibited as 
more necessary, or more wise, than in this origination 
and establishment of good order in the world, ' Order,' 
as Mr Pope has justly observed, ' is heaven's first law.' 
The great task of establishing it among such beings as 
we are — selfish, revolting, and refractory — God has 
• assigned to an innumerable multitude of hands ; a mul- 
titude sufficiently great to receive it in portions, so 
small and so circumstanced as to insure both the ability 
and the inclination to accomplish it effectually. These 
portions are so small, as to involve only the children of 
a single family. To this little flock are given regularly 
two rulers, better disposed and better qualified, in al- 
most all instances, than any other persons found in the 
world. The circumstances in which those are placed 
who are to be governed, are more favourable to the 
accomplishment of this great end, than any others can 
be. Their infancy, childhood, and youth, in succes- 
sion ; their ignorance, feebleness, dependence ; the 
affection, superiority, care, and kindness of the parents ; 
and the instinctive love and reverence of the children ; 
together with their necessary and long-continued resi- 
dence in the parental mansion ; present to the contem- 
plative eye a combination of things evidencing, by their 
supreme and singular adaptation to this important pur- 
pose, a glorious work of the wisdom of God. Fewer 
hands could not possibly accomplish this mighty task. 
All the wisdom of legislation, all the energy of despo- 
tism, would be spent upon it in vain. Millions of 
minds, and tongues, and hands are indispensable to it, 
even in a single country. It is, beyond calculation, a 
greater and more arduous work than all the labours of 
all rulers, legislative, executive, and judicial, united. 
Nor could those to whom it is intrusted accomplish it 
in any other circumstances. Children, grown up to 
manhood without government, could never be governed. 
A generation of such children would set at defiance all 
the laws nntl magistrates in the universe ; and would 
never yield to any control, but that of the sword. Were 
parents to intermit their labours during a single gene- 
ration, no government could thenceforth exist in that 
country, until terrible necessity should force upon it a 
military despotism. Anarchy, until that period, would 
rear its wild misrule, ravage every human interest, and 
rase every human dwelling. In this very land, flou- 
rishing and wantoning in all the blessings of liberty, 
the musket, the dungeon, and the gibbet would be the 
only means of public peace, order, and safety. 

8. Marriage is the source of all the religion which 
exists in the world. 

This important truth is completely evident from the 
following particulars : 

(1.) Persons living in promiscuous concubinage are 
never themselves religious. 

There never was a single instance of this nature 
since the world began. The very first step towards 
religion whenever they have ultimately become reli- 
gious, has invariably been repentance, and reformation 
of this enormous sin. Such persons can, therefore, never 
teach their children religion, either by precept or ex- 
ample. Therefore:, 

(2.) Their children grow up, of course, in irreligion. 

There are two primary means of grace : the preach- 
ing of the gospel, and the religious education of chil- 
dren. Of these, Baxter supposes religious education 
to be probably the principal, as to its efficacy, wherever 



THE LAW OF GOD LEWDNESS. 



621 



the gospel is regularly established. But, whatever be 
their comparative importance, it is sufficient to say, 
what cannot be denied, that children who are not edu- 
cated religiously, rarely become religious, even in the 
midst of those who are thus educated ; and that a ge- 
neration of such children would, of course, be a gene- 
ration of profligates. But married persons only ever 
educate their children religiously ; or present to them 
that example, without which their instructions would 
be given to no purpose. 

(3.) None but married persons build churches, sup- 
port ministers, or frequent the worship of God. 

That the irreligion of persons living in promiscuous 
concubinage would never give birth to these things, 
nor to any of them, needs no proof. But without all 
these things, religion, as the world is constituted, can- 
not exist. The loss of the sabbath alone soon becomes, 
everywhere, the loss of religion. The preaching of the 
gospel, united with the ordinances of public worship, is 
the only effectual means of keeping religious education 
alive in the world. Religious education, in its turn, 



gives existence and life to public worship ; and both 
united are the great and efficacious means of continu- 
ing the kingdom of God, and producing the salvation 
of man. 

Such, in a summary view, are the origin, the nature, 
and the benefits of marriage. No man of common so- 
briety can hesitate to acknowledge that these benefits 
are inestimable and immense. Of course, the institu- 
tion whence they were derived, and without which they 
would not exist, is of incomprehensible importance to 
mankind. How worthy of the wisdom of the Infinite 
Mind is the erection of so vast and so glorious a fabric, 
upon a foundation so simple, apparently so inadequate, 
and yet proved by all the experience of man to be suf- 
ficiently extensive, solid, and enduring! How small a 
cause to the human eye is here seen to produce effects, 
innumerable in their multitude, and supreme in their 
importance. What serious mind can hesitate to ac- 
knowledge, that such a work is wrought by the counsel 
of God ! 



SERMON CXX. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE.— THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT LEWDNESS. 



Thou shall not commit adultery. — Exod. xx. \i. 



Having in the preceding Discourse considered the ori- 
gin, nature, and benefits of marriage; the institution, 
which is the basis of the prohibition in the text ; I shall 
now proceed to examine the prohibition itself. 

The thing, which is here universally prohibited, is 
lewdness ; lewdness in every form ; in thought, word, 
and action. This is unanswerably evident from our 
Saviour's comment on this precept ; ' He that looketh 
on a woman, to lust after her, hath committed adultery 
with her already in his heart.' 

Before I begin the immediate discussion of this sub- 
ject, I shall premise a few general observations. 

It is universally known, that there is, and for a great 
length of time has been, a rivetted prejudice against 
the introduction of this subject into the desk. When 
the peculiar delicacy attending it is considered, it can- 
not be thought strange, that such a prejudice should in 
some degree exist. Even the most chaste and correct 
observations concerning it are apt to give pain, or at 
least to excite an alarm in a refined and apprehensive 
mind. What nature itself, perhaps, dictates, custom 
and manners have not a little enhanced. The opinions 
and feelings to which I have referred, have been car- 
ried to a length unwarranted either by the Scriptures, 
or common sense. The subject seems, in fact, to have 
been banished from the desk ; and ministers, by their 
general and profound silence concerning it, appear to 
have sanctioned the conclusion, that there is one, and that 
not a small part of Scripture, which, so far as preaching 
is concerned, is not ' profitable for doctrine, for reproof, 
for correction, nor for instruction in righteousness.' 



But let me solemnly ask every religious man, whe- 
ther this conduct can be justified. The ' rejoicing' of 
St Paul, at the close of his life, was ' the testimony of a 
good conscience, that not by fleshly wisdom, but by the 
grace of God, he had his conversation in the world ;' 
the testimony of a good conscience, that he was ' pure 
from the blood of all men,' because ' he had not shun- 
ned to declare the whole counsel of God.' Is it not a 
plain and prominent part of the counsel of God, to for- 
bid, to discourage, to prevent this profligate conduct of 
mankind ? Why else was this precept inserted in the 
decalogue, and promulgated amid the lightnings ot 
Sinai ? Why else is it throughout the Scriptures made 
the subject of such forcible prohibitions, and the object 
of such awful threatenings ? 

What reason can be given why it should not be in- 
troduced into the desk? Can common sense either 
prove or discern the usefulness of excluding it? Is it 
fit, is it safe, is it not preposterous, is it not ruinous to 
the best interests of mankind, to leave the whole man- 
agement of it to loose and abandoned men ; and to suf- 
fer them from year to year, and from century to cen- 
tury, to go on in a course of corruption, seducing and 
destroying thousands and millions, especially of the 
young, the gay, and the giddy; while we, ministers of 
Christ, divinely appointed to watch for the souls of 
men, quietly sit by, and see them hurried on to perdi- 
tion ? Shall we be awed by the cry of indelicacy, 
originally raised by the most indelicate of mankind, 
only to keep the field open for its own malignant occu- 
pancy ? Shall we not infinitely rather lay hold on 



■622 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxx. 



every opportunity, and all the means furnished here, as 
veil as elsewhere, to rescue our fellow creatures from 
destruction ? 

And shall not the house of God, and this sacred day, 
both divinely consecrated, not only to his worship at 
large, but to this very end, that ' the wicked ' may be 
c warned of the error of his way, that he turn from it, 
and save his soul alive,' shelter this subject, a solemn, 
prominent subject of his own express commands, awful 
exhortations, and terrible threatenings, from miscon- 
ception, sport, and sneer? Shall not the known pre- 
sence of this tremendous Being in his house, silence 
every unscriptural complaint, check every wayward 
thought, forbid every roving of an unhallowed imagi- 
nation, and appall every light-minded sinner, however 
prone he may be to forget the presence of his Maker, 
or unwilling to remember, that this great Being is, at 
the very time, ' searching his heart, and trying his 
reins,' to ' reward him according to his works ?' 

But why, it may be asked, may not the evil be left 
to other correctives ? Why is it necessary that minis- 
ters of the gospel should make it the theme of their 
public discourses ? Why may not the business of re- 
formation be intrusted to the satirist, the poet, and the 
moralist ; to private conversation, and to the religious 
instruction of parents ? The answer to these questions 
is at hand. God has required ministers to ' cry aloud 
and spare not ; to lift up their voices as a trumpet ; and 
to show his people their transgressions.' He has de- 
clared to ministers, that ' if they warn not the wicked 
of his way, the wicked shall die in his sins ; but his 
blood lie will require at their hands.' The point in de- 
bate must, I think, be allowed to be here finally settled ; 
unless some argument can be devised to show, that a 
minister is bound to make himself answerable for the 
blood of those sinners to whom he preaches. Besides, 
the satirist, the poet, and the moralist, in a multitude of 
instances, have been enlisted on the side of vice, and 
have endeavoured to stimulate, rather than repress, the 
evil under examination. Where they are not, how few 
persons read their books compared with the number of 
those who are present at the preaching of the gospel ! 
Probably two-thirds of a million of persons hear the gos- 
pel preached weekly in New England. Not one in a 
thousand of these, perhaps, has ever read a book se- 
riously exposing this unhappy part of the human cha- 
racter. Even where their books are read, and read 
with attention, they are little regarded, and produce 
little effect. The desk possesses means of appalling 
and overthrowing vice, and upholding morality, which 
nothing else can boast. The day, the place, the cir- 
cumstances of the assembly, the purposes for which they 
are gathered, and the solemn commission of Jehovah, 
furnish ministers with advantages for this great end, 
unrivalled and unexampled. Accordingly, their office 
has been more efficacious in producing real reformation, 
than all the other means employed by man. ' The 
pulpit,' says a poet of distinguished excellence and 
wisdom, 

• The pulpit,— when the sat'rist has at last, 

Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, 

Spent all his force, and made no proselyte, 

1 say, the pulpit, in the sober use 

Of its legitimate, peculiar powers, 

Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand, 

The most important and effectual guard, 

Support, and ornament, of virtue's cause.' 

With these things in view, 1 consider it as my own 



duty to bring this subject into the desk without hesita- 
tion, and to treat it in the same definite and earnest 
manner which is demanded by the precepts of the gos- 
pel. I shall make it my business, however, to treat it in 
such a manner, that if any of my audience shall enter- 
tain thoughts concerning it, forbidden by their Creator, 
it shall be their own fault, and not mine. 

With these preliminary remarks, I proceed to ob- 
serve, 

I. That this command forbids all impure thoughts. 

The proof of this I have already given in our Saviour's 
comment on this precept. 

Impure thoughts are the immediate and only sources 
of impure conversation, and an impure life. If the 
thoughts be cleansed, the man will be clean of course. 

There is scarcely a more dangerous employment, 
than the indulgence of a licentious imagination. This 
is an evil to which youths are peculiarly exposed.' The 
peculiar strength of every passion, and the peculiar want 
of watchfulness and self-restraint, render them an easy 
prey to every vice which solicits admission. Still 
greater is the danger, when vice approaches under a 
form especially alluring ; and, at the same time, steals 
gradually, and therefore insensibly, upon the mind. By 
all these evils is the sin under consideration accompa- 
nied. It rises in the minds of the young instinctively, 
surrounded with many allurements, and unaccompanied 
by that loathing and horror with which the mind na- 
turally regards vice of many other kinds. At the same 
time, the mind is prone to be utterly unconscious of any 
transgression, and of any danger. The imagination, 
thoughtless and unrestrained, wanders over the forbid- 
den ground, often without thinking that it is forbidden ; 
and has already been guilty of many and perilous trans- 
gressions, when it is scarcely aware of having trans- 
gressed at all. In this manner its attachment to these 
excursions continually gains strength. Continually are 
they repeated with more eagerness, and with more 
frequency. At length they become habitual ; and 
scarcely any habit is stronger, or with less difficulty 
overcome. In every leisure season, the mind, if it will 
watch its own movements, will find itself roving without 
restraint, and often without being aware that it has 
begun to rove, on this interdicted ground ; and will be 
astonished to perceive, after a sober computation, how 
great a part of all its thinking is made up of these licen- 
tious thoughts. 

Most unhappily, aids and allurements to this licen- 
tious indulgence are never wanting. Genius, in every 
age, and in every country, has to a great extent prosti- 
tuted its elevated powers for the deplorable purpose of 
seducing thoughtless minds to this sin. The unsuspect- 
ing imagination, ignorant of the dangers which are 
spread before it, has, by this gay and fiery serpent, 
glittering with spots of gold, and painted with colours 
of enchantment, been allured to pluck the fruit of this 
forbidden tree, and hazard the death denounced against 
the transgression. The numbers of the poet, the de- 
lightful melody of song, the fascination of the chisel, 
and the spell of the pencil, have been all volunteered 
in the service of Satan, for the moral destruction of un- 
happy man. To finish this work of malignity, the stage 
has lent all its splendid apparatus of mischief, the shop 
been converted into a show-box of temptations, and its 
owner into a pander of iniquity. Feeble, erratic, and 
giddy, as the mind of man is in its nature ; prepared to 



THE LAW OF GOD.— LEWDNESS. 



623 



welcome temptation, and to hail every passing sin ; can 
we wonder that it should yield to this formidable train 
of seducers ? 

To a virtuous mind scarcely any possession is of more 
value, or more productive of enjoyment or safety, than 
a chastened imagination, regularly subjected to the con- 
trol of the conscience. Wherever this faculty is under 
this control, the mind has achieved a power of keeping 
temptation at a distance, of resisting it when approach- 
ing, and of overcoming it when invading, attainable in 
no other manner. Its path towards heaven becomes 
therefore comparatively unobstructed, easy, and secure. 
Sin does not easily beset it ; and its moral improvement, 
while it is on the one hand undisturbed, is on the other 
rapid and delightful. 

II. This command forbids all licentious words of the 
same nature. 

Impure thoughts beget impure words ; and impure 
words, in their turn, generate, enhance, and multiply 
impure thoughts. This retro-active influence of the 
tongue upon the heart, by means of which sinful con- 
versation becomes the means of producing sinful 
thoughts, I have had occasion to explain at large in a 
former Discourse. It will therefore be unnecessary 
to dwell upon it here. No serious observer of human 
life can doubt, that by our own language, as well as 
that of others, whenever it is impure, impure thoughts 
are awakened ; a licentious imagination set on fire : 
and licentious designs, which otherwise would never 
have entered the mind, called up into existence and 
execution. 

In this employment also our fellow men unite with 
us in the strange and melancholy purpose of mutual 
corruption. All the dangers and mischiefs, all the 
temptations and sins, presented to each other by evil 
companions, are to be found here. Here ' wicked men 
and seducers wax worse and worse ; deceiving, and being 
deceived ;' mutually seducing, and being seduced. 

The only safety, with respect to this part of the sub- 
ject in hand, is found in exact conformity to the very 
forcible precept of St Paul : '- But filthiness, foolish 
talking, and jesting, let it not be so much as named 
among you.' The original words are ctiax^orns, obsce- 
nity; iia^oKo"/ia., impure scurrility, auiivr^aTrihta., when 
used in a bad sense, as here, answering to double en- 
tendres, or seemingly decent speeches with double 
meanings. Of all these the apostle says not, ' Let them 
not be used ;' but, ' Let them not be so much as 
named among you, as beoomefh saints.' Let no foun- 
dation be furnished by your conversation even for men- 
tioning it as a fact, that such language has ever been 
uttered by you. For no conversation beside that which 
is thus pure, can become your character as Christians. 
See Eph. v. 3, 4. Strict and virtuous delicacy in our 
language is not only indispensable to decency and dig- 
nity of character, but to all purity of heart, and all ex- 
cellency of life. 

III. This command forbids all licentious conduct of 
this nature. 

As this position will not be questioned, and as this 
conduct, in every form, is prohibited elsewhere, in a 
multitude of scriptural passages, I shall spare myself 
the labour of proof; and shall proceed to suggest se- 
veral reasons for our obedience to this precept ; or, 
what is the same thing, to mention several evils arising 
from disobedience. 



1. The licentious conduct forbidden by this precept, 
discourages and prevents marriage. 

This discouragement and prevention regularly take 
place in exact proportion to the prevalence of the con- 
duct ; and are therefore chargeable upon it, whenever, 
and wherever, and however it exists. 

The innumerable and immense blessings of the mar- 
riage institution have been summarily recited in the 
preceding Discourse. They are the blessings which 
keep the moral world in being, and secure it from an 
untimely and most terrible dissolution. They are the 
blessings, without which life, in instances literally in- 
numerable, would be blasted in the bud ; without which, 
when it escaped this premature destruction, its continu- 
ance would prove a curse ; without which, natural 
affection and amiableness would not exist ; without 
which, domestic education would be extinct, industry 
and economy never begin, and man be left to the pre- 
carious subsistence of a savage. But for this institu- 
tion, learning, knowledge, and refinement would ex- 
pire ; government sink in the gulf of anarchy ; and 
religion, hunted from the habitations of men, hasten 
back to her native heavens. Man, in the mean time, 
stripped of all that is respectable, amiable, or hopeful 
in his character, and degraded to all that is odious, 
brutal, and desperate, would prowl in solitudes and de- 
serts, to satisfy his rage and hunger. The correspond- 
ence between heaven and earth would cense ; and the 
celestial inhabitants would no longer expect, nor find, 
new accessions to their happy society from this miser- 
able world. 

To all these evils every lewd man directly contri- 
butes. Were his principles and practices adopted 
universally by his fellow men, all these evils would 
universally prevail. That they do not actually thus 
prevail, is in no sense owing to him. To the utmost of 
his power he labours to introduce them all. 

2. This conduct in almost all cases, presupposes se- 
duction. 

Seduction, in its very nature, involves fraud of the 
worst kind. It is probably always accomplished by 
means of the most solemn promises, and often with 
oaths still more solemn. Both the promises and oaths, 
however, are violated in a manner supremely profligate 
and shameful, 'the object to which they are directed 
is base, malignant, and treacherous in the extreme ; and 
the manner in which it is prosecuted is marked with 
the same treachery and baseness. He who can coolly 
adopt it has put oft* the character of a man, and put on 
that of a fiend ; and, with the spirit of a fiend alone, he 
pursues and accomplishes the infernal purpose. The 
ruin sought and achieved is immense. It is not the 
filching of property. It is not the burning of a house. 
It is net the deprivation of liberty. It is not the de- 
struction of life. The seducer plunders the wretched 
victim of character, morals, happiness, hope, and hea 
ven ; enthrals her in the eternal bondage of sin, con- 
sumes her beyond the grave in endless fire, and mur- 
ders her soul with an ever-living death. With the same 
comprehensive and terrible malignity, he destroys him- 
self; calls down upon his own head the vengeance of 
that almighty hand, which will suffer no sinner to es- 
cape ; and awakens the terrors of that undying con- 
science, which will enhance even the agonies of perdi- 
tion. All this is perpetrated, in the mean time, under 
strong professions of peculiar affection, with the per- 



624 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ski*, cxx. 



snasive language of tenderness, and with the smiles of 
gentleness and complacency. For, the seducer 

' Can smile, and smile, and be a villain.' 

3. It brings incomprehensible wretchedness upon the 
devoted object. 

No human being can support the pressure of infamy, 
a degradation below the level of mankind, and the en- 
venomed stings of reproach, sharpened by a guilty 
conscience. I well know, that philosophy prates and 
vapours on topics of this nature with a proud self-com- 
placency, and an ostentatious display of patience, forti- 
tude, and serenity. But I also well know, that philo- 
sophy is in these respects a mere pretender, a bully, and 
not a hero. Philosophy never furnished, and never 
will furnish, its catalogue of martyrs. All its votaries, 
like Voltaire, intend only to rule and triumph ; not to 
suffer, nor even to submit. As cool and parading re- 
flections on subjects of a calamitous nature are uttered 
in the peace of the closet, the possession of ease and 
safety, the conviction of acknowledged reputation, and 
the enjoyment of friends, comforts, and hopes ; philo- 
sophy rarely encounters real sufferings. Her hardi- 
hood is all premature; and is all shown in telling the 
world what she would do, and what others ought to do ; 
and not in the history of what she has done. 

The excruciating anguish to which the miserable fe- 
male victim is reduced, is dreadfully exemplified in the 
unnatural and enormous wickedness to which she is driv- 
en, in the desertion, and the consequent destruction of 
her helpless offspring. ' Can a woman forget her sucking 
child ; that she should not have compassion on the son of 
her womb ?' is a question which points out the strongest 
affection, the highest tenderness of human nature; the 
attachment which outruns, survives, and triumphs over 
every other. To this question, the exposure to a mer- 
ciless sky, the drowning, the strangling, the smothering 
of illegitimate children, returns a terrible and excruci- 
ating answer. What must be the agonies of despond- 
ence and degradation which can force the susceptible 
heart of a female parent to the contrivance and execu- 
tion of a design like this? Yet such is the dreadful 
catastrophe of the wickedness in question. It is worse 
than trifling, for the author of all these evils to allege, 
that this catastrophe is neither contrived nor accomplished 
by himself. They are all, and are known by him to be, 
the frequent as well as natural consequences of this in- 
iquity. They are chargeable to him therefore as the 
legitimate results of his own conduct; results, which by 
every obligation, human and divine, he was bound to 
foresee and prevent. Both the murder itself, and the 
miseries which gave birth to it, are stains of that crimson 
guilt in which he is so deeply dyed. 

4. This licentious character soon becomes habitual. 

To a person moderately acquainted with human con- 
duct, an attempt to prove this assertion would be mere 
trifling. All transgressions of this cast soon become 
fixed, obstinate, and irreclaimable. The world teems 
with evidence of this humiliating position ; and the 
whole progress of time has daily accumulated a moun- 
tainous mass of facts, evincing its certainty in a more 
and more humiliating manner. 

Of these, the most humiliating and dreadful collection 
is found in those baleful tenements of prostitution and 
profligacy which deform, so far as my information ex- 
tends, every populous city on the globe ; and stand 



publicly as the gate-way to hell, opening to their miser- 
able inhabitants a broad and beaten road to perdition. 
Into these deplorable mansions the polluted female, 
cast off" by mankind as an outlaw from human society, 
shorn even from the side of natural affection, and pa- 
rental mercy, betrayed by the villany of a second Judas, 
and hurried by shame, remorse, and anguish, enters- — . 
never to escape. Here, from the first moment, she 
closes her eyes upon friends, kindness, and compassion ; 
takes her final farewell of earthly comfort ; and sees, 
with a dying eye, the last glimmerings of hope go out 
in eternal night. Here she bids an everlasting adieu 
to the sabbath, the house, and the word of God. To 
her the calls of mercy are made no more. To her the 
voice of the Redeemer sounds no more. The Spirit of 
truth cannot be supposed to enter the haunts of sin and 
death; nor to shed the dew of life upon these voluntary 
victims of corruption by whom they are inhabited. 
Immortal life here becomes extinct. Hither the ' hope' 
of heaven ' never comes, that comes to all :' and the 
wretched throng, embosomed by these baleful walls, 
enter upon their perdition on this side of the grave. 

Who, that is not lost to candour, and buried in mis- 
anthropy, could believe, unless he were forced to believe, 
that princes, and other rulers of mankind, have taxed 
and licensed these houses of ruin ; and that in countries 
where the gospel beams, and the voice of salvation is 
heard in the streets? Who could believe that sin would 
be thus bartered in the market ; and damnation be 
holden up as a commodity for bargain and sale ; that 
the destruction of the human soul would be publicly 
announced, granted, and authorized, as a privilege ; 
and that patents would be made out, signed, and 
sealed, for populating more extensively the world of 
woe ? 

In the mean time, it is ever to be remembered, that 
the betrayer accompanies to the same dreadful end the 
victim of his treachery. ' None, who go into ' these 
outer chambers of perdition, ' turn again, neither take 
they hold of the paths of life.' 

5. This conduct destroys all moral principle. 

' However it be accounted for,' says Br Taley, ' the 
criminal commerce of the sexes corrupts and depraves 
the mind and moral character more than any single 
species of vice whatsoever. That ready perception of 
guilt, that prompt and decisive resolution against it, 
which constitutes a virtuous character, is seldom found 
in persons addicted to these indulgences. They pre- 
pare an easy admission for every sin that seeks it ; are 
in low life usually the first stage in men's progress to 
the most desperate villanies ; and in high life to that 
lamented dissoluteness of principle, which manifests it- 
self in a profligacy of public conduct, and a contempt of 
the obligations of religion and moral probity.' 

What is here asserted by this very able writer, forced 
itself upon my mind many years before I saw the work 
containing these observations, as a strong and prominent 
feature in the character of man. These very declara- 
tions I have long since seen amply verified in living 
examples. This progress towards abandonment cannot 
be very easily described, much less thoroughly explain- 
ed, except in a detailed account of the subject. Such an 
account cannot here be given. Yet the following obser- 
vations will, if I mistake not, contribute to illustrate the 
point in question. 

Almost all persons, perhaps all, derive from early in- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— LEWDNESS. 



025 



Blruetion and habituation a greater or less degree of 
conscientiousness ; a reverence for God, a sense of ac- 
countableness, a fixed expectation of future rewards and 
punishments, a veneration for truth and justice, and an 
established conviction of the excellence of kindness. 
These united constitute that temperament of mind, on 
which evangelical virtue is usually as well as happily 
grafted ; and to exterminate them is to destroy what is 
here meant by all moral principle. 

Persons who commit the crimes which form the prin- 
cipal subject of this Discourse always commit them in 
secret. After they are committed, the same secrecy is 
indispensable to the safety of the perpetrators. There 
must be, however, there are unavoidably, some persons 
who, at times, and in one manner and another, become 
acquainted with the wickedness. These must be en- 
gaged, at all events, to conceal what they know. To 
effectuate this purpose, the perpetrators are often driven 
to employ the grossest corruption, and the basest and 
most profligate measures. Agents are also often abso- 
lutely necessary to the successful accomplishment of the 
crimes themselves. None but abandoned men can be- 
come such agents ; and none but abandoned measures 
can be employed with respect to their agency. As the 
principal criminal makes progress in this iniquity, such 
persons become more and more necessary to him, and 
familiar with him ; and as during his progress, he ren- 
ders himself an object of detestation to all decent society, 
these profligates soon become his only companions, and 
these measures his only conduct. He who devotes 
himself to such companions and such conduct, will al- 
ways debase and corrupt his own mind faster than he is 
aware ; and, with an unexpected rapidity in guilt, will 
very soon become a mere profligate. 

Nor will he be less rapidly corrupted by the innu- 
merable vile expedients, base fetches, treacherous plans, 
abominable briberies, and foul perjuries to which he 
resorts for the successful perpetration of his villanous 
designs. To all these must be added, the putrefactive 
influence of impurity itself; which, as the pestilence 
through the body, diffuses mortification and rottenness 
throughout the soul ; and converts it into a mere mass 
of death and corruption. 

Conformably to these observations, we see, in the 
ordinary course of things, that impurity manures and 
waters every other growth of sin. Wherever it prevails 
all crimes become gross, rank, and premature. Impiety, 
blasphemy, treachery, drunkenness, perjury, and murder 
flourish around it. How justly then, as well as how 
solemnly, did the divine writer declare, concerning the 
strange woman, ' Her house is the way to hell ; going 
down to the chambers of death !' 

6. Whenever this conduct assumes the flagrant cha- 
racter of adultery, it involves a numerous and dreadful 
train of additional evils. 

It involves the most open and gross violation of the 
marriage covenant; and exposes the guilty person, 
therefore, to the peculiar wrath of that tremendous 
lleing, invoked as a witness of it ; and incomprehensi- 
bly, as well as most impudently, affronted by the viola- 
tion. 

It accomplishes the greatest injury which the innocent 
party to that covenant can receive, on this side of the 
f;rave. This injury is formed of a vast combination of 
sufferings, reaching every important interest in this 
world always, and often in the world to come ; exqui- 



sitely keen and poignant, piercing the very seat of 
thought, and sense, and feeling, and awakening in long 
succession throes of agony and despair. The husband, 
for example, is forced to behold his wife, once 
and always beloved beyond expression, not less affec- 
tionate than beloved, and hitherto untarnished even 
with suspicion corrupted by fraud, circumvention, and 
villany ; seduced from truth, virtue, and hope ; and 
voluntarily consigned to irretrievable ruin. His pros- 
pects of enjoyment, and even of comfort, in the present 
world, are overcast with the blackness of darkness. 
Life to him is changed into a lingering death. His 
house is turned into an empty, dreary cavern. Himself 
is widowed. His children are orphans ; not by the 
righteous providence of God,, but by the murderous 
villany of man. Clouded with woe, and hung round 
with despair, his soul becomes a charnel-house, where 
life, and peace, and comfort have expired ; a tomb, dark 
and hollow, covering the remains of departed enjoyment, 
and opening no more to the entrance of the living. 

It involves injuries to the children which numbers 
cannot calculate, and which the tongue cannot describe. 
The hand of villany has robbed them of all their pecu- 
liar blessings ; the blessings of maternal care and ten- 
derness ; the rich blessings of maternal instruction and 
government ; the delightful and most persuasive bless- 
ings of maternal example ; the exalted privilege of unit- 
ed parental prayers ; and the exquisite enjoyments of 
a peaceful, harmonious, and happy fire-side ; once ex- 
quisitely happy, but now to be happy no more ! 

To this most affecting and pitiable train of mourners, 
a numerous -and additional train of friends unite them- 
selves, to deplore the common woe. A singular, an 
agonizing procession is formed, at the funeral of depart- 
ed virtue. Tears stream, which no hand can wipe 
away. Groans ascend, which no comforter can charm 
to peace. Bosoms heave with anguish, which all the 
balm of Gilead cannot soothe. The object of lamenta- 
tion is gone for ever ; and all that remains is a mass of 
living death, soon to be buried in the eternal grave. 

7. This wickedness, when it becomes extensive, over- 
spreads a country with final ruin. 

It is the nature of this evil, not only to become 
greater in individuals, but to extend continually also to 
greater and greater numbers of individuals. The cor- 
ruption of Sodom, and the neighbouring cities of the 
plain, was rapid and complete. Within a short period 
after they were built, ten righteous persons could not be 
found in them all. What was true of these cities is true 
of others in similar circumstances. To the Israelites, 
before they entered into Canaan, God prescribed a long 
series of laws, requiring absolute purity of conduct ; 
prohibiting in the most solemn manner lewdness of 
every kind ; and enacting against it the most dreadful 
penalties. ' Do not,' said Jehovah, ' prostitute thy 
daughter; lest the land become full of wickedness.' — 
' Ye shall not commit any of these abominations, that 
the land spue not you out also, when ye defile it, as it 
spued out the nations that were before you.' In the 
sight of God, therefore, this sin is peculiarly the source 
of corruption to a land; a source, whence it becomes ' full 
of wickedness ;' and vomits out its inhabitants, as be- 
ing unable to bear them. Those who practise it, and 
the nation in which the practice prevails, are, he de- 
clares, abhorred by him, and shall be finally destroy- 
ed. ' For whosoever,' sailh he, ' shall commit any of 
4 ft 



626 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxe 



these abominations, that soul shall be cut oft' from his 
people.' 

As crimes of this nature become less and less unfre- 
quent, they become less and less scandalous ; and by all 
who are inclined to perpetrate them are esteemed less 
and less sinful. Of course they are regarded with de- 
creasing reluctance and horror. The father practises 
them, and with his example corrupts his son. The 
husband in the same manner corrupts his wife, the 
brother his brother, the friend his friend, and the neigh- 
bour his neighbour. Soon the brothel raises its polluted 
walls; and becomes a seminary of Satan, where crimes 
are provided, taught, perpetrated, multiplied without 
number, and beyond degree, and to a great extent con- 
cealed from the public eye. To one of these caverns 
of darkness and death another succeeds, and another, 



until the city, and ultimately the whole land, becomes 
one vast Sodom. Lost to every thought of reformation, 
and to every feeling of conscience, ' an astonishment, 
and a hissing, to mankind,' a reprobate of heaven, it 
invokes upon the heads of its putrid inhabitants a new 
tempest of fire and brimstone. Morals, life, and hope 
to such a community have expired. They breathe in- 
deed, and move, and act, and to the careless eye appear 
as living beings. But the life is merely a counterfeit. 
They are only a host of moving corpses ; an assembly 
of the dead, destined to no future resurrection. Dis- 
turbed and restless spectres, they haunt the surface of 
the earth in material forms, filling the sober and con- 
templative mind with alarm and horror, until they finally 
disappear, and hurry through the gloomy mansions of 
the grave to everlasting woe. 



SERMON CXXI. 

THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 

POLYGAMY—DIVORCE. 



The Pharisees also came unto him, tempting him, and saying unto him, Is it. lawful for a man to put away his 
wife for every cause ? And lie answered and said unto them. Have ye not read, that he which made them at 
the beginning, made them male and female ; and said, For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, 
and shall cleave to his wife ; and they twain shall be one flesh ? Wherefore they are no more twain, but one 
flesh. What, therefore, God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. They say unto him, Why did 
Moses, then, command to give a writing of divorcement, and to put her away ? He saith unto them, Moses, 
because of the hardness of your hearts, suffered you to put away your wives ; but from the beginning it was 
not so. And I say unto you, Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall 
marry another, commilteth adultery : and whoso marrieth her which is put away doth commit adultery. 
His disciples say unto him, If the case of the man be so with his wife, it is not good to marry. But he said 
unto them, All men cannot receive this saying ; save they to whom it is given. — Matt. xix. 3 — 14. 



The next violation of the seventh command which I 
shall think it necessary to examine at large in this sys- 
tem, is divorce. Were I delivering a formal course of 
ethical lectures, I should feel myself obliged to extend 
the same examination to polygamy. As a practical 
subject in this country, it demands indeed little consi- 
deration. But from its inherent importance, and its 
extensive prevalence in the world ; and still more from 
the fact, that it has been either partially, or wholly, de- 
fended by some grave men, it deserves to become a 
subject of serious consideration. Thinking men ought 
on such a subject to have their opinions settled. For 
these reasons, although I cannot expatiate, I feel myself 
bound to make a few observations upon it in a summary 
manner. 

Polygamy is unlawful, because God in the original 
institution of marriage confines it to the union of one 
man with one woman. ' For this cause,' said he, who 
created them male and female, ' shall a man leave his 
father and mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and 
they twain shall be one flesh. Whom God, therefore, 
hath joined together, let not man put asunder.' God 
hath joined two. This is the only authority under 
which marriage lawfully exists. Polygamy is, there- 
fore, a violation of the institution of God. 

Polygamy appears to be directly forbidden in the 



Mosaic law. Lev. xviii. 18, ' Thou shalt not take a wife 
to her sister, to vex her, in her lifetime :' or, as it is in 
the margin, ' Thou shalt not take one wife to another.' 
The words, ' a wife to her sister,' Dr Edwards observes, 
are found in the Hebrew, if I remember right, eight 
times. In every other passage, except that just quoted, 
they refer to inanimate objects : such as the wings of 
the cherubim, tenons, mortices, &c. They seem to de- 
note, principally, the exact likeness of one thing to 
another ; and here forbid, as the margin expresses it, 
' the taking of one wife to another in her lifetime.' 

Polygamy is forbidden in the Prophecy of Malachi. 
' The Lord hath been witness between thee and the 
wife of thy youth, against whom thou has dealt treach- 
erously ; yet is she thy companion, and the wife of thy 
covenant. And did not he make one? Yet had he 
the residue of the spirit. And wherefore one ? That 
he might seek a godly seed,' Mai. ii. 14, 15. 

The prophet, in this passage, although speaking of 
all the wives in the nation of Israel, yet mentions the 
word in the singular number only. Of the union of 
one husband with one wife he declares Cod to have 
been witness ; and thus plainly indicates, that this union 
lawfully extended to no more. In the second verse 
quoted he asks, ' Did he not make one ?' That is, one 
wife, when ' he had the residue of the spirit,' and, 



THE LAW OF GOO DIVORCF. 



€21 



could with the same ease have created many, if he had 
pleased. ' And wherefore one ?' To this question he 
answers, ' 'that he might seek a godly seed.' In other 
words, he created one man and one woman, and united 
them, and them only, in the marriage institution, be- 
cause one husband and one wife thus united, would, by 
religious education and example, promote piety in their 
offspring. This is an implicit, but clear and decisive 
declaration, that in a state of polygamy pious children 
would very rarely be found. Polygamy therefore can- 
not be lawful ; as being hostile to the design of God 
in this institution, and to the highest interests of man- 
kind. 

Polygamy is expressly forbidden in the text. Here 
the man who puts away his wife, and marries another, 
is declared to commit adultery. In what does this 
adultery consist? Certainly not in putting away the 
former wife. A man may obviously leave his wife, or 
a woman her husband, and yet neither of them be 
at all guilty of this sin. The adultery, then, consists in 
the fact, that the man marries a second wife while the 
first is living. But this is always done in polygamy. 
Polygamy is therefore a continual state of adultery. 

There is not a passage in the Scriptures, in which the 
institution of marriage, or the relation which it creates, 
is spoken of in the form either of doctrine or precept, 
which gives even a remote hint of the lawful union of 
more than two persons. Husband and wife are the 
terms invariably used in every case of this nature. 

A bishop and a deacon, in an age when polygamy 
was common, are expressly required each to be a hus- 
band of one wife. Yet ' marriage is ' declared to be 
' honourable in all.' If polygamy, then, were at all the 
marriage spoken of, or the scriptural marriage, it 
would be honourable ; and therefore becoming and 
proper in bishops and deacons ; and no reason appears 
for this restriction on them, any more than on other 
men. 

The only instance of polygamy recorded in the Scrip- 
tures, during the first two thousand years after the in- 
stitution of marriage, was that of Lamech ; and this 
appears to have been considered by himself, and those 
around him, as sinful. Noah and his three sons had 
but one wife each. 

All the instances of polygamy, of which the history is 
given in the Scriptures to any extent, were sources of 
many and bitter calamities, both to the parents and the 
children. 

Equally hostile to this practice is the state of facts. 

The numbers of the sexes born, and living to adult 
years, in all nations and ages, have been so nearly 
equal, as to indicate plainly the will of the Author of our 
being, that one man and one woman, only, were to be 
united as parties in marriage. This equality is, indeed, 
denied by Mr Bruce, with respect to Syria and Arabia ; 
and with no small appearance of being founded on evi- 
dence. But when I remember that it is a contradiction 
to the law of our nature in all ages, and in all other 
places ; that the fact is mentioned by no ancient or mo- 
dern historian ; that Mr Bruce, so far as my informa- 
tion extends, is the only traveller who has mentioned 
it; particularly, that it escaped the observations of 
Shaw, Russel, Mnundrel, and especially Niebuhr ; I 
cannot help believing that this respectable writer was 
misled in his apprehensions. It ought to be added, that 
the knowledge in question must, if attained at nil, be, 



from the existing state of society in those countries, at- 
tained with extreme difficulty, and accompanied with 
not a little uncertainty. This story is also expressly 
contradicted by Lord Valentia, who has lately travelled 
in Arabia. 

Polygamy is unfriendly to population. 

When the world was to be replenished, under an im- 
mediate command of God, with human beings, a single 
pair was chosen to be the means of accomplishing this 
design. 

When the same design was, under the same com- 
mand, to be accomplished anew ; God chose the three 
sons of Noah, and their three wives, as the proper 
means of fulfilling it. 

The Turks are polygamists. They possess all the 
power, almost all the wealth, and therefore almost all 
the means of subsistence, found in their empire. Yet 
they are few in number compared with the Greeks, who 
marry but one wife, and who, subjected to iron bon- 
dage under the despotism of these hard masters, are 
continually impoverished, and plundered of a precari- 
ous subsistence by their rapacious hands. 

Polygamy degrades from their proper rank, privi- 
leges, and enjoyments, to an almost animal level, one 
half of the human race. This enormous injustice no 
consideration can excuse or palliate. 

Polygamy has regularly introduced domestic broils 
of the most bitter kind, terminating in the most fatal 
manner, and involving in their deplorable consequences 
both the parents and the children. Of this truth, com- 
plete proofs are found in the few historical accounts 
which have reached us of the Turkish and Persian royal 
families. 

These considerations, if I mistake not, amply prove, 
that polygamy is unlawful, and a direct violation of the 
seventh command. 

I shall now proceed to consider the proper subject of 
the text. This I shall introduce under the following 
general observation, as directly expressing the princi- 
pal doctrine in the text : 

That divorces, for any other cause except inconti- 
nence, are unlawful. 

This important scriptural truth I shall endeavour to 
support by arguments, derived both from Scripture and 
reason. 

From the Scriptures, I allege, 

1. That marriage is a divine institution ; and is there- 
fore unalterable by man. 

That marriage is a divine institution, has, I appre- 
hend, been made abundantly evident from various parts 
of this passage, examined in the Discourse on the ori- 
gin of marriage. It was there proved, if I mistake not, 
that God has really joined together every lawfully 
married pair among the children of Adam. That ' what 
God hath ' thus 'joined' by his infinite authority, ' men 
cannot' lawfully 'put asunder,' needs no illustration. 
God has made the twain one. Man cannot make them 
twain again, unless with the evident permission oi 
God. 

It is to he observed here, that the translation exactly 
expresses the meaning of the original in this part of 
the text : ' Let no man put asunder.' The Greek word 
is avi)(>aKo;, without the article : the most absolute and 
unlimited expression in that language, to denote man 
universally, without any respect to age, sex, or condi- 
tion. The prohibition, therefore, is not, that the hus- 



628 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CXXI. 



band, as among the Jews, Greeks, and others ; nor that 
a judicial tribunal, as among ourselves ; nor that a 
legislature, as in some other communities, may not sun- 
der this union ; but that man, in no condition, place, or 
time — man possessed of no authority whatever — may sun- 
der this union, without an express permission from God. 

2. I allege as a decisive argument, the guilt which is 
directly charged by Christ upon all the parties in the 
divorce, and the consequent marriages. 

In the text Christ declares, that the man who di- 
vorces his wife, and marries another, and the man 
who marries the divorced wife, are both guilty of adul- 
tery in this transaction. The same crime, in Matt. v. 
32, is charged upon the divorced woman. It will not 
be questioned, that the woman who marries the divorced 
husband is guilty in exactly the same manner. Nei- 
ther of these marriages, therefore, can possibly take 
place, without involving the crime of adultery in both 
the married parties. Consequently, a divorce, except 
for incontinence, is here for ever barred. A divorce 
professedly sets the parties free, so that they may law- 
fully marry again. But it is plain from these observa- 
tions, that they cannot be thus set free, and can never 
lawfully marry again. Whatever husbands, judges, or 
legislators may think, or declare, or do, all these par- 
ties will by their subsequent marriages become guilty of 
adultery. Thus Christ has pronounced ; and thus he 
certainly will pronounce at the final day. 

It is here to be remarked, that this decision of Christ 
was totally contrary to the views entertained by his 
apostles. This they directly declare in the following 
words ; ' If the case of the man be so with his wife, it is 
not good to marry.' Christ, however, does not qualify, 
nor soften the decision at all. On the contrary, he 
leaves it exactly where he had left it before. ' All 
men,' he replies, ' cannot receive this saying, save they 
to whom it is given ;' and again, ' He that is able to re- 
ceive it, let him receive it.' 

3. St Paul has determined the same point anew ; and 
in the most explicit manner conceivable. 

' Unto the married I command ; yet not I, but the 
Lord ; Let not the wife depart,' wgioSyn/izi, be separat- 
ed, that is, by a divorce, voluntarily accomplished by 
herself, ' from her husband ;' this being the only com- 
mand which could be addgessed to the wife with any 
meaning. * But, and if she depart ;' E«j/ os z.oc.i x^i^^l 
but even if she be separated (that is, by means of a di- 
vorce accomplished by him), * let her remain unmar- 
ried, or be reconciled to her husband ; and let not the 
husband put away his wife :' x.a.i uvZqo. yvvcuKX fty 
cKpisnui, ' and I also command the husband not to put 
away his wife.' This also is a part of the command 
given by Christ in the text ; and is quoted, not as I ap- 
prehend from the text itself, which it is very possible 
St Paul at this time may not have seen ; but from that 
immediate revelation which this apostle received of the 
gospel from the mouth of Christ. 

We have here the decision of Christ concerning this 
subject recited, and declared to be his decision by St 
Paul ; and therefore know the manner in which this 
command of our Saviour was understood by an inspired 
commentator. The same precept is here given in all 
its latitude. A divorce, on both sides, is absolutely 
prohibited ; and, in case of a divorce, the injured party, 
the person divorced, is forbidden expvessly and abso- 
lutely to marry again. 



The apostle then goes on, ' But to the rest ;' that is, 
to those whose cases were not contemplated by the 20111- 
mand of Christ, because they had not existed when that 
command was given ; ' But to the rest I command, not 
the Lord. If any brother (that is a Christian), hath a 
wife, who is an infidel, and she be well pleased to dwell 
with him, let him not put her away : and, if any woman 
(that is, any Christian woman) hath a husband, who is 
an infidel, and he be well pleased to dwell with her, let 
her not put him away.' 

The case here mentioned by the apostle was a new 
one. While Christ was on earth, there were no Chris- 
tians who had infidel (that is, heathen) husbands, or 
wives. For the peculiar circumstances of persons thus 
situated, Christ had therefore made no direct, or expli- 
cit provision. Doubts, concerning the proper conduct 
of such persons, with regard to the duties of the mar- 
ried state, appear evidently to have arisen in the church 
of Corinth. The great evil felt by these Christians, 
concerning which they clearly appear to me to have 
written to St Paul for his direction, seems to have con- 
sisted in these two things : the difficulties to which they 
were subjected by their infidel husbands and wives, 
with respect to their attendance on the ordinances ot 
the gospel ; and their fears, lest their children, having 
one infidel parent, should on account of this fact, be 
excluded from the Christian church, and denied the 
ordinance of baptism. The latter of these evils the 
apostle removes, together with the apprehensions of it, 
in the following verse. ' For the unbelieving husband 
is sanctified by the wife : and the unbelieving wife by 
the husband ; else were your children unclean ; but now 
are they holy,' That is, the unbelieving party in the 
marriage-state is, by means of this connexion with the 
believing party, sanctified, in such a sense, that the 
children are not put out of the covenant, but may be 
offered up to God in baptism. 

The former of these difficulties the apostle obviates 
in the verse, next succeeding. ' But if the unbelieving 
depart, let him depart.' E/ oe cfTrajro; %a^^~a,i, yfi>- 
Qifadu; If the infidel separate himself, let him separate 
himself. ' A brother, or a sister, is not in bondage in 
such things. But God hath called us to peace.' The 
apostle, it is to be remembered, had no control over the 
heathen. He says, therefore, ' If the infidel separate 
himself, let him separate himself.' This is a case over 
which I have no control, in which you can obtain no 
relief, and to which you are therefore bound to submit 
with patience and resignation. But a brother or sister 
is under no obligation to follow the infidel party, what- 
ever may be thought concerning the extent of the mar- 
riage vow ; nor to forsake the worship of God, or its 
ordinances; nor to consent that his or her children 
should be withdrawn from the privileges of religion. 
Such a case involves the deepest bondage ; and to this 
bondage no Christian brother or sister is subjected. 
The verb, here rendered ' is in bondage,' is hoovKarxt ; 
literally rendered, ' hath been reduced to the deepest 
servitude.' The servitude intended by the apostle is, 
in my apprehension, unquestionably the submission of 
a Christian to an infidel husband, or wife, so hostile to 
the Christian religion, as to refuse to continue in the 
marriage relation, and perform the duties involved 
in it, unless the Christian partner will consent to 
give up the privileges of the gospel. This would in- 
deed, be a deplorable bondage ; and deserving of be- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DIVORCE. 



629 



Sng expressed by the strong terra which St Paul has 
selected. 

Some very respectable commentators, and among 
them Poole, Doddridge, and Macknight, have, I am 
aware, supposed this bondage to consist in the obliga- 
tion under which the Christian party might be ima- 
gined to lie, to continue still unmarried. I acknow- 
ledge myself surprised at this explanation, and at the 
reasons by which it is professedly supported. Dr Mac- 
knight, after alleging that this is the apostle's meaning, 
declares that his decision is just ; ' because there is no 
reason why the innocent party, through the fault of the 
guilty party, should be exposed to the danger of com- 
mitting adultery.' 

Poole says, ' Such a person hath broken the bond of 
marriage ; and Christians are not under bondage by 
the laws of God, to keep themselves unmarried, on ac- 
count of the perverseness of such parties to the marriage 
covenant.' 

To this opinion, and these reasons, I answer, that, 
Christ has expressly forbidden the divorced wife, how- 
ever innocent, to marry again ; and has declared, that, 
if she does marry, she will be an adulteress. Certainly, 
the divorced wife may be, and often is, as innocent as 
the deserted wife ; and in the nature of the case is as 
probably innocent. With equal justice, then, may it be 
said in this case, as in the case of the deserted wife, that 
' there is no reason why the innocent party, through 
the fault of the guilty party, should be exposed to com- 
mit adultery.' 

Again : The divorced wife is more injured than the 
deserted wife. She is not only deprived of all the pri- 
vileges and blessings lost by the deserted wife, but of 
many more. She is forced by violence from her hus- 
band, her children, and her home. She is turned out 
with disgrace ; as a woman with whom her husband 
could not continue to live ; and usually with little pro- 
vision made for her subsistence. The wife who is de- 
serted is, on the contrary, almost always left in the pos- 
session of her house, her children, her character, and 
tolerable means of subsistence for herself and her fa- 
mily. She may be, and most usually is, deserted for 
reasons involving no disgrace to her. Her husband 
may have contracted an unwarrantable attachment for 
another object ; indulged a spirit of roving and adven- 
ture ; disgraced himself by his previous conduct ; or 
fled from some exposure to punishment, for some crime, 
or from creditors, whom he cannot, or will not pay. 
Accordingly, deserted wives are probably as generally 
persons of good reputation, as others of their sex. On 
all these accounts the case of the divorced wife is in- 
comparably harder than that of the deserted wife. Can 
it be possible, that Christ has rescued the deserted wife 
from this deepest bondage, as these writers understand 
it ; and have left the divorced wife, amid so many more 
and severer hardships, yet equally innocent, to suffer 
the whole extent of this thraldom ? 

Mr Poole says, ' The deserter hath broken the bond 
of marriage and thus released the deserted party from 
the laws of God concerning it ; so far as they require 
abstinence from marriage.' 

I answer : The divorcer has broken this bond still 
more violently ; and made the infraction more com- 
plete. Of course, he has, according to this scheme, in 
a higher degree made it lawful for the divorced wife to 
marry again. This reasoning, therefore, equally with 



that of Dr Macknight, makes the decision of Christ 
both unwise and unjust. 

Besides this scheme renders the precept concern- 
ing divorce entirely fruitless. The man who wishes to 
divorce his wife is by this scheme entirely released from 
all the trouble and expense, and generally also from 
the scandal, usually attendant upon this iniquitous pro- 
ceeding. He cannot indeed free himself from the sin 
of deserting his wife, and all those sins which are in- 
volved in it. But he may give his wife the opportunity 
of marrying innocently another husband. When this 
is done, he himself may, for aught that appears, marry 
innocently another wife. Thus, by undergoing an ab- 
sence of three years, the time here limited for this ob- 
ject, he may without any peculiar scandal, and without 
the sin of adultery, accomplish the very object aimed at 
in cases of this nature by licentious men, viz., a second 
marriage. 

St Paul, in the mean time, has in this very chapter 
determined the point in question against these commen- 
tators. ' Unto the married I command ; yet not I, 
but the Lord ; Let not the wife be separated from her 
husband. But, even if she be separated, let her remain 
unmarried, or be reconciled to her husband.' The 
word, here translated separated, is the same which is 
used in the 15th verse; the subject of this inquiry. Is 
it credible, that an inspired man should at all, or that 
any man of sober sense should, within the compass of 
five sentences give two contradictory precepts concern- 
ing any subject, especially a subject of this importance ? 
Peculiarly it is incredible, that St Paul, immediately 
after reciting a solemn command of Christ, and de- 
claring it to be his, should subjoin a contradictory com- 
mand. 

To me it appears equally incredible, that an apostle 
should designate the situation in which Christ had 
placed an innocently divorced woman, innocently, I 
mean, on her part, by the word iiiou'harai, and thus 
style it, ' the deepest bondage.' It is, I think, impos- 
sible, that the Spirit of God should call any state pro- 
duced by obedience to the commands of Christ, by the 
name of bondage ; and still more evidently impossible, 
that he should denote it by a name, expressing the 
most suffering and disgraceful bondage. How can 
such an appellation consist with that phraseology, in 
which the whole situation of Christians is by the same 
Spirit styled, ' the glorious liberty of the sons of God ?' 
If the deserted wife is brought under this bondage, by 
being denied the liberty of marrying again; the di- 
vorced wife is, by the same denial, brought under this 
bondage in a still more distressing degree. Yet to this 
situation she is reduced by the express command of Christ. 

Finally : St Paul himself has clearly shown, that this 
was not his meaning, by the words immediately follow- 
ing the passage in question. ' But God hath called us 
to peace. For how knowest thou, O wife, whethei 
thou shalt save thy husband ? Or how knowest thou, O 
man, whether thou shalt save thy wife ?' Surely the se- 
cond marriage contended for cannot ordinarily be the 
means of ' the peace ' here mentioned ; that is, peace 
or concord between the divorced pair. Much more is it 
improbable, that a husband, or a wife, should by means 
of second marriages become instruments of salvation to 
each other. This desirable event may be fairly hoped 
for, if they continue unmarried, from their future recon- 
ciliation to each other; but cannot be even remotely 



630 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



TSer. 



lioped for from their divorce, raid their consequent 
final separation. 

Should it be said, that the case of the deserted wife is 
a hard one : I acknowledge it. The sins, both of our- 
selves and others, create none but hard cases. That of 
the divorced wife is still harder. The reason why this 
law is established is undoubtedly found in the immense 
importance of the marriage institution. It is incompar- 
ably better that individuals should suffer, than that an 
institution, which is the basis of all human good should 
be shaken or endangered. 

1 have dwelt thus minutely on this abused passage, 
because it is the strong-hold of those with whom I am 
contending. If they cannot find support for their opi- 
nions here, they can find it nowhere. That they cannot 
find it here has, I trust, been shown beyond a rea- 
sonable doubt. 

What the Scriptures teach us, concerning the sub- 
ject of divorce is abundantly established by reason. 
This I shall attempt to evince in the following observa- 
tions. 

It is acknowledged by the advocates for this system, 
that the Scriptures do indeed forbid a divorce for any 
other reason, beside incontinence, or something equi- 
valent. The things which they consider as equivalent 
are obstinate desertion, gross personal abuse, incom- 
patibility of temper, confirmed madness, &c. I do not 
hitend, that they are all agreed with respect to this 
class of things ; but that some or other of these they 
actually propose as reasons for divorce equivalent to 
incontinence. 

Concerning this subject I observe, 

1. That there is no such thing as an equivalent in 
this case. 

No crime, no injury, affects the happiness of wed- 
lock, or wounds so deeply every domestic interest. 
None so entirely terminates every enjoyment, and every 
hope, as the crime mentioned by our Saviour. As this 
is sufficiently evident from the preceding Discourse, it 
would be useless to spend time in considering it any 
farther. I shall only observe, therefore, that inconti- 
nence not only destroys connubial happiness and hopes, 
but annihilates, so far as it extends, the very institution 
from which they spring. 

2. What is at least equally important, the Scriptures 
have nowhere mentioned anything as an equivalent. 

It must, I think, be admitted without a question, that 
if the Divine lawgiver had intended that anything 
should be considered in the case in hand, as an equi- 
valent to incontinence, he certainly would have express- 
ly mentioned it. Certainly, he must, at least, be suppos- 
ed to have hinted it, or alluded to it, in some manner or 
other. But this he has not done. Unanswerably, then, 
it was no part of his intentions. It cannot therefore 
be assumed as such by us. We are here, as well as in 
other cases, bound absolutely to see, that we ' add not 
to his words, lest he reprove us, and we be found liars.' 
I know of no pretence, that there is any thing of this 
nature found in the Scriptures, except the desertion, 
mentioned in the passage which has been so long the 
theme of discussion ; and this, it is believed, has been 
clearly shown to have not even the remotest reference to 
the subject now under consideration. But, 

3. It is urged that the evils involved in the things here 
mentioned as equivalents are intolerable, and demand 
relief from human jurisprudence. 



To this I answer, 

(1.) That although these evils were much greater than 
they are in fact ; and I acknowledge them to be yery 
great ; yet, if God has not thought proper to allow us, 
and still more if he has forbidden us, to escape from 
them in the manner proposed, they must be alleged in 
vain as arguments for divorce. 

The government of his creatures belongs only to 
God ; and nothing but impiety can induce us to inter- 
fere with either the modes or the principles of his ad- 
ministration. If he has permitted divorce on either 
of these grounds, it is lawful. If he has not, however 
numerous or great may be the evils which we suffer, 
they will not contribute at all towards rendering it law- 
ful. 

(2.) All these evils may be relieved more perfectly 
than by divorce ; and as perfectly as human govern- 
ments can relieve them, by the separation a mensa el 
t/toro. 

In this process the parties, though not released from 
the bonds of marriage, are separated from each other 
so far, that the innocent party is no longer bound to 
live with the guilty. The common property is so dis- 
posed of also, as to furnish provision for the wants of 
both. The children, at the same time, are distributed 
by public justice in the best manner which the case will 
admit. Here all the means are furnished which can be 
furnished for the relief and future safety of the ag- 
grieved party ; and incomparably better means than 
any which divorce can offer. 

(3.) Divorce, instead of remedying, enhances these 
evils beyond comprehension. 

A law, permitting divorces, except where personal 
worth and wisdom prevent, produces an immediate se- 
paration of interests among all the married persons in 
a community. With a complete conviction of their 
liability to divorce for the causes alleged, every married 
pair begin their connexion. For this event, then, com- 
mon prudence requires them to make such provision as 
may be in their power. The wife, the feebler and more 
dependent party, strongly realizing from the beginning 
her danger of being left to precarious means of sub- 
sistence, at a time always uncertain, and therefore 
always felt to be near, will be driven by common pru- 
dence and powerful necessity to lay up something in 
store against the evil day. The husband, aware of this 
state of things from the beginning, will be irresistibly 
led to oppose it in every part of its progress. This lie 
will do by placing his property, so far as it may be in 
his power, beyond the reach of his wife ; and by con- 
tending strenuously for the preservation of the re- 
mainder. 

A separation of interests is, in all intelligent beings, 
necessarily a separation of affections. Heaven itself 
would cease to be a world of love were its inhabitants 
no longer to feel a common interest. Oneness of in- 
terests makes their oneness of mind, life, and labours. 
Separate the interests of a married pair, and you sepa- 
rate at once all their affections. Show them the pro- 
bability, or even the possibility of a future divorce ; and 
you show them its certainty. From this momert a se- 
paration of interests is begun. From this period, how- 
ever affectionate they may originally have been, their 
affection will cease. The consciousness, that their in- 
terests are opposed, will immediately beget coldness, 
alienation, jealousy, and, in the end, riveted hatred. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— DIVORCE. 



631 



Between persons living together causes of dispute 
can never fail frecpiently to arise. Among persons 
whose interests generally harmonize, and who are go- 
verned by principle and moderation, such causes produce 
little effect. But, between persons in the situation 
which I have described, they never fail to operate with 
their fullest efficacy. Their minds are ready to take 
fire on every occasion, and to construe in the worst 
manner every real or supposed provocation, every 
seeming neglect, every slight word, every unpleasant 
1 look. They are -dissatisfied with almost every thing 
1 that is done, or left undone. A spark will kindle such 
1 combustible materials into a flame. 

Among persons thus circumstanced, dispositions, na- 
turally kind, soon become unkind ; tempers, before 
sufficiently compatible, soon become utterly incompati- 
ble. Where offices of kindness would have naturally 
multiplied and flourished, jars are multiplied, bitterness 
flourishes, disputes are generated, personal violence fol- 
lows, and, not unnaturally, murder itself. Thus the 
very evils which divorce professes to relieve, it only 
creates ; and creates them in millions of instances, where 
it designs to relieve them in one. Thus plain it is, to 
use the language of Dryden, that 

' God never made his work for man to mend.' 

Were a divorce impossible, the interests of every 
married pair would be one, through life. This fact 
would so far unite their affections, as to prevent a great 
part of the debates of which I have been speaking ; 
and in most cases to terminate the rest without any se- 
rious difficulty. Persons who know that their conten- 
tions are hopeless, and that, however desirable their se- 
paration might seem, it is impossible to effect it, will 
almost always so far make the best of their circum- 
stances, as to sit down in a tolerable state of content. 
The absolute union of their interests cannot fail to recur 
unceasingly to their minds, nor to operate on them with 
powerful efficacy. Their affection, though occasionally 
intermitted, will return with its former strength. The 
necessity which each feels of the other's good offices, 
will daily be realized. The superior happiness of for- 
mer harmony will be remembered. Their children 
also, for whom their cares have been so often kindly 
mingled, will plead in the most interesting manner for 
the continuance of their mutual good-will. Thus life, 
although not without its alternations of disquiet, will in 
the main go on pleasantly, where, in millions of in- 
stances, the knowledge that divorce was attainable, 
ivoidd have produced discord, hatred, separation, and 
ruin. 

It is well known to every observer of human nature, 
that a prominent part of this nature is the love of no- 
velty and variety, in all its pursuits. In no case is this 
propensity more predominant, than in the case in hand. 
Polygamists have endeavoured to satisfy this propensity 
ay replenishing their harams with a multitude of wives. 
Profligates have attempted to compass the same object 
jy a promiscuous concubinage. The endeavours of 
>oth, however, have been equally fruitless. David by 
Shis disposition was seduced to adultery. Solomon, in 
lie multiplication of wives and concubines, has shown, 
hat it knows no limits ; and that its effects are nothing 
mt corruption and ruin. By divorce this disposition is let 
oose ; and the spirit of 'licentiousness has the sign given 
o roam and ravage without control. The family, which 



all the causes of wretchedness already mentioned wo.ild 
not have made unhappy, will be ruined by this cause ; a 
cause sufficiently powerful, and sufficiently malignant, 
to ruin a world. 

To the children such a state of things is a regular 
source of absolute destruction. During the contentions 
of the parents, which will usually be generated by the 
mere attainableness of a divorce, and which become 
ultimately the occasion of granting it, the children will 
either be forgotten, or forced to take sides with the pa- 
rents. In both cases their whole education to useful 
purposes will be neglected. Particularly, they will 
never be ' trained up in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord.' Jarring parents (and there will be millions of 
such parents wherever divorce prevails, to one where 
it does not) can never teach their children religion, 
either by precept or example. Amid their own irre- 
ligious contentions, the farce would be too gross for 
impudence itself to act, and too ridiculous to be received 
seriously even by children. They would be left there- 
fore to grow up Atheists, or Nihilists, without religion, 
without a God, without a hope. 

In the former case, all their other interests, their sup- 
port, their comfort, their preparation for business, and 
their hopes of future usefulness, reputation, and enjoy- 
ment, would be neglected. Parents, whose minds were 
in a continual state of irritation and hostility, could 
never unite in anything of this nature ; and nothing 
of this nature in which they did not unite, would ever 
be done to any purpose. s 

In the latter case, the children would be taught to 
join one parent in contending against the other. Here, 
they would be taught, some to dishonour their father, 
and some to dishonour their mother ; in direct opposi- 
tion to the moral law ; and taught by those whom God 
had appointed to teach them this law. Filial impiety 
is the most unnatural and monstrous wickedness of 
which children are ordinarily guilty. We cannot won- 
der, therefore, that it should conduct them to every 
other wickedness; that it should end in impiety to 
God, or injustice to mankind. The children here are 
directly taught by one parent to hate and despise the 
other. Their contentions and calumnies, their mutual 
scorn and hatred, will force the children to despise 
both. Children who regard their parents with habitual 
disrespect, will soon respect neither man, nor God, 
Devoid of principle, destitute of every good habit, 
trained up to insubordination and rebellion, and wit- 
nesses from their infancy of discord only, malignity, 
abuse, and slander, they are prepared to be mere vil- 
lains, nuisances, and pests in the world. 

I have all along supposed the parents to continue 
together until the children have grown up to some de- 
gree of maturity and reflection. This, however, would 
by no means be the common case ; and would exist less 
and less frequently as divorces multiplied. The conse- 
quences of an earlier separation, such as would gene- 
rally take place, would be still more dreadful. Such 
of the children as followed the mother, however affec- 
tionate might be her disposition would share in all the 
calamities necessarily springing from her unprotected 
suffering condition. Women are constitutionally un- 
fitted to encounter the rude, toilsome, and discouraging 
scenes everywhere presented by this unkind, untoward 
world, and allotted by the Creator only to the robust 
hardihood of man. A divorced female is almost neces- 



632 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxi. 



sartly an outcast. Her children who follow her for- 
tunes, must be outcasts also. Defenceless herself, she 
cannot defend them. Unable to support herself, she 
will be still more unable to support them. Even the 
spirit of moderation will regard her as unworthy and 
disgraced. The common feelings of the world will 
mark her as the mere butt of scorn and infamy. Why 
was she divorced ? ' Because she was unfit to sustain 
the character of a wife,' will be the answer, everywhere 
hissed out by the tongue of contempt. In all this con- 
tempt, and in all the evils which this wolfish spirit 
draws in its train, the children will necessarily share ; 
and will be regarded like the spurious offspring of beg- 
gars, born under a hedge, and buried in a ditch. 

Such of them as survived their multiplied sufferings, 
and these would be comparatively few, would be soli- 
tary, deserted beings, without a home, without a father, 
without education, without industry, without employ- 
ment, without comforts, and without hopes; residing 
nowhere, and related to nobody. Like the wild men, 
said to be found at times in the forests of Germany and 
Poland, and supposed to be nursed by bears, they would 
sustain the character of mere animals. At war with 
everything, and by everything warred upon ; when 
out of sight, forgotten ; and when seen, regarded only 
with horror ; they would live without a friend, without 
a name ; nay, sunk beneath the cattle wandering in the 
same deserts, without a mark to denote to whom they 
belonged. Thus they would prowl through life, and 
putrefy on the spot where they were seized by death. 

Nor would the children who followed the father, in 
most instances, be at all more comfortable. The cold- 
hearted cruelty of stepmothers is proverbial. Palpable 
injustice has, I doubt not, been extensively done by the 
unkind opinions of the public to persons of this deno- 
mination. I myself have known multitudes of persons 
fill this station with great integrity, tenderness, and ex- 
cellence. Yet, even in this enlightened, refined, and 
Christianized country, I believe there are few mothers 
who leave the world while their families are young 
without very serious anxieties concerning the treatment 
which their children will receive from their future 
stepmothers. This, and every thing else dreaded or 
complained of, with respect to the class of persons in 
question, exists in the midst of a community made up 
of parents married according to the laws of God. Their 
families also live in the midst of civilization, gentleness 
of manners, and the mild influence of religion ; where 
the whole tide of things flows favourably to humanity, 
justice, kindness, and all the interests of the unpro- 
tected. 

Far different would be the situation of children under 
this superintendence, in regions where divorce pre- 
vailed. The father, having released himself from one 
wife, and married another, would soon forsake the se- 
cond for a third ; this for a fourth ; this for a fifth ; 
and thus onward without any known limit. A French 
soldier lately declared before a judicial tribunal in 
Paris, that he had married eleven wives in eleven 
years ; and boasted of this fact as honourable and meri- 
torious. The scandal would soon vanish ; and mere 
convenience, whim, or passion control the conduct. 
What then would become of those children of the first 
wife, who fell under the management of such a succes- 
sion of stepmothers ; absolute strangers to their family, 
their interests, and even their legitimacy ; their mothers 



only for a year, a month, or a day ; mothers before 
whom they would only pass in review, rather than with 
whom they would live ; mothers, distracted in their 
affections, if they had any ; certainly in their thoughts, 
cares, and labours, distributed to so many children of 
so many sorts, having so many interests, and distracted 
themselves by so many contentions ? Who does not 
see with a glance, that, even where humanity and prin- 
ciple reigned, these friendless beings would soon be 
neglected by the stepmother in favour of her own off- 
spring? What must be their fate, where lewdness had 
succeeded to principle, and humanity had already been 
frozen out of the heart? Soon, very soon, must they 
become mere and miserable outcasts ; like those who 
wandered away from their father's house with their 
divorced mother. 

Divorces, once authorized, would soon become nu- 
merous, and in most countries would, in a moderate 
period of time, control the whole state of society. Even 
in this State, where the tide of manners and morals is 
entirely against them, and where, for somewhat more 
than a century, they have blackened the public charac- 
ter with a strange and solitary but dreadful spot, they 
were indeed for a long time rare. The deformity of 
the object was so great, the prevalence of vital religion 
was so general, and the power of conscience and of pubr 
lie opinion so efficacious, that few, very few compara- 
tively, had sufficient hardihood to apply. The law also 
allowed of less latitude to applications. At the pre- 
sent time, the progress of this evil is alarming and 
terrible. In this town, * within five years, more than 
fifty divorces have been granted ; at an average calcula- 
tion, more than four hundred in the whole State during 
this period : that is, one out of every hundred married 
pairs. What a flaming proof is here of the baleful in- 
fluence of this corruption on the people, otherwise re- 
markably distinguished for their intelligence, morals, 
and religion ! Happily, a strenuous opposition is be- 
gun to this anti-scriptural law, which it may be fairly 
hoped, will soon terminate in its final revocation. 

In France, within three months after the law permit- 
ting divorces was enacted by the National Assembly, 
there were in the city of Paris almost as many divorces 
registered as marriages. In the whole kingdom there 
were, as reported by the Abbe Gregoire, chairman of a 
committee of the National Assembly on that subject, 
upwards of twenty thousand divorces registered within 
about a year and a half. ' This law,' added the Abbe, 
' will ruin the whole nation.' 

From these facts, as well as from the nature of the 
case, it is clearly evident, that the progress of divorce, 
though different in different countries will in all be 
dreadful beyond conception. Within a moderate pe- 
riod, the whole community will be thrown, by laws 
made in open opposition to the laws of God, into a 
general prostitution. No difference exists between this 
prostitution, and that which customarily bears the name, 
except that the one is licensed, the other is unlicensed, 
by man. To the eye of God, those who are polluted in 
each of these modes are alike, and equally impure, 
loathsome, and abandoned wretches ; the offspring of 
Sodom and Gomorrah. They are, divorced and undi- 
vorced, adulterers, and adulteresses ; of whom the Spirit 
of truth has said, that not one of them ' shall enter into 

* New Kiivcri 



THE LAW OF GOD PRODIGALITY. 



633 



the kingdom of God.' Over such a country, a virtuous great province of the world of perdition. To that 
man, if such a one be found, will search in vain to find dreadful world the only passage out of it leads; 
a virtuous wife. Wherever he wanders, nothing will and all its inhabitants, thronging this broad and crook- 
meet his eye but stalking, bare-faced pollution. The ed way,' hasten with one consent to that ' blackness of 
realm around him has become one vast brothel ; one darkness,' which envelops it for ever. 



SERMON CXXII. 



THE LAW OF GOD. 



-THE DECALOGUE.— THE EIGHTH COMMANDMENT. 
IDLENESS—PRODIGALITY. 



Thou shall not steal. — Exod. xx. 15. 



The preceding command prohibits all trespasses against 
purity ; this against property. 

To steal, is to take privately the property of others, 
with an intention to convert it to our own use. To rob, 
is to take the same property, for the same purpose, 
openly, and with violence. There can be little neces- 
sity of expatiating upon a crime so well understood, 
and so universally infamous, as stealing, before an as- 
sembly whose education, principles, and habits, furnish 
so strong a barrier against it. It may, however, be use- 
ful to observe, that this crime has its origin in that 
spirit of covetousness which prompts us to wish inordi- 
nately for the enjoyments and possessions of others. 
This spirit, when indulged, continually acquires strength; 
and in many instances, becomes ultimately so powerful, 
as to break over every bound of right and reputation. 
The object in contemplation is seen to be desirable. 
As we continue to contemplate it, it becomes more and 
more desirable. While the attention of the mind is 
fixed upon it, it will be turned, comparatively, very 
little to other objects : particularly to those moral re- 
straints which hinder us from acquiring what we thus 
covet. The importance and obligation of these re- 
straints gradually fade from before the eye. The man, 
engaged only in the business of obtaining the intended 
gratification, naturally finds little leisure or inclination 
to dwell upon the danger, shame, or sin, of seizing on 
his neighbour's possessions. Thus he becomes unhap- 
pily prepared to put forth a bold and rash hand, and 
to pluck the tempting enjoyment, in spite of the awful 
prohibitions of his Maker. He who does not covet 
will never steal. He who indulges covetousness, 
will find himself in danger wherever there is a tempta- 
tion. 

In examining this precept, it will be my principal de- 
sign to consider the subject of fraud. 

That fraud is implicitly forbidden in this precept will 
not, I suppose, be questioned. The Catechism of the 
Westminster Assembly of Divines explains the com- 
mand in this manner ; ' It requires,' say they, the ' law- 
ful procuring and furthering, the wealth and outward 
estate of ourselves and others ;' and ' forbids whatsoever 
doth, or may, unjustly hinder our own, or our neigh- 
bour's wealth, or outward estate.' 

In the Catechism of king Edward it is thus ex- 
plained : ' It commandeth us to beguile no man ; to 



occupy no unlawful wares ; to envy no man his wealth ; 
and to think nothing profitable, that either is not just, 
or differeth from right and honesty.' In this manner 
we are abundantly warranted to understand it by our 
Saviour's commentary on the other commands, in his 
sermon on the mount. Accordingly, it has been gene- 
rally understood in the same comprehensive manner by 
divines. To this interpretation the nature of the sub- 
ject gives the fullest warrant. All that which is sinful 
in theft is the taking of our neighbour's property, with- 
out his knowledge or consent, and converting it to our 
own use. In every fraud we do exactly the same thing, 
although in a different manner. Every fraud there- 
fore, whatever be the form in which it is practised, 
partakes of the very same sinful nature which is found 
in theft. 

Fraud is in all instances a violation of what is com- 
monly called honesty, or commutative justice. Honesty, 
in the scriptural sense, is a disposition to render, or 
the actual rendering of, an equivalent for what we re- 
ceive, in our dealings with others. This equivalent 
may consist either of property or of services ; honesty 
being equally concerned with both. At the same time, 
there is such a thing as defrauding one's self. ' What- 
soever doth or may, unjustly hinder our own outward 
estate,' or in other words, that comfort and benefit 
which we might derive from our property, or from our 
opportunities of acquiring it, is of this nature ; and is 
accordingly forbidden by this commandment. 

With these introductory observations, I shall now 
proceed to consider the prohibition in the text under 
the following heads : — 

I. The fraudulent conduct which respects ourselves 
and our families. 

II. That which respects others. 

I. I shall mention several kinds of fraudulent con- 
duct which most immediately respect ourselves and our 
families. 

All the members of a family have a common interest; 
and are so intimately united in every domestic concern 
that ' if one member Buffer, all the members suffer with 
it ; or if one member be honoured, all the members re- 
joice with it.' Whatever affects the head must affect 
the whole body. If a man defraud himself, either di- 
rectly or indirectly, he cannot fail therefore of defraud- 
ing his family. For this reason I have thought it pro- 
4 L 



634 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxn. 



per to consider the family of a man as united with 
himself in this part of my subject. 

The first specimen of fraud which I shall mention 
under this head, is idleness. 

That idleness hinders our own wealth or outward 
estate, will not be questioned. ' I went by the field of 
the slothful,' says Solomon, ' and by the vineyard of 
the man void of understanding ; and lo ! it was all 
grown over with thorns ; and nettles had covered the 
face thereof; and the stone- wall thereof was broken 
down. Then I saw and considered it well. I looked 
upon it, and received instruction. Yet a little sleep, a 
little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep. So' 
shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy 
want as an armed man.' 

Idleness at the same time, is obviously a fraud. The 
lazy man cheats himself of good which God hath given 
to him ; of enjoyments put into his hands by the bounty 
of his Creator. These blessings he barters for the love 
of ease. The price which he pays is very great : that 
which he gets in return is ' dross and dung.' 

The mischiefs of idleness are numerous and important. 

(I.) Idleness is a sinful waste of our time. 

Our time is a possession of inestimable value. The 
best employment of it, that is, such an employment of 
it as the Scriptures require, involves all which is meant 
by our duty. The loss or waste of it is, therefore, no 
other than the loss or omission of all our duty ; the 
frustration of the purpose for which we were created. 

(2.) Idleness is a sinful waste of our talents. 

By these I mean all the powers of body and mind, 
and the means which God hath furnished us in his pro- 
vidence of employing them for valuable ends. Our 
time and talents united, constitute our whole capacity 
of being useful, our worth, our all. The idle man 
wastes them both ; ' wraps them up in a napkin, and 
buries them in the earth.' In this manner he robs God 
of the end for which he was made, and becomes a bur- 
den upon the shoulders of his fellow men. He eats 
what others provide : and while they are industriously 
engaged in labour, his business is only to devour. Thus 
he is carried by mankind as a load, from the cradle to 
the grave ; is despised, loathed and execrated, while he 
lives ; and when he dies, is buried like the carcass of 
an animal, to fulfill the demands of decency, and merely 
to get rid of a nuisance. 

In the mean time, ' his drowsiness clothes' himself 
and his family ' with rags ;' prevents them from the 
enjoyments common to all around them ; disappoints, 
without a reason perceivable by them, all their just ex- 
pectations ; and, as was formerly observed concerning 
the drunkenness of a parent, sinks them below the 
common level of mankind. Want in every form, and 
all the miseries of want, arrest them daily, and through 
life. Their food is poor and scanty ; their clothes are 
rags ; they are pinched with cold, through the destitu- 
tion of fuel ; and deprived of refreshing sleep, because 
their bed is the earth, and because their dwelling, a 
mere sieve, admits without obstruction snow and rain, 
the frost and the storm. Thus, while they see almost 
all others around them possessed in abundance, not of 
the necessaries only, but of all the comforts, and most 
of the conveniences of life ; they themselves are forced 
to look on, and thirst, and pine, for the tempting en- 
joyments ; while, like Tantalus, they are forbidden by 
an iron-handed necessity to taste the good. 



At the same time, the man is forced to feel, while his 
family also are compelled by him to feel, that he, their 
husband and their father, is the subject of supreme folly 
and insignificance, and of gross, unremitted, and hope- 
less sin ; of folly which is causeless ; insignificance, 
voluntarily assumed ; sin, unnecessarily and wanton ; 
and that he is an object of general and extreme con- 
tempt. The contempt, directed immediately to him, is 
of course extended to his family also ; and they are 
compelled at their first entrance into the world, to en- 
counter the eye of scorn, and the tongue of derision. 
All these evils are sustained, also, only that the man 
may lead the life of a sluggard, be assimilated to the 
sloth in his character, and rival the swine in his favou- 
rite mode of life, and his most coveted enjoyments. 

(3.) Idleness exposes a man to many temptations, and 
many sins. 

A lazy man is, of course, without any useful engage- 
ment ; his inind is therefore vacant, and ready for the 
admission of any sin which seeks admission. To sucli 
a man temptations may be said to be always welcome. 
They are guests, for which he is regularly prepared ; 
and he has neither company nor business to hinder him 
from yielding to them, whatever attention or entertain- 
ment' they may demand. The proverbial adage, that 
' Satan will employ him who does not find employment 
for himself,' is founded in experience and good sense. 
The mind even of the idlest man will be busy ; and 
the mind which is not busied in its duty, will be busied 
in sin. On such a mind every temptation is secure of 
a powerful influence ; entices without opposition, and 
conquers without even a struggle, or a sigh. Hence we 
find such a man devoted, not only to the general sin of 
idleness, but to all the other sins which he can conve- 
niently practise. 

' The sluggard,' says Solomon, ' is wiser in his own 
conceit than seven men that can render a reason.' 
From this miserable vanity, of which their deplorable 
mismanagement of their own affairs ought to cure them 
at a glance, it arises, that sluggards so commonly be- 
come the professed counsellors of mankind. Hence it 
arises, that so many of them are politicians, pettifog- 
gers, and separatical preachers. They know nothing, 
it is true, except what an abecedarian knows of either 
divinity, law, or government. Still they feel and de- 
clare themselves to be abundantly able to teach the way 
to heaven, which they have never learned; and to ex- 
plain laws, which they never studied. The affairs of a 
nation, so numerous, so complicated, and so extensive, 
as to be comprehended only by minds peculiarly capa- 
cious, and to demand the laborious study of a life, these 
men understand instinctively ; without inquiry, in- 
formation, or thought. Their own affairs, it is true, 
they manage in such a manner as to conduct them only 
to ruin. Yet they feel perfectly competent to manage 
the affairs of a nation with pre-eminent skill, and cer- 
tain success. Every thing in the concerns of the public, 
if you will believe them, goes wrong ; and will never be 
set right, if you will believe them a little farther, by 
anybody but themselves. These men are ' smoke to 
the eyes and vinegar to the teeth,' of persons possess- 
ing real understanding. To the public they are mere 
nuisances, living on the earnings of others ; fomentors 
of discontent, active agents 5n riots and broils, incendi- 
aries, who consume the peace and comfort of all around 
them, and who well deserve to be ' the bye-word and 



THE LAW OF GOD PRODIGALITY. 



the hissing ' of every upright and benevolent citizen. 
Such were the men whom the Jens of Thessalonica 
gathered into a company against Paul ; who ' set all 
the city in an uproar;' and attempted to destroy the 
apostle and his religion by the violence of a mob. They 
were a-yo^uioi ; translated ' lewd fellows of the baser 
sort ;' literally, ' idle, lounging haunters of market- 
places.' 

It ought particularly to be remembered, that persons 
of this character rarely become converts to Christianity. 
Among all those who within my knowledge have ap- 
peared to become sincerely penitent and reformed, I 
recollect only a single lazy man ; and this man became 
industrious from the moment of his apparent, and 1 
doubt not, real conversion. The sinful prostitution of 
his time and talents by idleness, and his ready admis- 
sion of temptations to his heart, fix the idler in a regu- 
lar hostility against all the promises and threatenings 
of religion ; while his self-conceit makes him too wise 
willingly to receive wisdom even from God. Few cases 
in human life, are, in this respect, more desperate than 
that of the idler. A preacher destined to address an 
assembly of such men might, with nearly the same hope 
of success, exchange his desk for the churchyard, and 
waste his eloquence upon the tenants of the grave. 

In the mean time, every lazy man ought steadily to 
remember, that his very subsistence is founded on fraud. 
' If any man will not work,' saith the Proprietor of all 
things, ' neither let him eat.' For him to eat is to rob ; 
to rob his Maker of his property, and his fellow men of 
theirs. 

2. Prodigality is another fraud of the same general 
nature. 

There are various modes of prodigality. Property 
may be wasted by negligence, by foolish bargains, by 
the injudicious management of business, by bold adven- 
tures, and by direct profusion. The guilt in the differ- 
ent cases may vary somewhat. The general nature of 
the conduct, its folly, and its end, are substantially the 
same. There will therefore, be no necessity of distin- 
guishing it here with any particular attention. 

The effects of prodigality are, in many respects, ex- 
actly the same with those of idleness. By both these 
vices property is effectually wasted. The negligent 
waster of property is influenced by the same motives 
which govern the idler ; and shuns the labour of pre- 
serving it, as the idler the labour of acquiring it, from 
the mere love of ease. The spendthrift squanders it, 
from a foolish fondness for the several enjoyments of 
which he makes it the price ; from the love of show, 
the indulgence of whim, and the relish for luxurious 
and voluptuous gratification. The objects of his ex- 
pense are, either in their degree or their kind, always 
unnecessary to his true interest, and his real comfort. 
Passions which ought not to be indulged, whims which 
ought not to exist, much less to be cherished, govern 
his mind with despotic sway, and make him their abso- 
lute and miserable slave. Unsatisfied with what he is, 
and what he has, he pines incessantly with a sickly 
taste for some new gratification ; for objects in which 
he supposes happiness to lie, and in which he expects 
to satisfy a relish too restless, craving, and capricious 
ever to be satisfied. His appetite is canine ; not mere- 
ly eating and drinking, but devouring ; and, although 
daily crammed, is still hungry. 

Vanity and pride are also perpetual prompters to the 



prodigal ; vanity, which cries with an unceasing voice. 
' Give, give ;' pride, which never saith, ' It is enough. 
Goaded by these passions, he struggles with unceasing 
anxiety to outrun those around him in the splendour of 
dress, equipage, houses, gardens, and other objects of 
expense. The contest of one with many is almost ne- 
cessarily unequal. It is scarcely possible, that some of 
his competitors should not excel him in one thing, and 
some in another ; or that, whenever he is excelled, he 
should not be unhappy. In its nature, the strife is un- 
wise and fruitless ; because neither the spirit nor the 
efforts of rivalry ever made any man happy. In its 
progress, it necessarily disappoints all his eager wishes 
and fond hopes. When he succeeds, the expected en- 
joyment expires in the very moment of success : when 
he fails, the disappointment makes him miserable. 
With all this he is preparing himself insensibly for 
more accumulated misery. No prodigal ever looks 
into his affairs, nor conjectures the extent of his ex- 
penses. Of course, no prodigal ever perceives the ra- 
pidity with which his property declines. To men of 
this sort ruin is always nearer than they mistrust; and 
hastens with a celerity of which they never dreamed. 
While the means of expense are supposed to last, the 
whole host of sharpers fasten on him as their prey. The 
jockey cheats him in a bargain. The swindler borrows 
and runs away with his money. The usurer furnishes 
him with loans at an enormous interest. Heedless of 
expense, and greedy of the enjoyments which it pro- 
cures, every manufacturer of frippery, every owner of 
a toy-shop, selects him as his own best customer, and 
exchanges the merchandise of Vanity-fair for his mo- 
ney and his lands. 

Such a career, providence never suffers to last long. 
Unsuspected by himself, but foreseen by all around 
him, ruin, hastening with rapid steps, knocks at his 
door in an evil hour. The host of wretches who pam- 
per themselves on his extravagance while they secretly 
laugh at his folly, startled at the sound, are out of sight 
in a moment. They have indeed rioted at his expense, 
and might be expected to be grateful for vihat he has 
given. But gratitude is rarely created by profusion, 
and the hearts of such men were never susceptible of 
gratitude. They have feasted on enjoyments which he 
furnished ; but they came only to feast, not to sympa- 
thize. They have encouraged his expense, praised his 
generosity, admired his taste, and professed a deep in- 
terest in his happiness. But their whole business ter- 
minated in enjoying, praising, admiring, and profess- 
ing. They are harpies, who gathered around him to 
revel on his profusion ; and sycophants, who flattered 
him, that they might be admitted to the revel. For 
him, for any other human being, they never exercised 
a generous thought, a sympathizing feeling, an honest 
good-will. The house of suffering has no charms for 
them. They came only to get ; and when they can get 
no longer, they come no more. 

When they have taken their flight, instead of being 
grateful to him for the enjoyments on which they have 
so long and so riotously feasted at his expense, they are 
among the first, most incessant, and most clamorous of 
those who load him with censure. Instead of pitying 
his calamities, calamities into which they have per- 
suaded, urged, and flattered him ; they make both him 
and them the butt of ridicule a mark for scorn to shoot 
at ; and persuade the world to forget that they have 



633 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. cxxn. 



been eminently the causes of his destruction, by voci- 
ferating their contempt of his folly. 

In the mean time, his door is thronged by a mob of 
duns, and a host of bailiffs. His houses and lands pass 
away to the sharpers, who have been long fattening up- 
on his spoils. His equipage, his furniture, even the 
very bed on which he has slept, is struck off to the high- 
est bidder. The sprightly sound of the viol and the 
iiarpsichord is succeeded by the rude hammer of the 
auctioneer. Broken in fortune, and broken in heart, 
the miserable squanderer and his miserable family quit 
their luxurious mansion, and shelter themselves in a 
solitary hovel. 

This wretched career is rendered more sinful, and 
more unhappy, by the avarice which regularly haunts 
the prodigal. Addison, in a beautiful allegory, in- 
forms us, that luxury and avarice were formerly at war ; 
that, after various vicissitudes of fortune, they agreed 
at length to a permanent peace, on the condition that 
luxury should dismiss plenty from his service, and ava- 
rice, poverty, their ministers of state; and that avarice 
should become the minister of luxury, and luxury of 
avarice, by turns. Since that period, he informs us, 
luxury ministers to avarice, and avarice to luxury. 
Every prodigal is, in intention at least, a luxurious 
man. Every prodigal almost is avaricious. He grasps 
at money eagerly, that he may find the means of con- 
tinuing his darling profusion ; and covets with as 
craving an appetite, that he may spend ; as the miser, 
that he may hoard. Like the miserable sufferers de- 
scribed by Isaiah, he ' will not spare even his own bro- 
ther;' but ' will snatch on the right hand, and still be 
hungry ; and devour on the left, and will not be satis- 
fied.' 

Equally exposed is he to the sin of fraud, as perpe- 
trated upon his fellow men. Peculiarly is he of the 
number of those ' wicked who borrow and never pay.' 
No man is more lavish of promises, notes, and bonds ; 
and no man more stinted in discharging his honest 
debts. The farmer, mechanic, and manufacturer, are 
peculiarly the objects of his fraud. The debts which 
he pays at all, are those which he is pleased to style 
debts of honour, the debts of luxury ; debts contracted 
to furnish the means of splendour and voluptuousness. 
The necessaries of life are objects too humble to be 
•ranked in the list of his enjoyments. Insignificant in 
themselves, that is, as he estimates them, they are not 
felt to be deserving of his attention. Those who fur- 
nish them also are too modest and too quiet to compel 
his regard. Those who gratify the demands of show 
and pleasure, are, in his view, persons of higher conse- 
quence ; and are usually too clamorous and too perse- 
vering in their demands, to suffer them to be turned 
away by a mere succession of empty promises. Their 
claims are of course first satisfied. Not the rich, 
but the poor and the hungry, are here sent away 
empty. 

The same necessity which drives him to promise- 
breaking urges him also into its twin vice of lying. 
He wants money daily ; and, as the ordinary means of 
obtaining it fail, he resorts to every art, and fetch, 
and falsehood, to supply his pressing necessities. A 
true account of his circumstances and designs would 
prevent every supply. To falsehood, therefore, and to 
trick he betakes himself, as the most obvious means of 
relieving his immediate wants. In this manner he be- 



comes, within a moderate period, a common cheat, and 
a common liar. 

Nor is the prodigal much less in danger from drunk- 
enness. The peculiar distress which attends the con- 
sciousness of embarrassed affairs, made up of the strong 
pressure of wants without the means of relieving them, 
a continual apprehension of approaching ruin, united 
with an insurmountable reluctance to make any efforts 
towards preventing it, edged and pointed by a succes- 
sion of duns, mortified pride, vanishing pleasures, and 
clamorous appetites ; this peculiar distress is a power- 
ful and frequent cause of habitual intoxication. The 
unhappy being who is the subject of such distress, in- 
stinctively hunts, but hunts in vain, for relief, and even 
for consolation. Despair meets him at every corner. 
Often the only alleviation which presents itself to his 
afflicted eye, is the terrible resort to the transient stu- 
pefaction of strong drink. Thus the forlorn wretch, 
with a varied, indeed, but always downward course, 
makes his situation worse and worse ; and hurries him- 
self to final ruin by the very means on which he fastens 
for relief. 

Nor is the prodigal in small danger of becoming a 
suicide. He has lived for a length of time in the gra- 
tification of pride, the enjoyment of conscious supe- 
riority, and an uninterrupted course of voluptuous 
indulgence. When the dreams of greatness are over, 
and the riot of pleasure has ceased, the change to want 
and degradation is often too sudden, and almost always 
too great to be borne with equanimity. In the earlier 
moments of desperation, it is not uncommon to see the 
prodigal betake himself, for refuge from the load of 
humiliation and despair, to poison, the pistol, or the 
halter. Among those who become suicides in the 
possession of their reason, a more numerous list is no- 
where found, than that which is composed of ruined 
prodigals. For men have sufficient fortitude to sustain 
without shrinking, the excruciating evils to which per- 
sons of this description regularly hurry themselves ; 
excruciating, I mean, to such men. We do indeed, 
meet at times, beings who, like disturbed ghosts, haunt 
places of public resort ; and labour to keep in the 
remembrance of mankind the shadows, shreds, and tat- 
ters of their former gayety and splendour ; and serve 
as way-marks to warn the traveller of his approach to 
a quagmire, or a precipice. But far more commonly 
they shrink from the public eye, and from the neglect 
and contempt which they are conscious of having me- 
rited ; and not unfrequenlly hide themselves for ever 
from the sight, by hurrying into the future world ! 

The prodigal is also dreadfully exposed to hardness 
of heart. Should he continue to live, should he become 
neither a suicide nor a drunkard, still the love of ex- 
pense and pleasure, grown by indulgence into an 
obstinate habit, the long continued forgetfulness of 
God, the total negligence of religion and all its duties, 
the entire absorption in tho present, and the absolute 
disregard of the future, universally attendant on this 
mode of life, naturally render the heart callous to 
every divine impression. A man who thus eagerly for- 
gets God, ought certainly to expect that God will forget 
him. For, no man says to the Almighty more fre- 
quently or more uniformly, ' Depart from me, for I 
desire not the knowledge of thy ways.' From the 
house of God, from the Scriptures, nay, even from 
prayer, the last hope of miserable man, he voluntarily 






THE LAW OF GOD.—PRODIG ALITY. 



637 



cuts himself off. What prospects must he then form 
■voncerning his future being! 

The family of the prodigal share necessarily in most 
or his calamities, and almost necessarily in many of his 
sins. A great part of the same temptations arrest them, 
of course. A great part of the sins are provided for 
them and regularly served up. Should they escape 
from moral ruin, the event would be little short of a 
miracle, unless it should be accomplished by an early 
and timely failure of the means of sin. The sufferings 
to which they are exposed are numberless. The pro- 
digal, fascinated by show and pleasure, cannot attend 
to the education of his children. He cannot spare 
from his own enjoyments, in his view indispensable, the 
means of education abroad ; particularly an education 
at all suited to their original circumstances, the expec- 
tations which he has forced them to form, and the 
wishes which they have reasonably as well as naturally 
cherished. Religious instruction, admonition, and re- 
proof, a prodigal never can give. He who does not 
pray for himself, cannot be expected to pray for his 
family. The parent who does not frequent the house 
of God, will soon see it forsaken by his children. Thus 
the education of his children will be deserted by the 
prodigal. The invaluable season of childhood and 
youth will be lost, and those early impressions, both 
economical and religious, those important habits, on 
which the good of this life, and of the life to come, is 
in a great measure founded, are never established in 
their minds. 

To their comfortable settlement, whatever may be 
his wishes, he has voluntarily lost the power to contri- 
bute. .Before the period arrives at which this impor- 
tant object is to be accomplished, his wife (if she has 
not died of a broken heart) and her children usually 
see him a beggar ; and follow him to the hovel, which 
has become his only shelter. Hence, if they survive 
the ruin of their hopes, the children are soon turned 
into the world, to make their way through all the thorns 
and briars which regularly embarrass the path of per- 
sons in such a situation. The hand which feeds the 
young ravens when they cry, does, indeed, usually feed 
them. Earthly friends, at times also, they may find 
and sometimes may be regarded by strangers with 
compassion and tenderness, which they never expe- 
rienced from him who gave them birth. 



1. By these considerations, parents are taught the 
incalculable importance of educating their children to 
industry and economy. 

Revolve for a moment the miserable character, cir- 
cumstances, and end of those who have been the sub- 
ject of this Discourse. Who would be willing, who 
would not shudder at the thought, that such would be 
the character, such the circumstances, and such the end, 
of his own children? How shall this dreadful catas- 
trophe be prevented ? Under God, only by a faithful 
education of children to industry and economy ; by 
habituation to some useful, active business ; or some di- 
ligent, sedentary employment ; by thorough instruc- 
tions, and a persuasive example. These are the foun- 
tains of sustenance to human life. A fortune bequeathed 
to children, or provided for them at an earlier period, 
instead of being a secure provision for their future 
wants, is commonly a mere incitement to ruin ; a 



bounty given to idleness ; a watch-word to begin the 
career of profusion. 

The Jews are said, during some periods at least of 
their existence as a people, to have educated their chil- 
dren universally in active business ; and to have adopted 
proverbially this aphorism, ' He who does not bring up 
his child to useful industry, brings him up to be a beg- 
gar and a nuisance.' It is to be fervently wished, that 
all Christian parents would adopt the same maxim, and 
thus prepare their children to become blessings both to 
themselves and mankind. It has been repeatedly ob- 
served in these discourses, that industry and economy 
are not natural to man, and can only be established by 
habituation. These habits must both be begun in the 
morning of life, or there is danger that they will never be 
begun successfully. As no man, consistently with this 
plain duty, can be excused from being industrious and 
economical himself, so no man can be justified for a 
moment, who does not effectually communicate both in- 
dustry and economy to his children. He who at the 
first made labour the employment of mankind, and who 
afterward commanded to ' gather up the fragments, 
that nothing might be lost ;' will admit no excuse for 
the neglect of these duties, whether they respect our- 
selves, or our offspring. In this subject, parents and 
children of both sexes are equally concerned. Both 
parents are bound to teach their children ; and their 
children, of both sexes, are bound to learn to be indus- 
trious, and to be economical ; to fill up their time with 
useful employments ; to methodize it, that it may be 
thus filled up; and to feel that the loss of time, the ne- 
glect of talents, and the waste of property, are ail seri- 
ous violations of their duty to God. The parents arc 
bound to inspire, and the children to imbibe, a con- 
tempt, an abhorrence, for that silly, worthless frivolity, 
to which so many children of fashionable parents, espe- 
cially, are trained ; that sinful waste of the golden hours 
of life, that sickly devotion to amusement, that shame- 
ful, pitiable dependence on trifling, to help them along, 
even tolerably, through their present tedious, dragging 
existence. Few persons are more to be pitied, as cer- 
tainly few are more to be blamed, than those who find 
their enjoyments only in diversions : and cling to a ride, 
a dance, a visit, a play, or a novel, to keep them from 
sinking into gloom and despondence. Industrious per- 
sons, who spend their time in useful pursuits, are the 
only persons whose minds are serene, contented, and 
cheerful. If we wish happiness for our children, then, 
we shall carefully educate them to an industrious life. 

Let no parent, at the same time, forget what alarm- 
ing temptations and what gross sins surround idlen ess 
and profusion. This consideration will, if any thing 
will, compel parents to educate their children in this 
manner. The parent's fortune is here of no signi- 
ficance. The heir of a fortune is far more exposed to 
all these evils than he who has none. If he is to go 
through life with a fortune, he is to be taught to earn 
and to preserve property. Without this instruction, he 
will probably, ere long, be beggared, tempted without 
any defence to multiplied sins, and become a liar, a 
cheat, a drunkard, and perhaps a suicide. What parent 
would not tremble at the thought, that his own negli- 
gence would entail these evils upon his offspring? 

2. Young persons, whatever may have been their edu- 
cation, are here forcibly taught to pursue an industrious 
and economical life. 



63S 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxin. 



The children of wealthy parents are generally prone 
to believe that they are destined, not to usefulness but 
to enjoyment ; and that they may be idle therefore 
without a crime. No opinion is more groundless, and 
very few are more fatal. God made all mankind to be 
useful. This character he requires of them without 
conditions. He who does not assume'it, will be found 
inexcusable at the final day. Every human ear ought 
to tingle and every heart to shudder, at the doom of 
the unprofitable servant in the gospel. 

Still more prone are youths to believe, that profusion 
is honourable, and to shrink from the imputation of 
niggardly conduct. There is no more absolute absur- 
dity than the supposition, that prodigality and generosity 
are the same thing. They are not even allied. Gener- 
osity consists in giving freely, when a valuable purpose 
demands it ; and with a disposition benevolently in- 
clined to promote that purpose. Prodigality is the 
squandering of property, not for valuable, but base and 
contemptible purposes ; for the mere gratification of vo- 
luptuousness, vanity, and pride. All these gratifications 
are mean, selfish, and despicable. The generous man 
feels the value of property. The prodigal has no sense 
of this value. The generous man gives, because what 
he gives will do real good to the recipient ; the prodigal, 
because he cares nothing about property, except as it 
enables him to acquire reputation, to gratify his pride, 
to make an ostentatious dispLy of wealth, or to outstrip 



and mortify a rival. Jn all this there is not an ap- 
proach towards generosity. On the contrary, the motives 
are grovelling and contemptible ; and the manner in 
which they are exhibited to the eye is disingenuous and 
hypocritical ; a gaudy dress upon a loathsome skeleton. 
But the prodigal fails of the very reward which he pro- 
poses as the chief object of his expense. In spite of all 
his wishes and efforts, even weak men perceive that he 
is totally destitute of generosity ; and those who most 
flatter, are the first to forsake him, while, to shelter 
their own meanness and treachery, they proclaim, more 
loudly than any others, his weakness, faults, and mise- 
ries to mankind. 

Let every youth then fasten his eye on this wretched 
character, this pernicious conduct, and this deplorable 
end. His own exposure let him strongly feel. Let him 
realize with solemn emotions of mind, that idleness and 
profusion are broad and beaten roads to ruin, both in 
this world and that which is to come. With these views, 
let him devote all his time to some useful and upright 
employment; and thus make every day yield its bless- 
ings. What he acquires by a commendable industry, let 
him faithfully preserve by prudent, watchful care. In 
this manner he will become honourable in the sight of 
wise and good men, a blessing to himself, to his family, 
and to mankind ; while he will at the same time, fulfill 
one important end of his being. 



SERMON CXXIII. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE THE EIGHTH COMMANDMENT FRAUD. 



Thou shalt not steal — Exod. xx. 1 5. 



Having considered the frauds which men practise upon 
themselves, and their families, I shall now proceed to 
examine the 

II. Head of discourse, proposed at that time ; viz. 
The frauds which, we practise upon others. 

Of these, the first class which I shall mention is, those 
which respect borrowing the property of others. 

Frauds of this kind are so numerous, that it is impos- 
sible here to mention them all; and so common, that 
most persons practise them, without even suspecting 
themselves to be criminal. Still they are frauds and 
crimes which admit of no excuse. 

Of this transgression persons are guilty, whenever 
they suffer that which has been loaned to them to be 
injured through their own negligence. This evil is 
extremely common ; and by a great part of mankind is 
scarcely regarded, unless when the injury is consider- 
able, as being censurable at all. Still it is obviously a 
violation of confidence ; a falsification of the terms upon 
which the loan was given and received. No man ever 
lent any thing of any value with an agreement on his 
part, that it should be injured unnecessarily by the bor- 
rower. No man ever received a loan with a profession 



on his part, that he expected to injure the thing lent 
unless in cases where tiie nature of the transaction ob- 
viously involved the injury, and a consequent compen- 
sation. This, it will be observed, is a case properly 
arranged under the head of bargains, and riot of loans. 
Persons are guilty of this kind of fraud also, when they 
return, instead of a consumable or perishable article 
which they have borrowed, what is of inferior value. We 
often borrow those things which perish in the use. In 
this case, not a small number of individuals satisfy their 
consciences, if they return the same thing in kind and 
quantity, although plainly inferior in its value. A 
scrupulous spirit oWntegrity would induce us rather to 
return somewhat more in value than we have received, 
that we may make due satisfaction for the property 
loaned, and for the particular convenience which it has 
furnished us. 

Another fraud of the same nature is practised, when- 
ever we unreasonably detain in our possession whatever 
has been loaned to us. Most persons probably are in a 
greater or less degree chargeable with this fault. A 
want of punctuality in this respect is a serious evil, ex- 
tending very far, and often intruding not a little upon 



THE LAW OF GOD FRAUD. 



639 



the pence and comfort of good neighbourhood. But 
there are persons who go through life, borrowing with- 

! out thinking of returning that which they borrow ; and 
who thus doubly tax the good nature of those around 
them. This conduct is totally contrary to good faith 
and to plain justice. Every borrower, in his applica- 
tion for every loan is understood, and knows that he is 
undei-stood, by the lender to engage, not only to return 
that which he borrows, but to return it within a rea- 
sonable time. It is unjust and unkind to retain the 
property of the lender beyond his consent, to use it 
beyond his permission, and thus to reward his kindness 
with injury. 

Of a similar fraud we are guilty, when we employ that 
which is lent for purposes and in modes not contem- 
plated by the lender. Multitudes of mankind are guilty 
of this crime, and in ways almost innumerable. All our 
right to the use of the loan, not only as to the fact, but 
also, as to the manner and degree, is derived solely 
from the consent of the owner. To that which he has 

. not given, we have not, and cannot have, any right. 
We are bound therefore scrupulously to use what we 

, borrow within the limits of his permission. When 
we transgress these limits, we obviously violate the plain 
dictates of common justice, and are therefore inexcusable. 
There is, perhaps, no fraud of which youths, sent 
abroad for their education, are so frequently guilty, or 
to which they are so strongly solicited by temptation 
as one strongly resembling this, which I have described. 
They are, of course, intrusted by their parents with 
property, necessary or supposed to be necessary, to de- 
fray the expenses of their education. Every parent has 
his own views concerning the manner in which this pro- 
perty is to be expended. This manner the parent 
usually prescribes to his child, and has an absolute right 
to prescribe it. The property is his own ; the child is 
his own. Both the manner, therefore, and the expense, 
of the child's education he has an absolute right to con- 
trol. The parent's prescription then the child cannot 
escape without fraud, nor can he violate it without filial 
impiety. 

When such a youth expends the property intrusted to 
him by his parents in any manner, or to any degree, 
beyond his parent's choice, so far as that choice is 
made known to him, he is guilty of fraud, and violates 
the command which I am discussing. Nay, if he is 
reasonably satisfied concerning what his parent's choice 
would be, although it has not been explicitly declared, 
lie is bound scrupulously to regard it in all his conduct ; 
and to expend no more, and for no other purposes, 
than those which are involved in his parent's pleasure. 
Nor can he, consistently with his plain duty, pursue 
different objects, and conduct himself in a different 
manner, from what his parent has prescribed, without 
being guilty of similar fraud. 

The parent may not indeed, and probably will not 
often punish his child for these transgressions. Often 
fie may quietly acquiesce in the wrong. Still the con- 
duct is not the less sinful, nor the child the less guilty. 
Human tribunals fail of punishing many crimes ; but 
they do not for this reason cease to be crimes. If a 
child would avoid sin, if he would in this respect be 
blameless in the sight of God, he must direct all his 

• expenses, and regulate all his conduct conscientiously, 
according to the will and prescription of his parents. 
To this end, he must limit his wants to the allowed 



measure of his expenses ; and act scrupulously, as he 
would act if his parents were continually present. 

2. Another species of frauds is practised in what is 
called trespassing on the property of others. 

Frauds of this nature are very numerous, and greatly 
diversified. Many persons, without being sensible Oi 
doing any injustice, walk through the enclosures ot 
others, and tread down their grass, grain, and other 
valuable productions of their labour. Others leave 
open the entrances to their enclosures ; and thus expose 
the fruits of the earth to damage, and often to destruc- 
tion. Others, still, plunder their gardens, orchards, and 
fields, of such fruits particularly as are delicious. Others 
plunder their forests of wood, both for their own con- 
sumption and for the market. Both these acts are, 
however, falsely called trespasses. No actions of man 
are more obviously thefts, in the full sense. Accord- 
ingly, they are spoken of in the language of common 
sense and common custom, only under the name ot 
stealing. Others suffer their cattle, accustomed to break 
through enclosures, to go at large in their own fields ; 
and thus, in reality, turn them into the fields of their 
neighbours. To dwell no longer on this part of the 
subject, multitudes habitually neglect to repair their 
own walls and fences ; and in this manner leave a con- 
tinual passage for their cattle into the fields of their, 
neighbours. 

A very different set of trespasses (I do not mean in 
the legal sense, for 1 know not what name law would 
give them), and undertaken with very different views, 
is found in the operations of that spirit of vulgar mis- 
chief, which, through envy, or some other base passion, 
cherishes a contemptible hostility against the improve- 
ment and beauty of building, fencing, and planting, 
formed by its prosperous neighbours. This spirit 
prompts the unworthy minds in which it dwells, to mar 
and deface handsome buildings and fences ; to root up, 
or cut down trees and shrubs planted for shade and for 
ornament. The spirit is no other than that of the dog 
in the manger. It will neither enjoy the good itself, 
nor suffer any others to enjoy it. One would think 
that, in the view of such minds, beauty and elegance 
were public nuisances ; and that to have contributed to 
adorn one's country with the delightful productions of 
nature and art is a trespass upon the common good. 

Another class of frauds, possessing the same nature, 
is seen in most places, at least in this country, in the 
abuses of public property. Public buildings are almost 
everywhere injured and defaced ; the windows are bro- 
ken ; the doors, wainscoting, pillars, and other appur- 
tenances formed of wood, are shamefully carved, and 
hacked ; the courts, balustrades, and other vulnerable , 
articles, are mangled and destroyed. In a word, inju- 
ries of this nature are endless ; and all of them are 
scandalous frauds, useless to the perpetrators, wounding 
to every man of integrity and taste, discouragements to 
public improvement, and sources of public deformity 
and disgrace. 

Another class of these frauds is denoted by the gene- 
ral name, peculation. 

It will be useless for me to dwell on what nations 
have so long and so loudly complained of — the plunder 
of the public by statesmen, commissioners, and con- 
tractors ; men, who appear to feel a prescriptive right 
to fatten themselves on the spoils of the community. 
There are, I fear but few men, comparatively, who feel 



640 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxxhi. 



themselves bound to deal with the public, or with any 
body of their fellow men, agreeably to the same strict 
and equitable principles which most persons acknow- 
ledge to be indispensable in dealing with individuals. 
For services rendered to public bodies, almost all men 
demand a greater reward than they would dare to claim 
from individuals. For commodities sold to them they 
charge a higher price. In settling- accounts with them 
they claim greater allowances ; and in every transaction 
plainly intend to get more than custom and equity 
have permitted in the private business of mankind. 
The single article of perquisites is a gulf of voracity 
which has no bottom. The only rule by which this un- 
defined class of demands seems to be controlled, is, to 
claim whatever the person indebted can be expected to 
give. 

The common doctrine among all the claimants to 
whom I have referred, appears to be, that there is no 
wrong in demanding more of public bodies for the same 
service, or the same commodity, than of individuals, be- 
cause public bodies are more able to pay. Justice, on 
the contrary, affixes the same value to the same thing. 
This value will be affixed by every honest man ; and 
will be his only rule of compensation for his commodi- 
ties or his labours, whoever may be the purchaser, or 
the employer. 

In every one of the cases which I have specified, the 
persons concerned defraud their fellow men of their 
property, and cheat themselves out of their duty and 
their salvation. But they cannot cheat their Maker. 
The all-searching eye surveys, with a terrible inspec- 
tion, those workers of iniquity ; and at the final day, 
will be found to have traced every secret winding, every 
snaky path, every false pretence, and every flattering 
self-justification of fraud. At that awful period, how 
many persons will be found to be cheats, who, in this 
world, sustained the character of fair dealers, and were 
regarded by all around them as honest men. 

3. Another class of frauds is attendant upon bargains. 

These, like the former classes, are very numerous ; 
and are varied continually by the circumstances of the 
bargain, and the ingenuity, negligence, and dishonesty 
of the parties. 

An honest bargain is that, and that only, in which an 
equivalent is given, and received ; in which the value 
of the commodities in each case being supposed to be 
known, the fair market price is mutually allowed. The 
market price is, in all ordinary circumstances, the equi- 
table price ; and wherever it is known, will be cheer- 
fully paid by an honest man. Where it cannot be 
known, such men will settle their contracts as equitably 
as they can ; each designing faithfully to render an 
equivalent for what he receives. Every bargain not 
formed on these principles is unjust ; and, if thus formed 
intentionally, is dishonest. But how different from 
these are the principles upon which bargains are very 
extensively made in this country, and but too probably 
in others also. 

Among the innumerable frauds practised in this vast 
field of human business, I shall specify the following : 

Multitudes of persons, when forming bargains, misre- 
present or conceal the state of the markets. Most men 
profess to be willing to be governed in their dealings 
by the market price. But great numbers of these very 
men intend to buy for less, and sell for more. Hence 
they carefully conceal this price from those with whom | 



they deal ; and thus buy at diminished, and sell at en- 
hanced prices. This conduct is plain dishonesty ; and 
would not deceive even the subject of it, were he not 
blinded by his own avarice. He perfectly knows that 
his neighbour would not buy nor sell on these terms 
except from his ignorance ; and that the advantage 
which he gains, is gained only from his neighbour's 
misapprehension of the commodities in question. Can 
an honest man take this advantage ? Would any man 
of reputation justify himself in taking it of a child ? 
Why not of a child, as well as of a man ? Because, it 
will be answered, the child knows not the worth o£ 
what he buys or sells. Neither, in the case specified, 
does the man. Would he who takes this advantage be 
willing that his neighbour should take it of him ? The 
answer to this question needs not to be given. It is 
plain, then, that the conduct referred to is unjust and 
fraudulent. 

There are many other persons who directly misre- 
present the market price. These men feel satisfied, if 
they do not palpably lie ; if, for example, they report 
what this price has lately been ; what they have heard 
somebody declare it to be ; or what price has been given 
by an individual, who has sold at a high, or bought at 
a low price ; both, very different from the general one. 
All these are mere fetches, used by a dishonest mind to 
deceive itself, and to defraud others. 

Another palpable fraud of this class is the use of false 
weights and measures. These are often used when they 
are known, and often when they are suspected, to be 
false ; and more frequently still when they are suffered 
to become defective through inattention. In this, the 
man is apt to feel himself excused, because he is not 
intentionally fraudulent; not remembering, that, -when- 
ever it is in his power, God has required him to do 
justly, and not merely not to design to do unjustly. He 
has given him no permission to sin through negligence. 
Weights and measures are often formed of such mate- 
rials as to ensure decay and diminution. Whenever 
this is known to be the case, the proprietor is unpardon- 
able, if he does not by frequent examinations prevent 
the injustice. The wrong he cannot but foresee ; and 
the remedy is always and entirely in his power. If we 
love justice as we ought, we shall take all those mea- 
sures which are necessary to accomplish it. He who is 
resolved to ' do to others what he would that others 
should do to him,' will never suffer it to remain undone 
for want of exertions which demand so little self- 
denial. 

Whenever a man begins to do wrong through negli- 
gence, he will soon do it through design. Indifierencr 
to sin is the next step to the love of it. The only safety 
in this case, and all others of the like nature, is to ' re 
sist the beginnings of evil.' If our opposition to it b 
not begun here, it will never be begun. Every smallei 
transgression prepares the way for a greater. Every 
gross villain has become such by small beginnings. ' No i 
man,' says the Latin proverb, ' becomes abandoned at 
once.' He who begins to backslide without conipunc- j 
tion, will find his remaining course only downward ; 
and will descend with continually increasing velocity to 
the bottom. 

Another prominent iniquity of this class is selling 
commodities which are unsound and defective, under , 
direct professions that they are sound and good. This 
is sometimes done with palpable lying, sometimes with 




THE LAW OF GOD.—FRAUD. 



641 



indefinite and hypocritical insinuations. Agents and 
men who buy to sell again, often assert their wares to be 
good, because those of whom they received them have 
declared them to be good. These declarations are often 
believed, because the agent professes, or at least appears, 
to believe them ; while, in truth, he does not giye them 
the least credit. 

One of the grossest impositions of this nature is 
practised upon the public in advertising and selling 
rostrums as safe and valuable medicines. These are 
ushered into newspapers with a long train of pompous 
declarations, almost always false, and always delusive. 
The silly purchaser buys and uses the medicine, chiefly 
or only because it is sold by a respectable man, and 
under the sanction of a splendid advertisement, to which 
that respectable man lends his countenance. Were 
such men to decline this unfortunate and indefensible 
employment, the medicines would probably fall into 
absolute discredit ; and health, and limbs, and life 
would in many instances be preserved from unnecessary 
destruction. 

Another specimen of similar fraud is practised in con- 
cealing the defects of what we sell. This is the general 
art and villany of that class of men who are customarily 
styled jockeys ; a class unhappily comprehending mul- 
titudes who would receive the appellation with astonish- 
ment and disdain. The common subterfuge of these 
men is this, ' that they give no false accounts concerning 
their commodities; that the purchaser has eyes of his 
own, and must judge for himself. No defence can be 
more lame and wretched ; and scarcely any more impu- 
dent. A great proportion of vendibles are subject to 
defects which no purchaser can descry. Every pur- 
chaser is therefore obliged to depend on the seller for 
information concerning them. All this the seller per- 
fectly knows ; and, if he be an honest man, will cer- 
tainly give the information to the purchaser ; because 
in the same situation he would wish it to be done to 
himself. At the same time, no purchaser would buy 
these articles if he knew their defects, unless at a 
diminished price. The actual purchaser is therefore, 
in colloquial language, taken in ; and taken in by pal- 
pable villany. 

Another specimen of the same nature is furnished by 
the practice of depreciating the value of such commo- 
dities, as we wish to buy. ' It is naught, it is naught, 
saith the buyer ; but when he hath gone his way, he 
boasteth.' Such was the conduct of men in the days of 
Solomon. We have ample proof that human nature 
now, is not in this respect altered for the better. The 
ignorant, the modest, and the necessitous, persons who 
should be the last to suffer from fraud, are in this way 
often made its victims. A decisive tone and confident 
air, in men better dressed, and supposed to know better 
than themselves, easily bear down persons so circum- 
stanced, and persuade them to sell their commodities 
for less than they are plainly worth. The purchaser, 
in the mean time, as soon as they are out of hearing- 
boasts of his gainful bargain; and trumpets without a 
blush, the value of the articles which he had before 
lecried. 

4. Another class of frauds is connected with the con- 
raction and payment of debts. 

The first transgression of this nature which I shall 
mention, is, the contraction of debts, with clear convic- 
ion, that we possess no means of discharging them ; 



and that we shall, in all probability, possess no such 
means hereafter ; at least, within any reasonable period 
of payment. 

Multitudes of persons covet enjoyments in the pos- 
session of others, to such a degree, that they are willing 
to acquire them, if they can, without troubling them- 
selves aboui paying for them. Such persons are often 
professed cheats, and triumph in the success of their im- 
positions. But there are others, who regard themselves 
as honest men, and would be not a little surprised, as 
well as wounded, at the suspicion of fraudulent designs 
in their conduct. Most or all of these men form some 
loose, indefinite design of paying their debts ; but, in- 
stead of providing the necessary means for this purpose, 
trust to some future casualty. They will tell the credi- 
tor who charges them with dishonest conduct, that al- 
though they did indeed know themselves to be destitute 
of property, and of any rational expectations of future 
property when the debt was contracted, yet they hoped 
that in the course of events they should, in some man- 
ner or other, become able to discharge it. In this case, 
they will add, they should have discharged it, both will- 
ingly and faithfully. What they thus allege is probably, 
in many instances, true. The persons in question do 
not form a direct intention to defraud their creditors. 
Thus far their honesty goes. But here it stops. 1 hey 
form no design, direct or indirect, to take effectual 
measures to do their creditors justice. They do not 
conscientiously abstain from contracting debts until they 
know that they shall be able to cancel them by fair pay- 
ment. On the contrary, they contract them when they 
know themselves to be unable, and to be unpossessed of 
any fair probable means of being able at a future time. 
In all this they are, although often without suspecting 
it, grossly dishonest. 

Another sin, very nearly akin to this, is contracting 
debts, without perceiving any means of payment to be 
in our power. Those who transgress in this manner 
feel satisfied if they do not know themselves to be un- 
able to pay. Were they evangelically honest, they 
would take effectual care to see whether they were able, 
or not. Often, by overrating their property, their ef- 
forts, or the markets, they feel a loose conviction, that 
they shall possess this power ; but take no pains to ren- . 
der the fact certain, or even probable. Such morality 
can result only from absolute insensibility of mind to 
the great duly of doing justly, an entire ignorance of 
what it demands, and a total forgetfulness of exposure 
to the divine indignation. We are bound, before we 
receive, before we become willing to receive, our neigh- 
bour's property, to know that we have means clearly 
probable of paying him ; otherwise, Ave wantonly sub- 
ject him to the loss of it ; and differ very little, as moral 
beings, from thieves and robbers. If we are in doubt 
concerning either the probability or the sufficiency of 
tbese means, it is our duty to detail them fairly to the 
person with whom we are dealing. If, in this case, he 
is disposed to intrust us with his property, and we after- 
ward make faithful efforts to cancel the debt, I do not 
see, that we are chargeable with fraud, although we 
should fail. He who contracts a debt, without discerning 
that he has probable means of discharging it, differs in no 
material respect from a swindler. He plunders his neigh- 
bour from indifference to justice; the swindler from con- 
tempt of it. In the view of common sense, in the sight of 
Ood, the moral character of both is essentially the saino 
4 M 



642 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. c\y.ut, 



Another transgression, of the same general nature, is 
neglecting to pay our debts at the time. There are 
many persons, whose general character, as honest men, 
is fair ; who yet, in this respect, are extremely deserv- 
ing of censure. They contract debts, which they en- 
gage to discharge within a given time. This time is 
therefore a part of the contract ; a ground on which the 
bargain is made ; a condition, on which the price was 
calculated. This obvious truth is understood by all 
men, and makes a part of the language of every bargain 
in which credit is given. To the expectation formed 
by the creditor of receiving his debt at the time specified, 
the debtor has voluntarily given birth. It is an expec- 
tation therefore which he is bound to fulfill. If he does 
not take every lawful measure in his power, to enable 
himself to fulfill it, or if he does not fulfill it when it is 
in his power, he is guilty of fraud ; of depriving his 
neighbour, not perhaps of design, but by a guilty neg- 
ligence, of a part of his property. 

The delay of payment beyond the appointed time is 
in almost all instances injurious, and in some almost as 
injurious to the creditor, as an absolute refusal to pay 
would originally have been. The real value of a debt, 
where the security is sufficient, is, among men of busi- 
ness, estimated according to the time when the payment 
is reasonably expected. Thus notes, bonds, and other 
obligations for money, when given by men known to be 
punctual in the discharge of their debts, pass in the 
market for their nominal value; and are received in 
payments with no other discount than that which arises 
from the distance of the period when they become due. 
Those given by negligent men are, on the contrary, 
considered as depreciated from the beginning ; and that, 
exactly in proportion to the negligence of the signer. 
Of this sum, be it what it may, the negligent man de- 
frauds his creditor. 

The law of God required, in accordance with the 
doctrine which I am urging, that the sun should not be 
suffered to go down upon the hire of the labourer. The 
spirit of punctuality here enjoined ought to be found 
in all men. The engagements which we make, we are 
bound, as honest men to fulfill. The expectations 
which we knowingly excite in the minds of those with 
whom we deal, we are required to satisfy ; and when 
we fail, either voluntarily or negligently, we are inex- 
cusable. 

The last iniquity of this species which I shall mention 
is the payment of debts with something of less value 
than that which we possess. 

It has been doubtless observed, that I have, all along 
throughout this Discourse, chiefly passed over in silence 
those gross frauds which are the direct objects of crim- 
inal prosecution. Such is my intention here. I shall 
pass by the gross iniquities of passing counterfeit cur- 
rency ; forging obligations and indorsements, and 
others of the like nature. To reprove these crimes 
cannot be necessary in this place. I have therefore 
confined, and shall still confine myself to those which 
are esteemed smaller transgressions, and are less ob- 
served, and less dreaded by mankind. 

There are some kinds of currency, whose real value is 
inferior to that which is nominal. Coin is in some 
countries, and at some times, alloyed below the common 
standard. It is also very often worn down below the 
standard weight. Paper currency is also in many in- 
stances subjected to a discount, wherever its true value 



is understood. Debts are very often paid with this de- 
preciated currency, without any notice given by the 
debtor of its depreciation. 

Debts are paid also to a considerable extent in com- 
modities. In these there are often defects, in kind or 
quantity, not readily perceivable by the creditor, and 
what is much more unhappy, concealed, or not disclosed 
by the debtor. 

Often debts are paid by labour and services. These, 
not unfrequently, are stinted with respect to the 
time through which the labour ought to extend ; the 
skill, and thorough execution which ought to be em- 
ployed ; the care which ought to be used ; and, univer- 
sally, the completeness of the service engaged, and there- 
fore justly expected by the creditor. In every case of 
this nature, it is the design of the debtor to gain some- 
thing by the means and mode of paying the debt, which 
he would not have gained, had he paid it in undebased 
coin ; and which he would not have gained by a fair, 
honest fulfilment of the original terms of the contract. 
Whenever the debtor feels that in discharging his debts 
he has acquired something from the creditor, not in- 
volved in the plain terms of the contract, he may be 
assured, that his mode of payment has involved in it a 
fraud, and that he has acted the part of a cheat. 

All these may, and often do, seem to the perpetrators 
crimes of little moment ; and it will, perhaps, be no 
easy matter to convince them of the contrary. I wish 
such persons to remember the great maxim, taught by 
the unvarying experience of man — that he who allows 
himself to be dishonest in one thing, will soon be dis- 
honest in all things. I wish them still more solemnly 
to remember, that God is a witness of all their fraudu- 
lent conduct, however it may be concealed from man- 
kind ; and that, although they may cheat men, they 
cannot cheat God. 

5- Another enormous class of frauds is composed of 
breaches of trust. 

Upon this unlimited subject my observations must be 
few, and summary. Frauds of this kind are found in 
the servant and the monarch, and in all the interven- 
ing classes of mankind. They fill with complaints 
every mouth, and haunt every human concern. To 
describe them would demand the contents of a library ; 
to name them would be to recount most of the business 
of man. As they exist everywhere, so all men are 
familiarized to them. Of course, it is the less necessary 
to detail them here. There is also but one opinion 
concerning them, and concerning their authors. They 
are all by a universal voice pronounced to be frauds ; 
and their authors to be knaves and villains. 

He who assumes an employment, engages in the very 
assumption to discharge the duties which it obviously 
involves. If he fails, he fails of his duty ; if he negli- 
gently or voluntarily fails, he is palpably a dishonest 
man. The expectations which we knowingly excite in 
others, we are indispensably bound to fulfill. Nothing 
less than this will satisfy the commands of God, or the 
dictates of an un warped conscience. Nothing less will 
ever acquire or secure a fair reputation. I shall only add, 
that there is no easy or sure method of accomplishing 
this invaluable object, but to begin early, and to go on 
with inflexible perseverance. 

REMARKS. 

1. The subject which has been under consideration 



THE LAW OF GOD FRAUD. 



643 



presents us with a very humiliating and painful speci- 
men of human corruption. 

The duty of rendering justice to our neighbour, is 
one of the plainest dictates of the law written on the 
hearts of men, one of the first demands of conscience, 
one of the prime injunctions of Gcd. Accordingly, no 
duty has been more readily, universally, or absolutely 
acknowledged or demanded by mankind. The bounds 
also which separate justice from injustice, are often de- 
fined with mathematical exactness, almost always clear- 
ly known, and rarely capable of being mistaken. Yet 
in how many ways, forms, and varieties is this duty 
violated! By how many individuals! Of how many 
classes ! Who, however wise, honourable, or excellent, 
however reverenced, or beloved, is not at times the vic- 
tim of fraud, and the dupe of cunning ! The known 
instances are innumerable. What endless multitudes 
are probably unknown, except by the omniscient eye ! 
How great a part of human time and talents has been 
employed only in fraud ! One hundred and twenty 
thousands persons, in the city of London alone, are de- 
clared by the judicious Colquhoun to derive the whole, 
or the chief part, of their subsistence from fraudulent 
practices. Here, villany of this nature has become a 
science ; and is pursued, not merely without remorse 
but with system ; with a coolness, which laughs at mo- 
rality ; an ingenuity, which baffles detection ; an indus- 
try, which would do honour to virtue ; and a success, 
which overwhelms the mind with amazement All 
these things exist in the capital of that country, which 
has been more distinguished than any other for know- 
ledge, morality, and religion. 

But London is not alone concerned in this iniquity. 
It prevails wherever rights are claimed or property 
exists. In our own country, so young, and distinguish- 
ed beyond most others for the moral character of its 
inhabitants, it prevails in a manner which ought to cover 
us with shame and sorrow. Frauds of all the kinds 
which have been mentioned are not only practised, but 
avowed. Nay, many of them have ceased to wear the 
name of frauds. Oppressive bargains are customarily 
styled by those who make them , good bargains ; and 
boasted of as specimens of ingenuity, skill, and success. 
Debts, in multiplied instances, are contracted without 
honesty, and withholden by m re fraud. Even the set- 
tlement of estates furnishes often gross exhibitions of 
oppression and cheating, and the widow and the father- 
less are made a prey. Why is this done ? Because the 
deceased is gone, and cannot detect the iniquity : be- 
cause those whom he has left behind are without defence, 
and without remedy. 

A great part of the business of legislators is the pre- 
vention of fraud. To detect and punish it is the chief 
employment of judicial tribunals. How immense have 
been the labours of both ; and to how vast an extent 
have they laboured in vain ! 

How frequently do we ourselves see character, safety, 
and the soul, all hazarded for a pittance of gain, con- 
temptible in itself, and of no consequence to him who 
cheats his neighbour, and sells himself to acquire it! 
With what unceasing toil, and under what hard bondage 
does the miser wear and waste his life, to filch from 
those around him little gleanings of property, merely to 
bury it in his chest, and without daring to use it for 
himself or his family! How frequently do swindlers 
and gamblers, like the troubled ghosts of antiquity, 



haunt places of public resort ; and stare in open day, 
and in circles of decent men, until the hour of darkness 
arrives, when they may again, like their kindred vam- 
pires, satiate themselves upon rottenness and corrup- 
tion ! 

How often is war made, how often are oceans of blood 
spilt, lives destroyed in millions, and immense portions 
of human happiness extinguished, merely to plunder 
others of their property ! 

To all these evils, instruction, example, laws, punish- 
ments, conscience, the word of God, and the prospect of 
damnation, oppose their force and terror in vain. Pru- 
dence and policy contend against it with as little 
success. All nations have pronounced honesty to be 
more profitable than any other conduct. Poverty on 
the one hand, and infamy on the other, have ever 
threatened the intentional knave with a whip of scor- 
pions. Still, he walks onward coolly and steadily, un- 
moved either by the remonstrances of earth and heaven, 
or the dangers of hell. 

2. These observations show the vast importance of fix- 
ing in our own minds, and in the minds of our children, 
the strongest sense, and the most vigorous habits of ex- 
act, evangelical integrity. 

He who wishes to live well here, and to be happy 
hereafter, must in all his intentional dealings ask, as an 
all-controlling question, What is right ? and make all 
things bend to the answer. ' Fiat justitia : ruat ccelum !' 
ought to be the governing maxim of private as well as 
public life. Of all virtues, justice and truth are the first 
in order, the first in importance. To them every thing 
ought to give way. If they are permitted to rule, man 
cannot fail to be virtuous, amiable, and happy. 

But every moral truth, and every moral precept, is 
of more consequence to children, and may be made of 
more use to them, than it can be toothers. Good seed, 
sown in the spring-time of life, cannot ordinarily fail 
to produce a harvest ; which will be vainly expected, if 
it be sown in the autumn. The parent who values the 
comfort, character, or salvation of his child, will impress 
on his young and tender mind, in the most affecting 
manner possible, the incalculable excellence and im- 
portance of integrity, and the inestimable worth of an 
unblemished character, and an unsullied life. At this 
hopeful period, the parent should inweave into the mind 
of his child, as a part of his constitutional thinking, a 
strong conviction, that property itself, according to the 
usual dispensations of God, is to be acquired only by 
uprightness of conduct ; and that fraud is the highway 
to beggary, as well as to shame. Peace of conscience, 
he should be taught from the first, can never dwell in 
the same soul with injustice : and without peace of con- 
science, he should know, the soul will be poor and 
miserable. Habitually should he remember, that the 
eye of God looks always upon the heart ; and that every 
dishonest design, word, and act is recorded in that book 
out of which he will be judged at the great day. Fi- 
nally he should learn the unvarying fact, that one fraud 
generates another of course ; and that thus the dishon- 
est man corrupts unceasingly his heart and his life, and 
is seen by all around him to be ' a vessel of wrath,' 
daily ' fitting for destruction.' All these instructions 
example should enforce and sanction ; and on them all 
prayer should invoke its efficacious blessings. 

3. These observations teach us how greatly such as 
are customarily styled moral men deceive themselves. 



644 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. cxxrtr. 



Multitudes of men who sustain this character censure 
preachers for dwelling so frequently on the doctrines of 
the gospel, and for not introducing oftener its moral 
precepts into their sermons. These persons regard them- 
selves asheing moral in the proper sense, and wish preach- 
ers to inculcate just such morality, as they themselves 
practise. They pay their debts, and wish other men to 
pay theirs, keep true accounts, sell at the market prices, 
make as good bargains as they can, and get as much 
money as they can jn this manner. These are the 
things which they wish preachers to inculcate. 

Such persons are yet to learn that the morality of 
the gospel is wonderfully different from all this. It in 7 
eludes whatever I have said in this and the preceding- 
discourses concerning the law of God, whatever I 
shall say in the succeeding ones, and more than I 
have said, or can say, in both. The morality of the 
gospel begins in an honest and good heart, disposed 



to render always and exactly to our neighbour the things 
that are our neighbour's, and to God the things that 
are God's. It knows not, it disdains, it abominates, 
the tricks, the fetches, the disguises, the concealments, 
the enhancements, the delays of payment, the depreciat- 
ed payments, the base gains, and the double-minded 
character, always found in the coarse-spun morality 
of this world. Worldly morality aims supremely and 
only at being rich ; evangelical morality at doing that 
which is right. Every person satisfied with worldly 
morality who hears tin's sermon, will probably go away 
from it displeased with what he will call its rigidness, 
and discontented to find that what he has been accus- 
tomed to think his own stronghold furnishes him with 
so little either of safety or comfort. But let him remem- 
ber that, whether he is pleased or displeased, no moral- 
ity short of this will answer the demands of the law of 
God. 



SERMON CXXIV. 



THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE.-— THE EIGHTH COMMANDMENT GAMING. 



Thou shall not steal. — Exod. xx. 15. 



The frauds practised by men upon themselves and their 
families ; and a variety of other frauds perpetrated by 
mankind upon each other, have occupied the two pre- 
ceding Discourses. 

I shall now proceed to the consideration of another 
fraud of the latter class ; viz. gaming. 

Multitudes of persons professedly believe gaming to 
be innocent ; and accordingly labour not a little to jus- 
tify it to others. As they aim to clear it from all impu- 
tations of criminality, it will be both proper and neces- 
sary to consider the subject generally, that its advocates 
may perceive, that it is not only fraudulent, but sinful 
in many other respects. 

The observations, which I shall make on this subject 
will be arranged under the following heads ; — 

I. The evils of gaming which immediately respect 
others. 

II. Those which immediately respect ourselves. 
Among the evils which respect others, I observe. 
1. That gaming is in all instances fraud. 

By gaining here, I intend that only, by which pro- 
perty is won or lost ; and this property, by which party 
soever acquired, I assert to be acquired invariably by 
fraud. 

There are but two possible methods, by which we can 
acquire property from ethers honestly ; viz. either by 
free gift ; or by rendering an equivalent for what we 
receive. I need not say, that property won by gaming 
is not obtained in either of these ways. That which is 
acquired neither is nor is intended to be, given : and, 
instead of an equivalent, the gamester renders nothing 
for what he has received. 

God, in the decalogue, has absolutely bound us ' not 
to covet any thing which is our neighbour's.' This sin 



of coveting every gamester is guilty of, when he sits down 
to win the property of his neighbour. Of this truth he 
gives unanswerable evidence in many ways. To win the 
property in question, is the only motive for which he 
spends his hours at the card-table, and the dice-box. 
At the same time, he sees his companion afflicted, suf- 
fering, and even ruined by the loss of his property, 
without restoring, or thinking of restoring, to him any 
part of what he has lost. Did he not covet this pro- 
perty, the most vulgar humanity would induce him to 
relieve distresses, the relief of which would demand 
only the sacrifice of what he did not wish to retain. 
Instead of this, however, we always find him speak of 
his winnings, when valuable, with self-gratulation and 
triumph, and plainly considering them as acquisitions 
of no small importance to his own happiness. The 
gamester, therefore, sinfully covets the property of his 
neighbour. The design to obtain it without rendering 
an equivalent, is in its nature fraudulent, and will be 
admitted into his mind by no honest man. But this 
design every gamester cherishes ; and in the indulgence 
and execution of it spends the principal part of his life. 
His life is therefore an almost uninterrupted course of 
fraud. To render this career complete, the gamester 
spends a great part of his time in contrivances and 
labours to get, and in actually getting, the property of 
others for nothing. This is the very crime of the cheat, 
the swindler, and the thief. If the thief when he stole, 
the cheat when he bargained, and the swindler when 
he borrowed his neighbour's property, roluntarily left 
an equivalent, how obvious is it, that his crime, though 
I acknowledge he might even then be in some degree 
criminal, would hardly be mentioned, and scarcely re- 
garded as an immorality. The main turpitude in every 



THE LAW OF GOD GAMING. 



645 



one of these cases is plainly the desiring and the taking 
of our neighbour's property without an equivalent. But 
this turpitude is entirely chargeable to the gamester. 

It may, however, be said, that all the other persons 
mentioned take the property in question covertly ; 
while the gamester takes it openly, and therefore, 
fairly. So, I answer, does the robber. 

It will be farther said that these persons take the 
property without the consent of the owner ; whereas 
the gamester wins it only with his consent. As I sup- 
pose this to be the stronghold of all who advocate the 
lawfulness of gaming, it will be proper to consider it 
with some attention. 

In the first place, then, this consent is never given in 
the manner professedly alleged by those who defend the 
practice. 

No man ever sat down to a game, with an entire con- 
sent that his antagonist should win his property. I 
speak of those cases only in which the property staked 
is considered as of some serious importance. Every 
person who is a party in a game of this nature intends 
to win the property of his antagonist, and not to lose 
his own. His own he stakes only because the stake is 
absolutely necessary to enable him to win that of his 
antagonist. Thus, instead of consenting to lose his 
own property, each of the parties intends merely to ob- 
tain that of his neighbour for nothing. This is the 
only real design of both ; and this design is as unjust, 
and as fraudulent, as any which respects property can 
be. That such is the only real design, the loser proves, 
in the clearest manner, by deeply lamenting his loss ; 
and the winner, in a manner little less clear, by exult- 
ing in his gain. 

Secondly : Each of the parties expects only to win, 
either by superior skill, or superior good fortune. 

No man ever heard of a gamester, who sat down to 
play with a decided expectation of losing. 

Thirdly : No man has a right to yield his property 
to another on this condition. 

The property of every man is given to him by his 
Creator, as to a steward, to be employed only in useful 
purposes. In such purposes he is indispensably bound 
to employ it. Every other mode of- employing it is 
inexcusable. This doctrine I presume the gamester 
himself will not seriously question. The man must be 
lost to decency and to common sense, who can for a 
moment believe that his Creator has given any blessing 
to mankind for any purposes except those which are 
useful ; or that himself, and every one of his fellow 
men, are not unconditionally required by God to pro- 
mote useful purposes with all the means in their power ; 
and with their property, equally with other means, at 
all times. 15 ut it will not be pretended that staking 
property on the issue of a game, is an employment of 
that property to any purpose which God will pronounce 
to be useful. In his sight, therefore, no man can law- 
fully employ his property in this manner. Of course, 
both parties in thus staking their money are guilty 
of sin ; while each also invites and seduces the other 
to sin. 

Fourthly : every man is plainly bound to devote his 
property to that purpose which, all things considered, 
appears to be the best of those which are within his 
reach. 

By this I do not mean that which is best in the 
abstract, but best for him, in the sphere of action al- 



lotted to him by his Maker. In other words, every man 
is bound to do with his property, as well as his other 
talents, the most good in his power. I am well aware 
that this subject cannot be mathematically estimated ; 
that in many cases the mind of a wise and good man 
may be at a loss to determine, and that the determina- 
tion must be left to personal discretion. But, in the 
present case, there can be neither difficulty, nor doubt. 
No man will pretend that losing his money to a game- 
ster is disposing of it in such a manner as to promote 
the best purpose in his power. If he needs it himself, 
it will be more useful to him to keep it still in his pos- 
session. If he does not need it, it will be incomparably 
better to give it to those who do. To impart it thus to 
a gamester, always a vicious man, often a profligate, 
and always a squanderer, a man known to employ his 
money for sinful purposes only, can never be useful, 
nor even vindicable, in any sense. The proof of this is 
complete. No man ever thought of making a gamester, 
as such, an object of alms-giving. To other prodigals, 
to idlers, and even to drunkards, alms at times are 
given. But the most enlarged charity never dreamed 
of finding a proper object of its bounty in a gamester. 
To stake money in this manner, therefore, is so far 
from employing it in the best manner which is in the 
owner's power, that it is employing it in a manner in- 
defensible, and in every respect sinful. 

From these considerations it is plain, that this argu- 
ment in favour of gaming, cannot avail to the purpose 
for which it is adduced. On the contrary, it only con- 
tributes to exhibit the sinfulness of gaming in a new 
light. 

It often happens, and almost always in the beginning 
of this practice, that the gamesters are youths ; and 
that the property which they stake belongs to their 
parents. This property is never intrusted to children 
for the purpose of gaming. They receive, and their 
parents communicate it for some valuable end, in which 
the promotion of their comfort and welfare was con- 
cerned. In receiving it, the children engaged, either 
expressly or implicitly, to use it for this end. In stak- 
ing it, therefore, at the gaming table, the child is guilty 
of a gross breach of good faith, and literally robs his 
parents of their property. And ' he,' says Solomon 
' who robbeth his father, or his mother, and saith it is 
no sin, is the fit companion of a murderer.' * 

2. The gamester ruins multitudes of his fellow men, 
and injures deeply multitudes more. 

By this I intend, that he plunders them of their pro- 
perty, and reduces them to beggary. The whole his- 
tory of gaming is a mere record of his ruin. It is also 
completely evinced by daily observation. The bank- 
ruptcies continually brought upon mankind in this man- 
ner are innumerable ; particularly upon the young, the 
ignorant, the thoughtless, and the giddy. He who 
can coolly sit down to the ruin, or even to the serious 
injury of one of his fellow men, is an arrant villain, 
equally destitute of common good-will, and common 
honesty. 

3. The gamester corrupts others by his example, and 
thus entails upon them cumnion ruin. 

' One sinner,' saith the wise man, ' destroyeth much 
good.' In no manner is this terrible mischief accom- 
plished so extensively and so effectually as by an evil 

* Prov. xxviii 24. (Hodgson.) 



646 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxiv. 



example. Gamesters are always wicked men, totally 
destitute of principle, and sunk far below the common 
level of corruption. To this degree of turpitude, every 
gamester reduces all those who become his companions. 
The ruin here accomplished is infinitely more dreadful 
than that mentioned under the preceding head. It is 
the endless ruin of the soul ; the destruction of every 
-j3njoyment, and every hope. All other injuries com- 
pared with it are ' nothing, and less than nothing.' 
With the guilt of accomplishing this stupendous evil, 
.the gamester is wholly chargeable, and for this guilt he 
nill be compelled to answer at the final day. What 
sober man, nay, what profligate, would not tremble at 
the thought of assuming this reponsibility ? But the 
gamester coolly and quietly makes himself answerable, 
not for the ruin of one soul, but of multitudes. 

4. The gamester ruins his family. 

The gamester voluntarily and causelessly exposes him- 
self to beggary. In this conduct he sets afloat, without 
any security, and against every rational hope, the pro- 
perty on which his wife and children are to be support- 
ed, and by which his children are to be educated, and 
settled for life. Almost every gamester is ruined by 
play. By this disaster, both the comforts and the hopes 
of his family are destroyed, their spirits are broken and 
lost, and all their efforts to gain character and subsist- 
ence prevented. But ' if any man provide not for his 
own, especiallyfor those of his own house, he hath denied 
the faith, and is worse than an infidel.' What then 
shall be said of the man who squanders in this useless 
and guilty manner all that himself or his ancestors have 
provided ? To the mere lust of gaming he sacrifices 
the property on which his family might subsist with 
comfort and reputation, by which they might be edu- 
cated to usefulness and honour, and by which they 
might be settled advantageously in life. To this lust 
therefore he sacrifices their subsistence, their hopes, 
their all. 

In the mean time, he performs few or none of the great 
duties of a parent. He does not instruct ; he does not 
govern ; he cannot reprove ; he cannot pray with his 
children ; he cannot pray for them! 

His example is only pernicious. He keeps the worst 
hours, frequents the worst places, attaches himself to the 
worst company ; and thus, taking his children by the 
hand, conducts them to the same certain means of de- 
struction. 

His character, therefore, contemptible and odious in 
itself, must be seen by them to be contemptible. Instead 
of the privilege and blessing always enjoyed in behold- 
ing a worthy, and pious, and venerable father, they suffer 
the deplorable calamity of seeing him who stands in this 
nffecting relation, a curse to themselves, and a nuisance 
to mankind. 

II. I shall now consider those evils of yarning 
which immediately respect themselves. 

These evils are very numerous, as well as very im- 
portant. The first which I shall mention, is, that 

It is a waste of time. 

The only light in which gaming is commonly re- 
garded as justifiable is that of amusement. Amuse- 
ments mankind certainly need ; and what they need is 
lawful. But gaming is not rendered lawful by this con- 
sideration. 

Kvery lawful amusement is of such a nature as to 
refresh and invigorate either the body or the mind. 



But gaming does neither. That it does not refresh 
the body is too obvious to demand either proof, or asser- 
tion. Equally certain is it, that it does not refresh or 
invigorate the mind. It furnishes no valuable infor- 
mation ; it adds no strength to the reasoning powers. 
So far as it has influence at all, it wearies the intellec- 
tual faculties, and is attended with all the fatigue, but 
with no part of the benefit, which is experienced in se- 
vere study. 

It neither sweetens nor enlivens the temper. On the 
contrary, it is a grave, dull, spiritless employment, at 
which almost all persons lose their cheerfulness, and 
impair their native sweetness of disposition ; in which 
the temper is soured ; and in which gloom and morose- 
ness, and frequently envy and malice, are not only 
created, but strengthened into immovable habits. 
Gamesters, I know, herd together. But it is without 
good-will, or social feelings, and merely because gaming 
makes it necessary. Their minds are engrossed, but 
not invigorated. Their time is ardently and anxiously, 
but not cheerfully, employed. They flock to the gam- 
ing-table, just as the hermit and the thief return to their 
respective employments ; because habit has made these 
employments necessary to them ; although the hermit, 
if he would make the experiment, would be happier in 
society ; and the thief, as an honest man. 

All the real pleasure found in gaming, except that 
which arises from the love of sin, is found in the acqui- 
sition of money, or the pride of victory, and the superior 
skill, or the fortunate chance, from which it is derived. 
All these are base and sordid sources of pleasure. Gam- 
ing, then, is not a useful, and of course not a justifiable 
amusement. 

In the mean while, all the time employed in it is 
wasted and lost. This loss is immense. No man can 
answer for it to his Maker ; no man can repair the in- 
jury which is done to himself. It cannot be too often 
said, nor too strongly realized, that time is the most 
valuable of all things ; since on the proper employment 
of it depends every blessing which we are capable ot' 
receiving. He who wastes it, as every gamester does, 
is guilty of a prodigality which cannot be estimated. 
All men are bound by the most solemn obligations to 
' redeem their time ;' that is, to make the most profit- 
able use of every day. But gaming is profitable for 
nothing. For if it is useless as an amusement, it is ab- 
solutely useless. 

2. Gaming is a wanton waste of our faculties and pri- 
vileges. 

Every faculty and every privilege was given to us, 
only that we might promote the glory of God, and the 
real good of ourselves and our fellow men. From 
labouring always to these ends there is no exemption 
and no excuse. ' Whether ye eat, or drink,' saith St 
Paul, < or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.' 
— ' To him who, by a patient continuance in well-doing, 
seeks for glory, honour, and immortality,' and to him 
only is promised ' eternal life.' Our faculties are our 
understanding, our affections, and our energy. Our 
privileges are the means of education, knowledge, vir- 
tue, usefulness, and enjoyment. But none of our fa- 
culties are benefited by gaming. The understanding is 
not enlarged, the affections are not improved, the en- 
ergy is not invigorated ; while all these privileges are 
at the same time abused and thrown away. How great 
a waste of what mighty blessings is here ! How entire 



THE LAW OF GOD.— GAMING. 



b'47 



a frustration of the end of our being ! With a due im- 
provement of his faculties and privileges, every man 
may become wise and virtuous. How incalculable is 
the difference between such a man and a gamester ! 

A glorious privilege, the result of all those which 
have been mentioned, is that of doing our duty. But 
gaming is in itself, and in its consequences, an entire 
omission of all duty. With industry and economy 
the whole life of the gamester is at war. His prime 
employment cherishes unceasingly gross appetites, and 
gross passions ; and forces him to be a stranger to self- 
government. Into the heart of a man engrossed by 
schemes of acquiring the property of his neighbour, by 
the throwing of dice, and the shuffling of cards, it is 
impossible that benevolence should enter. In acts of 
beneficence, hands which have so long been made the 
instrument of covetousness and plunder can never be 
employed. 

No gamester was ever a man of piety so long as he 
was a gamester. 

Of no gamester can it be said, ' Behold he prayeth.' 
The very first step towards the assumption of this cha- 
racter must be deep repentance for his gross and guilty 
life, accompanied by an entire self-abhorrence, and fol- 
lowed by a vigorous reformation. 

3. Gaming is a wanton and wicked waste of property. 

The end for which our property was given, is the 
same to which our faculties and privileges are destined. 
To this end, to some purpose really acceptable to God, 
and really useful to ourselves and others, it can always 
be applied. There never was a situation in which, there 
never was a man by whom, all his property could not 
be devoted to some useful purpose within his reach. 
But squandering money at the gaming-table is of no 
use either to the loser or to the winner. If the loser 
has common sense, he can take no pleasure in his losses. 
If the winner has any common honesty, he can take no 
pleasure in his gains. Beside the suffering involved in 
his immediate losses, the loser forms a pernicious habit 
of undervaluing property ; and cuts himself off both 
from doing and enjoying that good which the property 
lost might have procured. Nor is the winner more 
happily affected. From winning often, especially when 
in straitened circumstances, he soon acquires full con- 
fidence that he shall win whenever it is necessary. 
Hence he expends what he has gained on objects of no 
value. ' Male parta, male dilabuntur,' is probably a 
maxim in every nation ; and is verified by all human 
experience. 

With habits of this nature, we cannot wonder that 
gamesters, such, I mean, as devote themselves to this 
employment, universally become beggars. ' Wealth,' 
says Solomon, ' gotten by vanity, is diminished :' that 
is, wealth acquired by vain and dishonest courses of 
lite. ' Drowsiness,' says the same profound observer of 
human life and manners, ' will clothe a man with rags.' 
Drowsiness here intends that course of conduct, which, 
in opposition to the steady energy and vigorous efforts 
of industry, aims at obtaining a subsistence by dishonest 
and low-minded arts. Such were the facts three thou- 
sand years ago: such are the facts at the present hour. 
In the whole list of jockeys and sharpers, it is rare in 
this and probably in all other countries, that we find a 
man possessed of even moderate property. Those 
who are most successful, acquire such habits of expense, 
euch expectations of supplying their wants by playing 



at any time, and consequently such a contempt for eco- 
nomy, and even for a common prudence, that they be- 
come poor of course. The old age of a gamester is the 
cold and comfortless evening of a forlorn and miserable 
day. 

4. Gaming is the destruction of character. 

' A good name,' says Solomon, ' is better than great 
riches, and loving favour, than silver and gold.' A fair, 
unblemished reputation is one of the chief blessings of 
man ; one of his prime enjoyments ; one of his princi- 
pal means of usefulness. Without it he can obtain 
neither influence, nor confidence ; neither profitable 
employments, nor real friends. But no gamester was 
ever respected as such. Whatever talents or advan- 
tages he may otherwise have possessed, his character 
has been always sunk by his gaming. Look around 
the world, and judge for yourselves. You never knew, 
and therefore never will know a gamester, who in this 
character was regarded by his neighbours with esteem. 
Common sense steadily attaches disgrace to the name. 
So conscious of this fact are the whole class of game- 
sters, that they usually take effectual pains to carry on 
their wretched employment in scenes of solitude and 
secrecy, where they are effectually hidden from the eyes 
of mankind. 

But who that possesses common sobriety, or even 
sanity of mind, who that is not a fair candidate for 
Bedlam, would voluntarily destroy the blessing of his 
own good name ? The slanderer, who blasts the repu- 
tation of another, is universally and justly regarded 
with abhorrence. What the slanderer does for another, 
the gamester does for himself. The slanderer is a vile 
and abominable wretch. In what respect is the game- 
ster less vile and abominable ? The slanderer is an 
assassin ; the gamester is a suicide. 

5. Gaming is the direct road to many other sins. 
Every gamester, with too few exceptions to deserve 

notice, becomes a sharper of course. High expecta- 
tions of acquiring property suddenly, distressing disap- 
pointments, great gains, and great losses instantaneously 
experienced, strong hopes alternated with strong fears, 
and holding the mind habitually in a state of anxious 
suspense, regularly prove too powerful for the honesty 
of every man who has not too much virtue to be a 
gamester. By what is called fair play he fails of being 
successful. A series of ill success tempts him to play 
unfairly. Ultimately, he is charged with it. He de- 
nies it ; and is thus guilty of falsehood. The charge is 
reiterated. He swears to the truth of his denial ; and 
is thus guilty of perjury. His oath is doubted. He 
becomes angry, prafane, and furious ; and not unfre- 
quently engages in a quarrel to vindicate his wounded 
honour. At times the dispute is terminated by a duel. 
In all ordinary circumstances, his affections become 
sour, and his mind envious at the success of his com- 
panions, and malicious towards their persons. At the 
same time, he is prompted to murmur at his ill success ; 
to curse what he calls his luck, but what is in truth a 
dispensation of God ; and to adopt a course of profane, 
blasphemous, and fiend-like language. To close this 
wretched detail, the gamester very often terminates his 
miserable career with drunkenness, and not unfrequent- 
ly with self-murder. Who, that is not lost to every 
hope of virtue, who that is not lost to common sense 
and common feeling, can be willing to thrust himself 
into a course of life, or in the entrance upon a course 



648 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



("Shr. cxxrv. 



of life, which presents at the very gate most formidable 
temptations to these enormous sins? Who would be 
willing that a father, a husband, a brother, or a son 
should be guilty of these sins, or exposed to these 
temptations ? This question will probably never be 
answered. Will it then he said, that men are found 
who love these relations better than themselves ? It 
will not be said. But it must be said, because it is 
true, that multitudes of men resort to the gaming-table 
with an infantine giddiness of mind ; a hair-brained 
spirit of adventure ; a greedy avarice, and a treacher- 
ous confidence .in their own watchfulness against temp- 
tations; in^tthat prudent care which, always seen with 
microscopic eyes, they considered as abundantly suffi- 
cient to secure themselves from every danger. Thus, 
while ' the really prudent man foreseeth the evil, and 
hideth himself,' these ' simple,' self-deceived beings 
' pass on, and are punished.' 

From these considerations it is, if I mistake not, 
evident beyond debate, that gaming is a gross fraud ; 
that, in many other points of view, it is an enormous 
sin ; and that it is, in an alarming degree, fatal to all 
the real interests of man. There are, however, persons, 
who, because they escape some of the dangers, and 
avoid some of the iniquities connected with this prac- 
tice, will flatter themselves that they are scarcely charge- 
able with the rest. They may not claim the character 
of virtue ; but they will insist that their conduct is 
almost, if not entirely, innocent ; and will at least be- 
lieve themselves, if guilty at all, to be guilty only in a 
very minute degree. To these persons let me seriously 
address the following considerations : — 
(1.) Gaming is an appearance of evil. 
' Abstain from all appearance of evil,' is a command 
of the same God, who said, ' Thou shalt love the Lord, 
thy God, with all thy heart ;' and is therefore armed 
with the same authority. But every person of piety, 
and almost every sober man, pronounces gaming to be 
an evil. It cannot therefore be denied to be an appear- 
ance of evil. By the arguments here advanced, it has 
been shown, unless I am deceived, to be a real and 
dreadful evil. That every man, therefore, is bound to 
abstain from it, cannot be questioned. 

(2.) Every gamester feels it to be an evil. 
In all the early parts of his addiction to this course 
of life, he will find himself frequently employed, if he 
has any moral principles at all, in devising arguments 
and excuses to quiet his own conscience, and justify 
himself to others. This is not the conduct of a man 
who feels himself innocent. No person ever sought an 
excuse for prayer, for honest industry, for the pious 
education of children, or for a faithful attendance on 
the public worship of God. Most persons at the gam- 
ing-table are sensibly disturbed by the unexpected pre- 
sence of a wise and good man. But such persons 
create no disturbance in the minds of those who believe 
themselves to be virtuously employed. Were the Re- 
deemer of mankind again upon earth, no person who 
acknowledged his character would be willing to be 
found by him at a gaming-table. 
(3.) Gaming cannot be prayed for. 

Nothing can be right or innocent for which we Can- 
to o 

not pray. In all pursuits which he believes to be justi- 
fiable, every man can without difficulty ask for the 
blessing of God. But no man ever asked, no man ever 
will ask, that is, seriously and solemnly, or, in other 



words, really for the blessing of God upon the employ- 
ment of gaming. But that which cannot be prayed for 
is sinful. 

(4.) Neither gaming, nor the circumstances which 
regularly attend it can be recited at the day of judg- 
ment. 

I call upon every gamester solemnly to consider, 
whether he will be able to come before ' the Judge of 
the quick and the dead,' and declare to him with confi- 
dence, or even with hope, that he has spent his life, or any 
part of it, in the business of gaming. But the conduct 
which cannot be rehearsed then, cannot be right now. 
Who can soberly approve in this world of that which 
will condemn him in the world to come? 

There are many persons who condemn what is called 
gambling, or gaming for money, and who yet appear 
to think themselves justified in gaming for mere amuse- 
ment. Let me exhort all such persons to remember, 
that, whatever influence this conduct may have upon 
themselves, it will, as an example, be pernicious to 
others. Multitudes will know that they game, who will 
never know that they do not game for money. Multi- 
tudes also will be either unable, or uninclined, to make 
any serious distinction between these kinds of conduct. 
All these will directly plead the example as a justifica- 
tion of themselves, or at least as a palliation' of their 
own guilt. This will peculiarly be the fact, where the 
persons concerned are persons of reputation ; and un- 
fortunately, a considerable number of those who employ 
themselves in gaming for amusement, are of this charac- 
ter. The example of one such person will be pleaded 
by all who know it. Under the wings of one such 
man, a multitude of gamblers, almost all of whom are 
without reputation, and great numbers low, contempti- 
ble beings, will gather; and feel themselves brooded in 
safety, and secured from the dreaded intrusions of pub- 
lic censure. Were gambling unfurnished with reputa- 
ble and fashionable examples, it would, I think, be 
easily exterminated from the world. Every person 
possessed of a generally fair character may therefore 
feel assured, that if he games for amusement, he is 
one of the means, and not a small one, of keeping 
gambling alive among mankind ; and that he contri- 
butes efficaciously to the existence of all the sin and all 
the misery which it will produce at future periods. 

To these observations it will probably he replied, 
' Must I deny myself an innocent pleasure, because my 
neighbour is pleased to make a bad use of my example ?' 
St Paul has long since answered this question. ' For 
meats destroy not the work of God. All things indeed 
are pure ; but it is evil for that man who eateth with 
offence. It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink 
wine, nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or 
is offended, or is made weak,' Rom. xiv. 20, 21. And 
again, 1 Cor. viii. 13, ' Wherefore, if meat make my 
brother to stumble, I will eat no flesh while the world 
standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.' However 
innocent gaming for amusement may be, it cannot be 
more innocent than ' eating flesh,' than doing that 
which the apostle has pronounced ' pure.' Yet the 
apostle, and God who inspired him, have declared, that 
whatever occasions our brother to stumble, or fall into 
sin, it is good not to do, however innocent it may be 
otherwise ; and the apostle has declared, that he would 
not do this, even though ' eating flesh,' so innocent, so 
directly allowed by God, and so important as food for 



THE LAW OF GOD.— TRUTH AND VERACITY. 



649 



nian, were the thing in question, no, ' not while the 
world standeth.' Nay, he has farther declared in the 
verse preceding that last quoted, that when, in such 
cases, ' we wound the weak conscience of our brother, 
we sin against Christ.' All this he declares concerning 
eating flesh, and concerning every other innocent 
thing. If then our gaining for amusement be, what it 
cannot fail to be, a cause of inducing others to game 
for money, to become gamesters, and to fall into any 
or all of these sins ; then in gaming for amusement we 
sin against Christ, by wounding the conscience of our 
weaker brethren, and becoming the direct means of 
tempting them to sin. 

The supposition here made is, however, false. Gam- 
ing for amusement, in such as are either partially or 
wholly games of chance, particularly with cards and 
dice, is not, and cannot be, innocent. It is, almost of 
course, a sinful waste of time. As an amusement, it is 
unnecessary and useless. It refreshes neither the mind 
nor the body ; and fails therefore essentially of being a 
lawful amusement. Better amusements can always be 
substituted for it ; particularly exercise, reading, and 
conversation ; and among amusements, as well as among 
employments, we are bound to select the best in our 
power. The controversy, the hope of victory, the re- 
luctance to be vanquished, and universally that con- 
tinual state of suspense and anxiety always experienced 
in gaming, have, although in a less degree, substan- 
tially the same influence on the mind, and are fur- 
nished with the same temptations, which are found in 
gaming for money. In addition to these things, gam- 
ing for money is almost always the consequence of an 
addiction to gaming for amusement. The expectation 
that we shall be able to withstand the allurements by 



which others have fallen, is a mere and ruinous pre- 
sumption ; the presumption of ' a man, wise in his own 
conceit ;' of whom ' there is less hope than of a fool.' 
The probabilities, that we shall fall where so many have 
fallen, are millions to one ; and the contrary opinion is 
only a dream of lunacy. At the same time, no man 
can stand up in his closet before his Maker, and thank 
him for the privilege of gaming to-day, or ask his bless- 
ing to enable him to game to-morrow. 

But the influence of example is abundantly sufficient 
to prove the sinfulness of gaming for amusement. Call 
to mind the extent to which this evil has spread. Think 
what amazing multitudes have been corrupted, dis- 
tressed, and ruined by it for this world, and that which 
is to come. Think how many families have been 
plunged by it in beggary, and overwhelmed by it in 
vice. Think how many persons have become liars at 
the gaming-table, how many perjured, how many drunk- 
ards, how many blasphemers, how many suicides. ' If 
Europe,' said Montesquieu, ' is to be ruined, it will be 
ruined by gaming.' Remember that, unless persons of 
reputution gamed for amusement, persons without re- 
putation would soon cease to game for money. Then 
call to mind, that your example is one of the means 
which produce all these evils, and continue the prac- 
tice, together with its miserable consequences, in the 
world. Remember, that you set the snare, spread the 
corruption, and effectuate the ruin; that you help to 
fill the world with wretchedness and sin, and both al- 
lure and lead your fellow men to final perdition. With 
these plain and solemn truths in full view, look up to 
God ; and, if you can, declare that there is no sin in 
gaming for amusement. 



SERMON CXXV. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE.-.THE NINTH COMMANDMENT THE MATURE 

AND IMPORTANCE OF TRUTH AND VERACITY. 



Thou s7ta.lt not bear false witness against thy neighbour — Exod. xx. 1 G. 



The preceding command was intended to secure justice 
to mankind : this was intended to establish truth. 
The word truth denotes, among other things, 

1. Such declarations as are accordant with the real 
Btnte of things. 

2. That division of truth, which is called moral, or 
evangelical. 

3. Veracity, or a disposition to speak truth. 

4. Faithfulness, or a disposition to fulfill exactly pro- 
mises, trusts, and covenants. 

Under this command are properly ranged the follow- 
ing subjects : — 
I. Truth. 
II.' Lying. 

III. Perjury. 

IV. Slander. 



These I propose to consider in the order specified. 

The first of them, viz. truth, shall occupy the present 
Discourse. In examining it, it is my design to consi- 
der the nature and importance of truth, and the impor- 
tance of veracity. 

Concerning the former of these subjects I observe, 

1. That truth is an account of the real state of things. 

Mathematical truth is an account of the real state of 
number and quantity, together with their various rela- 
tions ; philosophical truth, understood in the natural 
sense, of material bodies, and their operations ; and 
moral truth, of intelligent beings, their relations, their 
duties, and their actions. 

The real state of things, is that with which only- -we 
have any concern ; and with this our concern is infinite. 
In the present world, so far as the present world only 
4 N 



650 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[&KH. cacxr. 



is concerned, our whole interest is involved in the real 
state of ourselves, our business, and the subjects of it ; 
our families, our country, and mankind. The collec- 
tion of truths which Ave receive concerning these and 
other subjects, is what is called knowledge ; our guide 
to all that conduct which may be useful to us, and our 
security against that which may be noxious. The truth 
that bread is wholesome food, enables us to eat it with 
safety. A falsehood in this case might lead us to swal- 
low poison. A knowledge of the true state of our farms 
and of agriculture, enables us to cultivate our farms 
with profit. A knowledge of the real state of the mar- 
kets, enables us to trade with safety and success. A. 
knowledge of the real characters of men enables us to 
choose those who will be our real friends ; and secures 
us from inviting to our friendship base and treacherous 
men. Misapprehension, in these respects, would ruin 
both our business and ourselves. 

In the moral world, the truth concerning God, his 
pleasure, ourselves, the relations which we sustain to 
him and to each other, and the duties springing from 
these relations, enables us to obey him, to become bless- 
ings to each other, and to obtain the blessings of im- 
mortality. Falsehood, in these respects, would lead 
us infinitely astray. False apprehensions of God have 
led a great part of mankind to worship devils, men, 
beasts, trees, stocks, and stones ; to mistake sin for 
virtue, and ruin for safety. No man ever dreamed that 
his interests lay in the regions of fiction, or that his so- 
ber correspondence should be carried on with fairies 
and genii. But the man who embraces falsehood, and 
is governed by it, places his interests, so far, in a world 
equally visionary ; and corresponds not with real be- 
ings, but with creatures of fancy. As happiness can 
never come to us from the regions of fiction, or their 
imaginary inhabitants ; so happiness never sprang, and 
never will spring, from false views of the real world, 
and its real inhabitants. Our only connexion with 
these objects is through the medium of truth, or the 
knowledge of their real state. 

2. Truth is, in itself, a rich source of enjoyment. 

By this I intend, that it is an object immediately en- 
joyed ; and that when presented to the mind it com- 
municates pleasure of course. 

Fiction may be in this sense, and I acknowledge of- 
ten is, a source of real enjoyment to the mind. God, to 
raise our views to a better world than that which has 
been ruined by our apostasy, and to awaken in us de- 
sires for a nobler happiness than any which this world 
supplies, has made us capable of forming many delight- 
ful objects in our imagination, many which are beauti- 
ful, many which are sublime, and many which are won- 
derful. On these the mind rests with pleasure during 
short periods, especially in youth ; and, so long as they 
are regarded as objects of imagination merely, they are 
sources of pleasure which may be really enjoyed, and 
to a considerable extent. But when any fiction is 
changed into a falsehood ; when it ceases to be an ob- 
ject of the imagination, and becomes an object of be- 
lief; it is always, sooner or later, a source of suffering, 
and not of enjoyment. Even in the character of fic- 
tion, it gradually loses its power to please. As we ad- 
vance in years, the love of truth, considered as a source 
of pleasure merely, takes its place ; and the mind seeks 
for enjoyment in knowledge, and not in the exercises 
of imagination. 



But truth is always capable of yielding more delighs 
to the mind than fiction ; or, in other words, intellec- 
tual enjoyment is always capable of being superior to 
that which flows in by the fancy. The actual state of 
things which God has made, is in every respect more 
beautiful, glorious, and desirable than any which the 
mind can imagine. Every person who understands 
the modes in which the mind is actively employed in 
forming complex ideas, whether of the intellect or the 
imagination, knows that all such ideas are made out of 
those which it receives from objects really existing. 
These it can compound and compare ; but can add to 
them nothing but what it has already perceived. New 
beauty, new sublimity, new loveliness, it can form, only 
by bringing together in new unions the perception of 
beauty, sublimity, and loveliness which it has derived 
either from the actual state of things, or from revela- 
tion. In the objects formed by the fancy, therefore, 
there can be nothing in degree more sublime, beauti- 
ful, or lovely than that which it has already received. 
in conformity with these observations, no object was 
ever described by the pen of man, so as to make the 
impression of sublimity equally with the object itself. 
No images in human writings were ever so sublime 
as those of inspiration. No character formed by 
the imagination was ever to be compared with that of 
Christ. 

When I speak of the actual state of things which 
God has made, as in every respect more beautiful, glo- 
rious, and desirable than any which the mind can im- 
agine, I mean the whole state of things. The universe 
is a single system. Everything belonging to it is a 
necessary, and proper part of the system ; such a part 
as infinite wisdom thought it best to make ; and there- 
fore such as was more desirable than anything else in 
its place. The w : hole, taken together, is a perfect sys- 
tem ; the result of the perfect views of the all-perfect 
mind. In such a sense is it perfect, that it is truly said, 
' Jehovah shall rejoice in his works :' that is, because 
all, united, are such as to accomplish to the utmost, the 
good pleasure of his boundless wisdom. The truth con- 
cerning this system, or the knowledge of its real state, 
will for ever delight, as well as enlarge the minds of 
virtuous and immortal beings. 

In the present world, imperfect, prejudiced, and nar- 
row as our minds are, the exhibitions of truth concern- 
ing this subject in the Scriptures are not only superior 
to everything conceived by the human imagination, 
but more delightful to every virtuous being ; more de- 
lightful beyond comparison, as well as superior beyond 
degree. The character of God, the mediation of the 
Redeemer, the agency of the divine Spirit, the dispen- 
sations of infinite mercy, the restoration of sinners to 
virtue and happiness, the consummation of all things, 
the blessings of immortality, the glory of heaven, and 
the future union of sanctified minds in that delightful 
world, leave out of sight and out of remembrance all 
the creations of poetry, all the splendid excursions of 
imagination. ' Into these things, angels desire to look.' 
All those whose minds are attuned to the disposition of 
angels, love to follow them in this divine employment. 
Nay, God himself, regards this combination of wonder- 
ful objects as a glorious picture, an illustrious emana- 
tion of his own wisdom, which he beholds for ever with 
the smiles of infinite complacency. 

3. That great division of truth, which is called moral 



THE LAW OF GOD TRUTH AND VERACITY. 



651 



or evangelical truth, is, in an important sense, the foun- 
dation of all virtue. 

' Sanctify them through thy truth : thy word is truth, 
said our Saviour, in his intercessory prayer ; John xvii. 

17 ' Of 'his own will begat he us, with the word of 

truth,' James i. 17 ' The truth,' said Christ to the 

Jews, ' shall make you free.' From these declarations 
it is completely evident, that evangelical truth is the 
means of that mighty change in the human soul, by 
which, according to the strong language of the Scrip- 
tures, it is ' turned from darkness unto light, and from 
the power of Satan unto God.' 

' The law of the Lord,' says David, 'is perfect, con- 
verting the soul,' but the law of God is nothing but 
truth communicated in the preceptive form. All its 
influence on the soul is derived from this fact ; and, 
were it not conformed to truth, or were it, in other 
words, founded on falsehood, its moral influence would 
cease. Particularly, its influence to produce this con- 
version would be annihilated. Truth then is, in this 
point of view, of just as much importance to the happi- 
ness of mankind, and to the glory of God, as the salva- 
tion of all the millions who have been or will be saved. 

Falsehood, or error, has in the mean time never had 
the least influence towards the accomplishment of this 
glorious purpose. From the erroneous moral systems 
of men, no individual ever gained the least tendency 
towards real virtue. Truths, indeed, these systems have 
always involved ; and the influence of these truths has 
so far been felt by mankind, as to prompt them to many 
commendable actions, and to prevent them from becom- 
ing as abandoned as they would otherwise have been. 
The errors which they contained have, so far as they 
were believed, been the means of sin only. Of cordial 
and thorough reformation they have been absolutely 
barren. Truth and falsehood have been blended in 
them with such confusion, as to be inseparable by the 
men who embraced them, without very different efforts 
from those which they have been inclined, and, in most 
cases, able to make. They have therefore been swal- 
lowed whole ; and have produced such effects as a 
mind enlightened by revelation could not fail to fore- 
see. Error became the predominating rule of action 
to all their votaries ; and the truth was chiefly lost and 
forgotten. 

But moral truth is not merely a rule to teach us 
what virtue is, and to guide us ultimately to this glorious 
attainment. To discern it with the understanding, and 
to welcome it to the heart, is virtue itself as existing in 
the soul ; and, when carried out into action, conformity 
also to its dictates, is all which is included in the name 
of virtue. In other words, virtue is nothing but volun- 
tary obedience to truth. 

Error, on the contrary, is the foundation of all ini- 
quity. It leads the soul only away from duty, from 
virtue, from salvation, and from God. To the divine 
kingdom it is only hostile. To the reformation and 
happiness of man it is ruinous. It promotes no cause, 
but that of Satan ; it forms no character, but that of 
sin. All the just definitions of sin are involved in this ; 
that it is nothing but voluntary obedience to error. 

In the mean time, all the motives to virtue are found 
in the general system of truth ; as all the motives to 
sin are found in systems of error. Error contains no- 
thing in it to prompt us to obey God, to perform our 
duty, or to seek the salvation of ourselves and others. 



.* s a motive or combination of motives, error contains 
nothing but inducements to sin ; and truth nothing but 
inducements to holiness. In all these important par- 
ticulars, truth is the basis of virtue. 

It cannot be thought strange, then, that ' love,' or 
evangelical excellence, or, in other words, real virtue, 
should ' rejoice in the truth ;' that holiness should be 
styled by St Paul, ' holiness of truth ;' or that ' those 
who know not God, and obey not the gospel,' or truth, 
' of our Lord Jesus Christ,' should be classed together 
in the ruin of the final day. 

By these views of the importance of truth, we are 
naturally led to the second subject of discourse, viz., 
veracity. 

The importance of veracity will sufficiently appear 
from the following considerations : — 

1. Almost all the truth which we know, we derive 
from communication ; and, of course, almost all the be- 
nefits of truth which we enjoy. 

A man deprived of the communication of others, 
and left wholly to his own observation, would possess 
little more knowledge than a brute. It would be no 
easy matter to explain how he could subsist. If we 
suppose him to subsist through the ordinary period of 
human life, it is certain that he would know nothing 
besides his own feelings, and the little number of objects 
which fell under his observation. Even of these he would 
rather form ideas, than possess knowledge. Of the re- 
lations between them he must remain almost absolutely 
ignorant. Nor would he easily acquire the skill ne- 
cessary to construct even the simplest propositions. 
Still less would he be able to reason, to illustrate, and 
to prove. In a word, his mind would rise in very few 
things above that of a dog, or an elephant ; while, in 
almost all, he would fall far below them. 

As he would know scarcely any thing concerning the 
present world, so it is plain, he would know nothing of 
the world to come. Of God, of duty, of virtue, and of 
immortality, he would not form a single idea. Nor 
could he, without manifest impropriety, be styled a ra- 
tional being. How could such a man enjoy the bene- 
fits of truth at all ? 

The difference between this man, as an intelligent 
being, and Newton, Berkeley, or Locke, is made by 
communication. The mass of ideas accumulated by an 
individual is communicated to others ; and those of a 
preceding generation, to the generation which follows. 
By the labours of many individuals, and in the progress 
of successive generations, the knowledge formed out of 
these ideas has increased to that height and extent 
which exist at the present period. Every kind of busi- 
ness, art, and science has been thus brought to the per- 
fection in which we possess it ; and all the benefits 
which these things confer upon the present race of man- 
kind arc derived solely from communication. For our 
knowledge of the future world we are indebted wholly 
to communications from God. To the same source we 
are indebted for the chief knowledge which we possess 
concerning the moral system. AH this knowledge is 
indeed contained in the Scriptures; yet a part of it 
may be, and has been, acquired without their assistance. 
To this knowledge we are indebted for the direction, 
comfort, and hope which we enjoy in the character of 
moral beings ; as we are to natural knowledge for 
the necessaries and conveniences of the present life. 
To communication, therefore, we owe almost every- 



652 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxv. 



thing, whether present or future, which can be called 
desirable. 

But the whole value, the whole usefulness, of com- 
munication, is derived solely from the truths which it 
conveys. False information can be of no use to us. As 
our own concern lies with the real state of things, and 
the good or evil which we are to enjoy or suffer, is de- 
pendent on our knowledge of that state, and the conduct 
dictated by this knowledge, it is evident that the infor- 
mation which leads us to conceive erroneously of the 
things with which we are connected, will both hinder us 
from the acquisition of good, and expose us to the suf- 
ferance of evil. The measures by which we design to 
acquire good, and to avoid evil, will in both cases fail of 
their effect ; because, being founded on erroneous appre- 
hensions, they will be unsuited to the existing state of 
things, and therefore to the accomplishment of the in- 
tended purpose. If we are falsely informed of business, 
we shall conduct it unhappily ; if of the markets, we 
shall buy and sell with loss ; if of our duty, we shall 
perform it amiss, or not at all ; if of the means of sal- 
vation, we shall fail of it ; if of the character and plea- 
sure of God, we shall offend him in all our attempted 
services. Thus it is plain, that all the benefits of com- 
munication are dependent on its truth ; and that almost 
very benefit of truth, experienced by rational beings, 
is derived form their mutual veracity. 

2. Veracity is the only foundation of confidence. 

Confidence is the great bond of society among in- 
telligent beings. Intelligent creatures are supremely 
dependent on their Creator, and, to a vast extent, on 
each other. From him, ultimately, they derive all the 
good which they enjoy ; and without his perpetual pro- 
tection and blessing, they must not only be miserable, 
but must perish. A great part of these blessings he 
has been pleased to communicate to us through the in- 
strumentality and agency of his rational creatures. To 
them immediately we are indebted for blessings innu- 
merable in their multitude, incalculable in their import- 
ance, and indispensable to our daily safety, peace, and 
comfort, and not unfrequently to the continuance of 
our lives. So numerous and so continual are these 
blessings, that they are generally regarded as things of 
course ; and pass by as unnoticed and unseen. 

Originally, all these blessings are unpossessed by 
us ; all of them from time to time being future. It is 
necessary, therefore, that we should provide for the 
acquisition of them by such means as are in our power. 
As for almost all of them we must be indebted to the 
agency of others ; we are compelled, unavoidably, to 
rely on their engagements to supply them. Here the 
field opens in which confidence is to be exercised ; and 
almost at our very entrance into life, it becomes bound- 
less. We are obliged to trust to parents and others for 
protection, food, raiment, and innumerable other things, 
indispensable to our subsistence, as well as our comfort, 
from infancy to manhood. The offices for which we 
rely are necessary, and are rendered ; the benefits are 
indispensable, and are communicated, every day, hour, 
and moment. Confidence is thus diffused everywhere, 
and at all times. We trust as naturally and unceas- 
ingly as we breathe, and with as little consciousness of 
the fact. In the same manner is the same confidence 
extended through life, exercised every moment, placed, 
in a greater or less degree, on every person with whom 
we correspond ; and employed about every object with 



which we have any concern. If we could not confide, 
we should, in a sense, know nothing, acquire nothing, 
and do nothing to any valuable purpose. 

Equally indebted are we to confidence for almost the 
whole of our happiness. The emotion is delightful in 
itself, and indispensable to every other delightful emo- 
tion. It is equally pleasant to trust, and to be trusted. 
No supposable union of esteem and good-will is more 
pleasing, more elevated, or more refined. Accordingly, 
it is thus regarded by those who exercise it, and by 
those towards whom it is exercised. Parents are never 
more delighted than in the entire confidence of their 
children. Children are never more happy than when 
they entirely confide in their parents. 

Equally necessary is confidence to the existence and 
operations of government. Indeed, government with- 
out it would be a nullity. Even the despot himself 
must rely on a numerous train of agents for the accom- 
plishment of his purposes. Without their co-operation, 
he could do nothing towards the control of his subjects 
beyond what he could accomplish by his own physical 
strength. Accordingly, he is always compelled to buy 
the assistance of such agents with extensive gratuities 
of wealth and honour, as well as to force it by terror. 

Virtuous rulers, who govern a free people by laws, 
and by influence, stand only on the mutual confidence 
of themselves and their subjects. Withdraw this confi- 
dence, and the government is annihilated at once : 
the rulers become powerless, and the society is lost h 
anarchy. 

A state of absolute distrust is a state of absolute 
misery. Like the cold hand of death, distrust would 
dissolve the whole frame and texture of the social body ; 
the joints and the ligaments, the energy and the life. 
A country could no longer contain its inhabitants, nor 
even the den its banditti. Such a state of things in this 
world has hitherto never existed in the absolute sense. 

Without confidence, God himself would cease to be 
the moral governor of intelligent creatures. As I have 
elsewhere considered this subject, it will be the less 
necessary to insist upon it here. Still a few observa- 
tions concerning it cannot be improper. 

It is clear, even to a very limited and obtuse appre- 
hension, that without confidence in a ruler, voluntary 
obedience can never exist ; that without voluntary obe- 
dience God can never be pleased with his intelligent 
creatures, since no other can be honourable to him ; 
and that without the same obedience, those creatures 
can never be amiable in his sight, since no other can 
render them virtuous. Distrust is an absolute separa- 
tion of those beings in whom it exists, from those to- 
wards whom it is exercised. A being distrusted can 
never be loved, reverenced, nor voluntarily obeyed. 
Of such obedience, confidence is the commencement 
the soul, and the substance. But where there is no 
truth in the ruler, there can be no confidence in the 
subject. However great, however knowing, the divine 
ruler might be supposed or perceived to be, his great- 
ness and knowledge would, unless accompanied by 
veracity, only inspire suspense and terror; suspense 
and terror pervading the intelligent universe, distract- 
ing every heart, and filling every world with agitation 
and anguish. Omnipotence would indeed enable him 
to compel an external conformity to his pleasure ; but 
the obedience rendered, would be the obedience of 
slaves, and not of children. It i3 a plain and moral 



THE LAW OF GOD TRUTH AND VERACITY. 



653 



impossibility, that a being without veracity should be 
respected or loved. However great and splendid an 
earthly ruler may be, however successful in his designs, 
however magnificent in his mode of living, however 
distinguished for his talents, and however liberal in his 
largesses ; he would, if a liar, be still a base and con- 
temptible being. Falsehood in an infinite Being would 
render him infinitely contemptible. Even the bene- 
volence of the gospel, without truth (if it were possible 
to separate them), would be changed into a kind of 
amiable weakness, a silly, wavering, good nature, and 
would cease to command respect. 

A ruler without truth could offer no motives to his 
subjects, which could induce them to obey. Should he 
enact laws, promise rewards, and threaten penalties ; it 
would be very uncertain whether the law prescribed 
the conduct which would be agreeable to him ; whether 
the rewards would be given to such as faithfully obeyed ; 
or whether the penalties would be inflicted on such as 
disobeyed. Whatever he promised, whatever he 
threatened, no reliance could be placed on his declara- 
tions; and they could therefore hold out no motives to 
obedience. But a moral government is a government 
operating by motives ; and without motives cannot exist. 

Thus it is completely evident, that the kingdom of 
God, or his government of the intelligent universe, 
rests upon truth, as its foundation. 
3. Veracity is the source of inestimable personal good. 

Veracity is the first constituent of an honourable, 
and even of a fair reputation. A bad man, who is 
known always to speak truth, will always command a 
considerable share of respect ; but a liar is despised of 
course. So contemptible is falsehood, that to charge 
any man with this vice is universally regarded as the 
last affront which scorn and ill-nature are able to offer ; 
as an injury for which an atonement can scarcely be 
made. 

Without veracity, virtue, as has been heretofore re- 
marked, can in no sense exist. To the existence of vir- 
tue then in our own minds, veracity is indispensable. 

Equally indispensable is it to self-approbation. Con- 
science, like God, always delights in truth, and always 
approves of speaking truth. '1 his approbation it faith- 
fully and invariably whispers to the soul. Few enjoy- 
ments can be compared with self-approbation. It is 
delightful ; it is full of peace, comfort, and hope ; it is 
independent of time and accident, of friends and ene- 
mies. The world cannot give it : the world cannot 
take it away. 

Conscience, on the other hand, abhors a lie, and 
solemnly and dreadfully reproaches the liar. Wherever 
falsehood is loved and uttered, conscience pierces 
the soul with stings of agony ; and holds up to the cul- 
prit a dreadful mirror, by which all his deformity and 
Suilt are forced upon his view. The terrible likeness 
he is compelled to own. At the sight of this awful im- 
age he trembles, falters, and reluctantly, but irresistibly 
sinks beneath the proper level of his nature. 

\erncity is the source also of all personal dignity. 
There is no dignity without consistency of character. 
A merely fickle, changeable man, although intentionally 
sincere, is at the best but a mere trifler; and can never 
be the subject of real respectability. Moral inconsist- 
ency is still more hostile to dignity. The subject of it 
is to every eye, not only contemptible, but odious. To 
himself particularly he appears of necessity base and 



despicable ; and is forced to feel, that by his own crimes 
he has sunk himself below the proper character and 
rank of man. 

Veracity makes us like to God. This glorious Being 
styles himself ' a God of truth,' and declares it to be im- 
possible that he should lie. Truth is the moral immu- 
tability of his character, and the moral consistency of 
finite intelligences. Him truth surrounds with dignity 
infinite ; them it exalts to a resemblance of him which 
is divine and eternal ; an image of supreme excellence 
and beauty. 

Veracity is no less the source of usefulness. Men 
never voluntarily employ those in whom they do not 
place confidence. ' As vinegar to the teeth, and as 
smoke to the eyes, so is the loiterer to him that sendeth 
him.' The fear of being deceived, the suspense and 
anxiety which we necessarily feel, when our affairs are 
in the hands of unfaithful men, soon forbid a repetition 
of the same experiment. Equally unwilling are we in 
all ordinary cases, to be employed by men of this cha- 
racter. Such men demand from us services, expect from 
us compliances, and propose to us terms, inconsistent 
both with comfort and integrity ; and, when our services 
are performed, they will usually, so far as safety will 
permit, and their own convenience may require, defraud 
us of our proper reward. I know of but one exception 
to these remarks. Bad men do, I acknowledge, employ 
bad men to promote a bad cause : but even they confide 
useful, honourable employment only to persons of integ- 
rity. Equally necessary is this attribute to the produc- 
tion and establishment of that influence which consti- 
tutes a great part of the usefulness of every useful man. 
A liar can neither convince others, nor persuade others. 
Others cannot engage with him in any serious, useful 
design. They cannot enter into his service, nor employ 
him in theirs, with safety or hope. His falsehood is a 
blast upon his character and upon his interests alike. 
He who is connected with him lives in continual fear 
of being betrayed ; and he only who shuns him is either 
happy or safe. 

Finally : Veracity is indispensable to our acceptance 
with God. The psalmist, when he inquires, ' Who shall 
ascend into the tabernacle of the Highest ?' solemnly 
answers, ' He that speaketh truth in his heart ; he that 
sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not.' Such is 
the universal language of the Scriptures. ' Lying lips,' 
saith the wise man, ' are an abomination unto the Lord.' 
. — ' There shall in nowise enter into the city any thing 
that defileth ; nor he that loveth and maketh a lie.' 
Every liar, therefore, knows that he is in a state of con- 
demnation ; that hitherto he has no title to endless life, 
nor a single hope of final acceptance with God. Be- 
fore these blessings can be begun, his ruling character 
must be renounced. He, who ' requireth truth in the 
inward parts,' can turn no eye but that of indignation 
and abhorrence upon a sou] polluted with falsehood, and 
instamped with the foul image of him who ' was a liar 
from the beginning, and the father of it.' In heaven a 
liar would be a gazing-stock, a spot on the beautiful 
and glorious aspect of that glorious world, a curse to 
himself, and a nuisance to its exalted inhabitants! 

There is one world in the universe, and, so far as we 
are informed, but one, in which truth is unknown, and 
falsehood reigns and ravages. Here ' all liars have 
their part ; and all who dwell here are liars. Here to 
deceive, and to bo deceived, is the base employment, 



654 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxvi. 



and the wretched lot. Truth here is never spoken, un- 
less to deceive ; and confidence is never exercised. 
Friendship, sociality, the union of hearts, and the in- 
terchange of affections, are never found in this dreary 
and dreadful region. In the midst of millions every 
individual is alone. A gloomy and terrible solitude 
broods over the desolate vast ; and the eye of suffering 
and sorrow stretching its look of anguish above, around, 
beneath, finds no friend in whom it may confide; no 
bosom on which it may repose with comfort, peace, or 
hope. 

How different is that delightful residence, where all 



who love and speak truth are, by the boundless good- 
ness of the Creator, united in a divine and blissful as- 
sembly ! Here truth by every member of this vast and 
happy family is loved, studied, embraced, and spoken, 
for ever. Confidence here enters the soul, and takes 
up in this unsullied mansion its eternal residence. 
Friendship, the twin-sister of confidence, dwells and 
smiles by her side, and sheds upon the purified mind 
her immortal enjoyments ; while God with infinite com- 
placency beholds this illustrious work of his own hands, 
and showers around it with eternal profusion the ever- 
growing blessings of his unchangeable love. 



SERMON CXXVI 



THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE.— THE NINTH COMMANDMENT. - 

AND CAUSES OF LYING. 



-THE NATURE 



Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. — Exod. xx. 16. 



In the preceding Discourse I considered, at some length, 
the nature and importance of truth and veracity. These 
are the basis of the precept in the text. I shall now go 
on to examine the immediate subject of the text, viz., 
falsehood, under the two following heads : — 

I. Lying. 

II. Slander. 

Under the former of these heads I shall include 
promise-breaking and perjury. 

In discoursing on this subject, I propose to consider, 

The nature, 

The causes, 

The mischiefs, and 

The preventives of lying. 

Concerning the first of these subjects, viz., the nature 
of lying, I observe generally, that a lie is a false decla- 
ration of facts, wilfully made, or made, as is sometimes 
the case, from indifference to truth. 

A false promise is a crime substantially of the same 
nature with a lie in the proper sense. A lie is a false 
declaration of existing facts : a false promise is a false 
declaration of future facts. 

Perjury is a false declaration either of present or 
future facts, wilfully made, accompanied by an oath. 
Perjury in evidence, is a false declai-ation, under oath, 
of existing facts. Perjury under an oath of office or 
trust, is a false declaration of future facts. The future 
facts here referred to are universally such as are sup- 
posed to be under our own control, and are chiefly such 
as are involved in our own conduct. Such at least is 
the case, when the oath or promise is lawfully made. 

Mankind are guilty of lying, that is, substantially 
guilty, in the following ways — 

1. In voluntary declarations of facts which are known 
to be false. 

For example : every narration known to be false is 
a lie. Equally such is every description of a similar 
nature. 

2. In declaring that to be true, which we believe to be 



otherwise ; although, in the end, it should be found that 
the truth was really declared. 

To our minds that is true, or false, which after care- 
ful examination we believe to be so. Before we make 
our declarations, we are bound to examine as impar- 
tially and as thoroughly as we can. After such an ex- 
amination, if we declare agreeably to the best knowledge 
which we are able thus to obtain, and with no more 
confidence than such an examination warrants, our 
veracity is, I apprehend, unimpeachable. We may in- 
deed mistake ; but are in no sense guilty of lying. But 
if we declare that which is contrary to our belief, al- 
though the declaration should be exactly true, we are 
still intentionally, and therefore in the criminal sense, 
liars. 

3. In rashly asserting what is not true, when the as- 
sertion springs from a sinful neglect of examining. 

Inconsiderate and rash men assert roundly, although 
they do not know that which they assert to be true, 
and have no sufficient reasons for believing it to be 
true. This conduct is derived only from the want of a 
just sense of the importance of truth, and the value of 
veracity. Such a sense will prompt every man who 
possesses it to examine before he asserts ; to assert 
with watchfulness and caution ; and, where he does not 
feel himself warranted to make unqualified declara- 
tions, to express his belief, his opinion, or his appre- 
hension. 

No excuse can be given for this indifference to truth. 
To mankind its importance is infinite. The sacrifice of 
it is, in all instances, an injury which can neither be 
repaired nor recalled. Every man is bound to regard 
it in this manner, to enable himself to speak truth only, 
whenever he speaks at all. He, therefore, who by a 
voluntary negligence is led rashly to make false asser- 
tions, is without excuse. 

4. In professing to declare the whole truth, and yet 
concealing a part of it, with an intention to deceive. 

A wilful deception is here intended, and accom- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— .LYING. 



655 



plished; the very thing- which constitutes the essence 
of lying. The means, indeed, differ; but the spirit, 
the guilt, and the purpose are the same. 

There is, I acknowledge, a prudent and justifiable 
concealment, as well as a guilty one. What others have 
not a right to know, we are not bound to declare. Nor 
are we, of course, bound to disclose the whole of a sub- 
ject, in many cases, where we may be willing to com- 
municate a part. But in every case our disclosures and 
our concealments must be exactly accordant with our 
professions. The writer who professes to record the 
whole of a story, is inexcusable if he narrate only a 
part ; although everything which he actually declares 
may be true. The witness who, under the oath of evi- 
dence, withholds any thing which he knows pertaining 
to the subject in debate, is perjured. 

5. In colouring the subject of our declaration so as 
to give it a different aspect from the true one. 

This is an extensive field of falsehood ; too exten- 
sive, indeed, to be thoroughly explored at the present 
time. 

A common mode of transgressing in the way here 
generally described, is to represent the conduct of 
others truly, perhaps, as to the principal facts, and to 
surround it with such circumstances, annex to it such 
appendages, and attribute it to such motives, as, taken 
together, will give it an appearance either partially or 
wholly false ; and, as is common in instances of this 
nature, very injurious to them. 

Another mode of transgressing in this way is to ex- 
hibit the opinions and doctrines of others, not in lan- 
guage which they would acknowledge, but in language 
of our own choice ; selected for the purpose of render- 
ing such opinions or doctrines absurd and deformed, 
and of rendering those who hold them odious to others. 
This is, almost of course, accompanied with, what is 
exactly of the same nature, charging upon them conse- 
quences which we make, and they disclaim. 

The doctrines of the Reformation have in a very re- 
markable manner, been followed and persecuted with 
this species of falsehood. It is at least extraordinary, 
if not singular, that these doctrines are never or very 
rarely, if ever, represented by those who oppose them 
in such terms as are used by those who profess them ; 
but in terms which materially vary the nature of the 
doctrines. In this manner it is plainly intended to 
make them objects of alarm and abhorrence to others ; 
and to engage by this obliquity of representation the 
passions of mankind in a course of hostility against 
their defenders. Every class of men have undoubtedly 
a right to express their own opinions in their own 
terms ; and to admit or reject such consequences of 
their opinions as they think proper. The doctrines 
may indeed be fairly impeached, and by argument 
shown to be absurd, if it can be done ; and any conse- 
quences may, so far as it can be shown by reason, be 
proved to follow from them. But to vary the terms in 
■which the doctrine is exhibited from those in which it 
is declared by its defenders, and to charge them with 
holding it in such a manner as we are pleased to ex- 
press it ; to draw consequences from it at our own 
pleasure, and exhibit them as the opinions of those with 
whom we contend, although disclaimed by them; is 
plainly disingenuous, false, and criminal. 

Another example of the same nature is presented to 
us by constructive narration. 



By this I intend that narration, in which the writer 
or speaker construes events, together with the actions, 
motives, and characters of those concerned in them, ira 
such a manner as he pleases ; that is, in a manner ac- 
cordant with his own views, interest, passions, and pre- 
judices ; and interweaves his construction in the recital, 
without giving any notice of this fact, so as to make 
them an inseparable part of the narrative. The reader 
here is unable to tell what is fact, and what is construc- 
tion ; and of course, unless preserved from it by supe- 
rior discernment, is betrayed into a belief of all his er- 
rors, created by the prejudices of the writer. A great part 
of modern history is, if I mistake not, written in this 
unfortunate manner ; and in this respect differs essen- 
tially and unhappily from the ancient manner of narra- 
tion. Falsehood is here taught in a mode which seems 
often to defy detection, and which, at least in my view, 
is inexcusable. 

The ridicule of what is true, just, good, honourable, 
or sacred, is an evil of the same nature. The things 
represented by him who uses the ridicule, are commonly 
real ; and, were they represented in their own native 
and true colours, would not be, and could not be, made 
ridiculous. But they are falsely coloured ; are violently 
connected with appendages, with which they have na- 
turally no connexion; are distorted, maimed, and forced 
into every unnatural and monstrous attitude. The ridi- 
culousness and absurdity which cannot be found in the 
things themselves, are fastened upon them. When pre- 
sented to the eye once in this association, created by 
the hand of ill-natured ingenuity, it will be difficult for 
the mind to disjoin them afterward. In this manner 
things of the most important, solemn, and venerable 
nature, having been once seen in the light of absurdity 
through an artificial association, are often regarded 
as absurd and contemptible through life. No excuse 
can be pleaded for this unworthy and disingenuous con- 
duct. 

Of the same nature are also what are called marvel- 
lous stories. Persons of a lively imagination are prone 
greatly to admire almost everything which they see or 
hear, and to find an excessive pleasure in whatever is 
really wonderful. With this disposition they are led 
to represent almost all things which they relate as ex- 
traordinary and surprising. Were we to give full cre- 
dit to what they say, we should be ready to believe that 
their lives had passed only through scenes of a marvel- 
lous kind, and that they had hardly ever met with or- 
dinary beings, or ordinary events. The language of 
these persons is, to a great extent, made up of superla- 
tives only ; and their images are drawn only in the 
strongest and most glowing colours. 

Such persons have, I acknowledge, as little intention 
to deceive in many, perhaps in most, instances, as other 
men. Still, through an eagerness to enhance every- 
thing which they relate, the representations which they 
give are continually untrue ; and the apprehensions 
which they excite are regularly erroneous. There may 
be, there often is, no intentional deception in their 
thoughts. Still, they continually deceive, and that of 
choice, that they may enjoy the pleasure found in the 
indulgence of an eager imagination. 

6. In flattery and censure. 

Flattery is the ascription of good qualities to others 
which they do not possess, or in greater degrees than 
they possess them. Sometimes this ascription is the 



656 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[8eb. cxjwi. 



result of the mere warmth of affection ; and is then, 
though not wholly undeserving of censure, undoubtedly 
less criminal than in other cases. No warmth of affec- 
tion, and no worth in the object of it, will, however, 
justify us in speaking that which is not true. Usually, 
it is dictated by sinister views, and intended to be the 
means of accomplishing unworthy purposes. In this 
case the author of it is a palpable, though a very pleas- 
ing, liar. The purpose which he has in view is a sinful 
wne ; and the means which he adopts to compass it are 
always sinful and contemptible. Accordingly, mankind 
have proverbially declared the flatterer to be an odious 
and despicable wretch. 

Censure is often just and vindicable, often a duty, 
and not unfrequently a proof of superior worth. This, 
however, invariably supposes that the censure is de- 
served ; that it is demanded by the nature of the case ; 
and that it is administered solely to promote the good 
of the censured, and not to gratify the pride or ill-na- 
ture of the censurer. But as the word is used above, 
it is intended to denote a false denial of good qualities, 
or a false ascription of bad ones, adopted to gratify our 
own unworthy feelings, and to wound those of another. 
Falsehood of this nature is too well understood, and too 
generally detested, to need any comment. 

7. In alleging, to support a doctrine or a cause, argu- 
ments which in our own view are unsound ; or alleging 
those which have some degree of soundness and weight, 
as having more weight than we believe ; or alleging them 
with more confidence than we really experience in our 
minds. 

Veracity, as it respect arguments, demands that we 
allege such as in our view are really sound; that we at- 
tribute to them exactly the weight which we believe 
them to possess ; and that we advance them with ex- 
pressions of no more confidence in them than we actu- 
ally feel. No reason can be alleged why we may wil- 
fully deceive in our arguments, any more than in our 
declarations ; or why sophistry is less guilty than what 
is appropriately called lying. The conduct in both 
cases is the same ; viz. , a wilful deception. The de- 
sign is the same. The mischiefs also are as great in 
the former case, and often greater, than in the latter. 
Nor can any reason be alleged to prove the guilt 
less. 

Of the same nature is the concealment of such argu- 
ments as we possess, when the support of truth and jus- 
tice demands thein, or the overthrow of falsehood and 
injustice. 

8. In promise-breaking. 

A promise is an engagement to do, or abstain from, 
something, either absolutely or conditionally. When this 
engagement is made to God, it is termed a vow ; when 
to our fellow men, a promise. The laws of morality, 
■which regulate both, are in substance the same. When 
a promise is made absolutely, or when the conditions 
on which it is made are performed, we are bound to 
fulfill it exactly, according to its tenor. Nor can we be 
released from this obligation, unless the performance is 
either impossible or unlawful ; or unless by the consent 
of him to whom the promise is made. In every other 
case, the violation of the promise is a lie ; at least as 
criminal, base, and detestable as any other. 

Our obligations to veracity are greatly enhanced by 
an oath ; one of the most solemn and affecting transac- 
tions in which man is ever concerned. In this trans- 



action, God our Creator, Judge, and Re warder ; God, 
who ' requireth truth in the inward parts ;' God, who 
' seeth not as man seeth,' but who > looketh on the 
heart ;' is invoked as an awful witness of the manner 
in which we speak. If we speak truth, we declare our 
hope of his mercy ; if we speak falsely, we imprecate 
his vengeance. What rational being, hitherto igno- 
rant of the perjuries which deform this guilty world, 
could believe that any man, thus situated, would fail to 
speak truth with the deepest solicitude, and the most 
perfect exactness ! Yet perjury is in the list of human 
crimes, and forms no inconsiderable part of that dread- 
ful catalogue. 

The guilt of every species of lying, when perpetrated 
under the solemnities of an oath, is enhanced by these 
considerations. The sin in almost all cases is more de- 
liberately committed. The person to whom an oath is 
administered has every opportunity which he can wish, 
for summoning up to the view of his mind every motive 
to the performance of his duty, and every inducement 
to abstain from falsehood. These inducements also are 
the strongest conceivable. God in a peculiar manner 
is present to his thoughts : the ' God of truth,' who has 
declared, that ' all liars shall have their part in the lake 
which burneth with fire and brimstone.' His soul is put 
at hazard on his utterance of truth or falsehood. If 
he speaks falsehood, he voluntarily consigns himself to 
perdition. If he is guilty of perjury, he is ruined also 
for this world. The stain is too deep ever to be wiped 
away. At the same time, he does what is in his power 
to cut up confidence by the roots. ' An oath for con- 
firmation,' says St Paul, ' is to men the end of all con- 
troversy,' Heb. vi. 1G. If the confidence reposed in an 
oath could be reposed no more, human disputes must 
either be unsettled, or terminated by the strength of 
the arm : and to this end he who perjures himself does 
all in his power to conduct them. 

At the same time, it is ever to be remembered, that 
God himself has been pleased on various occasions to 
confirm his own word by an oath. In this manner he 
has testified to us, that in his view an oath adds a pe- 
culiar sanction to that which has been said even by him- 
self. Universally, he who utters a falsehood under 
thi<? solemn obligation to speak truth, sins against all 
the motives which can be conceived to influence him to 
the performance of his duty. 

The causes of lying, the second thing proposed in 
the scheme of this Discourse, are, generally, all the 
temptations which men feel to this unhappy practice. 
Men utter falsehood extensively for the acquisition of 
wealth, honour, power, and pleasure; to advance the 
purposes of party ; to ensure success in a controversy ; 
to gain a favourite point; to mortify a rival, or an 
enemy ; and for innumerable other purposes. In the 
Discourse which I delivered on the subject of frauds 
practised on our fellow men, numerous specimens of 
this nature were either alluded to, or expressly men- 
tioned. Similar specimens, perhaps equally numerous, 
are attendant upon the eager pursuit of all those worldly 
gratifications which men ardently covet. I know of no 
case in which lying more abounds, than that of vehe- 
ment party contention. Universally, men, embarked 
in worthy designs, as I shall have occasion to men- 
tion more particularly hereafter, find falsehood exceed- 
ingly convenient, if not indispensable to their success. 
Depraved as mankind are, a bad cause cannot be car- 



THE LAW OF GOD LYING. 



657 



ried on with success, without the aid either of falsehood 
or the sword. 

All these are immediate causes of lying. Those to 
which I have originally referred, are more remote. 
They are such as subvert the original tendency to speak 
truth, which we regularly find in the earliest ages of 
life. The influence of these causes is peculiarly exerted 
upon the minds of such as are young ; and they are led 
into habits of lying, before they are capable of under- 
standing either their guilt or their danger. These 
causes are principally the following : 

1. Children are often taught to lie by example. 

Few persons of adult years are perhaps sufficiently 
sensible, how soon children begin to understand the na- 
ture of those things which they see arid hear, especially 
the nature of human conduct. From this, as well as 
from other causes, it frequently happens, that many 
things are done and said before very young children, ! 
which would not be said or done, if it were well 
understood that the children would clearly comprehend, 
and regularly copy them. By this misapprehension the 
members of many a family, and unhappily the parents 
also, are often induced to make their children witnesses 
of palpable falsehoods, when, bad as themselves are, 
they would not corrupt their children in this manner, 
were they aware that their conduct would thus become 
the means of corruption. Often these falsehoods are 
uttered in earnest ; often they are uttered in jest. In 
both cases their influence is alike pernicious. 

The power of all example is great, especially of evil 
example ; but perhaps in no case greater than in that 
of falsehood. Here the falsehood is brought home to 
the child with an influence wholly peculiar. It is uttered 
by those whom he loves ; by those whom he venerates ; 
by those of whom he has never formed a disadvantage- 
ous suspicion. It is calmly and coolly told to others in 
his presence, without a doubt expressed of its rectitude ; 
and is at times accompanied by a direct explanation of 
the advantages which are hoped from it. At other 
times, it is uttered in the zeal of dispute, and the 
warmth of passion. At other times, a multitude of 
falsehoods are combined together in a marvellous story, 
and, in many families, such stories form no small part 
of the domestic conversation. At other times still, 
and in instances innumerable, the private history of 
persons and families in the neighbourhood furnishes an 
almost endless tissue of interwoven truth and false- 
hood, and constitutes the chief entertainment of the 
house. Families, composed of sprightly members, 
make also innumerable assertions in jest, which are un- 
true ; which the child who hears them perceives to be 
untrue ; and for the falsehood of which he does not 
perceive the sport to yield any justification. 

All these even very young children will usually dis- 
cern to be falsehoods. No person can wonder that 
they should be induced to adopt this conduct, when he 
remembers that it is set before them continually, in so 
many modes, by those who are so much the objects of 
affection and reverence. That children derive this 
turpitude, in very many instances, originally and chiefly 
from such an example, they themselves abundantly 
prove. The reason which they almost always give, and 
first give, for the commission of this crime, is, that 
others have done the same thing. 

In multiplied instances, falsehoods are directly told 
to children, particularly very young children, to per- 



suade them to acquiesce cheerfully in things which are 
disagreeable. Children, like older persons, have many- 
wishes, the gratification of which is in their view im- 
portant to their happiness ; but which others know to 
be fraught with danger and mischief. To persuade 
them quietly to give up such gratifications, parents and 
others frequently adopt the easy and convenient me- 
thod of deceiving them. Thus parents, who wish to go 
abroad, and to persuade their young children to remain 
at home, often declare, that they are going out to re- 
turn immediately, while the children clearly discern 
that the declaration is false. When parents also, or 
others are abroad, whose absence is very painful to 
children ; servants, and others, to quiet them, declare 
often that the parents are returning, are in sight, or 
will return within a very short time. To persuade 
them to take medicines, the children are assured, that 
they are sweet and pleasant; when, in truth, they are 
bitter and loathsome. To conceal from them designs 
also, and facts, which it is undesirable that they should 
know, many artful and insidious declarations are made 
to them ; which, together with all those mentioned 
above, the children, in spite of the address employed to 
prevent it, discern to be false. Thus, to quiet them 
for a moment, they are often taught to become liars 
through life. 

In a similar manner, children are deceived, and cor- 
rupted, by false promises. They are sick, are reluc- 
tant to take medicines, are peevish and fretful, are 
wished by their parents to make little efforts to display 
their talents and accomplishments for the entertainment 
of visitors, and the gratification also of parental pride. 
To overcome their reluctance to these efforts, to soothe 
their sufferings, and to quiet their fretfulness, they are 
promised money, new clothes, the possession of toys 
and privileges, and particularly the privilege of going 
abroad. But the performance of such promises will 
usually occasion either trouble or expense. Very of- 
ten, therefore, they are not performed. In this work 
of falsehood, parents, brothers, sisters, friends, and ser- 
vants, frequently all unite ; and the unfortunate chil- 
dren, who perfectly comprehend the deceit, find some- 
times the whole, and sometimes a part of the family 
thus combined for their destruction. 

Equally unhappy are they in the examples which 
they find abroad. Children thus corrupted carry the 
miserable contagion to school. All their companions 
who have been educated with happier care, and under 
better examples, are here exposed to the disease ; and 
in many instances become infected and leprous through 
life. 

At the same time, children are often permitted to 
frequent places to which vile and unprincipled persons 
resort, and there become witnesses of all their abomi- 
nable sentiments and conduct. Here lies are not only 
told, but are made the subjects of jest and diversion. 
Successful falsehoods and impositions are not only re- 
peated, but repeated with explanations, merriment, and 
triumph, and exhibited as proofs of superior address, 
and honourable ingenuity. What child can fail of 
corruption in such haunts of sin, and amid such exam- 
ples of villany ! 

2. Children are taught to lie by influence. 
In very early life children discover a strong tendency 
to talk abundantly, to repeat marvellous stories, to re- 
hearse private history, and to recount the little owiir. 
4 o 



658 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. cxxvi. 



rences of the neighbourhood. ' In the multitude of 
words there wanteth not sin.' Every tendency to lo- 
quacity ought therefore to be vigorously repressed. The 
disposition to recite marvellous stories, to give charac- 
ters, and to recount private history and the occurrences 
of the neighbourhood, increases by every indulgence, 
and soon becomes both habitual and enormous. 

Instead of checking those propensities, however, no 
small number of parents, unaware of the danger, and 
forgetful of their duty, directly listen, and inquire, and 
in many instances repeat what has been said in this 
manner by their children. In this conduct the children 
perceive that they derive consequence in the parental 
eye, from the fact that they utter things of this nature ; 
and are efficaciously taught, that what they have said, 
instead of being criminal, odious, and disgraceful, is 
right and pleasing. They are naturally and powerfully 
led, therefore, to increase, instead of slackening their 
efforts, and to multiply their tales of these unfortunate 
kinds. From repeating, they go on to exaggerating ; 
from rehearsing, to inventing ; and from inventing 
such part as the memory does not supply, to inventing 
the whole. In this manner they become, after no 
great length of time, absolute liars. 

In multitudes of instances, also, children, to gairt fa- 
vourite objects and interesting compliances from their 
companions, are induced to make promises of various 
kinds. These afterwards they are often disinclined to 
fulfill. The parent, whose duty it is to compel the per- 
formance, finding the child reluctant, because it in- 
volves some sacrifice of his playthings, his property, or 
his convenience, neglects his duty, and suffers the pro- 
mise to go unfulfilled. In this manner he gives his own 
sanction to a direct breach of faith, infinitely more mis- 
chievous to the child than the loss of all the gratifica- 
tions which he ever possessed. Nay, in some instances 
the child is even encouraged, and in some directly 
commanded, not to fulfill his promise ; because, perhaps, 
the fulfilment will be very painful to the child, or in 
some degree inconvenient to the parent. In all such 
cases as I have mentioned, nothing can be expected, 
but that the child should grow up without truth, and of 
cuurse without any moral principle. 

3. Children are often driven to falsehood by passion. 

There are parents whose whole life is an almost con- 
tinual scene of passion. There are others, who often 
break out into paroxysms of rage. Among these, the 
number is not small of those who exercise this furious 
spirit towards their children ; not unfrequently because 
their faults, whether real or supposed, disturb their own 
quiet, and make, or seem to make, it necessary for them 
to undertake, what they equally hate and dread, the 
task of parental discipline. The unhappy children are 
in such cases commonly assailed with the looks and lan- 
guage of a fury, instead of those of a Christian parent. 
Terrified at this storm of wrath and rage, the children 
are in a sense compelled, under the influence of the 
severest threatenings, to lie, in order to conceal their 
faults, and escape the dreadful infliction. Passion mani- 
fested towards children, whatever may have been their 
transgressions, is madness ; shameful to the parent, and 
ruinous to the child. The parent who exercises it can 
expect nothing but that his child should become a liar. 

4. Children are often forced to lie by punishment. 
Parents, in many instances, feel satisfied that they 



have done their duty, when they have corrected th ;ir 
children for this crime. Accordingly, as often as the 
children repeat the crime, they repeat the punishment. 
Hardly any mistake with respect to the government of 
children can be more unhappy than this. So far as euy 
own experience may be relied on, the same punishment 
can never be safely repeated in any great number of 
instances for the same fault. Usually, when adminis- 
tered once, if administered wisely, it will produce its 
whole efficacy on the child. All the supernumerary in- 
flictions appear ordinarily to terminate in hardening 
the child ; and, so far as my observation extends, in no 
case more effectually than in that of lying. Perhaps 
the rod is oftener used for the purpose of extirpating 
this fault than any other : and in no case, I suspect, 
with smaller success. The propriety and usefulness of 
correction, at early periods of childhood, are sanctioned 
by abundant experience, and by God himself. But re- 
iterated correction, I mean often reiterated, has, I be- 
lieve, rarely cured a child of falsehood ; while it has 
confirmed multitudes in this sin beyond every rational 
hope of reformation. 

The consciousness of having been often corrected, 
produces of course, in the mind of every child who is 
the subject of this discipline, a habitual sense of de- 
gradation. A sense of degradation is more nearly al- 
lied than mankind are usually aware to hardness of 
heart. When punishment fails of producing repentance, 
it is commonly followed by indifference to the crime ; 
often by a determination to repeat it ; and usually by 
feelings of revenge towards the author of the infliction. 
A child has told a lie ; the parent has been provoked 
by it ; the child has been corrected, but has not become 
a penitent : on the contrary, he feels that he has been 
injured; and, instead of regarding the lie as a crime, 
considers it only as an unfortunate cause of his own 
suffering. The turpitude of the act is, therefore, forgot- 
teiiy and lost in the sense of suffering. To retribute the 
abuse will naturally seem, in this case, a gratification of 
no contemptible importance. A new crime is therefore 
committed, as soon as his own safety will permit. He 
is accused of it ; and a new lie is told, to shield him 
from another correction. In this manner, he will soon 
begin to believe that both his lies and his other crimes 
are merely a balance for a given measure of punish- 
ment ; and will calculate how many blows it will be pru- 
dent to hazard for the pleasure of committing a fault, 
and the convenience of telling a lie. The parent who 
governs his child in this manner, takes, in my opinion, 
well directed measures to make him a villain. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— LYING. 



659 



SERMON CXXVII. 

THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE — THE NINTH COMMANDMENT MISCHIEFS AND 

PREVENTIVES OF LYING. 



Thou, shall not bear false witness against thy neighbour Exod. xx. 16. 



In the preceding Discourse I proposed to consider, 

The nature, 

The causes, 

The mischiefs, and 

The preventives of lying. 

The two first of these subjects I discussed at that 
time. I shall now proceed to discuss the two last. 

The first mischief of lying is the great and general 
one, that it is a sin against God. 

There have not been wanting persons in every age, 
who have holden the doctrine, tiiat lying is in some 
cases lawful. Among these have been many professed 
moralists, and at least some divines. Particularly, the 
very respectable writer, whose opinions I have several 
times questioned, Archdeacon Paley, has taught this 
doctrine in form in his system of Moral Philosophy. 
At the head of these men we find the celebrated name 
of Origen. This father, with an indistinctness of dis- 
cernment, which characterizes not a small number of 
early writers in the Christian church, as well as most 
others at the same period, appears to have believed, 
that a falsehood might be lawfully told, in order to pro- 
mote the cause of Christianity. This scheme, univer- 
sally extended, is no other than the fundamental and 
detestable maxim of illuminisra, that the end sanctions 
the means ; a maxim on which St Paul has pronounced 
a terrible sentence of condemnation, while common 
sense and common honesty subjoin their united Amen. 

Dr Paley, who strongly reprobates the doctrine of 
Origen, has, in my opinion, fallen into an error as 
really, though not so extensively, mischievous. He 
declares those falsehoods, where the person to whom 
you speak has no right to know the truth ; or, more 
properly, where little or no inconveniency results from 
the want of confidence, in such cases, not to be lies ; 
that is, not to be criminal falsehoods. The instances 
by which he illustrates the doctrine, are those of mad- 
men, and robbers ; persons, who in the cases supposed, 
have no right to know the trulh ; and to deceive whom, 
he remarks, in these cases, will either very little, or not 
at all, injure the confidence of mankind. 

This is one, among various other unhappy specimens 
of the unhappy influence of the rule, prescribed by Br 
Paley, for directing the moral conduct of men ; viz. 
That the rectitude of our moral actions is to be mea- 
sured by their expediency or utility. That utility is 
the foundation of virtue, has, it is believed, been suffi- 
ciently shown in a former Discourse. That it cannot 
be the criterion of virtue has also, if I mistake not, 
been proved to be equally certain. Indeed, nothing is 
more evident, than that the moral actions of beings 
who cannot possibly know what their consequences will 
be, cannot be safely directed by those consequences. In 
the present case, however, Dr Paley's own doctrine will 
refute his position. His declaration is, ' Falsehoods 
ire not lies, where the person, to whom you speak, has 



no right to kiiow the truth ; or, more properly, where 
little or no inconveniency results from the want of con- 
fidence, ; in such cases, as where you tell a falsehood to 
a madman, for his own advantage ; to a robber, to con- 
ceal your property ; to an assassin, to defeat, or to 
divert him from his purpose. 'In each of these cases,' 
the author says, ' the particular good consequence will 
overbalance the general evil consequence ;' and thencs 
he concludes the falsehood to be lawful. 

Two cases are here stated, in which a wilful falsehood 
is pronounced to be lawful. One is that in which the 
person in question has no right to know the truth. The 
other, when little or no inconvenience will result from 
the falsehood. 

On the first of these I observe, that the person who 
is to utter the falsehood, or the truth, in the case sup. 
posed, is always to determine whether the person to 
whom he speaks, has a right to know the truth or not. 
This determination also is ever to be made under the in- 
fluence of such passions and biasses as may then happen 
to operate. It is impossible that the decision should fail, 
at least in most cases, of being a prejudiced, and there- 
fore an unsound one. The person who is entangled with 
a madman, or assailed by a robber, or an assassin, must 
at the time be a very imperfect moralist ; and in a very 
improper situation to decide justly concerning a ques- 
tion of this nicety and importance. What is true in 
this case is equally true of an infinity of others. Pas- 
sion and prejudice would operate boundlessly on this 
subject, in the ordinary course of human affairs ; Did, 
wherever they operated, would control. On this very 
principle it has been decided by the Romish church, 
that it is lawful to lie to Huguenots ; because Hugue- 
nots are such enemies to God, as to have no right to 
know the truth : a doctrine which has probably done 
more towards corrupting that church, than any, per- 
haps than all, the enormous errors by which it has been 
disgraced. The consequence, as may be easily seen in 
the history of this very fact, would soon be, that few or 
none of those with whom we had intercourse after this 
doctrine had become general, would in our view have 
a right to know the truth. 

That there are persons who, in certain cases, have 
not a right to know the truth from us, I readily grant. 
But it will be difficult to show, that we have a right to 
utter falsehoods to them, any more than to others. We 
may lawfully be silent in many cases ; we may lawfully 
conceal the truth ; but we can in no case be justified in 
uttering a wilful falsehood. 

With regard to the other rule of Dr Paley, that vo- 
luntary falsehoods cease to be lies, when very little in- 
convenience will result from the want of confidence 
which follows them ; I observe, that it is even more un- 
happy than the other. The degree of inconvenience 
which in this case will result to others, will always be 
estimated by comparing it with the convenience which 



660 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxvu. 



the falsehood will promise to ourselves. The conveni- 
ence which will overcome the natural repugnance of 
conscience to wilful falsehood must, for the time, be felt 
to be considerable. In a comparison with a consider- 
able convenience of our own, an inconvenience, experi- 
enced either wholly, or at least chiefly, by others, will 
naturally be regarded as inconsiderable. In almost all 
instances, therefore, to use the words of Dr Paley, ' little 
or no inconvenience will result from the falsehood,' in 
the view of him who is to utter it, and who makes this 
comparison. Of course, in almost all instances, the 
falsehood will be uttered. 

But when a man has once accustomed himself to ut- 
ter falsehood so long as to render the practice familiar, 
all that apprehensiveness of guilt, that ready suscepti- 
bility of alarm at the appearance of criminality, which 
constitutes the chief safety of man in the moment of 
temptation, will be extinguished. The mind will be 
no longer agitated at the thought of sin, nor awake to 
the sense of danger. In this situation, the convenience 
to ourselves of uttering falsehood will always be great ; 
and the inconvenience which will result to others will 
always be small. He who has uttered the first falsehood 
under the influence of ten degrees of temptation, will 
as readily utter the second under the influence of eight ; 
'iq third, of six ; the fourth, of four ; the fifth, of two ; 
and the sixth without any temptation at all. The 
obliquity of his judgment will now prevent him from 
discerning that others suffer any inconvenience from 
his conduct. In this manner any man living may easily 
become in a short time a confirmed liar. 

Thus the adoption of either of these rules, and still 
more of both of them, will prove a complete destruction 
of that confidence without which society cannot exist. 
I need not say, that this evil would more than counter- 
balance all the good which a licentious imagination has 
ever supposed, or can suppose, to be capable of resulting 
from all possible falsehoods, in a degree which no num- 
bers can estimate, and no finite mind conceive. Utility 
itself, therefore, absolutely forbids the adoption of these 
rules. 

But this view of the subject is imperfect, and so far 
erroneous. The old distinction of crimes into what are 
styled by jurists, mala in se, and malaprohibita, is en- 
tirely just, as well as incalculably important. The 
mala in se, are those which are absolutely forbidden by 
God ; because they are universally noxious to the in- 
telligent creation, and universally dishonourable to the 
Creator. He who sees from the beginning to the end, 
and discerns all the possible consequences of all moral 
conduct, has thus pronounced them to be universally 
malignant in their influence on intelligent beings. 
Mala prohibita, are such evils as are forbidden in cer- 
tain circumstances, which render them evils ; or for the 
accomplishment of certain useful purposes, which could 
not otherwise be so well accomplished. These, in the 
ordinary state of things, would be matters of indiffer- 
ence ; and, unless prohibited, would either not be, or 
not be known to be evils. Such, for example, was the 
eating of unclean meats ; the assumption of the priest's 
office by those who were not descendants of Aaron ; and 
many others, found in the Jewish law. 

Lying is a pre-eminent evil of the former class. Ac- 
cordingly, it is absolutely forbidden by God. The 
proof that it is such an evil, furnished in the Discourse 
on the nature and importance of truth and veracity 



(the first delivered on the text) is, if I mistake not, 
complete. Truth, and the utterance of it, were there 
shown to be the foundation of all society, and the basis 
of all virtue and happiness. If this be admitted, lying 
is plainly a radical evil, threatening the very existence 
of the divine glory, and the whole interest of the intel- 
ligent universe. In the Scriptures it is unconditionally 
forbidden, deeply censured, and terribly threatened. 
' Whosoever loveth and maketh a lie,' God hath said, 
' shall in nowise enter into the heavenly city ; but shall 
have his part in the lake, which burnetii with fire and 
brimstone.' Lying then is in this respect infinitely 
mischievous; as peculiarly provoking the anger of God, 
and being eminently the means of eternal woe. It is 
to be remembered that the Scriptures nowhere relax on 
this subject, furnish no indulgence to the practice, con- 
tain not a single hint that lying can ever be lawful, and 
are absolutely silent concerning that want of right to 
know the truth, and that smallness of inconvenience 
resulting from falsehood, which will make a falsehood 
wilfully uttered cease to be a lie. 

The case is often put, that a lie may save one's own 
life, or the lives of others. The objection involved in 
this case is answered in many forms by the Scriptures. 
St Paul declares, that the ' condemnation ' of those wtio 
only ' reported ' that he and his companions taught the 
doctrine of ' doing evil, that good might come,' was 
'just.' What would he have said of those who them- 
selves taught this doctrine ? But lying to save life if 
doing evil that good may come. Let no man think this 
a hard case. Christ has repeatedly told us, that * he 
who will save his life,' by violating his duty, 'shall lose 
it;' and that ' he who. shall lose his life for his sake,' 
that is, by doing his duty, ' shall find it' in the heavens. 
With this declaration in view, no man, it is presumed, 
will think himself required to utter a lie for the sake of 
saving his life. Had the apostles and the martyrs 
thought proper to lie, they might not only have saved 
their lives, but avoided also all the horrors and suffer- 
ings of malignant persecution. 

It has been alleged, and supposed to afford some de- 
gree of countenance to this sin, that it was committed 
by Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and some other saints of an- 
cient times. Without attempting to determine how far 
the faults of these good men may have been diminished 
by their imperfectly critical acquaintance with the pro- 
per nature of moral conduct, I shall answer the allega- 
tion by this question only : Will your sin be lessened, 
or fail of being punished, because the same sin was com- 
mitted by a patriarch ? 

2. Lying produces incomprehensible mischiefs to the 
public concerns of nations. 

All good government, as I have heretofore observed, 
is founded in confidence ; and all oppressive govern- 
ment in force, or fraud. Governments constitutionally 
free resort invariably to fraud whenever they wish to 
oppress. Even despotism itself is compelled universally 
to the same resort, and is afraid and unwilling to rely 
on mere physical strength for the accomplishment of 
its tyrannical designs. It has recourse, therefore, to an 
uninterrupted series of art and management to ensure 
the submission of its subjects. Of this management, 
deceit is not merely the chief, but in a sense, the only 
means. All tyrants lie, and lie unceasingly. All their 
subordinate agents are abandoned liars. Were the ty- 
rant himself, and the instruments of his tyranny, to lay 



THE LAW OF GOD.—LYING. 



661 



aside their deception, the tyranny would tumble to the 
ground. 

If the rulers of a nation possessing liberty were in- 
variably to utter truth, it would be impossible that the 
government should not be well administered. Should 
such rulers form evil designs against public or private 
happiness, an honest disclosure of their purposes would 
defeat them of course. This, every ruler who forms such 
designs knows perfectly well ; and therefore he artfully 
misrepresents, or studiously conceals, them. But no 
design of any extent can be executed without a disclo- 
sure to all those who are necessarily employed in the 
execution. Were these men of integrity, they would 
disclose it, of course, to the public. Such men therefore 
are never voluntarily employed by rulers to accomplish 
evil designs. Men of falsehood are invariably sought 
for such purposes, and invariably employed in accom- 
plishing them. 

The person who has not read political history with 
an eye to this subject, is an incompetent judge of the 
immense extent to which falsehood is employed for the 
purpose of oppression, and of the innumerable forms in 
which it has been played off upon the unhappy race of 
men for their destruction. Art and trick, pretence and 
sophistry, false declarations and false promises, have 
ever been a more formidable host of enemies to public 
liberty, safety, and happiness, than the sword and the 
musket, the dungeon and the gibbet. Falsehood has 
ever been the mine, by which the enemies of freedom 
have blown up her citadel, and buried her votaries in 
the ruins. Falsehood ruined the freedom of Greece and 
Rome, and overturned all the republics of modern 
Europe. Without this terrible engine, the Romish 
hierarchy would never have raised its head to heaven, 
nor trodden down in the dust the suffering nations of 
men. Without this tremendous assistant, the French 
republic would never have sprung into existence, nor 
offered up half Europe as a holocaust to the powers of 
darkness. Banish falsehood from the world, and you 
will redeem it from three-fourths of its sins, and from 
almost all its sufferings. 

Nations have in most cases eagerly watched against 
the intrusions of power, and the establishment of inter- 
nal force. So far they have acted wisely. But, without 
the aid of falsehood, no force, beside that of a foreign 
conqueror, ever destroyed public liberty. Against this 
enemy they ought to watch with the eyes of Argus ; a 
creeping, serpentine enemy, advancing silently and 
imperceptibly, equally unseen and unsuspected. If they 
were willing to become wise by the miserable experience 
of those who have gone before them, they would know, 
that their supreme danger lies here ; that every ruler 
who flatters them, that every demagogue, is a liar ; that 
he deceives them for his own advantage, not for theirs ; 
for the overthrow of their liberty, not for its establish- 
ment ; for the ruin of their interests, not for their peace, 
prosperity, or safety. 

' If a ruler hearken to lies,' says Solomon, ' all his 
servants are wicked.' — ' Judgment,' saith the prophet 
Isaiah, ' is turned away backward, and justice standeth 
afar off.' What was the source of these calamities ? Let 
the prophet himself answer : ' Truth is fallen in the 
streets, and therefore equity cannot enter.' It is the 
glorious character of Him whose dominion ' is as the 
light of the morning, of a morning without clouds, and 
as the clear shining of the sun after rain upon the ten- 



der herb of the field,' that 'He shall judge the people 
with truth.' It is a divine characteristic of the Infinite 
L'uler, that ' his paths are mercy and truth.' Such must 
be the character of earthly rulers, if they would be 
' ministers of God, for good,' or if their objects are to 
be either safe or happy. 

But we reed not appeal to a numerous train of scrip- 
tural texts for instruction on this subject. In PsaL 
cxliv. there is the strongest, and perhaps the most com- 
prehensive exhibition of its importance, which can be 
found even in the scriptural pages, and which ever will 
be found in the language of men. In this portion of 
the sacred canon, David, contemplating the wars in 
which he had been, and more probably those in which 
he was at that very time engaged ; remembering the 
usual care and good providence of God, exercised 
towards him in his contests with his enemies ; and 
feeling, that this was amply sufficient for his safety and 
success in every case of hostility waged by open force ; 
breaks out in a joyful song of exultation for these bless- 
ings, as already partly received, and as partly secured 
to him for the time to come : ' Blessed be Jehovah, my 
strength, who teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers 
to fight; my goodness, and my fortress, my high tower, 
and my deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I trust ; 
who subdueth my people under me.' 

After some short reflections on the humble and unde- 
serving character of man, naturally excited by the con- 
templation of these mercies, he turns his eye to the state of 
his own kingdom, probably convulsed at that time by the 
rebellion of Absalom; a rebellion generated and supported 
by falsehood; he exclaims, ' Bow thy heavens, O Jehovah, 
and come down ; touch the mountains, and they shall 
smoke : cast forth lightning, and scatter them ; shoot 
out thine arrows, and destroy them: send thine hand 
from above ; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, 
from the hand of strange children ; whose mouth speak- 
eth vanity (that is, lies), and their right hand is a right 
hand of falsehood.' To this great man the ordinary bless- 
ings of God's providence to him and his people, appeared 
a defence amply sufficient, and sources of victory sure 
and abundant, against the violence of war, and enemies 
in arms. But, when he came to consider the danger 
which threatened his government and nation from the 
insidious attacks of deception, he felt that a new and 
singular interference of God was necessary for the 
deliverance of himself and his people. Then it became 
necessary that God should ' bow the heavens and come 
down ;' that he should set the mountains on fire ; that 
he should ' cast forth his lightning, to scatter, and shoot 
out his arrows, to destroy,' these children of falsehood. 
Such, in his view, was the danger to the people of Israel 
from the deceptions practised upon them, that nothi ny 
less than these wonderful exertions of divine power 
would insure their safety. 

At the same time, he informs us in the strongest 
terms, that a deliverance from this terrible kind of war- 
fare, from the spirit which generated it, and from the 
persons by whom it was carried on, was indispensable 
to the eternal prosperity of the nation, both moral andj 
secular. ' iiid me', he exclaims again, ' and deliver me 
from the hand of strange children, whose mouth speak- 
eth lies, and whose right hand is a right hand of falss- 
hood : that our sons may be as plants, grown up in their 
youth ; that our daughters may be as corner-sU>nes ; 
polished after the similitude of a palace ; that qui gar- 



662 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxvii. 



iners may be full, affording all manner of store ; that 
our sheep may bring forth thousands and ten thou- 
sands in our streets ; that our oxen may be strong to 
labour; that there be no breaking in, nor going out; 
that there be no complaining in our streets. Happy,' 
he subjoins, ' is that people, that is in such a case : yea 
happy is that people, whose God is Jehovah.' 

These are blessings which cannot be found in a na- 
tion among whom falsehood prevails. There men will 
not labour to produce them ; there God will not give 
them. They are blessings which truth leads in her 
train ; blessings which God showers upon a people who 
love truth. But at the approach of falsehood they 
shrink, languish, and expire. 

All this, it is to be remembered, was written by Da- 
vid, one of the greatest and wisest men whom the world 
lias ever seen. He knew by experience every danger 
from war ; from open enemies, embodied in powerful 
armies. By the same experience he was perfectly ac- 
quainted also with the evils which spring from false- 
hood. The evils of the latter class he perceived, by 
actual trial, to be immensely greater than those of the 
former. In these observations he has barely told us 
what passed under his own eye, and constituted his own 
case. Nay, more, he has told all this directly to his 
Maker ; and in a psalm addressed directly to him, 
has poured forth the praises which he esteemed due, 
and prayed for the assistance which he deemed neces- 
sary. In these circumstances the sincerity of the sup- 
pliant cannot be questioned. 

But it is farther to be remembered, that this psalm 
was dictated by the inspiration of God. It is all, there- 
fore, exactly just and true. Nothing is diminished; 
nothing is exaggerated. Falsehood is just so much 
more dangerous, in the ordinary circumstances of man- 
kind, than war ; its evils are just so much .more terri- 
ble ; and peculiar interpositions of God, to deliver 
mankind from their efficacy, .are in this very manner 
indispensable. Truth also is accompanied and followed 
by all these blessings; blessings which, fairly under- 
stood, involve the whole prosperity of a people. At 
the same time, falsehood either prevents or destroys 
them all ; or, in other words, ruins the nation in which 
it prevails. 

3. Falsehood is equally pernicious to the private in- 
terests of mankind. 

A great proportion of all their miscarriages in the 
pursuit of happiness, are suffered by mankind from in- 
tentional misinformation only. A man is falsely in- 
formed of the state of the markets, and conveys his 
property to a ruinous sale. He wishes to employ an 
agent, to manage his business, to instruct his children, 
or to plead his cause. He wishes to employ a physician 
to attend his family in cases of sickness, or a clergy- 
man to preach for himself and his neighbours. The 
character of each of these men is represented to him 
falsely. Of consequence, his business is mismanaged, 
his children are half-taught, his cause is lost by igno- 
rance or treachery, his family are hastened to the grave 
by an empiric, and himself and his neighbours, by false 
exhibitions of the gospel, are led to perdition. The 
beggar cheats him by a false tale of woe. The false 
friend betrays his interests, and his secrets. A false 
witness swears away his rights ; and a false judge per- 
verts the law to his ruin. A flatterer deceives himself 
into fatal apprehensions concerning his own excellen- 



ces. A censurer breaks his spirits by unfounded and 
malignant representations of his defects ; and a sophist 
cheats him out of truth, virtue, and heaven. The frauds, 
practised on our fellow men, which were either recitefi 
or alluded to in a preceding Discourse on that subject 
are all perpetrated by the instrumentality of falsehood. 
This harpy seizes on every human enjoyment, and or. 
every human interest ; destroys whatever is in her 
power ; and pollutes and distresses wherever she is 
unable to destroy. 

4. Equally pernicious is falsehood to the personal in- 
terests of the liar himself. 

The importance of this truth will appear in the fol- 
lowing particulars : — 

(1.) Lying is always followed by reproaches of con- 
science. 

Mankind, with a single voice, have pronounced lying 
to be a gross and enormous sin. This is the dictate of 
every other religion, and every other law, as well as of 
the law and the religion of God. To this universal 
testimony, the conscience of every individual unites its 
own solemn accord : and, whenever a lie is uttered, 
proclaims the guilt of the criminal with an affecting 
and awful voice. At the sound of this remonstrance, 
the soul trembles and shrinks, and before the bar of 
this severe judge is compelled to plead guilty, without 
a hope of escape. 

Nor is it compelled only to acknowledge its guilt, 
but also clearly to see and deeply to feel its peculiar 
debasement. A liar is obliged irresistibly to feel that 
he is sunk below the level of men. His mind is a house 
of pollution; a haunt of every despicable purpose, and 
every degrading thought. Thus his character, as seen 
by himself, lies upon him like ' a heavy burden, too 
grievous to be borne ;' a load which he can neither 
carry, nor lay down. 

In the mean time, conscience, faithful to her office, 
holds up to his view, in terrible forebodings, the anger 
of God against lying lips, and presents to him alarm- 
ing anticipations of the dreadful account which he will 
be obliged to give at the future judgment. Such, I 
mean, is the fact, unless, through the want of a religious 
education, he is destitute of moral principle ; or, by A 
repetition of crimes, his ' conscience has become seared 
as with a hot iron.' 

(2.) The liar is continually tormented by the fear of 
detection. 

A liar is never safe. It is so much the interest of 
mankind to expose this crime, and it is so often actually 
exposed that the danger is always great, and always 
felt by the criminal. Should a detection take place, the ' 
consequences he knows must be distressing. The shame, 
the hatred, the contempt, and the punishment, which in 
this case will arrest him, he knows not how to meet 
with a steady eye. His terrified mind is therefore in a 
perpetual alarm, and sees these evils always at the door. 
The < path' of life, therefore, is to him, ' a hedge of 
thorns.' 

(3.) Should he be detected, as he invariably will be, 
he is compelled to suffer many excruciating evils. 

Particularly, he is necessitated to invent many false- 
hoods, to gain the object, or prevent the evils of one. 

Truth is always plain and consistent : the high-way, 
in which the ' way-faring man, though a fool, need not 
err.' Falsehood is a by-path ; crooked, perplexed, and 
blind ; in which every traveller is soon bewildered and 



THE LAW OF GOD— LYING. 



663 



lost. No liar can possibly foresee either the nature or 
the number of the difficulties into which he will plunge 
himself by a single lie. These difficulties he will often 
feel himself compelled to obviate by such means as are 
in his power. Usually no other means will offer them- 
selves to him for this purpose beside a succession of 
lies. Thus, one falsehood, in a sense necessarily, draws 
after it another, and another. Nor is any mind which 
begins this course sufficiently comprehensive to know 
where it will end. 

Those whom he has deceived also will often resent and 
often severely revenge the abuse. In one manner and 
another he is not unfrequently punished with severity. 
Always he is disgraced, reproached, stung with con- 
tempt, and insulted with derision. Decent men shun 
his company. Parents warn their children to beware 
of him. The finger of scorn points him out, the hiss of 
infamy follows him in the street. Even villains of most 
other sorts feel themselves superior to him. 

His reputation, of course, is lost. Those whom he 
has deceived, will take sure and exemplary vengeance 
in publishing the deception to the world. His rivals 
will trumpet it to rise above him ; his kindred villains 
to turn the eyes of mankind from their own guilt. 
Should they even be silent, he will disclose it himself. 
The safety and success which he has found in uttering 
one falsehood, will embolden him to utter another, and 
another, until he is detected. When this is done, he 
sinks speedily into absolute contempt. The proverb, 
' once a liar and always a liar,' will meet him as a label, 
from every mouth in the street. 

In this character all persons will feel themselves to 
be his superiors, and will take effectual care to an- 
nounce this superiority. The tongues of multitudes 
will proclaim it in the most stinging terms. The eyes 
of more will look down upon him with haughtiness and 
scorn ; while the conduct of all will attest his degrada- 
tion with a visible mixture of pity and abhorrence. Of 
course, he will be obliged to feel, as well as to appear, 
only in the character of a mean, debased wretch, inferior 
to his kind ; and to act an under, servile part in every 
scene of life. He can maintain no cause, assert no fact, 
make no promise, face no man, and meet no eye ; but 
is forced to falter and fall even before those with whom 
he would once have disdained t<j acknowledge an ac- 
quaintance. 

As he loses all confidence, he loses with it every op- 
portunity of acquiring useful and reputable employ- 
ment. None will trust him with their property ; none 
will commit to him their business ; because all will ex- 
pect to be rewarded by him with baseness and treach- 
ery. 

But all men are dependent on their fellow men. Pe- 
culiarly is this true of those who are young. Every 
youth is necessitated to lean, in no small degree, on those 
who are already in possession of the great business 
of mankind. Veracity to them is the door to confi- 
dence : confidence to useful employment ; and useful 
employment to property, reputation, influence, and a 
prosperous and useful life. This door the liar has vo- 
luntarily shut against himself; and can be admitted 
neither to the good offices, nor even to the company, of 
those on whom he chiefly depends, under God, for every 
worldly blessing. 

Thus he involves himself in innumerable distresses, 
and exposes himself to innumerable temptations. He 



is poor almost of course. Honest poverty is always 
and most deservedly respectable. But poverty which 
grows out of vice ensures contempt and abhorrence, and 
is encircled by numberless temptations which honest po- 
verty never knew. I have already observed, that the 
liar is almost irresistibly prompted to a succession of 
falsehoods, in order to escape the dangers of the first. 
To these he is strongly solicited to add perjury ; to cor- 
rupt others, that he may countenance himself; to cheat, 
that he may acquire what he cannot gain by lying ; and 
to steal, that he may possess himself of what he cannot 
gain by cheating. 

All these scandalous vices are soon fixed into habits ; 
and these habits every day acquire new accessions of 
strength. His declension, therefore, is rapid and dread- 
ful. From the company, conversation, and example of 
good men, indulged more or less to most sinners, he is 
excluded of course. Virtue may pity, but cannot con- 
sort with him. His touch is contagious ; and his very 
breath carries infection with it wherever he goes. By 
this exclusion, he loses a blessing of more value than all 
the good which falsehood ever sought or found. 

In this manner he goes on, hardening his heart, and 
polluting his lite. His conscience becomes seared ; and 
sooner than he could have originally mistrusted, he is 
given over to a reprobate mind. In the end, he dies a 
bitter death; and closes a shameful wretched life with a 
miserable eternity. 

The preventives of this deplorable vice may be ad- 
vantageously considered as they respect children under 
the education of their parents, and persons arrived at 
years of discretion. 

The foundation of all moral good is best laid in child- 
hood. This season therefore is to be regarded as of 
supreme importance, and husbanded for this great pur- 
pose with supreme solicitude. I shall address my obser- 
vations on this subject directly to parents. To accom- 
plish this invaluable end, so indispensable to the present 
and eternal welfare of your children. 

1. Teach them always to speak truth, by precept and 
example. 

Inculcate on them, from the moment in which they 
are able to speak at all, and inculcate daily, the im- 
mense importance of speaking truth. Truth is so much 
more easily and so much more naturally spoken than 
falsehood, that children usually speak truth of course. 
Facts always present it, the mind always perceives it, 
the tongue always utters it, without effort or contrivance. 
Falsehood, on the contrary, must ever be invented, and 
continually laboured into existence. Before this labour 
has commenced, truth must be effectually impressed on 
the conscience, and instamped on the heart. 

Teach them, that veracity is inestimably useful ; that 
it will make them loved, trusted, honoured, and be- 
friended ; and will save them from shame, neglect, re- 
proach, and poverty, from extreme humiliation, and the 
terrors of a condemning conscience. Teach them, that 
lying will prevent all these blessings, and entail upon 
them all these sufferings ; that it will wither their repu- 
tation, their comforts, and their hopes ; that, deformed 
with this sin, they will be pitied by every good, and 
insulted by every bad man ; that their enemies will 
tread them under foot, while their friends cannot pro- 
tect them ; and that their character, when once habi- 
tually blackened by falsehood, can never be made whito 
again. 



634 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. 



Teach them, that every equivocal, every prevari- 
cating, every evasive expression, everything which 
partakes of duplicity, is radically a lie ; and that, if 
they indulge themselves in these humbler efforts of 
falsehood, they will soon sink to the lowest degrada- 
tions of villany. 

Teach them, that the eternal God, the God of truth, 
to whom ' lying lips are an abomination,' hears, marks, 
and records everything which they speak ; and that 
this record will be the foundation of their final sentence 
at the great day. 

Discourage in them, at all times, a propensity to idle 
talk, to story-telling, particularly to the telling of mar-- 
vellous stories, the recital of private history, the news 
of the neighbourhood, and the giving of characters. 
Lead them carefully, whenever they converse concern- 
ing others, to such conversation, and such only as is 
prudent and kind: and accustom them to feel that, when 
they cannot speak of others in this manner, it is usually 
both their duty and their interest not to speak at all. 
Teach them faithfully to keep, and never to betray, the 
secrets intrusted to them : and effectually repress in 
them a disposition to pry into the personal and domestic 
concerns of others. 

What you thus communicate by your instruction, en- 
deavour to complete by your example. Show on all oc- 
casions the most solemn and the most intense regard to 
truth. Speak truth to them exactly, on every occasion, 
whether in earnest or in jest. Promise them nothing 
which you do not faithfully resolve to fulfill. Fulfill faith- 
fully all that you promise, however difficult or inconve- 
nient may be the fulfilment. If at any time and by any 
circumstances they are led to suppose that you have failed 
to perform your promise exactly, or if the performance 
lias at any time subsequent to the promise become un- 
lawful or impossible, carefully remove every suspicion 
which they may entertain concerning your veracity, 
by a diligent explanation of every doubtful or un- 
known circumstance ; and show them that your conduct 
has been strictly conformed to the rigid dictates of truth. 

At the same time oblige them to fulfill all their own 
promises, however self-denying the fulfilment may be to 
them, and however expensive or troublesome to you. 
This discipline will, ere long, teach them not to promise 
rashly, and to regard every promise which they make, 
as secret and unalterable. 

Universally, make the establishment of an un warping 
veracity in their minds, a prime and ever-present object 
of your parental labours ; and, until this object is ac- 
complished, devote to it the energy of your minds, and 
the efforts of your lives. 

2. Prevent them from keeping company with deceitful 
persons. 

Forbid them absolutely to consort with those who 
are known to be of this character. Restrain them from 
every place frequented by such persons ; from taverns, 
from public corners, from horse-races, and universally 
from every lounging, idle resort. The plague is usually 
taken by infection. He therefore who is on healthy 
ground will be safe. Suffer your children then, on no 
occasion, to become the companions of loose, immoral 
persons. Of them your children will learn to lie, of 
course ; and that, however faithful may be your instruc- 
tions, and however unspotted your example. Remem- 
ber yourselves, and teach them, that the ' companion 
of fools shall be destroyed.' 



3. If your children are at any time guilty of deceit, 
endeavour by the best means in your power, to prevent 
every future transgression of the same nature. 

Rehearse to them solemnly and kindly all the in- 
teresting considerations which I have mentioned, and 
every other useful thought which your own minds may 
suggest. Present to them, particularly, clear, affecting 
views of their guilt and their danger ; and forcibly 
exhibit to them the ruinous efficacy of falsehood on 
every interest of time and eternity. If the transgres- 
sion demands a punishment, never administer it in a 
passion. Delay the administration, not only until you 
are free from every resentful emotion, but until you 
are secure of preserving your equanimity in spite of 
any incidental provocation, and are absolutely collected 
and self-controlled. In this state of mind, accompany 
the discipline with solemn instructions, calm reproofs, 
and affectionate testimonies of the mingled pain and 
pity with which you regard the guilty transaction. 

If one punishment, if, for example, correction fails 
of producing a reformation, vary your inflictions suc- 
cessively through the several modes of discipline, until 
you have gained the object. Shame or confinement 
will often accomplish what correction cannot. If these 
prove ineffectual, the denial of favourite indulgences, 
and the deprivation of customary privileges, will often 
produce reformation. A string may almost always be 
struck, which will accord with the state of the heart ; 
an effort made which will ensure a victory. 

In the mean time, if your child is charged with some 
other fault, and frankly tells the truth concerning it, 
remit either the whole or a part of the punishment due 
to his crime, discretionally, as a proof of the high value 
which you place upon his veracity. 

4. Commend them to the constant care and blessing 
of God. 

' Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman wak- 
eth in vain.' As God alone can preserve them, so if 
you ask him in earnest, you have every reason to hope 
that he will. 

I shall now address the subject to all such persons as 
have arrived at that period of life, in which they are 
capable of taking some useful care of themselves. To 
such persons the following directions may be the means 
of guarding against this fatal evil : 

1. Watch faithfully over your speech. 

Consider before you speak, whether what you are 
about to say is true, right, kind, and useful : or false, 
unkind, and mischievous ; and determine to utter no- 
thing, until you are satisfied. Steadily resist a propen- 
sity to talk much, remembering that ' in a multitude of 
words there wanteth not sin :' and never speak at all, 
unless some good purpose be answered ; unless some 
useful information be given ; some innocent pleasure 
communicated; or some other lawful end accomplished. 

Resist a disposition to give characters ; to recite fa- 
mily news ; to expose private failings ; and to ridicule 
personal imperfections. Ask yourselves whether you 
would be willing that your own failings should be pub- 
lished, repeated, ridiculed. Remember that others thus 
attacked will feel as you would feel : and that, as you 
would resent such a base intrusion upon your peace, so 
they, when in the same manner wounded by you, will 
become your enemies ; and will sooner or later find an 
opportunity of making you feel their resentment. Pe- 
member farther, that even those who hear and applaud 



THE LAW OF GOD.— LYING. 



665 



what you say, may yet and often do, despise you for 
saying it ; that they will ever afterwards regard you 
with suspicion, shun you as dangerous to their safety, 
and characterize you as nuisances to society. In this 
manner, before you are aware, your characters will be- 
come odious, and your reputation be lost. 

When you repeat anything, strive to repeat it 
exactly. Neither enhance nor lessen. Colour nothing 
beyond the strict truth. Recite that, and that only, 
which you believe ; and express no more confidence in 
what you recite than you really feel. Recite, also, so 
much of the circumstances, drift, and tendency of the 
transaction which is your subject, as fairly to explain 
its true nature, and the real character and conduct of 
those who were concerned. 

Refrain from speaking when you are in a passion. 
All passionate words are dangerous and sinful. The 
wisest and most guarded persons, when provoked, utter 
at times things which they regret ever afterward. Mo- 
ses, the meekest of all men, when provoked at Meribah, 
' spake unadvisedly with his lips :' and was forbidden 
to enter the land of promise. 

Guard especially against making promises in a pas- 
sion. Such promises will often involve you in serious 
difficulties : and prove snares and traps to your feet. 
You will feel a strong reluctance to fulfill, and powerful 
temptations to break them : temptations, which fre- 
quently overcome vigorous resolutions, subvert estab- 
lished reputation, and lead their miserable victims 
fatally astray. 

Many persons, and youths more than almost any 
others, are prone to make rash and inconsiderate pro- 
mises. Few propensities are more unhappy than this, 
or conduct men to more bitter consequences. Univer- 
sally resolve to make no promise when it can fairly be 
avoided. When it cannot, guard it with such condi- 
tions as shall render it certainly safe. Consider, parti- 
cularly, whether you possess the means of a faithful per- 
formance; if not, make no promises. In this manner 
you will escape the most dangerous temptations to false- 
hood, and the most alarming exposures to shame and 
ruin. 

2. Fix in your minds the most solemn resolutions to 
speak truth only. 

Call to mind daily the immense advantages of truth, 
and the immense evils of falsehood. Thesg advantages 
resolve to acquire ; these evils determine not to sutler. 
Both, to a considerable extent, have been set before 
you. Ponder them deeply and daily, as their impor- 
tance deserves. Determine, that no person shall ever 
have it in his power to charge you with falsehood. De- 
termine r.ever to say anything which shall enable your 
enemies to triumph, or force your friends to blush ; to 
say nothing, which you would be ashamed to have re- 
corded of you ; nothing, which shall forbid you to look 
an honest man in the face ; nothing which, in the pre- 
sence of such a man, shall force your eyes, when they 
meet his, to labour, linger, and fall. 

Resolve firmly never to flatter any man. Speak that 
which is good of others when you can ; and when you 
cannot, speak, at least in ordinary cases, nothing. Re- 
member, that ' a flattering mouth worketh ruin,' for 
him who flatters, as well as for him who is flattered. 
Be able, therefore, with Elihu, nobly to say, f Let me 
not, I piay you, accept any man's person; neither let 
me give flattering titles unto man. For I know not to 



give flattering titles ; in so doing my Maker would soon 
take me away.' To strengthen your resolutions, re- 
member always, that when you are once embarked in 
deceit, you are wholly afloat ; will be driven you know 
not whither, without either compass or pilot ; and will 
be environed by rocks and shoals, threatening you un- 
ceasingly with irremediable destruction. 

3. Frequent the company of wise and good men only. 
In this society you will find temptations, not spread 

before you, but taken away ; examples, which will not 
corrupt, but strengthen you in virtue. Here you will 
always find honour, peace, and profit ; instead of'shame, 
anxiety, and ruin. If you will seek this society, and 
this only, yoi^ will be welcomed to their esteem and 
good offices ; and will gain from their precepts and ex- 
ample, wisdom, truth, noble sentiments, and the most 
excellent conduct. These they will enforce by ten 
thousand motives, unthought of by licentious men, in- 
stinctively rising up to view, presented in strong lights, 
and exhibited with powerful persuasion. The excel- 
lency, usefulness, and glory of virtue they will unfold 
to you in many ways, of which loose men never enter- 
tain a thought, and of which you yourselves have pro- 
bably not formed a conception. The divine object also 
they will commend to your adoption by the charms of 
an amiable, honourable, and delightful example. Their 
sentiments you will imbibe, even before you are aware. 
Their exalted spirit you will catch. Their dignified 
life you will make your own. 

Here you will soon learn to wonder, to be astonished, 
that yourselves, that any being who possesses a rational 
mind, could ever frequent, or ever think for a moment 
of frequenting the haunts of licentious men ; the scenes 
of profaneness, gaming, fraud, and falsehood ; where 
darkness spreads her funeral pall ; where oaths and ob- 
scenity, lies and blasphemies, furnish a dreadful pre- 
lude to a more enormous perpetration of the same foul 
sins in the world of perdition. To exchange the soci- 
ety which I have recommended for these haunts, would, 
in your own view, be to quit the splendours of a palace 
for the loathsome horrors of a jail ; to wander from the 
sweets of Eden into the gloom, the chains, and the 
madness of a dungeon. 

4. To strengthen yourselves in all the conduct which 
I have recommended, labour to fix in your minds a 
strong, solemn, and habitual sense of the amazing im- 
portance of speaking truth always. 

Truth is the foundation of all virtue, and of all per- 
manent happiness. Establish this great doctrine in 
your minds so, that it shall never be forgotten ; so, that 
it shall be a part of your whole train of thinking, and 
inwoven, as an habitual commanding principle, in all 
your conduct. Bring it home to your hearts ; and spurn 
at the thought of regarding it even with a momentary 
indifference. 

Remember, that confidence is the foundation of all 
good ; that unless you can confide in others, you cannot 
live a single day with comfort, or even with safety ; that 
you can confide no farther than others speak truth, and 
fulfill promises : and that universal distrust would to 
yourselves and others be universal misery ; would un- 
hinge every expectation, and every hope ; would anni- 
hilate all the business of intelligent beings ; would set 
them at variance with each other, and with God ; and 
would make the universe a solitude and a desert. 

Remember, that every human concern is decided by 
4 p 



656 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxvhi. 



testimony ; that he who weakens it is an enemy to man- 
kind, and makes havoc of human happiness. Realize, 
that if by influence or example you destroy or diminish 
the confidence of men, if you lessen the sense of the 
obligations to veracity, you will become pests of the 
universe, and foes of every intelligent being which it 
contains. 

Call to mind, that by falsehood you will debase your- 
selves beyond measure; cut off all your hopes of be- 
coming virtuous ; arm your consciences against your 
peace ; and make yourselves objects of contempt, indig- 
nation, and abhorrence. 

Recollect daily, that the first step which you take in 
falsehood is the commencement of this boundless evil ; 
that the way to become an abandoned liar is to conceal 
truth, to equivocate, to evade, to utter sportive falsehood, 
to rehearse marvellous stories, to recite the tales of pri- 
vate history, and to colour what you recite with hues and 
stains mixed by yourselves. In all these things you 
may feel at your ease ; may profess yourselves to be, 
and may often actually be, in sport. So is the mad- 
man, who 'scatters fire-brands, arrows, and death.' 

Remember, last of all, that the time in which your lot 
is cast, is pre-eminently a time in which the sense of 



truth is weakened, and the consciousness of moral obli- 
gation to a wonderful degree forgotten. In this day, 
falsehood has come forth to the public eye with her 
brazen front unveiled, her cheek without even a tinge, 
and her snaky tongue newly dipt in poison. Her pro- 
fessed enemies are changed into friends ; her friends 
into worshippers. The whole world wonders after her. 
Afraid no longer of the contempt of society, or the 
brand of public justice, she enters familiarly into the 
study of the philosopher, the hall of deliberation, and 
the palace of power ; and dictates instructions, laws, 
edicts, and manifestoes to nations. In her train, par- 
ties, princes, and nations are proud to be enrolled. How 
immense, then, how unceasing, how universal, is the 
danger to you. Awake to that danger, and feel that 
you are struggling for your all. 

Above all things, commit yourselves to God in prayer. 
Ask him, and he will make you watchful, wise, and 
steadfast in your duty. Ask him, and he will teach 
you to love, and enable you to speak, truth only, until 
you arrive at that glorious world, where truth only is 
spoken by its happy inhabitants, and where all its bless- 
ings are realized with increasing delight, throughout 
ages which know no end. 



SERMON CXXVIIT. 



THE LAW OF GOD— THE DECALOGUE THE NINTH COMMANDMENT SLANDER. 



Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbour. — Exod. xx. 16. 



In the last Discourse but one, I proposed to consider 
falsehood under the two heads of lying, and slander. 

The former of these I have discussed at length. I 
shall now proceed to the consideration of the latter ; and 
shall arrange my observations under the following heads : 

I. The nature of slander. 

II. The modes in which it is practised. 

III. The evils of it. 

IV. Dissuasives from it. 

I. Slander may be thus defined : It is that conduct 
which injuriously lessens or destroys another 's reputa- 
tion. 

In most cases, words are made the vehicle of slander. 
It may, however, be accomplished without words. 
When we are reasonably expected to give a fair cha- 
racter of another, we may easily and deeply slander 
hiin by our silence. We may also accomplish the same 
purpose by our actions ; as when we withhold our 
countenance from a man who, in ordinary circumstan- 
ces, might fairly expect to enjoy it; withdraw from 
hiin business, with which he has heretofore been in- 
trusted ; or turn him out of our service, without alleg- 
ing any reasons for our conduct. In these, and the 
like cases, we give such proofs of suspecting him our- 
selves, as to entail upon him, in greater or less degrees, 
the suspicion of others. 



Slander is perpetrated sometimes with design, and 
sometimes through inattention. In the former case it 
is perpetrated with an intention to destroy happiness; 
in the latter, from indifference to it. In the former 
case, it springs from malice ; in the latter, from that 
sordid insensibility to the interests of others which is 
little less censurable. It will be unnecessary to dis- 
tinguish them any farther. 

II. Slander is most frequently practised in the fol- 
lowing modes : — 

1. In direct and false aspersions. 
The slanderer commences this malignant employ- 
ment by inventing and fabricating tales of falsehood 
concerning the person who is either the object of his 
hatred, or the subject of his diversion. To the fabri- 
cator of these tales all the subsequent mischief which 
arises from them is supremely chargeable. 

The second step is the rehearsing of such stories, 
after they have been told to us by others. In this step 
we do not participate in all the guilt which is attendant 
on the first. But both the guilt and the mischief are 
often greater. The spirit with which we rehearse tales 
of slander may be more malignant than that which 
gave birth to them ; and the consequences may be in- 
comparably worse. The inventor may have been a 
thoughtless, ignorant, giddy-minded man, without con- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— SLANDER. 



687 



sideration, and without character. We, on the con- 
trary, may possess reputation, forecast, and a correct 
knowledge of human concerns, may comprehend the 
whole efficacy of the tale, may perceive its falsehood, 
and may enjoy a base pleasure in giving it the most 
effectual operation. Thus, although not chargeable 
with the guilt of fabricating falsehood, we may become 
much more criminal than the fabricator. 

Whatever is our situation, we lend in this case our 
own weight to the story: and in this manner we some- 
times do all, and not unfrequently most of the mischief 
of which the story becomes the instrument. The in- 
ventors of such tales are usually persons of no reputa- 
tion ; and, if reputable at first, they soon destroy their 
character by this very employment. Were they then 
disregarded, and their tales not repeated, both would 
sink at once into absolute contempt. But when per- 
sons of a fair character take up such stories, and soberly 
rehearse them, the falsehood acquires new strength, 
and spreads with a new and most unhappy influence. 
This base coin they have not indeed made ; but they 
have passed it, and given it a currency, which it could 
never have derived from the maker. Let no person 
then think himself at all justified in reciting a tale of 
slander by the very common, indeed, but very wretched 
excuse, dictated, and adopted only by the coarsest and 
most vulgar morality ; that they heard it from others. 
Guilt fastens on every traveller in this base and by- 
path, and at every step in his progress. 

Some persons perpetrate this iniquity with designs 
directly malicious. Some from a busy, meddling dis- 
position, always unsatisfied, unless when interfering in 
the concerns of others ; and some from a wish to be 
thought extensively acquainted with private history. 
All these are characterized in the Scriptures by the 
significant names of ' busy bodies,' and 'tale-bearers;' 
and are considered there, and everywhere else, as the 
disturbers and pests of society. They are characterized 
in the most disadvantageous manner. Lev. xix. 16, 
' Thou shalt not go up and down as a tale-bearer among 
thy people ; neither shalt thou stand against the blood 
of thy neighbour. I am the Lord.' And again, in 
Prov. xxvi. 20. &c., ' The words of a tale-bearer are 
as wounds. — Where no wood is, there the fire goeth 
out.' They are classed with the worst of mankind, 
1 Pet. iv. 15, ' Let none of you suffer as a murderer, 
or as a thief, or as an evil-doer, or as a busy-body in 
other men's matters.' 

The character given of them in the Scriptures is the 
character given of them by common sense. In every 
age and country they have been objects of contempt 
and abhorrence. Prudent men have everywhere 
shunned them ; and pointed them out to their friends 
and children as enemies, as gins and snares, which 
they were ever cautiously to spy out, and eagerly to 
avoid. Every company into which they enter after 
their character is known, feels a sudden pressure upon 
its thoughts, and an alarm for its peace and safety. 
The aspect is changed at once. The features, relaxed 
by ease, friendship, and confidence, are suddenly con- 
tracted and fixed. The eye quits its smile of serenity 
and pleasure ; and settles itself in the attitude of vigi- 
lance, apprehensive and ill-boding ; and the conversa- 
tion, which sprang from the heart, reciprocated friend- 
ship, and awakened delight, is chilled down in a moment 
into general, unmeaning observations, adopted only 



because they have no meaning, and because no tale of 
mischief can be told about them. When such a man 
resides in a neighbourhood, a thick cloud hangs over 
all its enjoyments. When he removes, it is again co 
vered with cheerfulness and sunshine. 

With a criminality often greater, we slander others 
by giving accounts concerning them which are true. 
No excuse is more frequently or more confidently 
pleaded, as an ample justification of malignant stories 
concerning others, than this : that they are true. The 
author of ill-natured tales or remarks is not indeed 
chargeable, in this case, with the crime of falsehood. 
Still, he may be really and eminently criminal. If the 
good name of our neighbour be injured, the great evil 
in question is done. If it be injured by us, the evil 
is done by us. If we have injured it with pleasure, our 
malevolence is i - eal, and therefore our guilt is real. 
That guilt also may be as great or greater in the eye 
of God, than any which even we ourselves have attri- 
buted to the inventor of a slanderous story. 

Be it so, that our neighbour has slipped ; and that he 
has sinned against God. Still, ' if his sin remain with 
him,' he may repent ; and his repentance may render 
his character better, and his hopes brighter, than ours. 
Still, his talents may be employed for the benefit of 
himself, his family, and mankind. All this benefit, and 
all the comfort which he and his might enjoy, we may 
thus prevent, and blast for ever. 

My neighbour is a merchant. In a course of honest 
industry, he is reduced by misfortunes to failing cir- 
cumstances. The fact is known to me. I publish it. 
His creditors, anxious to secure as far as may be their 
own property, seize upon his effects, and perhaps con- 
fine him in a prison. Thus he may be completely 
ruined by a story which I have told ; and a story which 
is true. Thus also his family are reduced to want ; and 
see their hopes of support, education, usefulness, and 
comfort finally destroyed. 

Had I, with the prudence and benevolence which 
Christianity inspires, confined this secret within my 
own breast, the industry of my neighbour, his skill in 
business, his integrity, and the credit which he had 
merited and gained by these qualifications, would have 
enabled him to continue in trade without interruption ; 
and probably to acquire all the necessary means of 
comfort and prosperity for himself and his family. 
These blessings I have prevented ; and am chargeable 
with the prevention. I have not, indeed, told a false- 
hood ; but I have done mischief which is incalculable, 
and which a falsehood in the case supposed could not 
have done. 

Why have I done this mischief? There was no ne- 
cessity that my neighbour should be injured, that his 
failings should be published, that his character should 
be lowered, that his misfortune should be announced 
to the world, that the peace of his family should be 
wounded, their enjoyments cut oft', and their hopes 
blasted in the bud. In all this there is no profit tome 
nor to mankind ; nor, unless I am possessed of the spi- 
rit of a fiend, can there be any pleasure. 

It is evident, therefore, beyond debate, that he who 
tells a mischievous story, and that he who by declaring 
his belief of a mischievous story told by others, lends it 
the credit and sanction of his own authority, are essen- 
tially and alike guilty of slander. In the conduct spe- 
cified both also are without excuse. 



663 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxviii. 



So long as persons of reputation will either repeat 
the false stories of others, invented for the purpose of 
lowering or destroying character, or will publish malig- 
nant truths concerning others, the peace, the good name, 
and the comfort of mankind, will be invaded and de- 
stroyed. 

2. Slander may be practised without inventing or re- 
peating malignant stories, whether true or false. 

(I.) This may be done by listening to the slanderous 
stories of others. 

He who listens to a story of this nature without ex- 
pressing his disapprobation, declares by his conduct,, 
the strongest of all attestations, that he considers it as 
meriting his attention, and in some degree his belief. 
This belief, and even this attention, from persons of re- 
spectability, will give the slander a weight and currency 
which it could never have derived from the inventor. 
Those who see us listen in this manner will conclude of 
course, that the slander in our view has foundation and 
importance. Hence they will be induced both to be- 
lieve, and to report what, otherwise, they would have 
disregarded. 

The inventor of slander derives all his consequence 
atid all his encouragement from the countenance lent 
to him by others. But to believe is to countenance 
him; to listen is to countenance him. By listening to 
him, therefore, we give life and activity to his mischie- 
vous fabrications ; and lend them most of their power 
to do hurt. Besides, by doing this, we keep the spirit 
of slander alive in his breast ; and make him feel se- 
cure of the consequence which he hopes to gain by this 
course of conduct ; the consequence which is his princi- 
pal motive to sin. In this manner, we contribute to 
the existence of future slanders, and, in a manner pos- 
sessed of no contemptible efficacy, aid the diffusion of 
calumny through the world. This nuisance to society, 
this pest to mankind, we sustain, cherish, and send 
abroad, to destroy the peace of those around us. How 
plainly is he who acts in this manner a nuisance to his 
fellow men ? 

Both reason and revelation, both common sense and 
common good nature, demand, on the contrary, that 
whenever our neighbour's character is attacked, we 
should appear openly in his defence. In very few ways 
can we so often or so greatly befriend others, as by 
supporting their good name ; and in very few cases will 
our kindness be so deeply or so gratefully felt. The 
person thus attacked is absent of course, and cannot 
therefore defend himself. If we do not defend him, he 
is left naked to the attack, and to all its malignant con- 
sequences. Our silence cannot but injure him seri- 
ously. It may be the means of his ruin. Who would 
not wish, in such a case, to have his own character de- 
fended? Who then is not bound to defend that of an- 
other? Were this great law of righteousness duly felt, 
were its injunctions, as they respect the case under 
consideration, faithfully obeyed, what a horde of busy- 
bodies, tale-bearers, and calumniators would be broken 
down ! What an endless multitude of base and snaky 
efforts against the peace of society, and the comfort of 
families, would in this way be crushed at once ! 

(2.) If our silence, when tales of slander are report- 
ed, is thus injurious to others; the declaration, that we 
believe them, is still more criminal. 

"A multitude of persons not only suffer slander to pass 
without censure or opposition, but readily believe it ; 



and without hesitation declare this belief. If they do 
not repeat it to others, their consciences appear to be 
satisfied. Even when they give it no credit, they suf- 
fer others quietly to repeat it, not only without ani- 
madversion, but even without hinting their disbelief. 
Through a company of such persons a calumny rolls 
on without an impediment, without a single generous 
effort to check its progress. On the contrary, it fares 
like a spy in a venal, mercenary army, whom none 
will detect, and whose escape all will favour, because 
all are hollow-hearted and false. If it is attended with 
evidence moderately plausible, they declare their belief 
of it, and thus help it onward to the belief of others. If 
it be supported by no evidence whatever, they will not 
declare their belief of it ; thus suffering it to proceed 
without interruption, and to gain credit wherever it may. 

There is, in the human breast, a strong propensity to 
censoriousness. We need no instruction to teach us, 
that our fellow men are by every censure which adheres 
to them, lowered beneath their customary level. Nor 
do we discern with less readiness, that whatever sinks 
those around us, raises comparatively ourselves. With 
this self-exaltation, despicable as are the means by 
which it is achieved, we, whenever we become the 
authors of it, are despicable enough to be gratified : 
and the gratification, base and contemptible as it is, is 
still eagerly sought find highly enjoyed, by many such 
minds as are found in the present world. 

When these persons hear the characters of others 
aspersed, they hear it with pleasure ; and with pleasure 
believe the aspersion. Their faith here is not given to 
evidence ; it does not wait for evidence. If evidence 
be furnished, indeed, it is so much the better, because 
it is expected to command the faith of others also. But 
no evidence is necessary to ensure the faith of these 
persons. The tale pleases, because it involves the de- 
gradation of a neighbour, a rival, a superior, or some 
other object of jealousy. It is believed, because they 
wish it to be true. Still, many such persons are too 
cautious to rehearse it again ; and with their avoidance 
of this additional injury, their cold, heartless con- 
sciences are satisfied. 

III. The evils of dander are either personal or public. 

1. The personal evils of slander, by which 1 intend 
the sufferings experienced from it by individuals, are 
the pain felt, and the injuries derived, from the loss of 
a good name. 

A good name is the estimation in which we are 
holden by others, on account of our good qualities, and 
our good conduct. Such a name is declared by God 
himself to be ' better than precious ointment.' Eccles. 
vii. 1. And in Prov. xxii. 1, ' A good name is' said 
to be ' better than great riches ; and loving-favour,' 
that is, the favourable emotions, exercised towards such 
as possess a good name, better ' than silver and gold.' 
Silver and gold, particularly when possessed in such 
accumulations as constitute ' great riches,' are prover- 
bially the supreme objects which this world furnishes 
of human desires. As such, they are customarily used, 
as objects of comparison, to illustrate the value of things 
eminently precious. Thus, in the Scriptures themselves 
we are informed, that ' the law of the Lord is more to 
be chosen than the most fine gold.' Thus also Job says 
of the wisdom which is the obedience of that law, that 
' it cannot be gotten for gold ; neither shall silver be 
weighed for the price thereof.' 



THE LAW OF GOD SLANDER. 



669 



' Precious ointment,' as intended by a Jewish writer, 
probably denotes that which was used to anoint the high 
priest, and the kings of the Jewish nation. The mate- 
rials of which it was composed are well known to have 
been pre-eminently costly and valuable, far more so 
than the most fine gold. In this point of view, precious 
ointment was, in the mouth of an Israelite, perhaps the 
strongest conceivable illustration of the value of a good 
name. At the same time, this unguent, being composed 
of the richest and most elegant aromatic substances, 
diffused extensively the most delightful fragrance, 
wherever it was employed. With reference to this fine 
character, the psalmist adopts it as a charming illustra- 
tion of one of the most charming objects ever seen in 
the present world. ' Behold,' he exclaims, ' how good 
and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in 
unity ! It is like the precious ointment upon the head 
of Aaron, that went down to the skirts of his garment ; 
as the dew of Hernion, that descended upon the moun- 
tains of Zion : for there the Lord commanded the bless- 
ing, even life for evermore.' A more exquisite illustration 
of the delightful impression made by a fair character 
could not be given. 

Such a character is of inestimable value to the pos- 
sessor, if considered merely as a source of enjoyment. 
The esteem of our fellow men is probably regarded by 
the great body of mankind, as standing in the list of 
enjoyments next to self-approbation. Common sense, 
as well as the Scriptures, pronounces ' loving favour to 
be better than silver and gold.' The opinion of wise 
and good men may be considered, in all ordinary cases, 
as the best criterion of worth on this side of the grave ; 
and their good-will, which always accompanies their 
esteem, as the richest possession which does not descend 
immediately from heaven. Even in that happy world, 
the uninterrupted and intense complacency of its glori- 
ous inhabitants will, after the favour of God and the 
peace of a self-approving mind, constitute the prime in- 
gredient of eternal joy. 

In the world of misery, on the contrary, all the inha- 
bitants, being destitute of all good character in the eyes 
of each other, will be the subjects of perpetual shame, 
and the objects of mutual and everlasting contempt. 
These ingredients of suffering, so terrible even in the 
present world, will there become the means of inexpres- 
sible woe. They will be despised by themselves ; they 
will be despised by each other; they will be objects of 
abiiorrence to God, and to the whole virtuous universe. 
The anguish inflicted by this engine of torture so com- 
pletely in that melancholy world, is often excruciating 
in this. In how many instances has the consciousness 
of contempt, even from a single person, driven its mi- 
serable victim to suicide! 

Nor is a good name less indispensable to the attain- 
ment of confidence, and of all the blessings, by which 
confidence is followed. If we are unpossessed of a fair 
character, no one will confide in us. Without confi- 
dence, besides losing the serene and high enjoyment 
which it communicates, we shall be prevented from all 
useful employment, and from all the benefits which 
would flow from such employment to ourselves, and 
through us to others. 

A fair character is also essential to personal useful- 
ness. A man destitute of reputation is, of course, des- 
titute of influence; and virtuous influence is the prin- 
cipal means of usefulness. The good which we can 



individually do, must ever be small ; that which we may 
influence others to do, can be very great. If we are 
destitute of this instrument of beneficence, Ave can 
never persuade others to unite with us in any valuable 
purpose ; and must on every occasion, however im- 
portant, stand alone. Our talents are thus, in a great 
measure, rendered useless; and our power of contribut- 
ing to the welfare of our fellow men, and promoting 
the cause of righteousness, is shrunk and withered. 

In the loss of our reputation also, and in all its mi- 
serable consequences ; our connexions necessarily par- 
take ; particularly our friends, and our families. Who- 
ever wishes well to the sufferer feels the wound. Thus 
the evils, instead of being suffered by us only, are felt 
by multitudes ; and often with anguish not inferior to 
our own. 

Whenever the persons whose character is thus injured 
are in public stations, or are otherwise possessed of su- 
perior consequences, the mischief becomes more exten- 
sive, and more important. Thus a slander directed 
against a minister of the gospel, is a wound to the 
church ; a calumny branded upon a magistrate of dis- 
tinction is felt by the whole community. 

Finally ; the loss of reputation, both in itself, and 
especially in its consequences, the prevention of con- 
fidence, employment, and usefulness, brings with it a 
multitude of temptations, and prepares the mind for a 
ready perpetration of sin in every form, and extending 
to every degree. Regard to character is a powerful 
motive to every species of good conduct ; and when duly 
felt, is an evangelical motive. 'Whatsoever things are 
honest, lovely, and of good report,' St Paul enjoins 
upon Christians as their duty. ■' A bishop,' also the 
same apostle teaches us, ' must have a good report of 
them who are without' the church, as one indispensable 
qualification for his election to the ministry of the gos- 
pel. Those who were without the church, when this 
was written, were Jews and heathens. Yet, even among 
these men, a bishop was required to sustain an unble- 
mished reputation. Danger to character is also a prime 
restraint from all open wickedness, a restraint felt by 
every decent man every day of his life. He who is un- 
conscious of it, has already become almost desperate. 
He who discovers that he disregards it, will be pro- 
nounced by his fellow men abandoned. 

In accordance with these observations, the Scriptures 
have solemnly guarded personal reputation in various 
ways. They have taught the high value of a good 
name ; declared the guilt and odiousness of slander 
and tale-bearing ; prohibited strongly the practice of 
these crimes, and threatened the perpetrators with ex- 
emplary punishment. Municipal law also has hedged 
the private character of every man with a strong inclo- 
sure ; and denounced against every trespasser heavy 
penalties. 

From these considerations it is manifest that the 
mischiefs involved in the loss of reputation are to indi- 
viduals incomprehensibly great. Rarely does the thief 
or the cheat rob his fellow men of ' great riches.' 'ihe 
slanderer, therefore, accomplishes a greater injury than 
either of these villains ; for ' a good name is better than 
great riches.' It is of no consequence whether his efforts 
succeed, or not. The thief is not the less a thief because 
he drops his booty ; nor the cheat the less a cheat 
because he is detected in his fraud. If, then, the slan- 
derer is not more despised and abhorred than either, 



670 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxyvhi. 



it is because reputation is not esteemed according to 
its value. 

2. The public evils of slander are too numerous to 
permit, and too obvious to need, a discussion in this 
place. 

I have already remarked, that when persons of con- 
sequence are attacked by calumny, the mischief is ex- 
tensively spread. The slandering- of private individuals 
is capable also of extending far, and of harassing not a 
little the peace of society. There is in many places a 
kind of indulgence often given to that pestilential class 
of mankind, the retailers of private history. In villages, 
precluded by their size or their situation from being- 
theatres of public news, a strong propensity is often dis- 
covered to listen to those who employ their time in 
prying into the private concerns of their neighbours. 
Encouraged by this kind of approbation, as well as 
urged onward by restless curiosity, and an eager spirit 
of meddling, persons of this description multiply with- 
out number their suspicions, their innuendoes, their pre- 
dictions of evils, and their tales of mischief. Speedily, 
jealousies are excited between neighbour and neigh- 
bour, between friend and friend. Speedily the offices 
of good-will and gcod neighbourhood are withdrawn. 
Social visits are interdicted. Kindness, both in opinion 
and conduct, ceases ; and a village, in which peace and 
good order have long prevailed, is thrown into an 
uproar. The general conversation is made up of ridi- 
cule, invective, and threatening ; and a quiet life gives 
place to quarrels and litigations. Even in the house 
of God the inhabitants find themselves scarcely able to 
unite with each other in the worship of their Maker. 

But the spirit of slander is not confined to villages, 
nor towns, nor cities. It often flies at higher objects ; 
and boldly intrudes upon the hall of justice, the senate- 
house, and the chair of state. No life is too spotless, 
no character is too sacred, to be assaulted and destroyed 
by this evil genius of man. A single calumny, espe- 
cially in seasons of violent party, has set a nation in a 
flame ; and for a season consumed its peace, and wasted 
its prosperity. The evils suffered in this case are num- 
berless, and incomprehensible. One of the chief sources 
of the unprecedented crimes and sufferings attendant 
upon the French revolution, was the slander of distin- 
guished men, both in public and private life. Misre- 
presentation and obloquy have been more fatal enemies 
to the cause of Christianity, than the faggot and the rack. 
IV. Among the dissuasives from this sin I shall briefly 
suggest the following : — 

1. It is eminently odious in the sight of God. 
The great body of slanderers are liars ; and are there- 
fore chargeable with all the gross wickedness attributed 
to men of this character, and exposed to all the awful 
threatenings denounced against them in the Scriptures. 
' Whoso privily slandereth his neighbour,' says David, 
under the guidance of the Spirit of truth, directing his 
duty as the ruler of Israel, ' him I will cut off.' In that 
kingdom, therefore, this crime was made capital, by a 
divine decision. The slanderer also, and that when he 
is not, as well as when he is, the inventor of a false 
calumny, is, in Psal. xv. excluded from the favourable 
presence of God. ■ Lord,' saith the psalmist,' who shall 
abide in thy tabernacle, who shall dwell in thy holy hill ?' 
One answer to this inquiry is the following : ' He that 
backbiteth not with his tongue, nor taketh up a reproach 
against his neighbour.' 



2. Every person guilty of this sin exposes himself also 
to the hatred and contempt of mankind. 

A slanderer is a common enemy. All considerate 
persons know and feel this truth, and guard themselves 
with watchful care against his attacks. So far as their 
circumstances will permit, they shun, and warn their 
children and friends to shun, his company. Not mere 
suspicion, but a well-founded and deeply felt conviction 
of his hostility to the common interests of men, meets 
him wherever he goes. His presence creates only 
pain. His tongue is a blast upon human comfort ; anfl 
his name is an additional spot upon the human char- 
acter. 

No member of this audience, I presume, feels that he 
is prepared to encounter an evil of this magnitude. 
It is a terrible consideration, that mankind are less 
afraid to offend their God, than to provoke the resent- 
ment of their fellow men. Still, it furnishes some con- 
solation, that the dread of public odium and contempt 
is a powerful hinderance of open iniquity, and a forci- 
ble restraint upon evil dispositions. If any individual 
present feels adventurous enough to hazard this evil, or 
is indifferent about it, let him recollect with what agi- 
tation he has sustained even slight attacks upon his 
character; how tremblingly apprehensive he has been, 
lest a few, or even one of those around him should 
believe the calumny, and lest he should be regarded 
with hatred and contempt on a speck of earth, and by 
a handful of mankind. If he could not sustain this 
shock, how unprepared must he be to meet the common 
assault of the human race ! How must he shrink, and 
falter, and fall, when indignation burns against him in 
every breast, contempt flashes on him from every eye, 
and a sentence of final condemnation is pronounced on 
him by every tongue ! How will he bear to be shunned 
by all decent society ; pointed at by the finger of pru- 
dence, as well as of scorn, and hissed wherever he ap- 
pears, not by vulgarity, ill-nature, and enmity only, but 
by decency, delicacy, and common sense ! How will 
he bear to spend his days in a kind of solitude in the 
midst of mankind, to be welcomed cordially to no man's 
bosom, to be regarded as a public nuisance, to be sus- 
pected and dreaded, and to have his presence regarded 
as a burden, and his character as a brand, upon the hu- 
man race ! Especially, how will he bear all this, and 
feel at the same time, that in all this no injustice is done 
to him ; since he has merited it all by his own vile and 
infamous conduct ! 

3. The immense mischiefs occasioned by slander, ought 
to deter every man who has not, and to stop every man 
who has, entered upon this guilty career. 

There are persons to whom I should scarcely think of 
addressing this consideration. But to this audience it 
may surely be addressed with success. It cannot for a 
moment be admitted even with decency, that those who 
are before me can be indifferent to the thought of doing 
such mischiefs to their fellow men. Think what it 
will be to stab the character, to destroy the peace and 
the usefuluess, even of one of your fellow creatures. 
Remember how tenderly you regard your own reputa- 
tion : how deeply you have been pierced even by the 
darts of ridicule ; how suddenly you have shrunk from 
the eye of scorn ; and how you have trembled under a 
tale of slander, or a foul aspersion. Remember, that 
others have their feelings also. Remember, that repu- 
tation is to them as dear, calumny as unwelcome, con- 



THE LAW OF GOD CONTENTMENT. 



671 



tempt as oppressive, and disgrace as full of anguish, as 
to you. Then ask yourselves, whether you can consent 
to be the authors of these evils. 

All this, however, is only the first stage of the mis- 
chiefs which you will accomplish. Extend your views 
from individuals to families. How much happiness in 
these little, delightful circles is often destroyed by a 
single calumnious tale ! How often are the hearts of 
parents broken, and the peace of their children de- 
stroyed, by false imputations of dishonesty to a son, or 
impurity to a daughter ! How often is the domestic 
group clustered together with terror and anguish, by 
false charges upon the good name of a parent ! Before, 
they were happy. Why are they not happy now ? Be- 
cause a fiend in the shape and with the tongue of a man 
has blasted all their enjoyments. 

But the mischiefs do not stop here. Families are set 
at variance with each other, friends are converted into 
enemies, and neighbours into strangers. Harmony, 
hospitality, and peace sicken and die before the foul 
breath of slander. Every office of kindness is inter- 
rupted ; and the spirit of Christianity itself, amazed, 
perplexed, bewildered, looks around in vain, or almost 
in vain, to find proper objects of its beneficence, and 
means and modes of administering it with success. To 
the happiness of good neighbourhood succeeds a train 
of grovelling, base serpentine hostilities ; depraving all 
who practise them, and distressing all against whom 
they are practised. Anxiety and dismay haunt every 
fire-side ; and a funereal gloom settles upon every pros- 
pect, and broods over every hope. 

4. The slanderer ought to be deterred from his pur- 
pose by the incalculable mischiefs which he will do to 
himself. 

It cannot be supposed that in such a course of hosti- 



lities against his fellow men, the slanderer will escape 
from the common resentment of those whom he has in- 
jured. As he is an enemy to all men, all men become 
at length enemies to him. Such as have smarted se- 
verely from his tongue will usually take effectual care 
to make him smart in his turn. The vengeance exe- 
cuted upon him will often be exemplary. Sometimes 
he will be chastised. Sometimes he will be prosecuted. 
Sometimes he will be excluded from all decent society ; 
and often, if not always, he will be openly insulted 
with indignities which he knows not how to brook, and 
yet dares not resist. The consciousness of his guilt 
will make him a coward ; while a painful conviction 
that his sufferings are a mere and just retribution iA 
his crimes, will point every sting, and give a double 
force to every blow. 

Still more ought he to be alarmed at the certain 
prospect of depraving himself. Slander is a compound 
of falsehood, injustice, unkindness, a:id meanness; form- 
ing in itself a character eminently depraved. What is 
so unhappily begun, proceeds with a rapid and dread- 
ful declension. All the designs which he forms in the 
indulgence of this characteristical propensity, all the 
measures which he feels obliged to employ, all the in- 
struments which he can summon to his assistance, all the 
gratifications which he can experience in his success, are 
such, and such only, as contribute to shrink, debase, 
and pollute his mind. In such a soil a noble generous 
thought would instantly wither. To such a bosom hon- 
ourable friendship cannot approach. At the door of 
such a heart Christianity knocks for admittance in vain. 
His career is the career of abandonment only, through 
a path of steep and rapid descent, ' going down to the 
chambers of death.' 



SERMON CXXIX. 



THE LAW OF GOD — THE DECALOGUE.— THE TENTH COMMANDMENT 

CONTENTMENT 



Thou sftalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbours wife, nor his man-servant, nor his 
maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbour's Exod. xx. 17. 



The preceding precepts of the Decalogue, so far as the 
language in which they are written is concerned, are 
apparently intended to regulate chiefly the external 
conduct of mankind. Had they not been explained by 
the prophets who followed Moses, and still more by our 
Saviour and his apostles, plausible reasons might be 
alleged why all of them, even the fourth, might be sa- 
tisfied by external observances. But the precept in the 
text is directed immediately and only to the heart, and 
is intended supremely to control the disposition. The 
propensity forbidden in it is covetousness ; an inordi- 
nate desire of worldly enjoyment; and particularly an 
inordinate desire of such enjoyments when in the pos- 
session of others. We may lawfully desire the enjoy- 
ments furnished by this world ; and that even when 



they belong to our fellow men, if the desire is confined 
within due bounds. We may desire lawfully the lands 
and houses of others, when they are willing to part with 
them, and we are equally willing to purchase them at 
an equitable price. We may lawfully wish to obtain 
any share of worldly good with which God may crown 
our honest and industrious efforts, and which we may 
be prepared to enjoy with a spirit of gratitude, benefi- 
cence, and moderation. ' I know,' says Solomon, ' that 
there is no good in them ' (that is, in the creatures 
which God has made in this world, or the things cre- 
ated here), ' but for a man to rejoice, and to do good 
in his life ; and also, that every man should eat, and 
drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour : it is the 
gift of God.' 



672 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seo. cxxix. 



An inordinate desire of natural good seems, in the 
order of things, to be the commencement of sin in a 
virtuous being. Our first parents began their apostasy 
by coveting the forbidden fruit as an enjoyment, and 
wishing to become ' as gods, knowing good and evil.' 
In this disposition seem naturally to be involved am- 
bition, avarice, and voluptuous wishes for its attain- 
ment : and out of it to spring, as consequences, pride, 
vanity, and criminal sensuality, in its enjoyment ; envy 
towards those who possess more of it than ourselves ; 
anger and malice towards those who hinder us from 
acquiring it ; revenge towards those who have deprived 
us of it ; falsehood, as the means of achieving - and se- 
curing it ; forgetfulness, and therefore ingratitude, with 
respect to such as give it : and impiety, and consequent 
rebellion, repining, and profaneness, towards him from 
whom we receive less of it than our unreasonable wishes 
demand. In a word, to this disposition may be traced 
with no great difficulty most, if not all, of the sins com- 
mitted by mankind. The text therefore appears to be 
levelled at the root of bitterness ; at a sinful disposition 
in its original form, and in the very commencement of 
its existence. If we obey this precept with the heart, 
and it cannot otherwise be obeyed, that obedience will 
immediately fulfill all the demands of the other precepts 
belonging to the second table, or those regulating our 
duty to mankind ; and consequentially, will fulfill those 
of the first. The tenth command therefore may be re- 
garded as, in an extensive sense, a summary of our duty. 

This command directly prohibits coveting; or, in 
other words, ambition, avarice, and voluptuous desire. 
Of course it requires universally contentment, and, by 
easy implication, charity. Of consequence, also, it for- 
bids discontentment and envy. Contentment, the vir- 
tue required in this precept, shall be the principal sub- 
ject of the present Discourse. With this subject I shall 
connect some observations concerning discontentment 
and envy. Concerning voluptuous desires I shall not 
here enter into any discussion. 

In examining this subject I shall, 

I. Describe the nature, 

II. Mention the benefits of contentment. 

The nature of contentment has been very often mis- 
apprehended. Persons often suppose themselves to be 
contented, when they are merely gay or glad ; when a 
native or accidental sprightliness of mind excludes sor- 
row and gloom : or when a multiplicity of enjoyments, 
the gratification of a darling wish, or the success of a 
favourite enterprise, or the arrival of some unexpected 
benefit, fills the heart with pleasure. Others mistake 
indifference and phlegm for contentment ; and others 
etil!, that kind of dull equanimity which springs from 
uniform, grave, and spiritless employments ; destroy- 
ing all the elasticity of the mind, and settling it down 
in an immovable stagnation. The contentment which 
is the object of this precept, differs radically from all 
these dispositions. A man may be gay, or glad, and 
yet be totally destitute of this virtue. His natural dis- 
position may incline him to flutter from one amuse- 
ment to another, without suffering him to settle serious- 
ly upon any. Still the disposition which he mistakes 
for contentment is only sportiveness. But no man will 
mistrust, that sportiveness is the disposition required by 
this precept. A man may be greatly delighted with 
his present enjoyments, but no person beside himself 
will mistake his pleasure for contentment; and a re- 



verse of fortune may convince even him, that there is a 
wide difference between these two states of mind. Much 
less can the other attributes which I have mentioned, 
lay a claim to this title. There is nothing excellent or 
amiable in being merely grave, insensible of sufferings, 
or indifferent about them. 

The words used in the Scriptures to denote content- 
ment, involve, as one of their significations, the re- 
straining of ourselves; and, as another, the supporting 
of such burdens as are incumbent on us. It includes, 
therefore, the supposition, that the contented person is 
placed in circumstances which demand the restraint of 
his inclinations, and the sustcntation of difficulties. 
Such, plainly, are the circumstances of every being who 
can, with strict propriety, be said to be contented. To 
say, that an angel was contented, would certainly be 
incorrect phraseology. An angel is happy ; all his 
circumstances being completely gratifying to his de- 
sires. A man whom many troubles befall, and many 
burdens press, may, by steadily restraining his inclina- 
tions to murmur at the former, and serenely supporting 
the latter, be contented. Such is always the situation 
of man upon the whole. He is never, for any length 
of time, in a situation entirely agreeable to him. On 
the contrary, he is always required, in some degree, and 
at short intervals, to suffer. If he possess a contented 
spirit, he will suffer with quietness and serenity. 

Having premised thes« general remarks, I observe, 
that evangelical contentment, the object of the com- 
mand in the text, involves, 

1. A fixed belief of the reality and excellency of the 
divine government. 

The divine government is, throughout the Scriptures, 
made the foundation of every delightful, and even 
every comfortable thought. This scheme is perfectly 
accordant with the dictates of reason. Both the views 
and prospects of the atheist, as I have heretofore shown 
at large,* are gloomy and desolate, full of perplexity 
and discouragement, and destitute alike of comfort and 
hope. ' The Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice ;' is 
a declaration, and a precept founded on it, which a 
very limited understanding will show us to be just, and 
a very moderate degree of rectitude incline us to obey. 

It is not, however, sufficient to insure our obedience, 
however well disposed, that we believe in the superin- 
tendence of some all-controlling agent. It is the go- 
vernment of Jehovah in which we are required to re- 
joice ; the result of the wisdom, power, and goodness 
which constitute the perfect character of this glorious 
Being. No man can be contented who does not believe 
that the administration by Avhich all his own interests, 
both personal and social, are ultimately to be decided, 
is both just and benevolent. The state of things with 
which we are immediately concerned, is mysterious 
and distressing. The mysteries we cannot unravel ; 
the distresses we often find it difficult to bear. Both 
united must frequently be insupportable, unless we 
could confide in the wisdom and goodness of him who 
controls the universe, as furnishing sufficient assurance, 
that they are right and good in themselves, and will in 
the end be shown to be right and good. The reality 
and excellence of the divine government, therefore, must 
indispensably be objects of a steady faith to a content- 
ed mind. 

* Sec Sermon III. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— CONTEN TMENT. 



673 



2. Contentment involves an humble hope, generally ex- 
isting, that we are interested in the divine favour. 

We suffer many evils in the present world. Philo- 
sophy bids us suffer them with firmness, since they 
cannot be avoided ; and since impatience and sinking 
under them will only make them heavier. I am not 
disposed to deny the prudence, or even the propriety, 
of this precept. It may be, it usually is, true, that we 
lessen the degree of our sufferings by resolving firmly 
to endure them. But it is equally true, that the im- 
movable nature of evils is no cause of contentment. 
On the contrary, it is always the most distressing con- 
sideration which can attend them. This, however, is 
the only support which philosophy can give to the suf- 
ferer. 

No motive can rationally make us willing to suffer, 
there is no virtue in suffering evil for its own sake. 
All rational submission to evil arises from the consider- 
ation that God wills us to suffer, as the proper reward 
of our sins, and as the means of promoting his glory, 
and the good of ourselves, or others ; of others always, 
and of ourselves if we do not prevent it by our disobe- 
dience to his pleasure. This motive to contentment, 
Christianity holds out to its disciples invariably, by 
pointing their attention and their faith to the govern- 
ment of God. The hope of an interest in his favour, 
Christianity also regularly inspires, by presenting to 
' them all the promises of infinite mercy through the 
mediation of Christ. Without such a hope, the ills of 
life would often overcome the equanimity of such minds 
as ours. The outcast would be feebly supported by an 
assurance that he could obtain no relief for his suffer- 
1 ings ; and the martyr by being told that his flames 
' could not be extinguished. In the hope of the divine 
mercy, a remedy is found for every present evil ; and 
i he who exercises it will naturally summon all his powers 
to sustain with serenity distresses which, although grie- 
vous for the present, will operate as the means, and ter- 
minate in the enjoyment, of everlasting good. 

3. Contentment involves a conviction, that it is both 
our duty and our interest to acquiesce in the divine dis- 
pensations. 

With the dispositions already mentioned, it may be 
regarded as a thing of course, that such a conviction 
will prevail in the mind. If God is the universal Ru- 
ler; if his government is the result of infinite excel- 
lence ; if what he does, or permits to be done, is right 
in itself, and will hereafter appear to be right : if we 
are furnished with an humble hope of an interest in his 
favour; then, however mysterious and perplexing the 
events of Divine Providence may be, and however dis- 
tressing to us, we still shall see and feel abundant rea- 
son to be satisfied. We shall readily admit, that the 
most untoward events, the most difficult to be recon- 
ciled with our apprehensions of wisdom and goodness, 
are difficult only in the view of creatures, whose minds 
ate limited like ours. We shall believe that they are 
perplexing, only because we cannot explain them ; that 
they seem wrong, only because we cannot understand 
tliem. With such views, we shall cheerfully resign the 
government of the universe into the hands of its Maker, 
and wait for the removal of our own perplexities, until 
the day when ' the mystery shall be finished,' when 
God shall appear just in judging, and clear even in 
condemning. 

4. Contentment implies a cordial acknowledgment, 



that we are unworthy of those mercies which we 
receive. 

There are in the present world many afflictions. If 
we are guiltless beings, our sufferance of them must be 
unmerited ; and the communication of them to us by 
our Creator is irreconcilable with all our ideas of equity. 
If we admit God to be just, we are obliged also to ad- 
mit that ourselves are sinners. If we are not sinners, 
but are unjustly distressed, there is no reason why we 
should be contented with our situation. No being can 
be bound to be contented with injustice. But if we are 
sinners, we can have no claim to any favour. If we 
are conscious that we are sinners, we shall see that we 
have no such claim. We shall see that, however small 
our blessings may appear, God ' hath not dealt with us 
after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our ini- 
quities.' Enjoyments, in the view of a mind thus at- 
tempered, will all appear to be mere gifts of sovereign 
goodness, mere emanations of benevolence, to a being 
destitute of any claim to the favour of God. Without 
such views, seated in the heart, and controlling its af- 
fections, it appears to me impossible that such a being 
as man should be contented. 

5. Contentment involves a disposition steadily to mark 
the daily mercies of God. 

The great body of mankind seem to regard their en- 
joyments either as things of course ; or as acquisitions 
made by their own ingenuity and efforts. With such 
views, it seems impossible that they should consider 
them as blessings. Their afflictions, on the contrary, 
they appear to consider as mere hardships ; partly as 
injuries done to them by their fellow men, and partly 
as vexatious and unlucky events, brought upon them 
by they know not what untoward chance, or evil des- 
tiny. Accordingly, in their hours of complaining, they 
customarily pronounce themselves to be ill-starred, un- 
lucky, unfortunate, persecuted by ill fortune, plagued 
and harassed ; and, what is very remarkable, never 
speak of themselves as chastised or afflicted by God. 
According to their own account, their enjoyments are 
accidents and acquisitions, not blessings ; and their suf- 
ferings are calamities, not judgments of God. 

Multitudes also, who do not go all this length, suffer 
the mercies which they daily receive, and these both 
invaluable and numberless, to pass by them in a great 
measure unregarded. Converse with these men on this 
subject, and they will readily acknowledge that all their 
enjoyments are gifts of God, and in no sense merited 
by themselves. Still, from their ordinary conversation 
and conduct, it is evident that such acknowledgments 
are no part of the current state of their minds. From 
their obvious indifference, from their regardless inat- 
tention, amid the common and most necessary blessings 
of life, it is undeniably certain, that they are scarcely 
conscious even of the existence, much less of the source 
of these blessings. Were these persons to number their 
enjoyments, they would be astonished to find their 
amount. Were they to estimate them, they would be 
equally astonished to perceive their value. Were they 
to examine their own character they would be amazed 
that blessings of such value, and of such an amount 
were bestowed on themselves. 

The man who actually adopts this conduct, will soon 
discern in the importance and number of his enjoy- 
ments, and in his own undeserving character, ample 
reasons, not only for being satisfied, but also for being 
4 Q 



674 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser, cxxrx. 



grateful. On the one hand, he will admire that divine 
goodness which is manifested to him every hour in so 
many forms ; and will wonder, on the other, that it 
should be manifested, to so guilty and undeserving a 
creature. So long as we do not perceive these facts 
(and unless we mark them, we shall not perceive them), 
it seems impossible that we should possess a contented 
spirit. 

6. Contentment involves the moderation of those de- 
sires which are directed, to worldly enjoyments. 

There are two modes in which mankind seek happi- 
ness : indulging their wishes, and seeking to find ob- 
jects, sufficient in their nature and number to gratify 
them : and confining their wishes, by choice and system, 
to a moderate number of objects : and thus preparing 
themselves to find their enjoyment in such objects as, 
in the ordinary course of things, they may rationally 
expect to obtain. The former of these modes is gene- 
rally pursued by mankind. Still it is palpably unwise, 
full of danger, and regularly attended by disappoint- 
ment, mortification, and distress. Every man who 
adopts it will be compelled to learn, that the state of 
this world is altogether unsuited to satisfy numerous 
and eager desires. The enjoyments which it furnishes 
are comparatively few and small. They are incapable 
therefore of fulfilling the demands of numerous and 
extensive desires. At the same time, he will find his 
desires enlarging incomparably more, and increasing 
incomparably faster, than their gratifications. A rich 
man covets property with far more greediness than the 
possessor of moderate wealth. He who has entered the 
chase of fame, power, or pleasure, will find his wishes 
become more vehement, as well as more expanded, by 
every new instance of success ; and will soon perceive, 
that what he once thought to be sufficient good, has 
ceased to be good at all. If he gains all that he pur- 
sues, he will therefore be continually less and less satis- 
fied ; and, while ' he snatches on the right hand, and 
devours on the left,' he will still be ' hungry ' in the 
midst of his gluttony and plunder. 

Incomparably more wise and hopeful is the latter of 
these modes. The wishes which are directed to worldly 
enjoyments can be controlled, to an indefinite degree, 
by reason, firmness, and regular pre-concertion. In this 
case, the mind, demanding only moderate enjoyments, 
may ordinarily be in a good measure satisfied ; for 
moderate enjoyments not only exist in our present 
state, but are commonly attainable without much diffi- 
culty by the great body of mankind. Our wishes, in 
this case, are suited to our circumstances. As, therefore, 
our enjoyment is commensurate to the satisfaction of 
our wishes ; so, when our wishes are moderate, the 
moderate enjoyments which this world supplies will 
furnish us with sufficient gratification. 

Without this moderation of our desires, contentment 
cannot exist. An eager pursuit of earthly good would 
make an angel discontented. Vehement desires un- 
ratified are sure and copious sources of misery. The 
demands of enjoyment in the mind which cherishes 
them, are too high to be satisfied by any thing which 
this world has to give. The mind seeks for enjoyment, 
not with the spirit of a rational, industrious man, but 
with that of a miser; and cries unceasingly, ' Give 
give ;' but, whatever may be its acquisitions, is never 
sufficiently satisfied to be able to say, ' It is enough.' 
7. Contentment involves self-approbation. 



All enjoyment commences in the state of the mind 
itself. When that is disturbed, no external gratifica- 
tions can be relished or regarded. No seasoning, no 
daintiness, will enable him who is languishing under a 
fever to relish even the choicest viands. But to ease 
of mind, self-approbation is indispensable. Unless the 
conscience approve and smile, serenity can never over- 
spread the world within. So long as the conscience 
reproaches, wounds, and terrifies, the soul must be per- 
turbed, restless, and unhappy. That contentment 
should exist in such a mind, can neither be proper 
nor possible. But, whenever the man begins to sub- 
mit to be controlled by his conscience, he begins to be 
approved by himself. The tumult of the soul then be- 
gins to subside ; the storm ceases to lower, and to 
threaten ; the violence of the blast is hushed ; the angry 
clouds disperse ; a summer evening overspreads the 
soul ; calm, serene, bright, the promise of a future, 
peaceful, and delightful day. 

II. I shall now briefly mention some of the benefits 
of contentment. 

1 . This disposition of mind secures to us the favour 
of God. 

The preceding observations make it evident that 
contentment is in an extensive sense, obedience to the 
divine will. It is also directly and repeatedly com- 
manded in the Scriptures. To Timothy, St Paul writes, 
' Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content.' 
To the Hebrews he says, universally, ' Be content with 
such things as ye have.' This injunction he also en- 
forces by the best of all reasons : viz. that ' God hath 
said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.' That 
God is pleased with obedience to his commands, needs 
no illustration. Equally unnecessary, would be an at- 
tempt to show that a state of mind, formed, as content- 
ment obviously is, chiefly of faith, submission, humility, 
gratitude, and self-government, must be obedience emi- 
nently acceptable. But him whom God approves, he 
will bless. The promises of the divine favour to such 
as cordially obey the divine will are spread everywhere 
throughout the Scriptures, and not one of them will 
fail of being accomplished. But the favour of God is 
the sum of all benefits, and the source whence every 
other proceeds. Contentment begins with a hope of 
the divine favour ; and, as a continued course of obe- 
dience to the commands of God, originates unceasingly 
new hopes, and makes sure of new communications of 
the same invaluable blessing. 

2. Contentment enables him who possesses it to per- 
form his duty with more exactness and more pleasure 
than he can otherwise attain. 

The contented mind is unencumbered by many cares 
and many hindrances which usually obstruct and re- 
tard men in the performance of their duty. The sere- 
nity of its disposition leaves it at full leisure calmly 
to examine, and therefore clearly to understand, and 
thoroughly to feel, the nature, directions, and amount 
of its duty. Satisfied with the divine dispensations, 
and assured of the approbation of him whose dispensa 
tions they are, it is prepared beforehand to accord with 
their tenor, and to perform whatever they may require. 
In this case, its obedience obviously becomes easy 
cheerful, and of course delightful, as well as uniform 
and exact. It is the punctilious and cheerful obediencej 
of a child, compared with which the occasional an 
reluctant performances of a discontented man, . are! 



THE LAW OF GOD.— CONTENTMENT. 



675 



merely the mercenary drudgery of an unfaithful ser- 
vant. But to perform our duty with pleasure, is to 
lead a life of enjoyment; for our duty returns every 
moment of our lives. To perforin our duty also with 
exactness, is not only delightful in itself, but is a con- 
tinual source of self-approbation and peace ; and the 
only source whence these blessings can be derived. 

3. The man in whom this spirit prevails is secured 

■ from many temptations and many sins to which others 
: are exposed. 

A discontented man naturally indulges, and is al- 

■ ways liable to the sin of murmuring- against God, 
arraigning his justice, wisdom, and goodness, and har- 
dening his heart against his mercy ; because he is im- 
patient under his own allotments, and unwilling to 
accord with any proposals from a Being whose charac- 
ter he disrelishes, and whose conduct he regards as the 
source of his troubles. The envious man is prompted 
by his ruling disposition to repine at the blessings of 
others, to accuse God of partiality in bestowing them, 
to wish them lessened, to resort not unfrequently to 

1 active, insidious, and malignant exertions for the pur- 
pose of lessening them, and to exercise a kind of in- 
fernal joy when they are taken away. Such a man 
turns a gloomy, misanthropic eye on all those who, he 
thinks, are richer, greater, wiser, or happier than him- 
self. From these rebellious and fiend-like dispositions, 
from the temptations which they create, and the sins to 
which they lead, the contented mind is delightfully 
free. Satisfied with its own lot, it feels no anxiety, 
mortification, or opposition to its Maker, because others 
are possessed of superior good. Particularly, it is un- 
disturbed by the sight of superior wealth in the posses- 
sion of others ; of superior power, pleasures, reputation, 
and influence. On all these splendours it can look, as 
the eagle on the sun, with a steady and serene eye ; 
and can find its happiness not lessened, but increased, 
because others are happy. The disposal, both of its 
own concerns and theirs, it is willing to leave wholly 
to God ; and prepared to enjoy any good which he is 
pleased to bestow, whoever may be the recipient. Thus, 

4. It is a disposition eminently peaceful and comfort- 
able. 

On the one hand, it is preserved from many troubles, 
suffered by others ; and on the other, finds many plea- 
sures, which others never know. The distress experi- 
enced in an unceasing course of disappointments, by 
all discontented, covetous, and ambitious men, is chiefly 
unknown to him who has acquired this delightful 
spirit. Equally free is he also from the pain of un- 
gratified desires, and from continual fears that his de- 
sires will be ungratified. Nor is he less secure from 
that complication of woe, which springs incessantly 
from distrust of the goodness and faithfulness of God, 
from murmuring against his providence, from reluc- 
tance to obey his pleasure, and from the consciousness 
of not having faithfully obeyed at all. At the same 
time, he is delivered from those fears of future woe 
which so often harass the minds of guilty men. 

It is not here intended to insinuate, that the con- 
tented man is free from afflictions ; but that he is com- 
paratively free from them is unquestionable. Content- 
ment will not remove the thorns and briars spread over 
this unhappy world by the apostasy, and renew upon 
its face the bloom, the beauty, and the fragrance of 
Eden. But it will blunt the point of many a thorn, 



and convert many a wilderness into a fruitful field. 
The sorrows which it feels will be all allayed by the 
remembrance, that they come from the hand of the 
infinitely Good ; and by the hope, that they will all 
terminate in the promotion of its own best interests. 
To the blast of calamity also it yields, like the willow ; 
and is therefore not rooted up and destroyed. In the 
mean time, whenever troubles arrive, however nume- 
rous or great they may be, their distressing efficacy is 
always allayed by the soothing balmy influence of peace 
and self-approbation. 

This delightful influence also is regularly diffused 
over every enjoyment. The enjoyments of the con- 
tented man are in his view all gifts and blessings ; not 
acquisitions, made by his own ingenuity and efforts. 
As gifts, they are relished with gratitude to their glo- 
rious Author. The light in which they are seen by 
this grateful disposition is always glossy and brilliant, 
and the taste which they furnish is singularly sweet. 
Thus the contented man finds pleasures, where others 
find only troubles. Thus, when troubles arrest him, 
their bitterness is allayed ; and thus all the pleasures 
which he finds are enhanced by his own happy disposi- 
tion. Even in seasons when darkness overspreads the 
world, and such seasons it must be acknowledged there 
are, when the gloom overshadows his mind, as well as 
the minds of those around him ; and when the face of 
the Sun of righteousness is eclipsed to the eyes of man- 
kind ; hope, humble and serene, will lift up her explor- 
ing eye, and behold the divine luminary still visible, 
and environing the intervening darkness with a circle 
of glory. 

5. Contentment renders its possessor eminently pleas- 
ing and comfortable to others. 

Uniform serenity, cheerfulness, and sweetness of dis- 
position, constitute that character in man, which to his 
fellow men is more agreeable than any other. Religion 
itself, however pious and benevolent the mind may be, 
is despoiled, if sensibly destitute of this disposition, of 
its peculiar burnish and beauty. It will indeed be 
approved and esteemed ; but it will not be entirely 
relished. Gravity, existing beyond a certain degree, 
may render it forbidding. Reserve may render it 
suspicious ; and a sorrowful, melancholy aspect may 
excite a sympathy so painful, as to make it unwelcome. 
But a sweet, serene, and cheerful temper is the object, 
not only of esteem, but of delight. The presence of a 
person who manifests this temper is universally coveted, 
and diffuses a kind of lustre over every circle. He is 
accordingly welcome to every house, and to every com- 
pany. Even men destitute of religion will strongly rel- 
ish his company, and will never mention his character 
without pointed commendations. 

Beside the immediate and extensive pleasure which 
such a person communicates to those with whom he 
converses, this disposition recommends his opinions, his 
rules of life, his various conduct, and the several plans 
which he proposes for the benefit of mankind. Multi- 
tudes will embark with readiness and ardour in the 
promotion of purposes which he recommends, because 
they are recommended by him ; because they think 
favourably of whatever he proposes, and love to unite 
with him in any pursuit. Thus this spirit, beside ren- 
dering him eminently agreeable to others, gives him an 
influence with mankind which he could not otherwise 
possess ; and in the happiest manner increases his 



676 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxx. 



power to do good. It deserves particular consideration, 
that some of the most popular men who have ever lived 
in this country have not been distinguished for bril- 
liancy of genius, extensiveness of views, or profound- 
ness of research : but, while they possessed respectable 
talents, were remarkably distinguished by the disposi- 
tion which I have here described. 

Of this disposition, contentment is the uniform and 
the only efficacious source. By a discontented man, it 
can be assumed only by effort, and for a moment ; and 
must speedily and characteristically give way to the 
uneasy fretful spirit which has taken possession of his. 
mind. There is indeed a native good humour, which 
is pleasant to the possessor, and very agreeable to those 
with whom he converses. But this desirable disposition, 
although possessing many advantages, is radically de- 
fective, because it is a mere propensity, and not a moral 
principle. Too frail to sustain the rude shocks, or the 
long continued pressure of adversity, it is prone to 
give way in seasons of severe trial; and is incapable of 
the serene and steady endurance, so characteristical of 



a contented mind. Such a mind may bend ; but, while 
life lasts, it will not break. Where native good hu- 
mour would shrink and fly from the conflict on innu- 
merable occasions, the contented mind will firmly brave 
the danger, sustain the assault, and, with a cool, noise- 
less, unruffled energy, in the end overcome. At the 
same time, such a mind will always find at hand a 
divine auxiliary, an almighty friend, ever present, ever 
watchful, ever extending his arm to protect, strengthen, 
and give the victory. This indispensable aid native 
good humour cannot claim. All its ultimate reliance 
is fixed on this world. Its eye is never lifted upward, 
but fastens on earth and time for all its resources. 
Contentment, on the contrary, while she finds more 
sweetness in earthly enjoyment than good humour can 
ever find, and far more effectually lightens the pressure 
of calamity by the assistance which this world presents, 
fixes her eye on the heavens for superior aid ; and sees 
the thickest darkness of suffering, and even of death, 
delightfully illumined by beams of glory, shining from 
beyond the grave ! 



SERMON CXXX. 



THE LAW OF GOD— THE DECALOGUE THE TENTH COMMANDMENT. 

CHARITY. 



Charge them that are rich in this loorld — that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, 
willing to communicate ; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come. That 
they may lay hold on eternal life I Tim. vi. 17—19. 



There are, as I have heretofore observed, two attributes 
of the human mind, in the indulgence of which we 
especially disobey the tenth command, viz., ambition 
and avarice. Contentment is opposed to both, particu- 
larly to the former. What in modern times is called 
charity, that is, a disposition cheerfully to impart our 
property and kind offices to the poor and suffering, is 
especially opposed to the latter. Of course, it naturally 
becomes the next subject of our consideration in our 
progress. 

In examining it, I propose briefly to point out, 

I. The nature of this duty. 

II. The persons to whom, 

III. The manner in which it is to be performed ; and, 

IV. The motives to the performance. 

I. J will endeavour to explain the nature of this duty. 

It has been already mentioned as a general definition 
of charity, as an attribute of the human mind, that it is 
a disposition cheerfully to impart our property and our 
kind offices to the poor and suffering. But we are 
not to suppose that every cheerful communication of 
these benefits to persons of this description merits the 
name of charity in the evangelical sense. 

Persons often aid the suffering merely from ostenta- 
tion. These will not be suspected of charity. 

Others do the same thing merely to free them- 
selves from the importunate applications of those by 



whom it is solicited. This will not be mistaken for 
charity. 

Some, and those not a few, impart their property to 
the distressed, because they place little value upon pro- 
perty. Neither will this be soberly considered as cha- 
ritable conduct. 

Some perform charitable acts to free themselves from 
those reproaches of conscience, which they are assured 
will follow the refusal of such acts. 

Multitudes perform offices of this nature from the 
hope of acquiring the esteem of others, and the various 
benefits which it is expected to confer. 

Other multitudes extend relief to sufferers from a 
native spirit of generosity. This is amiable ; but is not 
even an intentional performance of any duty, and can 
therefore possess no evangelical character. 

Others still do the same things, under the influence 
of constitutional compassion, or native tenderness. This 
also is amiable ; but for the same reason does not par- 
take of an evangelical nature. 

Some perform actions of this class, because they 
have been taught and habituated in early life to per- 
form them as a duty. Though they merit and obtain 
the esteem of those around them, yet they never with 
the heart, or in the evangelical sense, perforin any duty. 

Others do works of this nature, because they have 
been accustomed to commend them highly, and are thus 



THE LAW OF GOD— CHARITY. 



617 



compelled to charitable exertions, for the sake of main- 
taining consistency of character. 

Finally : Not a small number pursue a charitable 
course of life, because they think actions of this nature 
the sum and substance of religion ; and expect by them 
to recommend themselves to the favour of God, and to 
obtain the blessings of a happy immortality. These 
men, whether aware of it or not, are intending to pur- 
chase heaven, by paying the price which they suppose 
to be set upon it in the gospel. 

It must undoubtedly be admitted, that in several of 
these cases, that which is actually done is done cheer- 
fully, and that property and kind offices are really im- 
parted to the distressed ; yet in none of them, at least in 
my opinion, is there any degree of evangelical charity. 

Charity, in the evangelical sense, is no other than the 
beneficence required by the gospel, administered, with 
the disposition which it requires, to a particular class of 
mankind, viz. those who are, or without this adminis- 
tration would be, in circumstances of distress. The 
disposition which is here intended is that ' Love which 
is the fulfilling of the law, the genuine source of every 
other duty.' 

If this account of the subject be admitted, it must also 
be conceded, that all acts of real charity are performed 
from a sense of duty, and with an intention to obey 
God in the performance ; and that this is indispensable 
to its very existence. It cannot, therefore, be the result 
of native tenderness or compassion. No virtue is, in the 
proper sense, an exercise of any human passion. Vir- 
tue, in all instances, is the energy of the mind directed 
to that which is right ; or, in other words, agreeable to 
the will of God, and conducive to the good of the uni- 
verse, because it is believed to be of this nature. The 
native afFections of the mind are in several instances 
amiable, and often contribute to enhance and adorn the 
real exercise of virtue ; but in themselves they are never, 
in the evangelical sense, virtuous. That which is done 
without any sense of duty, and without an intention to 
perform a duty, can never sustain the character of 
virtue. 

Farther : It is plain, if the above observations be ad- 
mitted, that charity, in the sense of the gospel, is disin- 
terested. The design, in every act which is entitled to 
this name, is. to do real good to those who are its objects. 
The intention of the author of it will invariably be to 
promote the happiness, or to relieve the distresses of 
the sufferer ; and not to advance his own reputation, to 
promote his own selfish purposes, nor even to prevent 
the reproaches of his own conscience. In a word, sel- 
fishness, of whatever kind, and in whatever form it may 
exist, is not charity. 

In addition to these things it may be observed, that 
evangelical charity demands essentially that we take 
delight in doing the good which is to be dune. ' It is 
more blessed,' in the original ' It is more happy, to give 
than to receive ;' that is, it is an employment, a cha- 
racter attended of course with a higher degree of happi- 
ness ; or, to declare the same truth in a more universal 
form, It is a happier state to communicate good to others, 
than to gain it from their hands. He who does not 
find some degree of this happiness in bestowing alms 
and other kindnesses upon his suffering fellow creatures, 
has not yet begun to be charitable. 

II. The per sons, to whom these offices of kindness are 
to be performed, are various. 



These are, universally, such as already suffer, or have 
become liable to some distress ; to relieve or prevent 
which, the kind offices, included under the name of 
charity, are necessary. It will readily occur, that with- 
in this broad description there must be not only many 
persons, but many classes of persons, differing very ma- 
terially in their character and circumstances, and having 
therefore very different claims upon the kind offices of 
their fellow men. Among these are found all gradations 
of character and of suffering. 

The class which first obtrudes itself upon the eye, is 
that of the common wandering beggars, seen in every 
country, and particularly in the streets of every city. 
There are not wanting persons, and those of a fair re- 
putation, who hold that alms ought not to be given to 
this miserable class of mankind. In their view, charity 
administered to them answers scarcely any other pur- 
pose than to encourage idleness, intemperance, and 
other vices to which these degraded beings are so gene- 
rally addicted. Whatever is done for them, it is observ- 
ed, is ordinarily useless, and worse than useless to 
themselves; and might always be bestowed on more 
deserving objects, and with happier effects. That to a 
great extent these observations are just, cannot be ques- 
tioned. But it may be questioned, whether they are 
capable of so universal an application. Some of these 
persons, and the number is not small, are unable to la- 
bour ; and are yet without friends or home. To wander 
seems necessary for the preservation of their health, and 
even of their lives. It is not true of all of them, that 
they are vicious, nor that vice has been the means of 
reducing them to their present sufferings. I know of 
no evangelical principle which warrants us to leave them 
to perish, or to refuse the proper means of alleviating 
their distresses. 

' We command you,' says St Paul to the Thessalo- 
nians, ' that if any would not work, neither should he eat.' 
But it will not be supposed, that the apostle intended to 
include in this prohibition those who are unable to work, 
many of whom are found in this class of the indigent. 
To these, subsistence, comforts, medicines, and what- 
ever kind offices are necessary cannot be denied. Were 
no person suffered to wander in this manner, but such 
as I have described, probably objections never would 
have been started against admitting them within the 
pale of charity. 

As to the really idle and vicious members, of which 
almost the whole of this class is apparently composed, it 
is, in my opinion, the duty of every government to force 
them, by every vindicable and necessary measure, to 
labour for their own subsistence. 

Individuals are often unable to distinguish, among 
the wandering applicants for charity, which are proper 
objects of their bounty. In this uncertainty, it seems 
to be a good rule to relieve the distresses occasioned by 
hunger and nakedness, wherever we cannot satisfactori- 
ly prove imposition on the part of the applicant. Money 
is given to such persons, when given at all, without an- 
swering any valuable end. 

Concerning the administration of charity to sufferers 
of every other description, there will be no dispute. 

Among these, those whom providence has stationed 
in our own neighbourhood, seem, in ordinary cases, to 
have superior claims for relief upon us for three reasons ; 
viz. that it is in our power to do them more good than 
we can do to others, because they are within our reach ; 



678 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser, cxxx. 



that the poor, who are at a distance from us, -will find 
other benefactors in their vicinity ; and that, if we do 
not take a charitable care of those who surround us, 
they will ordinarily be without relief. It may be gene- 
rally said, that providence lias placed them under our 
eye for the very purpose of awakening our beneficence 
towards them; and has thus, in a manner, which may 
be called express, required this service at our hands. 

A distinction ought to be made among these, on the 
score of that modesty which prevents some of them 
from soliciting benefactions, and even from making 
known their sufferings ; on account of the industry and 
faithfulness with which some of them labour, amid many 
discouragements, to supply their own wants ; as well as 
with regard to the uprightness of their dispositions and 
the blamelessness of their lives. All these are obvious 
recommendations to evangelical charity. We are to ' do 
good unto all men, as we have opportunity, but espe- 
cially to them who are of the housenold of faith.' The 
poor and suffering who belong to this household have 
the first of all claims to the good which we are able 
to do. To relieve the distresses of these men, when 
the relief springs from the spirit of the gospel, is con- 
duct so excellent, that, as Christ has expressly informed 
us, he will remember and distinguish it at the final day, 
and will regard the charity as being administered to 
himself. 

Universally, the better the character of the sufferer, 
the higher will be his claims upon us for our benefi- 
cence. 

III. I will now endeavour to point out the manner in 
which this duty should be performed. 

Concerning this subject 1 observe, 

1 . Our beneficence should obviously be such as to an- 
swer the end which is proposed. 

The sufferings of this world are almost endlessly di- 
versified. The modes of administering charity ought 
plainly to be varied, so as to suit the varieties of dis- 
tress. A large propoi-tion of the evils of life arise from 
want. The communication of property, in some degree 
and form or other, is the proper means of removing 
those which belong to this class. Others are derived 
from sickness, pain, disgrace, the loss of friends, the 
■want of friends, the want of encouragement in the busi- 
ness of life : often from the fact that we are strangers ; 
often from unkindness, contempt, and contumely ; often 
from ignorance, want of advice, and from very many 
other sources. There are also distresses merely of a 
moral nature, such as spring from unhappy errors con- 
cerning the doctrines and duties of religion, from igno- 
rance of the way of salvation, from spiritual prejudices, 
from stupidity, from temptations, and universally from 
sin in all its forms and degrees. Now it is evident, that 
very different modes of relief must be applied to these 
numerous and diversified cases of suffering. That 
mode only is of any value, which is fitted to accomplish 
the end. To employ ourselves in giving grave advice 
to a person famishing witli hunger, would be not merely 
idle, but ludicrous ; and to offer food to a person la- 
bouring under the pangs of a broken heart, would be a 
specimen of folly equally contemptible. 

2. Our charity should be administered in such a de- 
gree as actually to accomplish the end. 

It is not enough to mitigate a calamity, when it is in 
oar power to remove it ; to assuage a disease, when we 
are able to complete the cure ; to give advice or conso- 



lation to a youth, whose spirits are sinking for want of 
employment, when it is in our power to put him into 
useful business ; to pity a backsliding Christian, when 
we are able to restore him to his duty ; to pray for the 
conversion of the heathen, when we can send them the 
word of God, and missionaries to preach it. Particu- 
larly, it is never enough to expend our benevolence to 
the distressed in talking, however wisely, however af- 
fectionately, however evangelically, concerning theis 
sufferings, and the proper means of relieving them; or 
in breathing sighs or shedding tears, or uttering good 
wishes over their distresses. ' If a brother or sister be 
naked, or destitute of daily food, and one of you say 
unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled ; 
notwithstanding, ye give them not those things which 
are needful to the body, what doth it profit? ' Nothing 
is more absurd, nothing is more contemptible, than the 
charity which evaporates in words and wishes. 

3. It is our duty, so far as it is in our power, to re- 
lieve greater distresses in preference to those which are 
small. 

The smaller suffering's of those around us are by no 
means to be neglected ; and they have this recommen- 
dation, to our particular attention, that we can almost 
always relieve them, when such as are greater may de- 
mand efforts beyond the limits of our ability. When 
this is not the case, a greater suffering prefers a 
proportionally stronger claim to our charitable exer- 
tions. 

4. When we have objects of charity in our neighbour- 
hood, for whose relief we propose to contribute with re- 
gularity, it is ordinarily better to furnish them with a 
considerable sum at once, than to communicate to them 
the same aid in a number of smaller sums. 

Small sums are not only of little value in reality, but 
are usually regarded, especially by persons of this class, 
as being still less valuable. Improvidence is almost al- 
ways a prominent feature in the character of those who 
permanently need charity. They neither have a just 
sense of the value of property, nor just apprehensions 
of the modes in which it may be laid out in the best 
manner. Little sums will in their view be incapable 
of answering any important purpose ; and they rarely 
thing of hoarding them, until the accumulation shall 
become considerable. They will therefore usually ex- 
pend them on objects of small consequence even to 
themselves. On the contrary, if the bestower will be- 
come their treasurer, and accumulate for them, and thus 
convert the shillings which he might otherwise distribute, 
into a single benefaction of a guinea, they would rarely, 
probably never, break so considerable a sum for any of 
those trifling objects upon which the shillings separately 
given would all have been expended. 

It will commonly add much to the benefit of such a 
distribution, if it should also be made at stated and ex- 
pected times, so that the object of the beneficence 
might calculate beforehand. In this case, he would, on 
the one hand, endeavour to supply his intermediate 1 
wants, and, on the other, would regularly fix upon an i 
important purpose for which the expected benefaction 
would be laid out. In this manner they will learn to 
overcome their own want of economy, and acquire a de- 
gree of prudence in the management of their pecuniary 
concerns, to which otherwise they would be strangers 
through life. 

5. The best mode of communicating pecuniary assist- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— CHAR IT Y. 



<fi9 



ance to such sufferers as have sufficient health and ca- 
pacity, is to employ thein. 

By this I intend, that we should furnish them with 
such means and such directions as may be necessary to 
enable them to earn so much of their subsistence as can 
be brought within their reach by their own industry. 
Most of the poor would choose to support themselves, if 
it were in their power. He who puts it in their power 
delivers them from the painful consciousness of being 
burdensome to others ; places them in a degree of in- 
dependence, which is rationally pleasant ; and in many 
instances enables them ultimately to earn more than a 
mere subsistence ; and thus teaches them in the only 
effectual manner how to provide for themselves. In ad- 
dition to all this, he brings them within the pale of 
' character and reputation, and renders them useful to 
themselves and to mankind. In this particular, men of 
active and extensive business are furnished by Provi- 
dence with peculiar advantages for becoming important 
benefactors to mankind as well as to individuals. 

6. Our beneficence is often rendered to others much 
more usefully by personal exertions in their behalf, than 
by mere contribution of money. 

There are innumerable cases of suffering, of which 
property cannot become the relief. Of this nature are 
those of sickness, pain, sorrow, disgrace, decrepitude, 
friendlessness, the necessity of countenance, a broken 
heart, and all that variety of anguish of spirit which 
repects our salvation. In all these, and in many other 
cases, the kindness needed is not pecuniary bounty, but 
those good offices which are suited to the nature of the 
suffering. Very many persons, perhaps almost all those 
who are in easy circumstances, much more willingly 
contribute their property than their personal services. 
To give a small sum of money, is often considered as 
an easy piece of self-denial, when a personal effort is 
regarded as a serious sacrifice. 

But it is to no purpose to contribute money for the 
relief of distress, where we know that it will not pro- 
duce the relief. The duty demanded by our circum- 
stances, the benefit needed by those whom we profess to 
befriend, is always that of course which will effectuate 
relief for the calamity actually endured. Everything 
else here is comparatively of no value. 

Let it also be remembered, that the benefit commu- 
nicated in these cases by our good offices is real, while 
that intended by our bounty is imaginary ; and that, in 
proportion to the self-denial which our kindness may 
demand, will be the amiableness and the worth of the 
disposition by which it is rendered. Even in cases 
where the relief of suffering is to be accomplished by 
pecuniary bounty, it will often be true that he who in 
his own person solicits contributions, is a greater bene- 
factor than any of those who furnish them, even with- 
out supposing him to contribute at all. 

But in a great multitude of cases, some of which 
have been specified, property cannot be the means of 
relief. Property cannot watch with the sick, nor 
administer remedies for their diseases, nor heal a 
wounded spirit, nor comfort mourners, nor restore re- 
solution to the discouraged, nor withdraw a wanderer 
from vice and ruin, nor place his feet in the way of 
life. If we are really charitable, we shall endeavour to 
do all these and the like kind offices. If we are un- 
willing to do them, it is because we are destitute of 
charity. 



7. We are bound to make this communication of bene- 
ficence a part of our system of life. 

When once it is determined by us, that the perform- 
ance of this duty is one great end for which we live, 
and that a considerable part of our time, our labours, 
and our substance, is to be employed in this manner, 
much of our native reluctance to it may be regarded 
as being overcome. Whatever we do habitually, how- 
ever irksome it may be at first, will in the end be will- 
ingly done. At first we think of little beside the diffi- 
culties which will attend the performance. As we 
proceed, the employment itself gradually becomes plea- 
sant ; and we also x - ealize more and more the various 
pleasures by which it is attended. At the same time, 
whenever any conduct becomes part of our system of 
action, as we regularly expect to adopt it, we make a 
regular and constant preparation for the performance, 
In the present case, for example, when it has become 
an habitual object to bestow upon the poor pecuniary 
bounty ; we shall so regulate our expenses as continually 
to be in possession of the means of this bounty, and 
shall not be unprovided when the occasions for charity 
occur. If personal assistance is the beneficence de- 
manded, we shall so adjust our business, as to be able, 
without serious inconvenience, to perform the kind 
offices which this duty may require. Universally, of 
whatever nature the good to be done may be, we shall 
in this case be prepared to do it, and that as a part of 
the business of life. 

On the contrary, he who perforins acts of charity 
only in a desultory and occasional manner, will find 
himself unready to fulfill such of its demands as he 
will acknowledge to be real and obligatory, will halt 
between the duty and the sacrifice which it will cost, 
and will often persuade himself, in opposition to the 
first dictates of his conscience, that in the existing case 
he may be lawfully excused. 

In addition to what has been said, it ought to be 
diligently remembered, that we were not made for our- 
selves, that we were made for the glory of our Creator 
and the good of our fellow creatures ; and that it is out 
supreme interest, as well as our indispensable duty, to 
fulfill this exalted end of our being. We are ever to 
keep before our eyes, that it is always unnecessary and 
usually undesirable for us to be rich ; that when in the 
course of honest industry we become rich, we are pe- 
culiarly obligated to ' do good, to be rich in good 
works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate ;' 
and that, in this manner, we shall ' lay up in store for 
ourselves a good foundation against the time to come.' 
Still farther we are bound to realize, that our property 
belongs to God; that to us it is a mere gift of his bounty; 
that there is no good in it, unless we gratefully rejoice in 
the loving-kindness of the Giver, and do good in our life; 
and that then only we are entitled to ' enjoy the good 
of all our labour.' Finally, we are to realize that God is 
especially glorified when good is done to mankind. 

If these interesting considerations are continually 
kept in view and brought home to the heart, it seems 
hardly possible that we should not be well prepared to 
perform all those actions which are included under the 
comprehensive name of charity. 

IV. Among the numerous motives to the performance 
of this duty, J shall select the following ; — 

1. We shall preserve ourselves from the deplorable 
passion of avarice. 



680 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxxx. 



Cast back your eyes for a moment on the exhibition 
made of this attribute in the preceding Discourse, and 
tell me, Which of you is willing to subject himself to 
the miserable bondage of its domination ? Which of 
you is willing to sustain the character, which of you to 
perform the actions, which to receive the reward ? Can 
any character be more unfit for a rational being, more 
odious or more contemptible in itself, or, in proportion 
to its means, more mischievous to mankind ? How 
emphatically true is it, that ' the love of money is 
the root of all evil ;' that those who love it, ' fall into 
temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurt- 
ful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdi- 
tion ;' that they are ' seduced from the faith ; and pierce 
themselves through ' (or, as in the original, all around) 
' with many sorrows?' Let every one of you who is a 
child of Cod, let every one of you who intends to be- 
come a child of God, ' flee these things, and follow 
after righteousness, godliness, faith, and love.' 

But nothing seems better fitted to prevent, or to root 
out, this wretched passion, than an habitual perform- 
ance of the duties of charity. He who accustoms him- 
self to give freely, and to act kindly to others, espe- 
cially to the poor and suffering, from whom he can 
rationally hope for nothing again, can scarcely fail in 
the end of being willing to give, and to give liberally. 
For a truly charitable man to be covetous is impossible. 

Let me add, that in this manner also we shall be 
secured from the imputation of avarice. Nothing will 
sooner or more perfectly destroy a good name than this 
imputation ; nothing more certainly awaken the hatred 
and the scorn of our fellow men ; nothing more cer- 
tainly preclude us from any rational or desirable influ- 
ence over them. 

2. By a faithful performance of these duties, we shall 
secure to ourselves the esteem of our fellow men. 

' A good name,' says Solomon, ' is better than great 
riches.' Among all the things which are done by man, 
nothing more certainly assures us of the best reputation, 
than a regular and cheerful performance of charitable 
offices. Not only do the wise and good, but men of all 
inferior descriptions also, readily acknowledge the 
worth of beneficence, peculiarly when administered to 
such as are in distress. Excellence in other forms is 
often doubted, denied, disrelished, and calumniated. In 
this it seems always to be respected. The character 
acknowledged is not merely good ; it is the best. The 
hardest heart acknowledges its worth ; and the most 
niggardly tongue vibrates in its praise. How often, 
when the eye is wandering over published accounts, 
even fictitious ones, of beneficence administered to the 
poor and friendless, does the tear of tenderness and 
sympathy start, and the bosom warm with pleasure at 
this display of evangelical excellence ! Whose voice 
does not delight to sound the praises of Howard; and how 
little do nobles, heroes, and princes appear at his side ! 

In the possession of such a character, we of course 
acquire a happy influence over our fellow men ; and 
this influence is the chief means of our usefulness. An 
individual acting alone can do little towards promoting 
the well-being of his fellow men ; while the same indi- 
vidual, by means of extensive influence, may become 
an important public blessing. Although therefore repu- 
tation, considered merely as a gratification of our pride, 
is of little consequence ; its value, as the means of use- 
fulness, is inestimable. In this view, ' a good name ' is 



indeed ' rather to be choBen than great riches, and loving 
favour than silver and gold.' 

3. In the performance of these duties, we insure to 
ourselves the approbation of our own consciences. 

This is always the consequence of performing our 
duty ; yet there are some duties from which it springs 
in a peculiar degree. Among these, the administration 
of charity obviously holds a high station. As there is 
something eminently lovely in beneficence, to the eyes 
of those who look on, so it is seen to be thus lovely by 
the eye of the benefactor. It is a glorious character of 
God, that ' he is good, that he doeth good, and that his 
tender mercies are over all his works.' This characler 
we never so directly and peculiarly resemble, as when 
we do good with the spirit of the gospel. Of this resem- 
blance, and the beauty of it, the mind is conscious, of 
course ; and surveying the divine image instamped 
upon itself, beholds its lustre and loveliness with a de- 
light which is independent, serene, and incomparably 
superior to everything which the world is able to give 
or to take away. 

4. It secures the approbation of God. 

Concerning this truth there can be no debate. Mul- 
titudes indeed suppose nothing else to be necessary for 
this purpose ; and seem willing to consider it as supply- 
ing all deficiencies of repentance, faith, and love to 
God, even when their beneficence is that of the hands, 
and not that of the heart. This undoubtedly is an error, 
and a very dangerous one. Still it is certain, that 
evangelical beneficence will secure to us the divine 
approbation ; for he in whom it is found will certainly 
possess every other evangelical attribute. In an emi- 
nent degree is it obedience to very numerous com- 
mands of the gospel, and, in a degree no less eminent, 
is it an object of scriptural promises. ' Blessed is he 
that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in 
time of trouble ; the Lord will preserve him and keep 
him alive, and he shall be blessed upon the earth ; the 
Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing. 
He hath dispersed ; he hath given to the poor ; his 
righteousness endureth for ever.' 

5. It is a striking resemblance to the character of the 
Redeemer. 

' Jesus Christ,' saith St Peter, ' a man who went 
about doing good.' How exact a description is this of 
our Saviour's life ! To pass by the divine doctrines 
which he taught, how entirely were all his miracles 
directed to this single end ! He healed the sick, lie 
fed the hungry, he comforted the sorrowful, cleansed 
the leprous, cast out devils, and restored soundness to 
the lame, sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and 
life to the dead ; and still more wonderful were his suf- 
ferings. All the contradictions which he endured from 
sinners, all the agonies of the garden and the cross, and 
all the humiliation of the grave, he endured solely for 
the purpose of rescuing wretched apostates, condemned 
and ruined, from final perdition. How lovely, how glo- 
rious a character ! ' Mine elect,' saith God the Father, 
' in whom my soul delighteth :' — ' my beloved Son, in 
whom I am well pleased.' What angel would not 
delight to make such a character his pattern ! What 
Christian would not follow his example ! 

6. It will secure a divine reward. 

It is a most remarkable fact, that in our Saviour's 
account of his administrations at the final day, he has 
founded his approbation of good man, and their ever- 



THE LAW OF GOD.— AVARICE. 



681 



lasting reward, upon their performance of the duties of 
charity. ' Come, ye blessed of my Father,' will the 
Judge of the quick and the dead say to them on his 
right hand, ' inherit the kingdom prepared for you 
from the foundation of the world ; for I was an hungered, 
and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me 
drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in; naked, 
and ye clothed me ; I was sick, and ye visited me ; I 
was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the 
righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee 
an hungered, and fed thee ; or thirsty, and gave thee 
drink ? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee 
in ; naked, and clothed thee ; or when saw we thee 



sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King 
shall answer and say unto them, Verily, I say unto you, 
inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of 
these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' 

On the other hand, the cause expressly assigned for 
the condemnation of the wicked at the same awful day, 
is their omission of these very duties. How delightful 
then will it be, to go from this world with a conscious- 
ness that the duties of charity have been all performed 
by ourselves! How melancholy, how dreadful, to stand 
before the Judge with a conviction that they have teen 
all neolected ! 



SERMON CXXXI. 



THE LAW OF GOD.— THE DECALOGUE THE TENTH COMMANDMENT. 

AVARICE. 



They that will be rich, fall into temptation, and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown 
men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil; which, while some coveted 
after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. — L Tim. vi. 9, 10. 



In the two preceding Discourses, I examined the na- 
ture and benefits of contentment, the immediate object 
of injunction in the tenth command ; and of charity, a 
duty which it obviously implies. The subject which 
next offers itself to consideration is the covetousness 
which is the immediate object of prohibition in this 
precept. This I shall discuss under the two general 
heads of avarice and ambition. 

The former of these shall occupy the present Dis- 
course. 

The spirit of covetousness extends indeed both its 
views and desires to the objects of sensuality, as well 
as to wealth and distinction. But, beside that these 
are not commonly considered as the proper objects of 
covetousness, I have already discoursed so extensively 
concerning several sensual gratifications, as to render 
it unnecessary again to bring them into a particular 
examination. 

In the present discussion, it is my design to consider, 

I. The folly, 

II. The guilt, 

III. The mischiefs of avarice. 

All these subjects are directly mentioned in the text. 
Of those, who ' will be rich,' it is said, that they ' fall 
into many foolish lusts.' These lusts are also said to 
be ' hurtful,' and to ' drown men in destruction and 
perdition.' It is farther said, that ' the love of money 
is the root of all evil. Some, who had coveted after 
it,' in or before the days of St Paul, he declares, ' erred,' 
or were seduced, ' from the faith ; and pierced them- 
selves through ' (^i^iiTrii^xu, pierced themselves all 
around) ' with many sorrows.' Here we find the folly, 
guilt, and mischiefs of avarice asserted in the strongest 
as well as the most explicit terms. What is thus testi- 
fied by St Paul, the common sense of mankind has in 



every age and country attested in the most ample man- 
ner. All nations, wherever wealth has existed, have 
declared covetousness to be eminently foolish, sinful, 
and mischievous. A stronger specimen of this testi- 
mony can hardly be given, than in the appropriation of 
the name Miser (a wretch), to the avaricious man. 

The proofs which I shall give, at the present time, of 
the folly of avarice, are the following: — 

1. The pursuits of the avaricious man are attended 
by many unnecessary anxieties, labours, and distresses. 

The mind of an avaricious man is always the seat of 
eager desire. So peculiarly is this the fact, that the 
words covetous and covetousness, although originally 
signifying any inordinate desire, denote in common 
usage, when unqualified by other phraseology, the in- 
ordinate desire of wealth ; and are equivalent to the 
words avaricious and avarice. This fact, more strongly 
than any reasoning could, proves that the love of riches 
is usually in an eminent degree, inordinate. But 
whenever our desires sustain this character, the mind 
becomes proportionally anxious. Our attainment of 
the coveted object is, in most cases, necessarily uncer- 
tain. Between the fear of losing, and the hope of ac- 
quiring it, the mind is necessarily suspended. As these 
desires are continually exerted, the suspense becomes, 
of course, continual also. A state of suspense is always 
a state of anxiety. Here the anxiety is regularly great 
and distressing ; because the desires are incessant, eager, 
and sufficiently strong to control all the powers of the 
mind. 

But this anxiety is unnecessarily suffered. All the 
prudence and industry which can be lawfully exerted 
for the acquisition of wealth, may be employed, and all 
the property which can be lawfully acquired, may be 
gained, without the exercise of a single avaricious feel- 
4 R 



682 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxi. 



ing, and without the sufferance of a single avaricious 
anxiety. The contented man often becomes rich to 
every desirable degree, amid the full possession of seren- 
ity, peace, and self-approbation. 

Nor are the labours of the avaricious man of a less 
unfortunate nature. His mind is continually strained 
with effort. The strength of his desires goads him into 
an unceasing course of contrivances to gratify them. 
His thirst for property drives hi in to an incessant for- 
mation of plans by which he hopes to acquire it. The 
fear of lessening what he has acquired hurries him into 
an endless and wearisome train of exertions to secure 
himself from losses. Thus, a course of mental toil is 
voluntarily assumed by him, resembling, not the inde- 
pendent labours of a freeman, but the drudgery of a 
slave. The mind of an old miser is thus in a continual 
state of travail, and struggles through life under the 
pressure of an iron bondage. 

A mind hurried by eager schemes of effort is always 
a tyrant to the body. Accordingly, the bodily labours 
of the miser commence before the dawn, worry him 
through the day, and scarcely permit him to lie down 
at night. A mere dray-horse, he is destined to a course 
of incessant toil. The only changes of life to him are 
from dragging loads, to bearing burdens ; and, like 
those of the dray-horse, they are all borne and dragged 
for the use of others. 

To the pains springing hourly from this unintermit- 
ted toil are added the daily reproaches of conscience ; 
the sufferings of disease and accident, to which such a 
life is peculiarly exposed ; the contempt of those around 
him ; the denial of their pity to his sufferings ; and their 
universal joy in his mortification. 

2. The wishes of the avaricious man are followed by 
innumerable disappointments. 

The property which he covets he often fails to ac- 
quire. His plans, although formed with his utmost 
sagacity, and with extreme care, are not unfrequently 
frustrated. His debtors become bankrupt. His hard 
bargains are avoided. His deeds, or other obligations, 
are defective. His agents are often unskilful, often un- 
faithful ; and while they are employed merely because 
they will serve him at a cheap rate, frequently make 
this service distressingly expensive. Storms also 
will blow, in spite of his wishes. Shelves will spread, 
and rocks will stand in the way of his ships, as well as 
in the way of others. The gain which he looks for 
will often only appear to excite his most anxious de- 
sires, and mock him with the most painful disappoint- 
ment. 

Scarcely less is he wounded, when the gain in view 
is partially acquired. The advantage of a bargain, the 
amount of a crop, or the profits of a voyage, are less 
than his expectations have promised. As his calcula- 
tions are all set high, and made by the hand of ardent 
desire, they of course overrun his success. But mo- 
derate success frustrates immoderate desire little less 
than absolute disappointment. 

Should we even suppose his success to equal his ex- 
pectations, he will be still disappointed. He covets 
wealth, for the good which he supposes it will confer. 
This good is not the supply of his wants, the communi- 
cation of conveniences, or the ministration of luxuries. 
Luxuries and conveniences he has not a wish to enjoy ; 
and his wants might be supplied by a tenth, a twentieth, 
or even a hundredth part of what he possesses. Per- 



sonal importance, influence, and distinction, constitute 
eminently the good which the miser expects from his 
gains. But this object he often fails to accomplish ; 
and, in the measure which he expects, always. Some of 
those around him will, in spite of both his wishes and 
labours, be richer than himself. Others will possess 
superior understanding ; and others superior excellence. 
Some or all of these will acquire more reputation, 
weight, or influence than himself. Thus he is com- 
pelled to see men who are his rivals, whom he hates, or 
whom he either dreads as being more, or despises as 
being less, rich than himself, raised above him in the 
public estimation ; while his own mind is left to the 
ranklings of envy, and the miseries of disappointment. 
At the same time, he is frequently stung by the severi- 
ties of well-founded censure, lashed by the hand of 
scorn, and set up as a mark for the shafts of derision. 
He is also without friends, without commiseration, 
without esteem. He who would gain esteem, must de- 
serve it. He who would ' have friends must show him- 
self friendly.' He who would find commiseration, must 
commiserate others. 

3. The good which the avaricious man actually gains 
is uncertain. 

Wealth ia the only good which he seeks. If this 
then is lost, he loses his all. Nothing can be more 
unwise than to centre all our views, wishes, and labours 
in uncertain good. But the good of the miser is emi- 
nently uncertain. No truth is more attested by the ex- 
perience of man, than that ' riches make to themselves 
wings as an eagle, and fly away towards heaven.' The 
dangers to which wealth is exposed are innumerable. 
The schemes of its possessor, in spite of all human saga- 
city, will at times prove abortive. Flaws will at times 
be found in the written securities with which he at- 
tempts to guard his gains. The formation of them will 
often be committed to unskilful, because they are cheap, 
hands. Incompetent and unfaithful persons will at times 
be trusted because they offer peculiarly advantageous 
terms. Houses, notes, bonds, and deeds, will at times 
be consumed by fire. Crops will fail. Cattle will die. 
Ships will be captured or providentially lost. The 
owner and his family shall be sick. Debtors will ab- 
scond, or become bankrupt ; and swindlers will run 
away with loans, which, in spite of avaricious prudence, 
they have obtained. In every case of such a nature, 
the miser's regrets are throes ; his disappointments 
are agonies. The instinctive language of his heart 
is, ' Ye have taken away my gods ; and what have I 
more ?' 

But avarice often amasses wealth for its heirs. Solo- 
mon hated all the labour which he had undergone to 
acquire riches, because he should leave them ' to the 
man who should come after him;' and knew not ' whe- 
ther he would be a wise man, or a fool.' This uncer- 
tainty attends every man who amasses wealth. His 
destined heir or heirs may be wise and prudent ; in- 
clined to such expenses only as are useful ; and pre- 
pared (o preserve their inheritance undiminished for 
those who shall come after them. But they may die 
before they receive their patrimony, and leave it to the 
possession of prodigals ; to men who will expend it for 
purposes which the original owner most abhorred ; and 
in a manner so rapid and wanton, as would, if he were 
living, scarcely leave him the possession of his reason. 
The intention of all men who lay up property for their 



THE LAW OF GOD AVARICE. 



683 



children, unquestionably is to do them good. How often 
is this intention defeated ! The property accumulated 
is designed to make them rich. How often is it the 
very means of making them poor! It is bequeathed to 
make them happy. How often is it the cause of their 
ruin ! How often is a splendid inheritance the source of 
idleness, profusion, negligence, gambling, rash adven- 
ture, and speedy beggary! To harass one's self through 
life, merely to promote these miserable ends, is certain- 
ly, if any thing is, ' vanity and vexation of spirit.' 

4. The avaricious man incapacitates himself to enjoy 
the very good which he seeks. 

In order to enjoy any kind of good, it is indispensa- 
ble that we should experience some degree of content- 
ment, at least during the period of enjoyment. But 
' he that loveih silver, will never be satisfied with silver; 
nor he that loveth abundance, with increase.' The de- 
sire of gain enlarges faster than the most successful and 
romantic acquisitions ; and, were pounds to be accumu- 
lated as rapidly as the most favoured children of fortune 
multiply pence, the eager mind would still overleap the 
limits of its possessions, and demand new additions to 
its wealth with accelerated avidity. As these desires 
increase, the fear, the reluctance to enjoy what is accu- 
mulated, are proportionally increased. The miser, in- 
stead of furnishing himself with more gratifications, and 
enjoying them more highly, as his means of indulgence 
are increased, lessens them in number and degree ; and 
tastes them with a more stinted parsimonious relish. 
His habitation, his dress, his food, his equipage, all be- 
come more decayed, mean, and miserable continually ; 
because he feels less and less able to afford, first conve- 
niences, then comforts, and then necessaries. ' Although 
he wanteth nothing for his soul of all that he desireth ; 
yet God giveth him not power to eat thereof.' A rich 
miser who lives like a beggar, is only a beggar dream- 
ing that he is rich. 

II. The guilt of avarice may be illustrated in the fol- 
lowing manner : — 

1. The disposition is in itself grossly sinful. 

This truth the Scriptures have exhibited with pecu- 
liar force. ' Covetousness,' saith St Paul, ' is idolatry.' 
Every person who has read his Bible knows that idola- 
try is marked in the Scriptures as a pre-eminent sin ; as 
peculiarly ' the abominable thing,' which God says, 
' My soul hates.' Its enormity I have illustrated in a 
former Discourse. It will therefore be unnecessary to 
expatiate upon it here. I shall only observe, as we are 
taught by St Paul, ' that no whoremonger, nor unclean 
person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any 
inheritance in the kingdom of Christ, and of God.' 

Common sense has long since pronounced the avari- 
cious man to be an idolater, in the adage, proverbially 
used to describe his character ; that ' he makes gold 
his god.' Plainly, he prefers wealth to every other ob- 
ject ; and consecrates his heart, his talents, and his 
time to the single purpose of becoming rich. To this 
object he evidently postpones the real God ; and neither 
renders to him, nor while avarice predominates can 
render, his affections or his services. With such ' love 
of the world,' the ' love of the Father' cannot be united. 
But how sordid, how shameful, how sinful, is it thus to 
worship and serve a contemptible creature more than 
the Creator, ' who is blessed for ever ! Amen.' 

By this disposition he in whom it dwells is unfitted 
for all his duty to Cod. Our duty to God is performed, 



if performed at all, from that supreme love to him 
which is enjoined in the first and greatest command of 
the moral law. But the heart of the avaricious man 
cannot thus love God, because he renders this love to 
the world. He cannot worship God, because he wor- 
ships gold. He cannot serve God, because he serves 
Mammon. Thus his heart is alienated from his Ma- 
ker, and his life employed in a continual and gross 
impiety. 

2. Avarice speedily destroys the tenderness both of 
the heart and of the conscience. 

To be ' without natural affection' is, in the estima- 
tion of the Scriptures, as well as that of common sense, 
to be eminently and hopelessly sinful. But nothing 
sooner hardens the native feelings of the heart than 
the love of riches. Open to them, the soul is sealed 
up to everything else, and loves nothing in comparison 
with them. Soon and easily it becomes callous to all 
the objects of tenderness and endearment ; forgets the 
neighbour, the poor, and the distressed ; and neglects 
even its nearest friends and relations. To such a heart 
poverty petitions, distress pleads, and nature cries in 
vain. Its ears are deaf, its eyes blind, and its hands 
closed. In vain the unhappy petitioner approaches 
with the hope of finding relief. Instead of meeting 
with the tear of sympathy, and the gentle voice of com- 
passion, he is driven from the gate by the insults of a 
slave, and the growl of a mastiff 

With tenderness of feeling vanishes also tenderness 
of conscience; that inestimable blessing to man; the 
indispensable means of piety and salvation. The con- 
tinual increase of the appetite for wealth continually 
overcomes its remonstrances, and gradually diminishes 
its power. Conscience, often vanquished, is vanquished 
with ease. Avarice accomplishes this defeat every day 
and every hour. Soon therefore its voice, always dis- 
regarded, ceases to be heard. Then religion and duty 
plead with as little success as friendship and suffering 
pleaded before. All the motives to repentance, faith, 
and obedience lose their power ; and might with equal 
efficacy be addressed to blocks and stones. 

To the miser nothing is of any value but wealth. 
But wealth, conscience cannot proffer, the Scriptures 
do not insure, God does not promise. Therefore con- 
science, the Scriptures, and God are of no value to 
him. To riches, to bargains, to loans, to amassing, to 
preserving, he is alive. To reformation, to piety, to 
salvation, he is dead. 

3. The life of the avaricious man is an unceasing 
course of injustice. 

It is an unceasing course of fraud. Few such men 
fail of being guilty of open dishonesty, the natural and 
almost necessary consequence of a covetous disposition. 
Should we suppose him to escape this iniquity, and, 
fixing his standard of morality as high as any avaricious 
man knows how to fix it, to make the lftw of the land 
his rule of righteousness, he will still live a life of fraud. 
His only scheme of action is uniformly to get as much 
as that law will permit ; and it will permit, because it 
cannot prevent, frauds innumerable. Every hard bar- 
gain, as I have formerly observed, is a fraud ; and the 
bargains of this man, unless his weakness forbids, or 
Providence prevents, are all hard. But his life is 
spent in making such bargains ; and is therefore spent 
in fraud. 

It is also an unceasing course of oppression. The 



684 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxi. 



bargains which I have already specified are not fraudu- 
lent only, they are cruel. They are made, in innumer- 
able instances, with the poor and suffering ; and fill his 
coffers out of the pittance of want, and the gleanings of 
the widow and the fatherless. With an iron hand, he 
grasps the earnings of the necessitous ; and ' snatches 
and devours on the right hand, and on the left.' 

In this oppression his own family take their full 
share. His coffers indeed are rich ; but himself and 
his family are poor. Often are they denied even the 
comforts of life ; and always that education and those 
enjoyments which wealth is destined to supply. Their 
food is mean and stinted. Their clothes are the garb 
of poverty. The education which they receive is such 
as forms a menial character, and fits them only for a 
menial condition. Their comforts are measured out 
to them, not in streams, but in solitary drops. When 
they are settled in life, the menus of business and en- 
joyment are supplied to them with so parsimonious a 
hand, as to cut them off from every useful plan, and 
every comfortable expectation. If hope at any time 
shines upon them, it shines only to be overcast. By 
their parent they are continually mocked with the cup 
of Tantalus ; which they are permitted indeed to touch, 
but not to taste. When he leaves the world, and is 
compelled to impart his possessions to them, they find 
themselves, by a stinted education and shrivelled habits, 
rendered wholly unable either to enjoy their wealth 
themselves, or make it useful to others. 

•4. The covetous man is almost of course a liar. 

The great design of the avaricious man, which fills 
his heart, spreads through his life, and controls all his 
conduct, is to get as much as he can ; at least so far as 
it can be done legally and safely. This is the utmost 
point of honesty ever aimed at by an avaricious man. 
If this be attained, such a man always regards himself 
as being really honest. But in this he is wonderfully 
deceived. His favourite principle conducts him regu- 
larly to unceasing fraud, and regularly issues in a 
course of lying. As it is his aim always to sell for 
more and buy for less than justice will permit, he of 
course represents the value of his own commodities to 
be greater, and that of his neighbour's to be less, than 
the truth. As he spends most of his life in buying and 
selling, or in forming schemes to buy and sell, in this 
manner ; he employs no small part of it either in actual 
or intentional lying. To compass the same object also 
he is equally tempted to misrepresent his own circum- 
stances, the state of the markets, the quality and quan- 
tity, the soundness, weight, and measure of the commo- 
dities which he sells ; and, so far as may be, of those 
which he buys. Thus the horse, the house, or the land 
which he is about to buy, is, according to his own ac- 
count, poor, defective, and of little value. But as soon 
as he chooses to sell it, it has, according to his own ac- 
count also, wonderfully changed its nature ; and be- 
come excellent, free from every defect, and of very 
superior value. Yet, with this chain of falsehoods 
always hanging about his neck, the miserable wretch is 
frequently so blind as not to mistrust that he is a liar. 

5. All these, and all other sins of the avaricious man, 
speedily become gross and rank habits. 

I know of no disposition which sooner or more ef- 
fectually makes a man blind to his own character, than 
avarice. The miser rarely, if ever mistrusts that he is a 
sinner. He thinks himself only a rich man. He does 



not dream that he is an oppressor, a liar, and a cheat; 
but merely supposes himself to be prosperous, sagacious, 
and skilled in business. With these views he will 
naturally entertain no thoughts of repentance ; and no 
suspicion that it is necessary for him. His conscience, 
it is to be remembered, has in the mean time lost its 
power to remonstrate and to alarm. His heart also is 
so entirely engrossed by schemes of accumulating 
wealth, or is rather so absolutely possessed by the demon 
of avarice, as to have neither time nor room for the ad- 
mission of a thought concerning reformation. He is 
left, therefore, to the domination of this wretched ap- 
petite ; and becomes fixed and hardened in all his sins, 
without a check, and without resistance. There is pro- 
bably no more obdurate heart than that of avarice ; and 
no more hopeless character. Every passage to it ap- 
peal's to be closed up, except one ; and that is opened 
only to gain. 

III. The mischiefs of avarice are innumerable. 

A few of them only can be even mentioned at the 
present time. These I shall consider as personal, pri- 
vate, and public. 

Among the personal mischiefs of avarice are to be 
reckoned all the follies and all the sins which have 
been already specified, so far as their influence termi- 
nates in the avaricious man himself. They are not sins 
and follies only ; they are mischiefs also ; as indeed is 
every other sin and folly. As mischiefs, their com- 
bined efficacy is very great, malignant, and dreadful ; 
such as would be deliberately encountered by no man 
but a profligate ; such as would make a considerate man 
tremble. 

To these let me add the guilt and misery of discon- 
tentment and envy. However fast the wealth of the 
avaricious man may increase, to whatever size the heaps 
may swell, his accumulations always lag behind his 
wishes. Indeed they never keep pace with what he 
feels to be his due. In his own view he has a right to 
be rich ; and he regards the providence of God as un- 
der a species of obligation to make him rich. To these 
claims his wishes furnish the only limit ; and whenever 
they are not satisfied, as is always the case, unless in ilie 
moment of some distinguished success ; he becomes 
fretful, impatient, and angry at the dispensations of 
Providence. He may not, indeed, accuse God of in- 
justice, face to face ; but he murmurs at his Providence 
under the names of fortune, chance, luck, the state of 
things, and the course of events. Against these, and 
through these against God, his complaints are loud, 
vehement, bitter, full of resentment, and full of im- 
piety. 

Amid the troubles derived from this source he can- 
not fail, whenever he looks around him, to find some 
men happier, as well as more prosperous, at least in 
some respects, than himself. This man may be richer ; 
that, though inferior in wealth, may possess a piece of 
land, a house, a servant, which, although a darling ob- 
ject of his covetous desires, he may be unable to obtain ; 
a third may have more reputation ; a fourth may have 
more influence ; a fifth may be better beloved. To- 
wards any or all of these, his envy may be directed with 
as malignant a spirit as his murmuring against God. 
It is not easy to conceive of a mind more wretched, or 
more odious, than that which makes itself miserable at 
the sight of happiness enjoyed by others ; and pines at 
the thought of enjoyments which are not its own. This 



THE LAW OF GOD.— AVARICE. 



685 



spirit is the vulture of Prometheus, preying unceasingly 
upon his liver ; which was ever renewed, that it might 
be for ever devoured. 

With envy, discontentment, its twin-sister, perpetually 
dwells. The wretch, whose heart is the habitation of 
both, is taught and 'influenced by them to believe, that 
God is his enemy, because he does not minister to his 
covetousness ; and that men are his enemies, because 
they enjoy the good which God has given them. Even 
happiness itself, so delightful, wherever it is seen, to a 
benevolent eye, is a source of anguish only to him, un- 
less when locked up in his own coffers. 

The grovelling and gross taste of the miser is, in my 
view, also eminently pernicious. To be under the go- 
vernment of such a taste is plainly to be cut off from all 
rich and refined enjoyment. The miser endeavours to 
satiate himself upon the dross of happiness. But he 
neither discerns nor seeks for the ' fine gold.' The de- 
licious viands proffered to intelligent and immortal 
minds by the beneficence of God, are lost upon a palate 
which can satiate itself upon garbage. The delightful 
emotions of contentment, gratitude, and complacency 
towards his Maker, the sweets of a self-approving mind, 
the charming fruition of tenderness and sympathy, the 
refined participation of social good, and the elevated 
satisfaction which springs instinctively from the bene- 
ficent promotion of that good, can never find an entrance 
into a heart, all the avenues to which are barred up by 
the hand of avarice. But to lose these blessings is to 
lose infinitely. 

At the same time, the miser wastes of course his day 
of probation. His life is wholly occupied by the pur- 
suit of wealth. Of sin and ruin, of holiness and heaven, 
he has not time even to think. His life is too short for 
the accomplishment of his main object. Suns for him 
rise too late, and set too soon. Too rapidly do his days 
succeed each other, and too early do they terminate 
their career. His last sickness arrests him while he is 
counting his gold : and death knocks at his door, while 
he is in the midst of a gainful bargain. Thus he is 
hurried and goaded through the journey of life by his 
covetousness ; and finds no opportunity to pause, and 
think upon the concerns of his soul ; no moment in 
which he can withdraw his eye from gain, and cast a 
look towards heaven. ' It is easier,' saith our Saviour, 
' for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for 
a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.' 

Thus it is evident, that ' they that will be rich, fall 
into temptation, and a snare, and into many foolish and 
hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and per- 
dition ;' — that ' the love of money is the root of all evil ;' 
— and that ' such as covet after it, pierce themselves 
through with many sorrows.' 

The private mischiefs of avarice are those which affect 
unhappily the interests of families and neighbourhoods. 
To these little circles, formed to be happy, and actu- 
ally the scenes of the principal happiness furnished by 
this world, the miser is a common nuisance. To his 
family he presents the miserable example of covetous- 
ness, fraud, oppression, falsehood, and impiety; and the 
most humiliating and distressing living picture of an 
abandoned worldling, forgetting his God and forgotten 
by him ; worshipping gold ; ever craving and devour- 
ing, but never satisfied ; denying himself and his house- 
hold the comforts of life, and imparting to them the 
necessaries only in crums and shreds; living a life of 



perpetual meanness and debasement ; wasting the day 
of probation ; ' treasuring up wrath against the day of 
wrath ;' advancing onward to his final account, without 
an effort or a thought of preparation for this tremendous 
event ; and, all this while irresistibly endeared to them 
by the strong power of natural affection. 

On the neighbourhood, the miser inflicts the compli- 
cated, harassing, and intense evils of continually re- 
peated fraud and oppression. Wherever such a man 
plants himself, sufferings spring up all around him. To 
the young, the ignorant, the thoughtless, and the neces- 
sitous, he lends money at exorbitant interest, and with 
tenfold security. The payment he discourages, until 
the amount has become sufficient to enable him with a 
suit to enclose their whole possessions in his net. To 
the poor and suffering also he sells at unconscionable 
prices the necessaries of life. Notes, bonds, and mort- 
gages given by persons of the same description, he buys, 
at an enormous discount. Of estates left intestate he 
watchfully seeks, and with art and perseverance obtains 
the administration. When others are obliged to buy, 
he sells; and when others are obliged to sell, he buys. 
In this manner his loans are almost instantaneously 
doubled; and property mortgaged to him for a tenth 
part of its value is swallowed up. The estates of widow's 
and orphans melt away before his breath, as the snow 
beneath the April sun. The possessions of all around 
him move only towards his den. The farm and the 
house, the garden and the cottage, the herd on the one 
hand, and the widow's cow and ten sheep on the other, 
go down together into this open sepulchre. Over the 
miserable beings who cannot escape his fangs he reigns 
with a despotic and wolfish dominion. All around him 
tremble at his nod ; and, should any one retain sufficient 
energy to question his pleasure, or dispute his control, 
he points his eyes to the jail, and hushes every murmur 
to silence, and every thought to despair. 

Nor does he less injure society, although the injury- 
is ordinarily less observed, as being less felt, by cor- 
rupting both his family and his neighbourhood. His 
example emboldens, his skill instructs, and his success 
allures those who are witnesses of his life to pursue the 
same course of villany and oppression. All the saga- 
cious sharpen their cunning by his practical lessons. 
The intrepid become daring by his example. The 
greedy become ravenous by his success. Thus the spirit 
of avarice is caught, its villanies are multiplied, and a 
poisonous scion engrafted upon every stock in the 
neighbourhood. His own sons, if not broken down by 
his hard-handed parsimony, or induced by their suffer- 
ings to detest it, and rush into the opposite extreme of 
profusion, become proficients in all the mysteries of 
fraud and oppression : not instructed and led only, but 
drilled into the eager, shrewd, and gainful pursuit of 
wealth. From him they learn to undervalue all rules 
of morality, except the law of the land, to violate the 
dictates of compassion, to burst the bonds of conscience, 
and to regard with indifference and contempt the will 
of God. In his house, as in a second Newgate, young 
men soon become old in villany ; and, with a heart pre- 
maturely hardened into stone, and hands trained to 
mischief by transferred experience, are turned loose to 
prey upon the vitals of society. 

The public mischiefs of avarice are not less nume- 
rous; and are of incomprehensible magnitude. It was 
one of the glorious characteristics of the men recom- 



686 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxii. 



mended by Jethro to Mosos, to fill the stations of rulers, 
that ' they hated covetousness :' a characteristic indis- 
pensable to him, who would rule justly, and be a ' mi- 
nister of God for good to his people. When avarice 
ascends the chair of state, mingles with the councils of 
princes, seats herself on the bench of justice, or takes 
her place in the chamber of legislation ; nay, when she 
takes possession of subordinate departments, particularly 
of those which are financial in the administration of go- 
vernment, her views become extended, and her ravages 
terrible. The man over whom she has established her 
dominion sees, even in the humblest of these stations, 
prospects of acquiring wealth opening suddenly upon 
him, of which he before never formed a conception. In 
the mysterious collection of revenues, the mazy manage- 
ment of taxes, the undefined claims for perquisites, the 
opportunities of soliciting and receiving customary 
bribes, and in the boundless gulf of naval and military 
contracts, he beholds new means and new motives for 
the exercise of all his talents, fraud, and rapacity, and 
for the speedy acquisition of opulence, crowding upon 
him at once. The alluring scene he surveys with the 
same spirit with which a vulture eyes the field of blood. 
Everything on which he can fasten his talons here be- 
comes his prey. The public he cheats without com- 
punction ; individuals he oppresses without pity. There 
is sufficient wealth in the world to supply all its inhabi- 
tants with comfort. But, when some become suddenly 
and enormously rich, multitudes must sink into the 
lowest depths of poverty. To enable a single farmer of 
revenues, or a single contractor, to lodge in a palace, 
to riot at the table of luxury, and to roll on wheels of 



splendour, thousands have sweat blood, and wrung their 
hands in agony. But what is all this to him? He i> 
rich, whoever else may be poor. He is fed, whoever 
else may starve. The frauds and ravages of public- 
agents, which find palliation, countenance, and excuse 
from the fact that they have become customary, consti- 
tute no small part of that oppression which has awakened 
the groans and cries of the human race, from the days of 
Nimrod to the present hour. 

But avarice is not confined to subordinate agents. 
Often it ascends the throne, and grasps the sceptre. The 
evils of which it is the parent in this situation, are fully 
proportioned to its power, and outrun the most excur- 
sive wanderings of imagination. A large part of the 
miseries entailed on mankind by oppressive taxes at 
home, and ruinous wars abroad, are created by the lust 
for plunder. This fiend hurried the Spaniards to Ame- 
rica, and stung them into the perpetration of all those 
cruelties which laid waste the empires of Mexico and 
Peru. The same foul spirit steered the slave-ships of 
America and Europe to the African shores ; tore from 
their friends, children, and parents, ten millions of the 
unoffending natives ; transported them in chains across 
the Atlantic ; and hurried them to the grave by oppres- 
sive toil, torture, and death. Everywhere and in every 
age she has wasted the happiness, wrung the heart, and 
poured out the blood of man. Relentless as death, and 
insatiable as the grave, she has continually ' opened her 
mouth without measure ; and the glory, the multitude, 
and the pomp ' of cities, states, and empires have de- 
scended into the abyss ! 



SERMON CXXXII. 



THE LAW OF GOD THE DECALOGUE.— THE TENTH COMMANDMENT.. 

AMBITION. 



Blind not high things Rom. xii. 16. 



The subject of the preceding Discourse, you may re- 
member, was avarice. In the present, I shall consider 
the other great exercise of a covetous spirit, viz. 
ambition. 

Ambition is an affection of the mind, nearly related 
to pride and vanity. Vanity is the self-complacency 
which we feel in the consciousness of being superior to 
others. Pride is the same self-complacency united with 
a contempt for those whom we consider as our inferiors. 
Ambition is the desire of obtaining, or increasing, this 
superiority. Vanity usually makes men civil and com- 
' plaisant. Pride renders them rude, imperious, and 
overbearing. Vanity chiefly subjects men to the im- 
putation of weakness, and excites mingled emotions of 
pity and contempt. Pride is often attended with a kind 
of repulsive dignity ; is rather seen to be deserving of 
contempt, than realized as the object of it ; sometimes 
awakens awe ; and always creates hatred and loathing. 
Vain men are always ambitious ; proud men generally : 



but they sometimes appear satisfied with their present 
envied superiority to all around them. Ambitious men 
are frequently vain, and sooner or later are always 
proud. Vanity rests chiefly on personal attributes. 
Pride, in addition to these, fastens on everything which 
is supposed to create distinction. 

This love of superiority is the most remarkable 
exercise of covetousness ; and, united with the discon- 
tentment and envy by which it is regularly accompanied, 
appears to constitute the principal corruption of the 
human mind. It is impossible, without wonder, to ob- 
serve the modes in which mankind exercise it, and the 
objects in which it finds its gratification. They are of 
every kind, and are found everywhere. We are proud 
and vain of whatever, in our own view, raises us above 
others ; whether a gift of nature, an attainment of our 
own, or a mere accident. Our pride and vanity are 
excited by the possession of personal beauty, strength, 
or agility ; by a lively imagination, clear judgment, and 



THE LAW OF GOD AMBITION. 



637 



tenderness of feeling ; by patrimonial wealth, and dis- 
tinction of family ; by the fact, that we live in the same 
neighbourhood, or even in the same country, with per- 
sons of eminence ; that we know them ; or even that 
we have seen them. No less commonly are we proud 
and vain of bodily feats, graceful motions, and becom- 
ing manners ; of our gains ; of our learning, inven- 
tions, sallies of wit, efforts of eloquence, and exploits of 
heroism ; of the employments to which we are devoted ; 
of the taste which we display in our dress, entertain- 
ments, manner of living, building, and planting: of 
our industry, prudence, generosity, and piety; of our 
supposed interest in the favour of God ; nay, even of 
our penitence and humility. We are proud also of the 
town in which we were born ; of the church to which 
we are attached; of the country in which we live; of 
the beauty of its surface, the fertility of its soil, and 
the salubrity of its climate. In a word, these emotions 
are excited by everything from which a roving, eager 
imagination, and a corrupt heart, can elicit the means 
of personal distinction. 

So far as these gratifications of pride are not in our 
possession, but are yet supposed to be attainable, or so 
far as they are supposed capable of being increased, 
when already possessed by us, they become objects of 
ambition. We eagerly covet them, and labour strenu- 
ously to acquire them. 

In the humble circles of life, the first, and very fre- 
quently the last aim of this desire of superiority, is to 
rise above those who are in the same humble station. 
To be the first in a village would, it is said, have been 
more acceptable to Caesar himself, than to have been 
the second in Rome. Most men certainly raise their 
ambition no higher than this very limited superiority. 
Neither their views, nor their circumstances, permit 
them to grasp at more extensive and more elevated ob- 
jects. Persons who move in a larger sphere are apt to 
look down with contempt and pity, upon the lowly 
struggles for pre-eminence which spring up in the cot- 
tage, and agitate the hamlet, without remembering that 
they are just as rational, and just as satisfactory, while 
they are less distressing, and less guilty, than their own 
more splendid and violent efforts to obtain superior 
consequence. 

Minds of a more restless cast, of more expanded 
views, and more inordinate wishes, never stop volunta- 
rily at such objects as these. The field of distinction 
is co-extended with the globe. The means by which it 
may be acquired are endless in their multitude, and 
their application : and the prize is always ready to 
crown the victor. It cannot be wondered at, that minds 
of such a cast should therefore enter the race, and 
struggle vigorously to gain the prize. 

I have remarked, that the means of distinction are 
endless in their multitude, and their application. The 
objecis from which it is immediately derived, are, how- 
ever, comparatively few. These are chiefly wealth, 
splendour, learning, strength of mind, genius, elo- 
quence, courage, place, and power. To these are to be 
added, those remarkable actions which excite the ad- 
miration and applause of mankind. 

Among the objects most immediately coveted by 
ambitious men, especially by those whose ambition has 
been peculiarly ardent and insatiable, fame, splendour, 
place, and power have held the first rank. Splendour 
lias been sought as the means of fixing and dazzling 



the eyes of their fellow men ; place and fame as being 
partly the means of distinction, and partly the distinc- 
tion itself; and power, as involving in its nature the 
most decisive and acknowledged superiority ; as includ- 
ing place, fame, and splendour ; and as furnishing all 
the earthly means of distinction. Into the chase for 
these objects the great body of mankind have entered, 
whenever they have found an opportunity. The hum. 
ble have striven for little places, and the show which 
was intended to excite the stare of a neighbourhood. 
The aspiring have aimed at stations of high political 
consequence, and struggled to set the world agape. 
Men of limited views have confined their labours to the 
attainment of a character which should circulate, with 
respect, through a village ; or be engraved with marks 
of distinction upon a tombstone ; while the lofty- 
minded have demanded a name which should sound 
through the world, and awaken the wonder of future 
generations. The powers of subaltern magistracy have 
satisfied multitudes ; while others have panted to grasp 
the sceptre of the monarch, and the sword of the con- 
queror. 

The text is directed against this spirit in every form 
and degree. ' Mind not high things,' says St Paul to 
the Christians at Pome. The English word ' mind,' 
appears very happily to express the meaning of the 
original term, (pgoi/ovi/Tis ; — Give not your minds to high 
things with either attention or desire. It will be easily 
seen, that this precept cuts up by the roots both the 
spirit and the consequences of ambition. If we pay not 
the regard here forbidden to the objects of ambition, it 
is plain, that we shall neither cherish the spirit, nor 
pursue the conduct which it dictates. It is hardly ne- 
cessary to observe, that the precept is directed to us 
with the same force and obligation as to the Christians 
at Pome. 

The reasons for this prohibition are of the most satis- 
factory and sufficient nature. As proofs of this truth I 
shall allege the following : — 

]. Ambition is a primary part of our rebellion against 
the law and government of God. 

In the first discourse on the tenth command, I ob- 
served, that * an inordinate desire of natural good seems 
to be the commencement of sin, in a being originally 
virtuous.' The two great branches of this spirit, or the 
two great modes in which it operates, are ambition and 
avarice. Of these, ambition is without a question the 
most universal, and the most powerfully operative. It 
extends to more objects, exerts itself in a far greater 
variety of modes, occupies, so far as we can judge, the 
minds of much greater multitudes, is more restless, 
vehement, and, if possible, more craving. In every 
just consideration it holds, of course, the primary place. 

God has assigned his place and duties, his situation 
and enjoyments, to every intelligent creature. Impa- 
tience with regard to this situation, and the duties which 
it involves, discontentment with the enjoyment which it 
furnishes, and those inordinate desires for the stations 
and allotments of others, out of which impatience and 
discontentment spring, are, I think, evidently the first 
risings of the mind against its Maker. In these emo- 
tions, the mind declares that its Maker's government is, 
in its own view, unreasonable and unjust ; and that his 
dispensations are such as to make it justifiably unwil- 
ling to regard them with obedience and submission. 
Thus it arraigns the wisdom and goodness of Jehovah, 



688 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. cxxxi. 



and withdraws itself from allegiance to the Ruler of all 
things. Ambition, then, the principal branch of this 
spirit, is the original rebellion against the government 
of God. Accordingly, the principal ingredient in the 
first transgression was the ambition of our first parents 
to become ' as gods, knowing good and evil.' A pre- 
cept which forbids the assumption of so dangerous a 
character, and the pursuit of such shameful conduct, 
can need no additional proof of its rectitude. Still, 
that which is unnecessary to produce conviction, may 
be useful for the purpose of making impressions on the 
heart. I observe, therefore, 

2. Ambition is fatal to the happiness of the ambi- 
tious man. 

It is proverbially acknowledged, that envy and dis- 
content are only other names for misery. Yet these 
wretched attributes are always attendant on ambition. 
No mind can be contented whose desires are ungra- 
tified. When those desires are eager, it will be still 
more discontented ; and when he who cherishes those 
desires, sees the good which he covets in the possession 
of others, he cannot fail to be envious. But the desires 
of an ambitious man are always ungratified. That they 
are eager, needs no proof; and eager desires invariably 
overrun the measure of the expected enjoyment. 
When it is attained, therefore, it falls regularly short of 
the expectations and wishes ; and tiius the mind regu- 
larly fails of being satisfied, even when its efforts are 
crowned with success. The happiness of heaven, we 
are taught, will be commensurate to the utmost desires 
of its inhabitants. In this world ardent wishes were 
never satisfied, nor high hopes ever indulged without 
disappointment. 

The man who enters the career of political advance- 
ment, never acquires anything like satisfaction, until 
he sees, with absolute conviction, that he can gain no- 
thing more. Then indeed he may sometimes sit down 
quietly, because there is nothing within the horizon of 
his view to rouse his energy to new hopes and new 
exertions. But his quiet is only the stagnant dulness 
left by disappointment — the paralytic torpor of despair. 
At first he aims at an humble office, lie attains it ; and 
with new eagerness raises his views to one which is 
higher. He attains this also ; and, more eager still, 
bends his efforts to the acquisition of a third. The ac- 
quisition of this only renders more intense his thirst 
for another. Thus he heats himself, like a chariot- 
wheel, merely by his own career; and will never cease 
to pant more and more ardently for promotion, until he 
finds his progress stopped by obstacles which neither art 
nor influence can remove. 

In the same manner, the candidate for literary emi- 
nence commences the chase of fame with wishes usually 
moderate. His first success, however, enlarges his 
views, and gives new vigour to his desires. Originally, 
he would have been satisfied with the distinction of 
being celebrated through a village. Thence he wishes 
to spread his name through a city, thence through a 
country, thence through the world, and thence through 
succeeding generations. Were sufficient means of com- 
munication furnished, he would be still more ardently 
desirous to extend his fame through the planetary re- 
gions, and from them to the utmost extent of the stel- 
lary system. Were all the parts of this immeasurable 
career possible, his mind at the end of it would be less 
contented than at the commencement ; and would find, 



with a mixture of astonishment and agony, that the 
moment when the strife was terminated, the enjoyment 
which it promised was gone. 

In the pursuit of power this truth is still more forcibly 
illustrated. He who, with distinguished political talents, 
devotes himself to this acquisition, hurries with increas- 
ing vehemence from petty domination, through all the 
grades of superior sway, until he becomes a Cromwell, 
or a king. He who aims at the same object through a 
military progress, starts from a school, in the character 
of a cadet, and pushes through the subordinate offices 
to the command of a regiment, a brigade, a division, 
and an army. With an ambition, changing from desire 
into violence, from violence into rage, and from rage 
into frenzy, he then becomes a consul, a king, an em- 
peror, a monarch of many crowns and many realms ; 
and burns with more intense ardour to go on, subduing 
and ruling, until the earth furnishes nothing more to 
be ruled or subdued. Thus the ambition, which at first 
was a spark, is soon blown into a flame, and terminates 
in a conflagration. Alexander subdued and ruled the 
known world. When he had finished his course, he sat 
down and wept, because there was no other world for 
him to conquer. 

Thus it is plain, that the desires pf ambition must 
ever be ungratified because they increase faster than 
any possible gratification., and because they increase 
with a progressive celerity ; expanding faster at every 
future, than at any preceding period of enjoyment. 
Though ' all rivers run into this ocean,' still it ' is not 
full.' Although millions continually crowd into this 
grave, still it says not, ' It is enough.' As avarice would 
never cease to crave, until it had gorged the riches of 
the universe ; so ambition would never rest, until it has 
ascended the throne of the Creator. 

But, after all its accumulations, there will be wealth 
which avarice cannot grasp. After all its achievements, 
there will be heights which ambition cannot climb. 
Discontentment therefore and murmuring towards the 
God who will not give the coveted enjoyments, and 
envy towards the created beings who possess them, will 
rankle in the insatiable bosom, and annihilate the com- 
fort which might otherwise spring from the mass of good 
already acquired. Ahab on the throne of Israel made 
himself miserable because he could not lay his hands on 
the humble vineyard of Naboth. Haman, an obscure 
captive, was elevated to the second place of power and 
distinction in the empire of Persia, comprehending at 
that time almost all the wealth and people of the known 
world. Yet, at this height of power and splendour, in 
an assembly of his family and friends, while he was re- 
citing to them ' the glory of his riches, the multitude of 
his children, and all the things wherein the king had 
promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the 
princes and servants of the king ;' when he said, ' More 
over, Esther the queen did let no man come in with th 
king unto the banquet that she had prepared, but my 
self; and to-morrow am I invited unto her also with 
the king:' this aspiring, haughty wretch could add 
' Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mor- 
decai the Jew sitting at the king's gate.' 

Our first parents became discontented with their ver 
nature ; and under the influence of ambition wished t 
become ' as gods.' In this monstrous wish they have 
been often followed by their descendants. Several of 
the Persian emperors, Alexander the Great, and sere- 



THE LAW OF GOD AMBITION. 



689 



ral of the Roman emperors claimed divine honours, and 
demanded sacrifices and libations. The bishops of 
Rome also have arrogated to themselves the peculiar 
titles of Jehovah ;* and have accordingly granted abso- 
lutions of sin, and passports to heaven. Nay, they have 
abrogated the commands of God, substituted for them 
contrary precepts, ascended the throne of the Redeemer, 
assumed the absolute government of his church, per- 
mitted and interdicted its worship at their pleasure, 
claimed the world as their property, and declared all 
mankind to be their vassals. Beyond all this, they have 
given, openly and publicly, indulgences, or permissions 
to sin. Thus has this ' man of sin,' this ' son of perdi- 
tion, exalted himself above all that is called God, or 
that is worshipped.' Thus has he, ' as God, sat in the 
temple of God, showing himself to be God.' 

With all these boundless demands of enjoyment, how- 
ever, this unvarying claim to the exclusive possession of 
natural good, ambition never performed a single duty 
to God, or to man. To a mind under the control of 
this passion, moral good has no charms, and never be- 
comes the object of either complacency or desire. By 
such a man his own soul is neglected and forgotten : his 
fellow men are neither befriended nor loved ; and his 
God is neither worshipped nor obeyed. All his talents 
and all his time are employed, with unceasing drudgery, 
solely to adorn, gratify, and exalt himself. Of this 
wretched idol he regards the earth as the shrine, and 
the skies as the temple. To this idol he sacrifices all 
that he is, and all that he has ; and demands from others 
every offering which he can claim, and they can give. 
In homage to this idol he makes every duty give way, 
and, so far as is i» his power, bends all the interests of 
his fellow men, and those of the universe, and sets it up 
as a rival to God himself. 

Tn such a mind how can the sense of duty be kept 
alive ? How can he whose attention is thus fascinated 
by personal greatness and distinction, whose soul is 
swollen by the consciousness of personal superiority, 
find either inclination or leisure for so humble an em- 
ployment as the performing of his duty ? In such a 
mind how can repentance even begin? How can such 
a mind comprehend the necessity of relying on the Re- 
deemer for acceptance with God ? How can such a 
mind realize either the importance or the existence of 
moral obligation ; or feel itself bound to obey the will 
of its Creator? Given up to sin, not from negligence 
only, from inconsideration, or heedless propensity, but 
from settled design, from ardent choice, from laborious 
contrivance, how can such a mind furnish room for the 
admission of humility, dependence, the fear of God, 
submission to his will, contentment, benevolence, equity, 
or compassion ? But where these attributes are not, no 
duty can be performed. 

To his own family, indeed, he may be thought to 
render some of those services which are obviously re- 
quired both by reason and revelation. All men are 
commanded to ' provide for those of their own house ;' 
and for his own house the ambitious man actually pro- 
vides ; but not in such a manner as either to perform 
his own duty, or benefit his family. He labours indeed 
to make them great ; but not to make them wise, just, 
or good. His children he regards merely as heirs; and 
not as moral beings, placed during the present life in a 

- L'oininu: , Dcus uostc-r, Papa. 



state of trial, and destined in a future world to a state 
of reward. They are therefore taught, governed, in- 
fluenced, and habituated to no duty, and to no real good. 
His only object is to invest them with a superiority re- 
sembling his own ; that they may be decent companions 
to him while he lives, and inherit his grandeur after his 
death. They are therefore educated to be in all re- 
spects as bad as, and in most worse than, himself. The 
great point of instruction which thay receive, from the 
cradle to the end of his life, is, that all things, human 
and divine, are to give way to the pursuit of personal 
distinction. He who educates his family in this man* 
ner, cannot be believed to perform of design a single 
parental duty. 

As the ambitious man regards not the real interests 
of his own family, it cannot be believed that he will ex- 
ei-cise any greater tenderness for those of his fellow 
men. I have already remarked that his mind can fur- 
nish no room for the admission of benevolence, equity, 
and compassion. Without these attributes, it is hardly 
necessary to observe, no duty to mankind can be per- 
formed. 

To God, this lofty-minded being cannot be expected 
to render any part of that homage which he demands 
from all other beings to himself. The only language 
of his heart, while looking down from the height to 
which he imagines himself raised by a series of pros- 
perous efforts, is, ' I will ascend into heaven : I will 
exalt my throne above the stars of God ; I will ascend 
above the height of the clouds ; I will be like the 
Most High.' What submission, what obedience, what 
worship, can co-exist with this language and the 
thoughts from which it springs ? 

At the same time, the ambitious man surrounds him- 
self with a host of temptations. The ' unclean spirit ' 
which originally dwelt in his heart, after having ' gone 
out, and walked in dry places, seeking rest, and finding 
none ;' afier saying, ' I will return to my house, whence 
I came out ; has already entered it again, and found 
it empty, swept, and garnished,' for his reception. 
Already has he gone, and taken ' with himself seven 
other spirits, more wicked than himself; and they have 
entered in,' and taken final possession of this conve- 
nient residence. His temper, his ruling passion, his 
course of life holds out a welcome to every temptation, 
a call to every sin, a summons to every fiend. His 
mind is a cage of unclean and furious passions. His 
purposes demand for their accomplishment the conti- 
nual intervention of falsehood, fraud, injustice, and 
cruelty, of impiety and irreligion. The ' sins ' of such 
a man, instead of ' following after' him, march before 
him in regular array ; and fight, maraud, and plunder, 
to fulfill his designs, and to satiate the malignity of those 
evil spirits who have taken up their final habitation in 
his bosom. 

3. Ambition is the source of numerous and terrible 
evils to mankind. 

To comprehend the import of this truth, even in the 
imperfect manner in which it can be comprehended by 
us, it would be necessary to recur to the history of the 
human kind. In all ages, and in all nations, this vast 
record has been little else than a delineation of the 
miseries which this malignant passion has produced. 
It has been a tale of sorrows and groans, and sighs and 
tears. The earth has rung throughout its immense 
regions with the melancholy murmur ; and the walls of 
4 s 



690 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ses. cxxxn. 



heaven have echoed back ' mourning, lamentation, and 
woe.' In a short discourse like this, were it to be 
changed into a mere vocabulary, the very names of the 
various sufferings wrought by ambition could not be 
alphabetically recited. A loose and general specifica- 
tion of a very few of these evils is all that can be ac- 
complished, and therefore all that will be attempted. 

Among the several adventurers in the field of distinc- 
tion, none appears so likely to be harmless, as the 
candidate for literary fame. Learning is an object 
naturally so useful, and the pursuit of it an employment 
so quiet, and so little ominous to the public peace, as to 
induce us very easily to believe that ambition here, at 
least, would be innoxious and unalarming. Should 
this, however, be our conclusion, we should find our- 
selves not a little disappointed. There has been a 
period, of which but too many traces still remain ; a 
period in which it was fashionable, and therefore an 
object of ambition, to be a free-thinker. Literary men 
of this description trumpeted so loudly and so inces- 
santly the learning, genius, and philosophy of them- 
selves and their coadjutors ; vapoured with so much 
parade concerning their superiority to superstition, 
their independence, their liberality, and their exemp- 
tion from prejudice ; and promised so magnificently to 
rescue their fellow men from the mists of error, and 
from the bondage of the mind, that the young, the 
ignorant, and the silly, dazzled by these splendid pre- 
tensions, became ambitious of this distinction, and, with- 
out examination or conviction, became free-thinkers in 
numerous instances, merely that they might have the 
honour of being united to this cluster of great men. 
The men themselves, finding that they had become 
great in the estimation of others by means of these 
lofty pretensions, went on, and became still greater by 
increasing their pretensions. By the mere dint of 
study and reflection, they claimed to understand and 
teach the will of God concerning the duty and salvation 
of men ; to explore the future designs of Omniscience ; 
and to prescribe rules of justice and propriety, ac- 
cording to which, if they were to be believed, God him- 
self was bound to conduct his administrations to man- 
kind. The Scriptures they not only discarded, but 
loaded with every calumny, and every insult. The 
Redeemer of the world they insulted even more grossly 
than the ancient Jews had done ; stained his character 
with vice and infamy, annihilated his mediation. In 
the mean time, they poured out a torrent of immoral 
principles which they dignified with the name of phi- 
losophy, and which they proposed as proper rules to 
direct the conduct of men. liy these principles the 
faith of mankind was perplexed, their morality un- 
hinged, the distinction between virtue and vice de- 
stroyed, the existence of both denied, and the bonds of 
society cut asunder. Men, of course, were let loose 
upon each other without the restraint of moral precept, 
without the checks of conscience, without the fear of 
God. 

The late revolution in France, that volcanic explo- 
sion, which deluged the world with successive floods of 
darkness and fire, had all its materials collected, and all 
its flames kindled by men of this description. It is not 
intended, that literary consequence was the only dis- 
tinction sought by those who were the prime agents in 
producing this terrible shock of nature. The lust of 
power had undoubtedly its full share in bringing to pass 



this astonishing event. But the desire of fame had its 
share also. Had not the principles of the French na- 
tion been deeply corrupted, their morals dissolved, and 
their sense of religious obligation destroyed by the pen 
of sophistry, it is incredible that they should at once 
have burst all the bonds of nature and morality, trans- 
migrated in a moment from the character of civilized 
men, into that of wolves and tigers, and covered their 
country with havoc and blood. 

In the career of political distinction the progress is 
usually more rapid, and the change more astonishing. 
In this career, men of fair moral reputation and decent 
life, when seized by the disease of ambition, lose sud- 
denly all their formed apparent principles, and are 
changed at once into office-hunters and demagogues. 
To obtain a place, or to acquire suffrages, they become 
false, venal, and treacherous ; corrupt and bribe others, 
and are themselves corrupted and bribed ; become pan- 
ders to men of power, and sycophants to the multitude ; 
creep through the serpentine mazes of electioneering ; 
and sell their souls for a vote or an appointment, in the 
dark recesses of a cabal. 

Their rivals also they calumniate with all the foul 
aspersions which ingenuity can invent, malignity adopt, 
obloquy utter, or falsehood convey. The more virtu- 
ous, wise, and respected these rivals may be, the more 
artful and incessant will be their calumnies ; because 
from such men they feel the danger of defeat to be 
peculiarly alarming. Wisdom and worth therefore are 
pre-eminently the objects of their hatred and persecu- 
tion ; and fall by the scythe of ambition, as by the 
scythe of death. 

The people at large, in the mean time, are duped by 
every false tale, which the cunning of these men ena- 
bles them to invent, terrified by every false alarm, cor- 
rupted by every false principle, and misled into every) 
dangerous and fatal measure. Neighbours in this man-i 
ner are roused to jealousy, hatred, and hostility against 
neighbours; friends against friends; brothers against 
brothers ; ' the father against the son, and the son 
against the father.' Truth and justice, kindness, peace, 
and happiness, fly before these evil genii. Anarchy, 
behind them, summons her hosts to the civil conflict. 
Battles are fought with unnatural rage, and fell violence ; 
fields are covered with carnage, and drenched in blood ; 
until there are none left to contend, and the country is 
converted into a desert. Then despotism plants his 
throne on the ruins, and stretches his iron sceptre over 
the miserable relics, of the nation. Such was often the 
progress of political ambition in the ancient and modern 
republics of Europe ; and such, there is no small reason 
to fear, may one day be its efficacy on our own happy 
land. 

When, instead of the love of peace and political dis- 
tinction, the passion for power and a determination to 
rule has taken possession of the heart, the evils have 
been far more numerous, extensive, and terrible. These 
evils have been the chief themes of history in all tlie 
ages of time. It cannot be necessary, that they should 
be particularized by me. In some countries of Asi: 
and Africa, the candidate for the throne secures hi 
possession of that proud and dangerous eminence by 
imprisoning for life every heir, and every competitor ; 
in others, by putting out their eyes ; and in others, by 
murdering them in cold blood. Thus nations are by 
this infernal passion shut out from the possibility of 



f 



THE LAW OF GOD MAN'S MORAL INABILITY. 



691 



being governed by mild, upright, and benevolent rulers. 
Ambition knows no path to a throne but a path of blood, 
and seats upon it none but an assassin. The adherents 
to an unsuccessful candidate, although supporting their 
lawful prince, and performing a duty which God has 

, enjoined, and from which they cannot be released, are 
involved in his ruin. Prisons are crowded with hun- 
dreds and thousands of miserable wretches, guilty of no 

: crime, but that of endeavouring to sustain the govern- 
ment, and resisting usurpation. The axe and the hal- 
ter, tli8 musket and the cannon, desolate cities and 
provinces of their inhabitants, and thin the ranks of 
mankind to make the seat of the tyrant secure. Not 
one of these unhappy wretches was probably worse, all 
were probably better, men than he who bathed his 

. lands in their blood. Cassar fought fifty-six pitched 



battles, and killed one million tsvo hundred thousand 
human beings, to secure to himself the Roman sceptre. 
More than three millions of such beings have been 
slaughtered to place the modern Cassar in the undis- 
puted possession of his imperial greatness. To all 
these miserable sufferers God gave life, and friends, 
and comforts, with a bountiful hand. Why were they 
not permitted to enjoy these blessings, during the pe- 
riod allotted to man ? Because ambition was pleased 
to put its veto upon the benevolent dispensation of 
the Creator ; because, to satiate one man, it became 
necessary to sacrifice the happiness of millions better 
than himself; because such a being could be pleased 
to see himself seated on a throne, although it was 
erected in a stall of slaughter, and environed by a lake 
of blood ! 



SERMON CXXXIII. 



THE LAW OF GOD MAN'S INABILITY TO OBEY THE LAW OF GOD. 



Because the carnal mind is enmity against God ; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. 

Rom. viii. 7. 



In a long series of Discourses, I have examined the 

:la\v of God, or the preceptive part of the Scriptures. 
This examination I have distributed into two great di- 

, visions : the first involving that summary of the law, 
which Christ informs us contains the substance of all 

.that is enjoined in the Old Testament; the second, in- 
cluding the Decalogue, in which this summary is en- 
larged from two precepts to ten ; and the duties which 
it required are more particularly exhibited. In both of 
these divisions I have considered, as I found occasion, 

I those comments also of Christ, the prophets, and the 
apostles, which explain and enforce the various requi- 
sitions. The importance of these precepts does more 

■ than justify, it demands, the extensive place allotted to 
them in this system, and the attempts which have here 

. been made, to recommend them to the faith and the 

L obedience of this assembly. The end of all useful spe- 
culation is practice. The use of all truth is, ultimately, 

. to regulate the conduct of intelligent beings. Those 
which are called the doctrines of the Scriptures, are 
necessary and profitable to mankind in two respects. 
The first is, that they involve immediate practical duties 
to a vast extent ; the second is, that by teaching us our 
character, situation, and relations to God and each 
other, and the character of God, together with his rela- 
tions to us, they show us the foundation of all our duty ; 
the reasons of it, the motives to it, and the manner in 
which it is to be performed. Most of these things are 
unfolded to us by the precepts of the Scriptures. They 
are also attended by some advantages, which are pe- 
culiar to themselves. They declare our duty directly; 

' and declare it in the form of law. An authoritative 

j rule is given in each of them, announcing the will of 
tho Lawgiver, requiring our obedience, and prohibiting 
our disobedience, wilh rewards and penalties annexed 



to every precept ; not, indeed, annexed to every pre- 
cept in form ; but so as to be always easily present 
to the eyes of those for whom the law was made. In- 
struction communicated in this manner, is attended 
by a force and efficacy of which all other teaching is 
incapable. 

From these considerations arises the importance of 
inculcating much and often, the preceptive part of the 
Scriptures from the desk. I well know, that preaching 
of this nature has been opposed and censured by indi- 
viduals, in several classes of Christians. By Antino- 
mians it may be consistently censured. As these men 
suppose themselves released from the law of God, as a 
rule of duty, by the gracious dispensation of the gospel, 
they have considered the preaching of the law as use- 
less, and even as mischievous. Such sermons as have 
urged the religious and moral duties of man, they have 
styled ' legal sermons,' and those who have delivered 
them ' legal preachers.' By this language they have 
intended to insinuate, or openly to declare, that the 
design of such preaching was the establishment of the 
doctrine, that we are justified by works of law ; and the 
subversion of the evangelical doctrine, that we are jus- 
tified by grace, through faith in the Redeemer. That 
men have urged obedience to the precepts of the Scrip- 
tures with this design, I shall not question, any more 
than that the same men have pursued the same design 
by descanting on the doctrines of the Scriptures ; and 
even on those which are purely evangelical. But that 
inculcating the practical duties which are required of 
mankind in the Scriptures is, in this sense, legal 
preaching, I wholly deny. If this is its true character, 
Christ himself was a legal preacher. This glorious per- 
son in his own discourses has given these precepts, ex- 
patiated upon them, and urged obedience to them upon 



692 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SER. CXKXiH. 



mankind, in a vast multitude of forms, to a great ex- 
tent, and with unrivalled force and beauty. His ser- 
mon on the mount is an illustrious and pre-eminent ex- 
ample of this nature. 

This error, it must be owned, has not been confined 
to'Antinomians. Zealous men, enrolled by themselves 
in other classes of Christians, and deluding themselves, 
almost of course, by the warmth and haste with which 
they decide concerning every subject, have entertained 
similar views, and adopted similar language. I would 
ask these men, to what purpose were the precepts of 
the Scriptures given ? Why are they so often, so 
variously, and so forcibly, urged upon mankind ? I 
would ask them, Whether ' all Scripture isj' or is not, 
' given by inspiration of God ;' and whether it is, or is 
not, all ' profitable,' not only ' for doctrine, reproof, and 
correction,' but also ' for instruction in righteousness?' 
If this inquiry must be answered affirmatively concern- 
ing the Old Testament, it cannot be answered negatively 
concerning the New. 

There are those who, on the contrary, confine most 
or all of their Discourses from the pulpit to the precepts 
of the Scriptures ; and either wholly, or chiefly, leave 
the doctrines which they contain out of their preaching. 
Such preachers are equally censurable with their adver- 
saries. No justification can be pleaded for the conduct 
of either. This separation cannot lawfully be made by 
either. God has united them ; they cannot therefore 
be disjoined by man. He, who preaches a part of the 
gospel, cannot be said to preach the gospel which Paul 
preached. He may not indeed utter doctrines or pre- 
cepts contrary to those of Paul : but he purposely 
avoids preaching the whole gospel of Paul : and, 
although not guilty of denying or subverting either the 
truths or the injunctions given us by the apostle, yet, 
for mutilating the system he merits severe reprehen- 
sion. 

Such preachers as profess the doctrines of the refor- 
mation, have been frequently charged with neglecting 
to a great degree the duty of inculcating the morality 
of the gospel. In solitary instances the charge may 
have been deserved. That it is generally just, there is 
not a single reason to believe. I regard it as one of 
those general charges which fall everywhere, and rest 
nowhere ; the refuge of weak and unworthy minds, 
when they wish to indulge a spirit of bitterness, by 
uttering severe imputations, and yet dare not fasten 
them upon individuals, for fear of being required to 
support them by evidence. So far as my knowledge of 
preachers extends, those who are sometimes called 
evangelical, inculcate the practical duties of mankind 
with more frequency and more earnestness than most 
other men. They do not, indeed, preach the morals 
of heathen philosophy : but they preach the cordial, 
principled morality of the gospel, springing from 
the faith, ' without which it is impossible to please God.' 

In my own view, this preaching is indispensable to 
mankind : and I cordially unite with the excellent 
Doddridge in saying, ' Happy would it be for the 
church of Christ, if these important doctrines of practi- 
cal religion were more inculcated, and less of the zeal 
of its teachers spent in discussing vain questions, and 
intricate strifes about words, which have been produc- 
tive of so much envy and contention, obloquy and sus- 
picion.' 

The next subject which offers itself to our considera- 



tion in a System of Theology, is the nature of thai 
inability to obey the divine law, which is commonly 
acknowledged to be a part of the human character. It 
is hardly necessary to observe, that scarcely any moral 
subject has been more a theme of contention than this. 
It is no part of my design to recount the clashing opin- 
ions which have been formed concerning it, or the 
controversies to which it has given birth. Metaphysical 
discussion has for ages lavished upon it all its subtilties. 
As I neither claim the reputation, nor enjoy the pleasure 
furnished by disquisitions of this nature, I shall not 
attempt to add any subtilties of my mm, to the mass 
which has already been accumulated. That ingenious 
men have, in several instances, thrown considerable 
light upon this difficult topic, I readily admit ; and can 
easily believe that it may be illumined still farther. It 
will be a prime part of my own design not to environ 
it with darkness and perplexity. A plain tale is always 
attended by this advantage, that it may be easily under- 
stood. That which I shall utter will, I hope, be accom- 
panied by the important additional advantage, that it 
will be true. 

In the text we are informed, that ' the carnal mind 
is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.' 
The words translated, ' the carnal mind,' are to (pQovwpu 
Ty; aa^Koc, ' the minding of the flesh.' To mind, is to 
regard with attention, respect, or desire. Here it plainly 
signifies that general course of desires which is exer- 
cised by mankind, in certain circumstances, towards 
certain objects ; and which., in the preceding verse, is 
declared to be a state of spiritual death ; or to terminate 
in future, everlasting death. It is obviously the pre- 
vailing characteristical course of desire ; the whole 
' minding of the flesh.' In the next it is declared to be 
' enmity against God.' What is intended by ' the flesh, 1 
is explained to us by Christ, John iii. 6. ' That which 
is born of the flesh is flesh ; and that which is born of 
the Spirit is spirit.' In other words, that which is born 
of man is possessed of the proper character of man. 
There are but two kinds of births mentioned in the 
Scriptures ; and both these are expressed by our 
Saviour in this passage; viz., the natural birth, and 
regeneration. All that which experiences the natural 
birth, and that only, is declared by Christ to be ' flesh;' 
as that which experiences the spiritual birth, or rege 
neration, is declared to be ' spirit.' The moral charac- 
ter here intended is strongly indicated by our Saviour, 
when he informs us, that ' that which is born of the flesh 
(only) cannot,' and that 'that which is born of the 
Spirit,' can ' see the kingdom of God.' This moral 
character is still more particularly delineated by St 1 
Paul, Gal. v. 19 — 23. ' Now the works of the flesh are 1 
manifest, which are these : Adultery, fornication, un 
cleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, 
variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, 
envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such 
like. Of the which I tell you before, as I have also 
told you in time past, that they which do such things 
shall not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of^ 
the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, 
goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.' It will hardly 
need proof, that the former of these classes of affections 
and actions, and such as these, are characteristical of 
man in his natural, unrenewed state ; nor that the lat- 
ter are exhibited by the Scriptures as constituting the 
true character of the children of God. 



i 



;i, 



THE LAW OF GOD MAN'S MORAL INABILITY. 



693 



That the affections here mentioned ' are not subject 
to the law of God,' will not admit of a question ; since 
they are the very things forbidden by that law. That 
they cannot be thus subject, while they continue to 
exist, is equally evident. Nor is it less certain, from 
the proofs given both by revelation and experience, 
that where the soul is not renewed by the Spirit of 
God, they continue to exist through life. Revelation 
teaches us, that, ' unless a man be born again of the 
Spirit' of God, he will continue to sustain the fleshly or 
natural character while he lives ; and that all those who 
f receive' Christ, and become the children of God, ' are 
born, not of the blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor 
of the will of man, but of God.' Experience shows 
also, with a regular testimony, that the native moral 
character of man continues, in the ordinary course of 
things, the same through life. 

The nature of this inability to obey the law of God 
is, in my own view, completely indicated by the word 
indisposition, or the word disinclination. To elucidate 
this position I observe, 

1. That the divine law originally requires nothing 
but affection. 

' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart ; and thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' 
Here love to God and man is the only thing expressly 
required. But it hardly needs to be observed, that to 
be inclined, or disposed, to love God and our neigh- 
bour, is to possess that character, out of which all direct 
exercises of love spring of course. He therefore who 
possessed this character, would, whenever his mind was 
active at all, exercise the affection which is here re- 
quired. He would be and do all which the law enjoins, 
when considered in this point of view : for his disposi- 
tion and his exercises would be the very things which 
are enjoined. Indisposition, or disinclination, to obey, 
then, is the only difficulty in the way of obedience ; and, 
with respect to this subject, the only inability of man. 

2. When the divine law, in its various precepts, re- 
quires external actions, as well as affections; if our dis- 
position accord with the precept, the action will of course 
be performed. 

I speak here of such actions as are in our power ; 
for the law of God never requires any other. 

For example : Children are required to honour their 
parents ; particularly to support them, when from their 
age or infirmity, they are unable to support themselves. 
It will not be doubted, that if children are disposed thus 
to support them, they will actually furnish the support. 
Men are forbidden to steal. The case, it may be con- 
fidently affirmed, was never known, and never will be, 
in which a man inclined upon the whole to obey this 
command, or entirely disinclined to steal, was guilty of 
theft. Mankind are forbidden to murder. No man 
absolutely indisposed to murder ever perpetrated this 
crime. As in these so in all other cases ; as with re- 
spect to these precepts, so with respect to all others ; 
active obedience follows inseparably the disposition to 
obey. Wherever the inclination accords with the pre- 
cept, the tongue, the hands, and the feet, conform of 
course, and entirely, to its decisions. 

3. If an angel were to descend from heaven, and re- 
side upon the earth ; he would, if he preserved his pre- 
sent disposition, obey the divine law as truly and as 
perfectly as he does now. 

If an angel were in this world, and were to possess 



exactly the same disposition which he possesses in the 
heavenly world, he would obviously feel and act in the 
same manner. In other words, he would be an angel 
still. Were we to suppose his faculties lessened to the 
measure of ours, so that his understanding and other 
natural powers, should in no respect exceed those of 
men ; still, if his angelic disposition remained, he would 
perfectly obey the divine law. He would ' love God 
with all the heart, and his neighbour as himself.' 
Should we suppose him to be lowered down still far- 
ther, to the level of a child, and to possess no natural 
powers superior to those usually found in children ; he 
would, nevertheless, if he retained his angelic disposi- 
tion, continue to be perfectly obedient. Should any 
person question this, let him remember, that the child 
Jesus is in the Scriptures pronounced to have been holy 
and perfectly .obedient from the womb, and throughout 
all the successive periods of his life. When his facul- 
ties were in the earliest stages of their progress, he as 
perfectly obeyed, as he did after he began his public 
ministry. It cannot then be rationally doubted, that 
the angelic disposition, whatever might be the natural 
powers which it governed, would be, and would accom- 
plish all that is meant by perfect obedience to the law 
of God. Of course, the real and only reason why wg 
perform not this obedience is, that we do not possess 
such a disposition as that of angels. Our natural powers 
are plainly sufficient; our inclination only is defective. 

4. This disinclination to obedience is still so obstinate 
and enduring, that it is never relinquished by man, ex- 
cept when under the renewing influence of the Spirit of 
God. 

I have already observed, that those who receive 
Christ, and become the children of God, are declared 
by St John to be ' born not of blood, nor of the will of 
the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God ;' and by 
our Saviour, to be ' born of the divine Spirit.' The 
following passage from the prophet Ezekiel, chap, 
xxxvii. 24 — 28, will, I suppose, prove beyond a doubt, 
if not beyond a cavil, that this disposition is changed 
only by God himself: ' For I will take you from among 
the heathen, and gather you out of all countries, and 
will bring you into your own land. Then will I 
sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean : 
from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I 
cleanse you. A new heart also will I give you, and a 
new spirit will I put within you ; and I will take away 
the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a 
heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, 
and cause you to walk in my statutes ; and ye shall 
keep my judgments, and do them.' In this passage 
God declares that he will gather the Israelites out of 
all countries into their own land : that he will cleanse 
them from all their filthiness ; that he will give them a 
new heart, and a new spirit ; that he will take away 
their stony heart, and give them a heart of flesh : that 
he will put his Spirit within them, and cause them to 
walk in his statutes ; that they shall be his people ; and 
that he will be their God. When all this is accom- 
plished, he says, ' Then shall ye remember your own 
evil ways, and your doings that were not good ; and 
shall loathe yourselves in your own sight for your ini- 
quities, and for your abominations.' Here, the renova- 
tion of the human heart is described by sprinkling- 
clean water ; cleansing them from all their filthiness ; 
giving them a new heart ; putting in them a new spirit; 



694 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxiii. 



taking away their stony heart ; giving- them a heart of 
flesh ; putting the Spirit of God within them ; and 
causing them to walk in his statutes. All this, God 
says, and that in the plainest terms possible, he himself 
will do for them. As consequences of it all, God says, 
that they shall remember their own evil ways ; shall 
loathe themselves in their own sight for their iniquities ; 
and shall keep his statutes, and do them. As a farther 
consequence, he says, that ' they shall be his people,' 
and that he will be ' their God.' The nature of this 
renovation cannot here be mistaken. It consists in 
having a new heart, differing from that which they ori- 
ginally possessed, as a heart of flesh differs from a heart 
of stone. It is also a heart cleansed from the filthiness 
of sin, and inclined to walk in the statutes and judg- 
ments of God. It is also a heart which will induce him 
to whom it is given, to remember his own evil ways, to 
loathe himself for his own iniquities, and to keep the 
judgments, or commands of God, and do them. That 
this is the moral character exhibited everywhere in the 
Scriptures, as required by the law of God, as unpos- 
sessed by man in his original or natural state, and as 
given him in what is called the new birth, cannot, if 
the words be allowed to have their own meaning, or 
any meaning consistent with their use elsewhere in the 
Scriptures, be questioned. But of this change in the 
Israelites at the period specified, God, in the most de- 
terminate language, declares himself to be the efficient. 
Of this change then, he certainly will, and man cer- 
tainly will not, be the efficient. But if God will be the 
author of this change in the Israelites, he is unques- 
tionably the author of it wherever it is experienced. 
Thus it is completely evident from the Scriptures, that 
the natural disinclination of man to obey the divine 
law is so obstinate, that it will not be overcome or re- 
moved by itself. 

The proof of this truth from experience is, I acknow- 
ledge, less decisive, than that from revelation ; and is 
formed by an induction of too many particulars, as I 
observed in a former Discourse, to be adduced on such 
an occasion as the present. The evidence furnished 
by reason and experience concerning this doctrine 
must be merely auxiliary. Concerning subjects of this 
kind, concerning the agency of voluntary beings, the 
nature of causation universally, and the manner in 
which causes operate metaphysically considered, our 
knowledge must be confessed to be very imperfect. It 
deserves our attention, however, that the whole evidence 
furnished by experience goes to support this doctrine. 
All men of plainly acknowledged piety, so far as my 
information extends, have agreed in attributing their 
own renovation to the agency of the Divine Spirit. To 
this attribution they have been led also by a deep and 
solicitous attention to facts existing in their own minds. 
Although these facts have been greatly diversified in 
many respects, yet such men testify with a single voice, 
that they have been greatly alarmed on account of their 
guilt and danger ; that, with an obvious or secret, but 
ultimately discovered, reliance on their own efforts, 
they have laboured with great earnestness to escape 
from both ; that in the end they have clearly discerned 
all these efforts to be vain ; that, with a full conviction 
of their own insufficiency, they have cast themselves 
upon the divine mercy ; realizing that all their suffici- 
ency for the great purpose in view must be of God. In 
tin's situation, they unitedly testify, they found, com- 



mencing in them sooner or later, a disposition, not per- 
ceptibly connected, as an effect, with any efforts of their 
own, prompting them to loathe themselves for their ini- 
quities, to confide in Christ as their Saviour, to love 
and fear God, and to ' keep his commandments, and do 
them.' This disposition, also, they unitedly declare, 
irregularly but really increased as they advanced in 
life ; while the propensity to disobedience lessened in 
the same manner. Now, let me ask, Is it credible, that 
all these men should radically err with respect to this 
subject ? Is it credible, that they should all mistake the 
facts? Is it credible, that all should draw from them 
the same, and yet a false conclusion ? This supposition 
involves another, which must, I think, be reluctantly 
admitted by every religious man ; viz., That God in ac- 
complishing the salvation of mankind orders things in 
such a manner, as that those who are renewed are, to 
say the least, in almost all instances deceived with re- 
spect to the author of their renovation ; and that, while 
employed, not with integrity merely, but with deep so- 
licitude, in exploring the state of their own minds and 
lives. According to this supposition, not only must 
their apprehensions concerning these important facts 
be false, and, so far as I can see, necessarily false, but 
all their emotions of gratitude, and all their ascriptions 
of praise to their Creator, for his agency in effectuating 
this happy change in their character, must be also false 
and unfounded. These ascriptions were begun in the 
early days of religion. Prophets and apostles set the 
example. All that was morally good in themselves, or 
in others, they attributed to the efficacious grace of 
God. In this attribution Christians have followed 
them throughout every succeeding age. Thus, accord- 
ing to this supposition, a succession of false, and there- 
fore indefensible, ascriptions of praise has ascended to 
God from the great body of pious persons in all the 
ages of the church ; which yet they could not honestly, 
and in consistence with the best views which they were 
able to form, have failed to render. 

At the same time, no instances have occurred in 
which men have by direct efforts of their own, without 
the efficacious influence of the Divine Spirit, changed 
their moral character from sin to holiness. Not only 
have no such instances occurred which have been clear 
and unequivocal, and such as might be supposed to 
decide this point in favour of the supposition ; but no 
collection of instances can be found, which lean towards 
it, in a sufficient degree to render it probable. The 
whole stream of evidence, furnished both by the public 
and private history of experimental religion, is against 
the opinion which I have endeavoured to disprove, and 
in favour of that which I have asserted. 

Whatever may be the judgment formed by the spirit 
of controversy, and cold metaphysical investigation, 
concerning this part of the subject, the doctrine will be 
readily admitted by all men who are afflicted by a deep 
sense of their guilt, and struggle hard to obtain a re- 
lease from their sinful character ; and by all who, 
having thus suffered and thus struggled, have felt them- 
selves in the end actually released from the dominant 
control of a sinful disposition. 

This doctrine is elucidated by experience also in an- 
other instance. God, who requires our faith, repen- 
tance, and obedience to his law, has set before us num- 
berless and most powerful motives to engage our 
compliance ; motives which all sober men will acknow- 



THE LAW OF GOD.—MAN'S MORAL INABILITY. 



695 



ledge ought to persuade us, motives which are obviously 
of infinite import. Why do not men who believe the 
gospel to be the word of God, and who have these 
motives presented to them, clearly and forcibly, from 
sabbath to sabbath, believe, repent, and obey ? No 
answer, it is presumed, can be given to this question, 
which will accord with the supposition against which I 
contend. 

5. There is yet no more difficulty in obeying God, 
than in doing anything else, to which our inclination is 
opposed with equal strength and obstinacy. 

A child is equally unable to obey a parent, against 
whom his will is as much opposed, as to obey God. 
This inability of children to obey their parents does 
not, indeed, commonly last through life. But while it 
lasts, the child can no more obey his parent, than his 
Maker. In both cases his inability is, I apprehend, of 
exactly the same nature. Sometimes also it continues 
while he lives. In such cases it is, in all respects, the 
same : equally obstinate, equally enduring, equally pre- 
venting him from doing "his duty. If, in this case, his 
filial duty be urged upon him in its religious nature, as 
required by the law of God ; his opposition to perform 
his duty to God and his parent will be found exactly 
coincident ; to be the same indivisible thing, and to be 
regarded as the same obduracy of heart. 

These considerations will, to a considerable extent, 
explain many scriptural passages which relate to this 
subject. ' No man,' saith our Saviour, ' can come unto 
me, except the Father, who hath sent me, draw him.' 
The true meaning of this, he appears to me to explain 
in a parallel declaration to the Jews : ' Ye will not 
come unto me, that ye might have life.' That he who 
is willing to come to Christ, will actually come to him, 
we are taught by Christ himself in the last chapter of 
the Apocalypse : £ Whosoever will ' (or is willing, & 
SiKbvJ), ' let him come, and take the water of life free- 
ly.' From these passages it is evident, that every one 
who is willing, has the full permission of Christ to come 
to him, and partake of his blessings. Indisposition to 
come to Christ, is therefore the true and the only diffi- 
culty which lies in our way. Those who cannot come, 
therefore, are those, and those only, who will not. 

The words can, and cannot, are used in the Scrip- 
tures just as they are used in the common intercourse 
of mankind, to express willingness or unwillingness. 
Thus we customarily say, that we cannot lend, or give, 
or assist, or pay a debt ; when we mean nothing more, 
than that we are disinclined to these offices. Thus, 
Samuel says to God, ' How can I go ? If Saul hear it, 
he will kill me.' That Samuel could have gone to 
Bethlehem, if he had pleased, needs no proof. As soon 
as his fear of Saul, which had made him unwilling, was 
removed, he went without any difficulty ; 1 Sam. xvi. 2. 
' How can this man give us his flesh?' said the Jews to 
our Saviour ; John vi. 52 : that is, How can he be will- 
ing to give us his flesh ? ' This is a hard saying ; who 
can hear it?' John vi. CO. The answer is, every one 
that is willing. ' Can any man forbid water, that these 
should not be baptized ?' Acts x. 47. ' Can ye drink 
of the cup that I shall drink of?' Mark x. 38. ' Can 
the children of the bride-chamber fast, while the bride- 
groom is with them !' Mark ii. 19. ' Can a maid for- 
get her ornaments ; or a bride her attire ?' Jer. ii. 32. 
' Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should 
not have compassion on the son of her womb ?' Isa. 



xlix. 15. ' Can I hear any more the voice of singing- 
men, and singing-women ?' 2 Sam. ii. 35. 

In all these and the like instances, there is plainly 
nothing meant but inability of disposition, or a strong 
disinclination to the thing proposed. This is both the 
natural and universal language of men ; found equally 
in their conversation and their writings. Children 
speak this language almost as soon as they begin to 
speak at all ; and on every such occasion utter it more 
naturally than any other language. If the Scriptures 
would be intelligible to the great body of mankind, they 
must speak in the same manner. In this manner, there- 
fore, God has directed them to be written. 



1. From these observations it is evident, that the dis- 
obedience of mankind is their own fault. 

Wherever we understand the nature of our duty, and 
are hindered from performing it by disinclination only, 
conscience and common sense pronounce us to be guil- 
ty. Thus they have ever pronounced. The decision 
has been given in all ages and countries, in every con- 
ceivable form of language and conduct, with a universal 
acknowledgment of its soundness, in the most definite 
terms, and with the highest solemnity. 

2. The degree of our inability to obey the divine law 
does in no case lessen our guilt. 

Certainly, he who is more disinclined to obedience, 
is not less guilty than he who is less disinclined. Dis- 
inclination to obey is our inability, and our sin. The 
greater our disinclination is, the greater plainly, not the 
less, is our sin. 

3. These observations teach us the propriety of urging 
sinners to immediate repentance. 

Their present state is a state of extreme guilt and 
danger. Of this it is the duty of every minister to pro- 
duce, as far as may be, a strong conviction in their 
minds. Equally is it his duty to show them, what is 
equally true, that they are under the highest obligations 
to repent immediately. They are now, they always 
have been, sinners. Every sin of which they have been 
guilty demanded their immediate repentance. The only 
reason which they can allege for delaying their repent- 
ance, is the very reason why they have hitherto refused 
to obey the divine law; viz., their disinclination. But tin's 
is their sin ; and sin is itself that which demands their 
repentance, instead of being a justification of their delay. 

But it will be objected, that the sinner cannot, or, in 
the very language of this discourse, will not, repent of 
himself. Why then should he be urged to immediate 
repentance ? I will give the answer. So long as the 
sinner feels himself in any degree excused in delaying 
this duty, there is every reason to fear that he will be 
more and more at ease, and more and more disposed to 
delay. His views Avill be false and dangerous, and his 
conduct will eagerly accord with his views. But a full 
conviction of his duty will create in him a sense of dan- 
ger, a conviction of his guilt, and a trembling anxiety 
concerning his future being. In this situation he will 
naturally, and almost necessarily, commence those ef- 
forts of solemn reflection, that deep attention to the 
word of God, and those attempts to supplicate for mer- 
cy, that conviction of his helplessness, and that strong 
sense of the absolute necessity of being sanctified by 
the Spirit of grace, which, in the usual providence of 
God, precede regeneration. 



690 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



SERMON CXXXIV. 

FAITH AND REPENTANCE NECESSARY TO RESTORE US TO OBEDIENCE. 



And how I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you ; but have showed you, and have taught you publicly , 
and from house to house, testifying , both to the Jews, and also to the Greeks, repentance towards God, and 
faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. — Acts xx. 20, 21. 



In the preceding Discourse I examined the inability of 
mankind to obey the divine law. It is evident that, if 
we are ever to be restored to divine favour, we must 
first be restored to a spirit of obedience. The manner 
in which we may obtain this restoration becomes there- 
fore the next subject of our inquiry. 

St Paul in the context, declares to the elders of the 
church of Ephesus, and appeals to them for the truth of 
the declaration, that he had not shunned to declare the 
whole counsel of God concerning their salvation. This, 
he farther asserts, he did by teaching them both pub- 
licly, and from house to house, at all seasons, and amid 
many temptations and sorrows. While he served the 
Lord with all humility of mind, and many tears, he 
confidently avers, ' that he kept back nothing, which 
was profitable unto them ;' or, in other words, taught 
them everything which was profitable. Of course he 
taught everything which was profitable to mankind at 
large, as creatures of God, and candidates for immor- 
tality. All this, however, he suras up in the second 
verse of the text in these two phrases : ' Repentance 
toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.' 

We are not, indeed, to suppose that, in the literal 
sense, St Paul taught nothing but faith and repentance 
to the Ephesian Christians. There can be no reason- 
able doubt that he taught the Ephesians generally, what 
lie taught the Christian world at large, and particularly 
the things contained in the Epistle which he wrote to 
the church at Ephesus. The meaning of his declaration 
in the text is, I apprehend, merely that he had taught 
the doctrines concerning faith and repentance, as pre- 
eminently the means of salvation. That this view of 
the subject is just, is sufficiently evident from the con- 
text. Here the apostle teaches the elders, to whom his 
speech was addressed, many things besides these doc- 
trines ; and declares that he had heretofore instructed 
them in the great duty of communicating good to others, 
as the amount of all that which they owed to their fel- 
low men. The religion of the gospel is the religion of 
sinners : as the religion of the law is that of virtuous 
beings. The gospel is a scheme of restoration to beings 
who have rebelled against their Maker, and are con- 
demned by the law which they have broken to suffer 
the punishment due to their sins ; but who yet in con- 
sistency with the character and government of God, 
may be forgiven. It is a scheme by which these beings 
may be restored to their allegiance, to a virtuous char- 
acter, and to the divine favour. If such beings are ever 
to be restored to the favour of God, if they are ever to 
obtain the privileges of good subjects of the divine 
government, it is evident that they must, in some man- 
ner or other, be restored to the character of good sub- 
jects. In other words, if they are ever to possess the 
rewards of obedience, they must be previously possessed 



of the spirit of obedience. Whatever accomplishes for 
them, or becomes the means of accomplishing, this 
mighty change in their circumstances, must to them be 
of inestimable importance. As the gospel contains the 
religion of sinners in the situation above mentioned, 
this importance must belong to the gospel. In a par- 
ticular manner must it be attributable to such doctrines 
or duties in the gospel, as are peculiarly necessary, and 
absolutely indispensable. From the place which faith 
and repentance held in the preaching of St Paul, it is 
plain, that they are the important things in question ; 
the immediate and indispensable means of our restora- 
tion to obedience, and to the consequent enjoyment of 
the divine favour. 

This truth is abundantly exhibited in many forms 
throughout the different parts of the New Testament. 
In Mark i. 14, 15, is contained the following declara- 
tion : ' Now after John was put in prison, Jesus came 
into Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, of 
God, and saying, The time is fulfilled ; and the king- 
dom of God is at hand. Repent ye, and believe the 
gospel;' or, as in the Greek, ' believe in the gospel.' 
In this passage we have evidently the substance of our 
Saviour's preaching ; and this is repentance, and faith 
in the good tidings of the divine kingdom, or the I 
glorious dispensation of mercy to sinners through the 
Redeemer. 

In Acts ii. 37, 38, we are informed that the Jews, 
being ' pricked in their hearts ' by the preaching of St 
Peter, particularly by his pungent exhibition of their 
guilt in crucifying Christ, inquired of him and John, 
with extreme solicitude, what they should do to obtain 
forgiveness and salvation. St Peter answered them, 
' Repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the 
name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins.' To be 
| baptized in the name of Christ, is, as every one who 
reads the gospel knows, a public and most solemn pro- 
fession of faith in him, as the Redeemer of mankind. 
St Peter, therefore, in this answer makes in substance 
the same declaration with that cf St Paul in the text. 

When the jailor inquired of Paul and Silas, Acts 
xvi. 30, 31, ' What he should do to be saved,' they 
answered, ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved, with thine house.' — ' Without faith,' St 
Paul declares, Heb. xi. 6, ' it is impossible to please 
God.' — ' He that believeth on the Son,' saith John the 
Baptist, John iii. 36, ' hath everlasting life. He that 
believeth not the Son shall not see life : but the wrath 
of God abideth on him.' — ' He that believeth on him,' 
saith Christ to Nicodemus, John iii. 18, 'is not con- 
demned ; but he that believeth not- is condemned 
already.' 

Christ, in Matt. ix. 13, declares ( the end of his 
coming to be to ' call, not the righteous, but sinners, 



FAITH AND REPENTANCE NECESSARY TO OBEDIENCE. 



697 



to repentance.' When therefore sinners repent, the 
end of Christ's coming is fulfilled. In Acts v. 31, he 
is snid by St Peter to be ' exalted as a Prince and a 
Saviour, to give repentance unto Israel, and remission 
of sins.' Remission of sins is, of course, conse- 
quent upon repentance. In Acts xi. 18, it is said, 
Then hath God granted to the Gentiles repentance 
unto life.' In 2 Cor. vii. 10, St Paul declares, that 
' godly sorrow worketh repentance unto salvation.' — 
' Except ye repent,' says Christ to his disciples, Luke 
xiii. 3, ' ye shall all likewise perish :' and again, ' There 
is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more 
than over ninety and nine just persons that need no re- 
pentance, Luke xv. 7. 

In this passage, and indeed in many others, remis- 
sion, life, and salvation are indubitably and inseparably 
connected with faith and repentance. Sometimes they 
are connected with both conjointly, and sometimes with 
one. The account given of the subject is, however, in 
all instances the same : because he who possesses one 
of these Christian graces, is of course, and always, pos- 
sessed of the other. On the contrary, without these, 
life, remission, and salvation are plainly declared to be 
unattainable. It is evident, therefore, that faith and 
repentance are the attributes supremely required by the 
gospel ; the immediate fulfilment of its two great pre- 
cepts ; in the possession of which mankind are as- 
sured of eternal life, and without which they ara expos- 
ed to eternal death. To produce and perpetuate them 
in the soul, is visibly the great object, so far as man is 
concerned, which Christ came into the world to accom- 
plish. In other words, they are that essential obedience 
to the gospel, to which salvation is promised and given, 
as a reward ; ' not of debt,' but of the free and sovereign 
grace of God. 

Having, if I mistake not, placed this truth beyond 
every reasonable doubt, and thus shown the way in 
which mankind, although sinners, condemned by the 
divine law, and incapable of justification by their own 
works, may yet be gratuitously justified, return to their 
obedience, and be reinstated in the divine favour ; I 
shall now endeavour to explain the nature of this sub- 
ject ; and to exhibit the manner in which the doctrine 
is true. 

The foundation of all religion is the existence, char- 
acter, law, and government of God. This glorious and 
perfect Being, as the Creator, Preserver, and Bene- 
factor, of the universe, is, of the most absolute right, the 
Ruler of the work which he has made, and the Lawgiver 
of all his moral creatures. The law which he has pre- 
scribed to them demands all their duty, and regulates 
all their moral conduct. Man, who is of the number of 
these moral creatures, is placed under this law ; and 
justly required by his Maker to ' love him with all the 
heart, and to love his neighbour as himself.' In the 
progress of these Discourses, it has, unless I am deceived, 
been clearly shown, that man has utterly failed of per- 
forming this duty ; that he is therefore condemned by 
the law to the sufferance of its penalty ; that the law 
knows no condition of pardon, escape, or return ; that 
man cannot expiate his sins ; and that, if left to him- 
self, he must therefore perish. 

In this situation, as has been heretofore explained, 
Christ interposed on the behalf of our ruined race; and 
made an atonement for our sins, with which the Father 
is well pleased. This atonement, the Scriptures have 



assured us God has accepted ; and, having thus provid- 
ed a method in which he can be just, and yet justify 
those who were sinners, is ready to extend the blessing 
of pardon and salvation to this apostate world. 

Accordingly, Christ has announced himself to sinful 
men as their Saviour ; and proffered to them deliver- 
ance, both from their sin and their condemnation. 
The conditions on which this proffer has been made, 
are repentance towards God, and faith towards himself, 
as the Lord and Saviour of mankind. In order to un- 
derstand, so far as we are able, the propriety and ne- 
cessity of these conditions of our restoration, it will be 
useful to attend to the following considerations : — 

1. Sincere, exalted, and enduring happiness cannot 
be enjoyed by any beings, except those who are vir- 
tuous. 

This great and fundamental truth in that philosophy 
which explains the nature and interests of moral beings, 
has, it is believed, been completely evinced in this 
series of Discourses. It has been shown, that a sinful 
mind is at war with itself, its fellow creatures, and its 
God ; that it must, of course, be subject to reproaches 
of conscience, to perpetual disquiet, to consciousness of 
the divine anger, and to the loathing and contempt of 
all good beings. It has been shown, that such a mind 
must be a prey to tumultuous passions, vehement de- 
sires, which are not and cannot be gratified, and end- 
less disappointments in the pursuit of a selfish interest, 
which can never be promoted, without sacrificing the 
glory of the Creator, and the happiness of his creatures. 
It has been proved, that its chosen enjoyments are in 
their nature vain, transient, delusive, little, base, and 
contemptible ; inconsistent with real excellence, dignity, 
and self approbation ; and incompatible with the well- 
being of others, whose interests are singly of equal im- 
portance, and united are immeasurably deserving of 
higher regard. 

From these considerations it is unanswerably evident, 
that a sinful mind cannot be happy ; for with such af- 
fections, and their consequences, happiness is plainly 
inconsistent. The mind, which is not at ease within, 
cannot derive happiness from without. ' A wounded 
spirit who can bear?' especially when wounded by the 
arrows of an angry conscience. If then God is pleased 
to communicate happiness to him who is a sinner, it is 
indispensably necessary that he should first remove the 
sinful disposition, whence all these evils immutably 
flow. 

2. The only possible method of removing sin from a 
moral being, is to make him the subject of evangelical 
repentance. 

So long as the soul loves sin, it must be the subject 
of that vile and guilty character, which we denominate 
moral turpitude, depravity, and corruption; together 
with all its consequences. For the love of sin is pre- 
eminently this character. While this hive continues, 
he in whom it exists will perpetrate, of course, all those 
which we customarily call sins, or sinful actions. He 
will also love sin continually, more and more ; and per- 
petrate it with more and more eagerness, and hostility 
to God. From all the knowledge which we possess of 
moral character, it seems plainly to be its nature, 
whether virtuous or vicious, to become more and more 
fixed in its habits, and intense in its desires. So long 
therefore as the love of sin prevails in the mind, the 
situation of the sinner must be hopeless, with regard to 
4 T 



698 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser, cxxxiv. 



his assumption of a spirit of obedience, and his attain- 
ment of consequent happiness. 

The repentance of the gospel is formed of the hatred 
of sin, sorrow for it, a disposition to confess it to God, 
and resolutions to renounce it. From this definition it 
is manifest, that evangelical repentance is the direct 
removal of sin from the soul of the sinner. By the 
hatred of sin, which it includes as a first principle, the 
soul is withdrawn from the practice of it. 13 y the sor- 
row, it is warned of the danger and evil of returning to it 
again. By the confession of it to God, the soul is brought 
into near, full, and most endearing views of the glorious 
goodness of its heavenly Father, in forgiving its iniqui- 
ties; and most happily prepared to watch, and strive, and 
pray that it may offend him no more. By his resolutions 
to forsake it, the penitent is fortified against future in- 
dulgences, and prepared to assume a life of filial obedi- 
ence. In all these things ive cannot, 1 think, avoid per- 
ceiving, that evangelical repentance is the direct and 
the only means of removing sin originally from the 
heart, and consequentially from the life, of a moral be- 
ing; and that thus it is absolutely necessary to prepare 
men for obedience to the law of God, and a general 
conformity to his character and pleasure. To such be- 
ings as we are, it is therefore indispensable, if we are 
ever to become the subjects of real and enduring hap- 
piness. 

3. For this great end it is also necessary, that we 
should be united to God. 

The relations between the Creator and his intelligent 
creatures are not only near and important, but indis- 
pensable also to the happiness of sucli creatures. Out 
of them arises a great part of all the thoughts, affec- 
tions, duties, and enjoyments of which they are capable. 
These are also the foundations on which all other valu- 
able thoughts, affections, duties, and enjoyments rest ; 
and are necessary to their existence, as well as their 
worth. In the relation of children only do we, or can 
we, apprehend the endearing and glorious character of 
Jehovah, as the common, most affectionate, and most 
venerable Parent of the virtuous universe ; feel to- 
wards him the various filial affections ; and perform the 
various filial duties which are included under the gene- 
ral name of piety. In the same relation only can we 
enjoy the peculiar and pre-eminent happiness of loving 
and glorifying him as ' our Father who is in heaven.' 
In this relation only do we also receive and feel the 
unnumbered proofs of his parental tenderness, and un- 
limited mercy. 

As children of God, and by means of the filial 
views and affections which in this character we enter- 
tain, we begin first to understand and to feel that we 
are brethren. This character is the true inlet to all 
the fraternal regards of virtuous beings, and to the end- 
less train of spiritual sympathies and social endear- 
ments which spring up in sanctified minds, and which 
with new strength, purity, and delight, will for ever 
grow and flourish in the heavens above. 

But without union to God, no relation, whether na- 
tural or moral, can be of any use to ourselves. With- 
out this union, the blessings flowing from these rela- 
tions cannot begin. When minds do not coincide with 
him in their views, and are not united to him in their 
affections and character, he cannot with propriety give, 
nor they possibly enjoy these blessings. The nearest 
relation to God, if unperceived, unfelt, and unacknow- 



ledged, is, in the apprehension of the soul which sus- 
tains it, nothing. It is the cordial, grateful sense of 
such a relation, the welcome, delightful recognition of 
it, which makes it the foundation of alFthis good. With 
such a sense, with such a recognition, the soul draws 
nigh to God with affections harmonizing with his plea- 
sure, and with views coinciding with all his revealed 
designs. Separated from God, the soul can entertain 
no such views, and can feel no such affections towards 
him. Nor can it perform any duties, nor realize any 
rational or lasting enjoyment. In such a state of sepa- 
ration, it is a plant on which the beams of the Sun of 
Righteousness cease to shine ; and is of course chilled, 
shrunk, and destroyed. 

4. Faith in Jesus Christ is the only possible union 
between man and his Maker. 

God in the covenant of redemption has promised to 
receive, justify, and save for ever, all who are Christ's 
at his appearing : that is, all who become his by a vo- 
luntary surrender of themselves to him. But the only 
method in which man ever does or can surrender him- 
self voluntarily to Christ, is the exercise of faith, or 
confidence, in him as the Saviour of the world. This 
is the only method of becoming his, which is proposed 
to us by Christ himself. ' Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved,' is the sole language 
of the Scriptures concerning tiiis subject. On this, 
however, I need not insist ; because I have heretofore, 
if I mistake not, satisfactorily proved the doctrine at 
large. Still it may be useful to consider the nature of 
the subject with some degree of attention and particu- 
larity, as being capable, at least in my view, of illus- 
trating the doctrine in an impressive and edifying 
manner. 

Christ offers to save sinners who are condemned and 
perishing, and who are therefore utterly unable to save 
themselves. In this offer he declares himself able, 
willing, and faithful, to ' save to the uttermost, all that 
will come unto God by him.' Now it is impossible for 
us to come to him, or to God by him, unless we confide 
in this as his true character, and in the declarations by 
which he makes this character known to us. It is im- 
possible for us to receive his instructions, as the means 
of knowledge and guidance to us in the path of duty 
and salvation ; his precepts, as the rules of our obedi- 
ence ; or his ordinances, as the directory of our wor- 
ship ; unless we confide in the character of him who 
has taught them, as a wise and faithful teacher. It is 
indispensable, that we confide in him as a teacher, who 
knows, and who has told us, that which is true, right, 
and safe for us in these immensely important concerns. 
It is indispensable, that we believe in him, and trust in 
him, as vested with all the authority necessary to this 
character of a divine instructor : and regard him, as 
certainly and fully disclosing the will of God concern- 
ing our duty and salvation. Unless we can confide in 
these things, we can never receive his instructions as 
rules either of our faith, or of our practice. Without 
these things they would all dwindle at once into mere 
philosophy, mere advice, mere opinions, to obey which 
no person would or could feel the least obligation. 

His atonement, in the same manner, would be no- 
thing to us, unless we could cordially believe it to be 
efficacious, sufficient, and acceptable in the sight of 
God. It is only because we regard it as the atonement 
of so glorious, sufficient, and acceptable a person, that 



FAITH AND REPENTANCE NECESSARY TO OBEDIENCE. 



699 



it possesses in any sense the character of an atonement. 
Accordingly, the Socinians, who consider Christ as a 
mere man, generally do, and, if they would be con- 
sistent with themselves, must believe that he made no 
atonement, but was merely a martyr, or witness to the 
truth. 

Christ also requires 113 to commit our souls to his 
care and keeping ; or, in other words, to become his 
by voluntarily surrendering ourselves into his hands, 
and looking for safety and happiness to his protection, 
mercy, and truth. This we cannot do in any other 
manner, nor by any other means, beside the exercise 
of confidence in him. Who would commit his ever- 
lasting well-being to a person in whose kindness and 
truth, in whose power and wisdom, he did not confide? 
No man ever did or could commit himself, or his in- 
terests, even in this world, to any person whatever, un- 
less in the exercise of confidence. How much more 
difficult, how contrary to the first principles of our na- 
ture, how absolutely impossible, must it then be to com- 
mit our eternal interests, ourselves, our all, to a being 
in whom we do not entirely confide ? 

In the exercise of evangelical faith, or confidence, 
in the character of Christ, we become united to him, 
according to the declarations of the Scriptures, and 
according to all the views which reason can form of 
this subject, in a very near, most desirable, and most 
delightful union. He himself says to his disciples, John 
xv. 4, 5, ' I am the Vine ; ye are the branches. Abide 
in me ; and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit 
of itself, except it abide in the vine"; no more can ye 
except ye abide in me.' St Raul says, ' We are mem- 
bers of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones :' and 
again, ' Now ye are the body of Christ, and members 
one of' another,' 1 Cor. xii. 27 ; and again, Col. i. 18, 
' He is the head of the body, the church.' The whole 
church also, both in heaven and on earth, is exhibited 
as gathered under one head, that is, Christ; Eph. i. 
10. But our Saviour himself has given us the most 
sublime and glorious exhibition of this subject, which 
was ever made to mankind, in the following passage of 
his intercessory prayer: John xvii. 20 — 23, 'Neither 
pray I for these alone, but for them also, which shall 
believe on me through their word : that they all may 
be one : as thou Father art in me, and I in thee ; that 
they also may be one in us: that the world may believe 
that thou hast sent me. And the glory which thou 
gavest me, I have given them ; that they may be one 
even as we are one : I in them, and thou in me : that 
that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world 
may know that thou hast sent me ; and hast loved them, 
as thou hast loved me.' This transcendent, this divine 
union, here exhibited to us as being of all possible im- 
portance, is, and can be, accomplished for mankind 
only by evangelical faith, or confidence, in Christ. 

5. To the happiness of the soul it is also indispensa- 
ble, that it should always obey its Creator ; and of this 
obedience, evangelical faith is the only source. 

That obedience to God is necessary to the happiness 
of rational creatures, and that their uniform obedience 
is necessary to their uniform happiness, has been al- 
ready proved under the first head of this Discourse. If 
sin is fatal to happiness, and incompatible with its ex- 
istence ; it follows, of course, that obedience is indis- 
pensable to happiness. Obedience and disobedience are 
the only two possible moral states of an intelligent be- 



ing. If then disobedience creates misery, obedience of 
course creates happiness. 

It may, however, be useful, to consider this subject 
somewhat farther. It was shown in a former Discourse 
that God, and God only, knows what conduct will pro- 
duce or insure happiness ; and that he only is always, 
invariably, and infinitely disposed to have that conduct 
exist. He only possesses the authority also ? and the 
power to require it of his creatures. Hence, he only 
can be the uniform and efficient Director of his crea- 
tures to their real good. If then creatures are to be 
happy at all, it is indispensably necessary that they obey 
his directions, and conform to his pleasure, as the only 
possible rule of right, the only possible way to real and 
universal good. All who wander from this path are 
soon lost in a wilderness of error, distress, and despair ; 
and will never find their proper home. 

But we cannot obey God, except from confidence in 
his character, as a perfectly wise, just, and good Teacher 
and Lawgiver, who has instructed us in our true inter- 
est ; a Lawgiver, who has prescribed wise, just, and 
benevolent precepts to regulate our duty. Unless we 
consider his precepts ' concerning all things to be 
right,' we can never voluntarily obey them. Confi- 
dence therefore in the character of God, and in his in- 
structions and precepts, as flowing from that character, 
and partaking of his wisdom and rectitude, is the true 
and only possible source of that spontaneous obedience 
which is acceptable to him, virtuous in us, and indispen- 
sable to all our real good. 

Thus, if I am not deceived, ' repentance towards God, 
and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ,' are the sub- 
stance of the means by which sinners are delivered from 
sin, reinstated in the character of children, restored to 
the favour of God, entitled to eternal life, and prepared 
for everlasting obedience and enjoyment in the heavens 
above. 



I. From these observations it is evident, that the ob- 
jections made by infidels against evangelical repentance, 
as mean-spirited and contemptible, are groundless. 

Mr Hume observes, that ' self-mortification, self-de- 
nial, and humility, stupify the understanding, sour the 
temper, and harden the heart.' Whatever produces 
these consequences by its proper efficacy is undoubtedly, 
in its nature, vicious or sinful, since the consequences 
themselves are plainly of a sinful nature. Self-denial, 
self-mortification, and humility, are all essential ingre- 
dients of genuine repentance; and without them such 
repentance cannot exist. A just, clear, and humble 
sense of our guilt and unworthiness is the very basis on 
which everything else contained in repentance is 
founded. With such a sense of our character, it is im- 
possible that we should not endeavour to mortify those 
inclinations, and deny ourselves that gratification of 
them, which together have constituted our guilt, our 
odiousness, our debasement, and our danger. The hum- 
ble thoughts which we thus experience, and the humble 
emotions by which they are accompanied, are the only 
just thoughts concerning our character, and the only 
proper emotions with respect to ourselves, so far as this 
character exists. Every opinion, every feeling not ac- 
cordant with these, is false and groundless : the silly 
dream of a vain and silly mind. A little self-know- 
ledge, a very limited degree of candour, united with a 



700 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxv. 



very moderate self-examination, would convince any 
mind of the visionary nature of such opinions, and the 
absolute impropriety of such feelings. 

Proud and vain men have, however, always despised 
humility, and regarded it as deserving their contempt. 
Still, it is unquestionably the first honour which be- 
longs lo our nature, and the beginning of everything 
else which is really honourable in man. All sin is 
shame : and, let it be remembered, there is nothing 
shameful except sin. The very pride, the very vanity, 
from which these decisions of infidels spring, is itself 
gross sin, and not less shameful than the other exercises 
of the same spirit. All men see and declare this, un- 
der the guidance of mere common sense ; and, although 
each cherishes it in himself, every one hales, despises, 
and condemns it in his fellow men. How little would 
Christ have merited, how plainly impossible would it 
have been for him to have gained, that exalted estima- 
tion which lie now holds in the minds of angels and of 
men, had lie been a proud and vain, and not a meek 
and lowly, Pedeemer ! How infinitely distant is the 
character of this glorious Person from that of Alexan- 
der, or that of Caesar ! The character of these men is 
fitly imaged by the smoke ascending from the bottom- 
less pit ; while the aspect of I he Saviour is that of ' the 
sun, shining in his strength.' 

But, aside from these considerations, repentance, how- 
ever reprobated by haughty-minded men, is in itself 
real good, and essential to all other real good. It is 
the only possible removal of sin, the worst of all evils, 
and the source of every other evil. It is the only 
possible security against the resumption of that guilty, 
debased, and shameful character. It is the commence- 
ment of virtue in the soul, and indispensable to its very 
existence. It is real dignity in itself, and the begin- 
ning of all real dignity. It is plainly the only solid ba- 
sis of peace of conscience, and well-founded self-appro- 
bation. By Hume it was seen, so far as he saw it at all, 
only at a distance ; and through the false optics of phi- 
losophical pride. It was therefore erroneously seen, un- 
derstood, and represented. Neither this writer, nor his 
companions in infidelity, appear to have discerned the 
distinction between the repentance of a mercenary slave, 
regretting his faults merely from the expectation of 



punishment, and the ingenuous contrition of a child 
sorrowing for his disobedience, loathing his guilt, and 
returning with a new and belter heart to his filial cha- 
racter and duty. 

2. We see how groundless the objection of Godwin is 
to the Scriptures ; viz., That they lay an improper and 
unwarrantable stress on faith. 

Faith, it is well known, is the great condition of ac- 
ceptance with God proposed in the gospel : as unbelief 
is of final rejection. To this scheme Godwin objects, 
as unreasonable and absurd. But if the account here 
given of this attribute be just, the absurdity will be 
found to lie, not in the scriptural scheme, but in the ob- 
jection. It has, if I mistake not, been shown in this 
discourse, that without union to God, and cordial obedi- 
ence to his will, we cannot enjoy rational and enduring 
good ; and that without evangelical faith, no such union, 
and no such obedience, can exist. The faith of the 
gospel is therefore of all possible importance to man, of 
as much importance as his whole well-being, involving 
everything which is desirable or useful. Had the 
Scriptures therefore laid less stress upon this subject, 
it would have been an unanswerable objection to the 
religious system which they contain. 

The contrary character of distrust, which is plainly 
the native character of man, is obviously a complete se- 
paration of any intelligent being from his Maker. It is 
impossible that such beings should exercise any of those 
affections with which alone they can glorify their 
Creator, or cordially obey him, so long as they distrust 
his moral character. Equally impossible is it that they 
should possess the enjoyment which alone can fill 
the wishes, or is suited to tlie nature, of an immor- 
tal mind. The distrust of a friend makes us unhappy 
here. The distrust of God would make us miserable 
for ever. 

The faith of the gospel deserves, then, all the impor- 
tance which is given to it by the Scriptures. The place 
which it ought to hold in the estimation of all men is 
pre-eminent. By every preacher it ought to be insisted 
on, by every man it ought to be pursued, as of all pos- 
sible consequence to obedience and salvation. The 
preacher who does not thus inculcate it is unfaithful ; 
the man who does not acquire it is undone. 



SERMON CXXXV. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.— PROOFS THAT 

THERE ARE SUCH MEANS. 



For though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, ye have not many fathers : for in Christ Jesus I 
have begotten you through the gospel. — 1 Cor. iv. 15. 



The preceding Sermon finished the observations which 
1 originally proposed to make concerning the Law of 
God ; the inability of man to obey it ; and the means of 
his restoration to obedience, and to the consequent 
favour of God. 

The next subject, in the order of these Discourses, is, 



The means, in the application of which, men usual!} 
obtain faith and repentance, and thus become entitled 
to eternal life. 

Before I begin the discussion of this subject, I request 
my audience to call to mind the import of the last dis- 
course, together with others which have been delivered 



PROOFS THAT THERE ARE MEANS OF GRACE. 



701 



concerning the same subjects. I wish it to be remem- 
bered, that, in my view, evangelical faith and repentance 
are indispensable to the existence of any moral good in 
the soul of man, and are in all instances the beginning 
of that good. Particularly, they are the commence- 
ment of obedience to the law of God ; the foundation 
of real and enduring happiness to such as are, or have 
been, sinners ; and are, obviously, the immediate duty 
of all men. He therefore who does not teach these 
doctrines, omits, in my apprehension, the soul and sub- 
stance of the gospel. 

With these tilings premised, I observe, that in this 
passage of Scripture, St Paul declares himself to have 
' begotten ' the Corinthian Christians ' in Christ,' and 
thus to have been a cause of their being regenerated, or 
born again. That the new birth is the birth here re- 
ferred to, will not be disputed. Nor can it be question- 
ed, that St Paul was, in some manner and degree or 
other, concerned in effectuating it, without a peremptory 
denial of his veracity and inspiration. It is farther 
declared by him, that ' he had begotten them through 
the gospel.' It is therefore certain, that the gospel 
also was, in some or other manner, or degree, concern- 
ed in effectuating the new birth of the Corinthian 
Christians. 

If the apostle, as a minister of the gospel, was con- 
cerned in effectuating the new birth of the Corinthian 
Christians, it will follow, by unobjectionable analogy, 
that other ministers are also, in the like manner or de- 
gree, concerned in effectuating the regeneration of such 
as become Christians under their ministry. Farther : 
If the gospel was thus concerned in the regeneration of 
the Corinthian Christians, then it is also equally con- 
cerned in that of Christians in general. 

But if ministers of the gospel be, in any manner or 
degree, concerned in producing this change in the moral 
character of men, they are just so far means of produc- 
ing it. Of consequence also they are, according to ihat 
course of divine providence, in which they are thus in- 
strumental, necessary to this change, just so far as they 
are means of producing it. 

It is not here intended, that God could not, if he 
pleased, produce this change in the human character 
without these or any other means. Nor is it intended, 
that in some cases he does not actually thus produce it. 
It is unquestionably in the power of God to effectuate 
this change with infinite ease, in any manner which he 
shall think proper. Nor bave we any proof that he has 
not in many instances renewed men without connecting 
the renovation with any means whatever. But it is here 
intended, that this is not the usual course of his spirit- 
ual providence ; and that, in that course, means are 
really employed to bring men into the heavenly king- 
dom. It is farther intended, that these means are so 
far necessary, as that, without them, this important end 
would not, in the ordinary course of providence, be ac- 
complished. 

If God has thought proper to conduct his spiritual 
providence in such a manner as to constitute it a regu- 
lar and orderly course of events ; then our own views 
of it are to be formed so as to accord with this consti- 
tution, and to admit it as a part of the evangelical 
system. Our conduct also is to be referred and con- 
formed to this constitution. With it we are to expect 
other things to accord. Particularly, we are to expect 
salvation for ourselves and others according to this 



plan, and not according to a different one. Just views 
of this subject will therefore be easily seen to claim no 
small importance in the estimation of those who wish to 
be saved. 

In the particular investigation of this subject, I pro- 
pose, 

I. To show that there are means of grace. 

II. To show what they are. 

III. To explain their influence. 

IV. To answer the principal objections to this scheme 
of doctrine. 

I. I shall attempt to show that there are means of 
grace. 

This position I shall endeavour to establish in the 
following manner : — 

1. I allege, as evidence of its truth, the direct decla- 
rations of Scripture. 

The text is an explicit and forcible declaration of 
this nature. In this passage the apostle asserts in the 
most unequivocal manner, that he was a cause, and the 
gospel another, of regeneration to the Corinthian 
Christians : not a cause in the efficient sense, but the 
instrumental. In other words, he declares that himself 
and the gospel were means of their regeneration. It 
cannot be said here, that the apostle and the gospel 
were to these Christians means of edification ; or of 
their advancement in holiness, after they were regene- 
rated. This subject is not even hinted at in the passage. 
The birth is not any part of the growth, subsequent to 
itself. To beget, is not to nourish, or cause to grow. 
It is to contribute to the original existence of the thing 
begotten, and not to its subsequent improvement. The 
apostle and the gospel then, contributed to the regene- 
ration of these Christians, and were means of bringing 
it to pass. 

In Phil. 10, St Paul declares the same truth in the 
same language. ' I beseech thee for my son Onesimus, 
whom I have begotten in my bonds.' 

In the Epistle of St James, chap. i. 18, that apostle 
says, ' Of his own will begat he us with the word of 
truth, that we (the first-converted Jews) should be a 
kind of first-fruits of his creatures.' 

On this passage I shall make two remarks. The first 
is, that St James uses the same language to denote the 
regeneration of the Jewish Christians, which St Paul 
uses to denote that of the Corinthian Christians. If 
then the terms in St James denote regeneration, which 
will not be denied, they denote the same thing in the 
text. But the passage in St James is unquestionable 
proof that God regenerated the persons spoken of in 
this passage. Equally undeniable proof is furnished 
by the text, that St Paul was either the agent, or the 
means, of regeneration to the Christians in Corinth. 
But God is the only agent, or efficient cause, of rege- 
neration. If we deny the fact, that St Paul was the 
means of regeneration to these persons, as asserted in 
the text, we must, according to the same principles, 
deny the fact, that God was the efficient cause of rege- 
neration, as asserted by St James. The same rules of 
construction will oblige us to admit both these proposi- 
tions, or to reject them both. The language is the 
same ; and that it ought to be interpreted by the same 
rules of construction cannot be doubted. 

The second remark is this : St James declares that 
God had regenerated him, and his fellow Christians, by 
the word of truth ; that is, by the gospel. The gospel 



702 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. :;xxxv. 



was therefore, certainly, the means of accomplishing 
this event. 

St Peter, in his first Epistle, chap. i. 23 ; speaking 
of himself and those to whom he wrote, says, ' Being 
born again,' or regenerated, ' not of corruptible seed, 
hut by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for 
ever.' In this passage St Peter declares, that Chris- 
tians are born, or regenerated (§/« Xoyou), by means 
of the word of God. Of course, he declares that they 
were not regenerated without the instrumentality of the 
word of God. What is true with respect to this sub- 
ject, of the Christians to whom St Peter wrote, will not 
be denied to be true of Christians universally. 

Inl Tim. iv. 10, St Paul says, 'Take heed unto 
thyself, and unto the doctrine ; continue in them : for 
in so doing thou slin.lt both save thyself, and them that 
hear thee.' That Timothy would, in fact, both save 
himself and those who heard him, cannot be denied, 
unless we charge St Paul with falsehood. But if Ti- 
mothy was not in this case an instrument, or a means 
of salvation to them, the declaration cannot be true. 
For Cod is the only efficient cause of salvation to any 
man. 

In Rom. iii. 1 , 2, St Paul says, ' What advantage 
then hath the Jew ? or what profit is there of circum- 
cision ? Much every way ; chiefly because that unto 
them were committed the oracles of God.' In this 
passage St Paul declares that the Jews had much ad- 
vantage over the Gentiles ; and that this advantage lay 
' chiefly ' in the fact, ' that unto them were committed 
the oracles of God.' If the possession of the oracles of 
God was of great advantage to the Jews, we naturally 
ask, in what respect was it an advantage? Plainly in 
this : that the oracles of God contributed, or were 
capable of contributing, to their salvation, and conse- 
quently to their regeneration. Of what possible advan- 
tage could the oracles of God be to unconverted men, 
and of such only is the apostle here speaking, unless 
they contributed in some manner and degree or other 
to their conversion ? This question, it is believed, ad- 
mits of no answer. 

In Pom. x. 14, the same apostle says, ' How then 
shall they call on him, in whom they have not believed ? 
and how shall they believe in him, of whom they have 
not heard ? and how shall they hear without a preach- 
er?' Every person at all acquainted witli language, 
knows that these questions have exactly the same im- 
port with that of strong negative declarations ; and that 
the apostle has here, in the most forcible manner as- 
serted, that men cannot call on him in whom they have 
not believed : nor believe in him of whom they have 
not heard : nor hear without a preacher. In other 
words, he declares the preaching of the gospel to be, in 
the ordinary course of providence, indispensably neces- 
sary to the faith of mankind in Christ, just as that faith 
is indispensable to the invocation of his name in prayer. 

That the apostle understood these questions in this 
manner, is unanswerably evident from his own con- 
clusions, subjoined in the seventeenth verse: ' So then, 
faith cometh by hearing ; and hearing by the word of 
God.' 

These passages, it is believed, ai - e sufficient, if any 
passages can be sufficient, to decide the question. It 
would be easy to multiply quotations of the same import 
to a great extent ; for this is the common language of 
the Scriptures. But as a long course of quoting and 



commenting necessarily becomes tedious, I shall con- 
clude this part of the discussion, by repeating, in a 
very summary manner, a few other passages and phra- 
ses, which directly indicate, in other forms, the same 
truth. 

The Scriptures are called the ' word of salvation ;' 
the ' word of life ;' the ' word of faith ;' the ' word of 
wisdom ;' the ' word of knowledge ;' the ' word of re- 
conciliation ;' and the ' sword of the Spirit.' None of 
these appellations, it is apprehended, could be given to 
them with propriety, unless they were in truth means 
of salvation to men. They are called the ' word of 
God, which inwrought effectually ' in the Thessalonians, 
' when they first received it,' 1 Thess. ii. 13. They 
are said by Cod himself, speaking to the prophet Jere- 
miah, to be ' as a fire, and as a hammer, that breaketh 
the rock in pieces,' Jer. xxiii. 29. They are asserted 
by St Paul to be ' quick (or living) and powerful ; 
sharper than any two-edged sword ; piercing even to 
the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit ; and to be a 
discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart,' Heb. 
iv. 12. Our Saviour says to the Jews, ' It is the Spirit 
that quickeneth ;' and, to explain his meaning, subjoins, 
' The words which I speak unto you, they are spirit, and 
they are life.' 

It is said, that when ' the world by wisdom knew not 
God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to 
save them who believe,' 1 Cor. i. 21. 

St Paul declares the gospel to be ' the power of 
God unto salvation to every one that believeth,' Rom. 
i. 10. 

From these passages it is evident, that the Scrip- 
tures, in their customary language, declare themselves, 
particularly as preached to mankind, to be means of 
salvation. 

2. I argue the same doctrine from the commission 
given by Christ to his apostles. 

This commission is recorded, Matt, xxviii. 19, in these 
words; ' Go, ye, disciple (that is, make disciples of) all 
nations ; baptizing them in the name of the Father, and 
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' 

The word, fix8riTsvaare, rendered ' teach ' in the 
common translation, is literally rendered disciple. Ai- 
oetorx-a is the proper term to denote ieacldng. Madwrtva 
denotes to make a person a disciple, in the same sense, 
in which the apostles, and their contemporary Chris- 
tians, .were disciples of Christ. A disciple, as the term 
is used in the New Testament, is a person who receives, 
approves, and voluntarily conforms to the doctrines and 
precepts of his instructor. Such were the disciples of 
the Pharisees ; such were those of John the baptist ; and 
such were those of Christ. Christ, it will be admitted, 
commissioned the apostles to make real disciples of 
those to whom they preached, and not disciples in pre- 
tence and profession merely. But every real disciple is 
regenerated. 

The nations to whom the apostles were sent, were 
Jews and heathens, and of course were unbelievers and 
sinners. Christ therefore commissioned the apostles to 
make disciples of unbelievers and sinners. It will 
not be denied, that he commissioned them to do that 
which, in the ordinary progress of things, could be 
done : and which they, so far as they faithfully obeyed 
his commands, did actually accomplish. The apostles 
therefore did really in the proper sense make disciples 
of these sinners. 



PROOFS THAT THERE ARE MEANS OF GRACE. 



703 



Accordingly, St Paul says, that he desired to ' have 
fruit among - the Romans as he had had among the 
other Gentiles,' Rom. i. 13. He speaks of himself and 
Apollos, as ' ministers by whom,' that is, by means of 
whom, ' the Corinthians believed,' 1 Cor. iii. 5. He 
says that he and his companions ' received grace and 
apostleship, for the obedience of faith among all nations,' 
Rom. i, 5. St Peter, Acts xv. 7, says, that ' God had 
chosen, that the Gentiles by his mouth should hear the 
gospel and believe.' Everywhere also, in the book of 
Acts, both Jews and Gentiles are exhibited as having 
believed and turned to God by means of the preaching 
of the apostles and their coadjutors. 

Thus the commission was fulfilled exactly, accord- 
ing to its tenor ; and the gospel actually became the 
means of faith and salvation to those to whom it was 
preached. 

But this commission was given to all succeeding mi- 
nisters, as well as to the apostles ; and is the very au- 
thority under which they now preach, and perform all 
the other duties of the ministerial offices. All that was 
here said to the apostles, is in the very same sense said 
to them. It is equally their business and duty to make 
disciples of mankind, wherever Providence presents 
them an opportunity ; and to baptize them when made. 
Of course, they as really make disciples of unbelievers 
and sinners, and are as really means of faith and salva- 
tion to mankind. 

The very fact of giving this commission is in itself 
decisive proof of this truth. It was undoubtedly given 
with sincerity and benevolence on the part of Christ. 
Of course, it was intended by him, that the design ex- 
pressed in it was really formed in his mind, and will be 
faithfully accomplished. This design is completely ex- 
pressed in the commission itself. As the apostles were 
directed to disciple all nations, or to make disciples 
everywhere : so it was the design of Christ, that disciples 
should everywhere be made by them. In this business 
they were to have a real agency. It therefore follows 
irresistibly, that they had a real agency in it ; such an 
agency as that, without their exertions, these men would, 
in the established course of tilings, never have become 
disciples. 

3. The same doctrine is proved by the whole course 
of facts relating to the existence and progress of Chris- 
tianity in the world. 

Wherever the gospel has been preached and read, 
mankind have actually been made disciples of Christ. 
In every age and in every country to which the gospel 
has come, there have been many such disciples. In 
those countries, on the contrary, where the gospel has 
not existed, such disciples have not been made ; or, at 
least, evidence of their discipleship has not been fur- 
nished to their fellow men. I speak here, it will be re- 
membered, of the ordinary course of God's spiritual 
providence. That exceptions to this assertion may 
have existed, I am not disposed to deny. That they 
must have been comparatively few, is I think clearly 
evident from the fact, that no satisfactory reasons have 
appeared, even to the mind of charity itself, ,to believe 
them numerous. If God has pursued, in countries un- 
enlightened by the gospel, a different system of dispen- 
sations from that which we have been contemplating, it 
must be admitted, that we have no evidence of this fact ; 
or at least none which can be pronounced satisfactory. 
The Scriptures certainly give us very little information 



of this nature ; and the history of mankind furnishes still 
less. Without limiting the mercy of God, or attempting 
to investigate his spiritual providence with respect to 
nations who have not the gospel, it may safely be con- 
cluded, that the instances which they furnish of appa- 
rent renovation are very few. 

A benevolent man, who casts his eye over the west- 
ern wilderness, and surveys with attention the moral 
conduct of its inhabitants, will find very little of this 
nature to satisfy his wishes or his hopes. Independent- 
ly of the moral effects produced upon these nations by 
the labours of missionaries, he will find sin prevailing 
and ravaging, in all the forms of turpitude compatible 
with their circumstances, and in every degree not for- 
bidden by their poverty, ignorance, and imbecility. 
Our Saviour has taught us, that we are to discern the 
character of men by their fruits. This equitable and 
decisive rule of judging is no less applicable to these 
nations than to ourselves. But what are the fruits pro- 
duced by these men ? Certainly they are not such as 
are ' meet for repentance ;' such as spring from confi- 
dence in God ; such as indicate, even remotely, the in- 
fluence, or even the existence, of real virtue. After 
the most charitable and indulgent allowance for their 
ignorance ; after all the palliations which the most be- 
nevolent mind can elicit from their moral disadvan- 
tages ; their fraud, treachery, cruelty, pride, implaca- 
bility, and revenge, present a picture of depravity which 
it is impossible net to understand and acknowledge. 
No penitents, in the mean time, are visible among them. 
No symptoms of reformation are found. On the con- 
trary, one unvarying, sluggish, gloomy stream of cor- 
ruption appears to have flowed heavily onward from 
remote generations to the present hour ; and to wind 
its Lethean course through all these nations, wherever 
and however situated. 

On the ground once inhabited by these people, the 
New England colonists have dwelt almost two centu- 
ries. Among them religion has generally prevailed. 
The proof is that which has been already mentioned. 
They have brought forth the fruits specified in the gos- 
pel, as evidences of a virtuous character, in instances 
whose number it would be difficult to limit. Whence 
this mighty difference in nations planted on the same 
soil, and living under the same climate ? The only 
satisfactory answer is, that the people of New England 
have possessed the gospel and its ordinances, have built 
churches, settled ministers, attended the public worship 
of God, read the Scriptures, and educated their chil- 
dren ' in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.' 
None of these things were possessed or done by their 
savage predecessors. In a word, the people of New 
England have had the gospel ; the savages have not. 

In those countries also where the gospel has been 
enjoyed, and disciples have actually been made, all or 
almost all persons of this character have become disci- 
ples by means of the gospel itself. Such persons, with 
scarcely an exception, probably without an exception, 
when conversing on their regeneration, declare that 
everytbing in their own minds, which yields them con- 
solation or hope, is in their view fairly referable to the 
truths of the gospel, presented to them in some form or 
other. A vast multitude date all their hopes from the 
preaching of the gospel ; and feel completely assured, 
that ' faith,' if it has come to them at all, has come ' by 
hearing,' as hearing lias ' by the word of God.' Others 



704 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. cxxxv. 



attribute this blessing to the indirect influence of 
preaching, operating upon their minds through a suc- 
cession of events. Others ascribe it to an early religious 
education, making deep impressions on their minds, in 
the happy period of childhood. Others still attribute 
it to the reading of the Scriptures, to the reading of 
religious books, to the religious conversation of good 
men, or to the life and conduct of such men. In these 
several ways the truths of the gospel are often exhibited 
with peculiar strength, beauty, and efficacy. The mode 
in which they are conveyed to the mind is of no other 
importance than as it renders the truths themselves 
more explicit, or more impressive. The truths are the 
substance and the soul of this interesting process. 

As the language of all such persons concerning this 
subject is the same, it must I think be admitted to be 
true. Their number has been too great to allow the 
suspicion, that they can all have been deceived. They 
have lived in so many ages and countries, have been of 
so many different characters, have received so widely 
different educations, have lived in so widely different 
circumstances, and have entertained in other respects 
so widely different opinions, as to render it incredible 
that they should all have been prejudiced concerning 
this subject, and impossible, that they should have 
united in exactly the same set of prejudices. At the 
same time, multitudes of them have been eminently 
distinguished for wisdom, candour, and self-knowledge. 
It cannot be reasonably supposed, that immense num- 
bers of such men should, with respect to such a subject, 
be uniformly deceived in exactly the same manner. 
Beyond all this, it appears, at least to me, to be an in- 
defensible imputation upon the character of God, to 
suppose that he would in this case leave his children to 
false apprehensions, and suffer them universally to be- 
lieve that this mighty blessing came to them all in a 
way which was imaginary, and by means to which it 
was in no degree attributable. 

From these considerations it may, I think, with the 
highest probability be concluded, that mankind are 
sanctified through, or by means of, the truth of God. 

To all that has been here alleged, it may, however, 
be objected, that in the Scriptures our sanctih'cation, 
particularly our regeneration, is ascribed directly and 
solely to the agency of the Holy Ghost ; and that the 
doctrine contended for in this Discourse contradicts 
this part of the scriptural scheme. 

To this objection I answer, that the doctrine for 
which I contend is as plainly asserted, and in as many 
passages of the Scriptures, as that which is alleged in 
the objection. If, then, we deny the former of these 
doctrines, we shall do violence to as many and as plain 
scriptural declarations, as if we deny the latter. Our 
dislike of the doctrine asserted in this Discourse, will 
in no degree justify us in rejecting or contravening 
those passages of Scripture in which it is asserted. 
They stand upon their own basis ; the authority and 
inspiration of that Divine Spirit, who, while he chal- 
lenges this agency to himself, has been pleased to at- 
tribute also this instrumentality to his word. His de- 
clarations we are bound to receive as we find them ; 
and cannot alter the obvious meaning, with any better 
warrant than we can challenge for altering the words 
which contain that meaning. 

It may be farther objected, that this doctrine robs God 
of his peculiar glory in regenerating the soul of man. 



To this I answer, that we are at the best, incompe- 
tent judges of this subject ; and are therefore unable to 
determine satisfactorily in what manner God will be 
most glorified. If God has thought proper to give us 
such an account of the subject as has been here speci- 
fied, it will be found, in the end, that he is more glori- 
fied in the manner conformed to these declarations, 
than in any other. The psalmist, under the unerring 
influence of inspiration, says to God, ' Thou hast mng- 
nified thy word above all thy name.' Should it prove 
one of the ways in which God magnifies his word, that 
it is constituted the means of regeneration to mankind ; 
there can be no reasonable doubt that it will be found, 
in the end, perfectly consistent with the most perfect 
glorification of his name. 

The truth, however, is, that neither of these answers 
is at all necessary to satisfy us concerning these objec- 
tions. The Spirit of God is in truth the only agent in 
renovating man ; or, in other words, the only efficient 
cause of his renovation. This, however, he would be 
in as perfect a degree, if he were supposed to employ 
means in accomplishing this change of character, as if 
he were supposed to accomplish it without them. The 
supposition, that an agent, if he employ means to effec- 
tuate his purposes, will on this account cease to be, or 
be at all less, an agent, is built upon no known princi- 
ples of truth or evidence. 

The farmer and gardener turn their soil, and plant 
their seeds : the rain descends upon them, and the sun 
shines; but all these things do not make them spring 
up and yield their increase. God must still interpose 
with his creative power, to produce these desirable ef- 
fects ; or a crop will be expected in vain. God there- 
fore is the sole agent and author of the crop ; yet the 
farmer and the gardener, the ground and the seed, the 
rain and the sunshine, are all means of its existence. 
Without these means, there would, according to the 
established order of things, be no crop. Of course, 
they are means of its existence, and means indispen- 
sable. 

It may be said, that these cases are not similar. If 
this should be said, it would, I think, be said rashly ; 
for Christ himself, St Peter, St James, and St Paul, 
have all chosen this allusion to illustrate this very 
subject See the parable of the Sower. See also, 1 
Cor. iii. where Paul declares himself to have planted, 
A polios to have watered, and God to have given the 
increase. 

With regard to the other objection, it is obvious 
that, so far as we can see, the glory of regenerating 
man is all ascribed to God, and all ascribed in the 
manner most honourable to him ; is attributed to his 
Spirit as the efficient cause, and to his word as the 
means. If he has in fact, as, if I mistake not, I have 
proved, declared that this is the manner in which he 
has chosen to accomplish this work ; we need not fear 
that in giving this account of it we shall detract from 
his character. 



If the scheme of Discourse which has been here ex- 
hibited is just, it will follow, that the gospel is to be 
preached to sinners. 

My audience may perhaps wonder that any evidence 
should be thought necessary to prove this assertion. If 
I am not misinformed, however, the assertion has not 



THE MEANS OF GRACE THEIR INFLUENCE; 



705 



only been questioned, but denied. That such should 
have been the fact, is certainly wonderful in my view, 
as well as in that of others. 

When the gospel was first preached by Christ, the 
whole world, with very few exceptions, was in a state 
of sin. The Gentiles were so generally of this charac- 
ter, that, as a body, they were styled, by St Paul, ' sin- 
ners of the Gentiles,' Gal. ii. 15. To the Gentiles, 
however, Paul was sent directly by Christ to preach 
the gospel. The extraordinary commission of this 
apostle deserves to be here repeated : ' Delivering thee 
from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom 
now I send thee ; to open their eyes, and to turn them 
from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan 
unto God ; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, 
and inheritance among them who are sanctified by faith 
that is in me,' Acts xxvi. 17, Li. 

Here it is to be remarked, that St Paul was sent 
to the Gentiles, not only to preach the gospel, and 
' to open their eyes ;' but ' to turn them also from 
darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
God.' Accordingly, he ' was not disobedient unto 
the heavenly vision ; but showed first to them of Da- 
mascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the 
coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they 
should repent, and turn to God, and do works meet 
for repentance.' 

These declarations made by St Paul are unanswera- 
bly evinced to be true by the history of his life. In 
the very manner here recited he preached to both Jews 
and Gentiles the glad tidings of salvation ; and per- 
suaded men everywhere to renounce and forsake their 
iniquities; and thus actually opened their eyes, and 
turned them from darkness to light 

The beginning of the preaching of Christ, as recited 
in the gospel according to St Mark, is in these words ; 
' The time is fulfilled ; the kingdom of heaven is at 



hand. Repent ye, and believe the gospel.' The 
people therefore whom he addressed had not hitherto 
repented nor believed. Of course they were sinners. 
In the whole history contained in the Gospel and in 
the Acts, there is not, so far as I recollect, a single 
instance recorded, in which we have any satisfactory 
proof that even an individual sinner was regenerated 
without the influence of divine truth upon his heart 
On the contrary, these writings are full of examples, 
in which the efficacy of this truth is asserted directly, 
as having been indispensably concerned in producing 
this change in man. 

The same doctrine is also amply exhibited, as it re- 
spects the Jewish church. Of the priests, the ordinary 
ministers of that church, whose proper office was to 
teach the Scriptures to the Israelites, God says in the 
prophet Malachi, ' The law of truth was in their mouth ; 
and they turned many away from iniquity.' This de- 
claration is a complete history of the fact in question, 
so far as the present subject is concerned, throughout 
all the preceding ages of the Jewish church. 

What was true concerning the periods contained in 
the scriptural history, has been equally true, so far as 
we have any information, of the periods which have 
since elapsed. Ministers have everywhere, and in 
every age of the Christian charch, preached to sinners ; 
and sinners under their preaching have been turned to 
God. In all these facts the duty of ministers at the 
present time is distinctly seen and gloriously encour- 
aged. He who would preach as the priests preached, 
as Christ preached, as the apostles preached, will pro- 
claim the tidings of salvation to sinners ; and will urge 
them unceasingly to faith, repentance, and holiness. 
Upon his preaching, if faithfully conducted in this man- 
ner, and accompanied by his own prayers, and those of 
the Christians around him, he may confidently look for 
the blessing of God. 



SERMON CXXXVI. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE — ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE WHAT THEY ARE; 

AND WHAT IS THEIR INFLUENCE. 



For though ye have ten thousand instructors in CJirist, yet ye have not many fathers : for in Christ Jesus 1 
have begotten you through the gospel.- — 1 Cor. vi. 15. 



In the last Discourse, I attempted to prove, that there 
are means of grace and salvation : the first subject, 
then proposed for discussion. I shall now endeavour, 

II. To show what they are. 

III. To explain their influence. 

The means of grace may be distributed into a greater 
or less number of divisions, without any material dis- 
advantage. At the present time it will, however, be 
useful to mention only those which are of peculiar im- 
portance. 

Of these, the gospel, by which I here intend the 
Scriptures at large, is ever to be regarded as the sum : 
fur it plainly involves them all. The gospel is espe- 
cially to be considered as being efficacious to salvation, 



when it is preached : this being that institution of God, 
to which his peculiar blessing, ' life for evermore,' is 
especially annexed in the gospel itself. Still, it is ever 
to be remembered, that in every lawful, serious use of 
its instructions, precepts, warnings, threatenings, invi- 
tations, and promises, it is possessed of the same gene- 
ral nature and influence. 

When we speak of the means of grace, in the plural, 
we always intend, either different modes of applying 
the gospel, or some or other of its precepts, or ordi- 
nances, to the human understanding, or affections ; or 
the performance of some act, or series of acts enjoined 
in the Scriptures. 

It will be proper farther to observe, that the phrase 
4 u 



706 



SYSTEM 'OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxvr. 



which I have here used, is commonly employed to de- 
note both the means by which, in the usual course of 
providence, grace is originally obtained ; and the means 
of increasing it, when once obtained. 
Under this head are included, 

I. The preaching of the gospel. 

II. The reading of the Scriptures. 

III. Prayer. 

IV. Correspondence with religious men. 

V. Religious meditation ; particularly self-examina- 
. tion. 

VI. The religious education of children. 

To these may be added, as efficacious to the same end, 
although differing in several respects from all those al- 
ready mentioned, the instructive and monitory, the mer- 
ciful and afflictive, dispensations of Divine Providence, 
to ourselves and others. It ought to be remembered, i 
that I consider none of these as means of grace, in any 
other sense than as they display, and impress upon the 
mind, the truth of God. 

In the Scriptures all these things appear to sustain 
the character which I have attributed to them. 

' The law of the Lord,' says St David, ' is perfect ; con- 
verting the soul : the testimonies of the Lord are sure, 
making wise the simple.' — ' Search the Scriptures,' says 
our Saviour to the Jews, ' for in them ye think ye have 
the words of eternal life.' — ' How shall they believe,' 
says St Paul, ' in him, of whom they have not heard? 
and how shall they hear without a preacher ? So, then, 
faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of 
God.' — ' God be merciful to me, a sinner!' said the 
publican, ' who went up to the temple to pray :' and our 
Saviour informs us, that ' he went down to his house, 
justified rather than the Pharisee.' — ' He that walketh 
with wise men,' says Solomon, ' shall be wise.' — ' Ex- 
amine yourselves,' says St Paul, ' whether ye be in the 
faith ; prove your own selves : know ye not your own 
selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you except ye be 
reprobates? This exhortation is obviously given to 
persons supposed by the apostle to be, individually, of 
different moral characters ; and is plainly given to them 
all, whatever their character might be. ' Stand in awe,' 
said David to his enemies, 'and sin not : commune 
with your own heart upon your bed ; and be still.' — 
' Keep thy heart,' said David to Solomon, ' with all 
diligence ; for out of it are the issues of life.' — ' Train 
up a child in the way he should go,' says Solomon, 
' and when he is old he will not depart from it :' and 
again, ' the reproofs of instruction are the way of life.' 
— ' Fathers,' says St Paul, ' train up your children in 
the nurture and admonition of the Lord.' 

These and many other passages, of a nature generally 
similar, I consider as directing, either mediately or im- 
mediately, the conduct of sinners. Most of them are so 
obviously of this character, as apparently to admit of 
no dispute. A part of them may, I am aware, admit of 
objections to this construction. But, if these were to 
be given up, the rest would, I apprehend, be abundant- 
ly sufficient to answer the purpose for which they have 
been quoted. That they are directed to such objects as 
I have termed means of grace, will not be questioned. 

With the instruction furnished us concerning this 
subject by the word of God, Ave are bound to unite that 
also which is exhibited to us by his providence. If cer- 
tain measures have been customarily crowned with suc- 
cess in the pursuk of salvation ; and other measures, or 



the omission of these successful ones, have terminated 
without that success; then we are warranted to con- 
clude, that the course which has been heretofore success- 
ful, will be so again. We are warranted to conclude, that 
what God has usually blessed, he may confidently be 
expected to bless ; and that the conduct which has been 
regularly followed by impenitence and unbelief, will 
produce hereafter no other consequences. 

But, so far as men can judge, one general course of 
conduct has, in fact, been usually crowned with success 
in this mighty concern, from the beginning. The 
preaching and hearing of the gospel, and the diligent, 
anxious use of those which I have styled means of grace,, 
have been actually followed by faith, repentance, and 
holiness, from the promulgation of the gospel to the 
present time. The same things may therefore be rea- 
sonably expected to produce the same consequences 
hereafter. 

III. / shall noio endeavour to explain the influence of 
these means on mankind. 

Before I begin this explanation, I wish to remark, 
that although 1 should fail of giving a satisfactory ac- 
count of this subject, the failure would, in no degree, 
affect the truth of the doctrine. If the evidence alleged 
has been sufficient, and the conclusions have been fairly 
drawn : then the doctrine is true. Nor will my igno- 
rance, or that of any other person, concerning the 
manner in which the event referred to is accomplished, 
and the doctrine true, make any difference with respect 
to the principal point. We know perfectly the exist- 
ence of many facts ; while of the manner in which they 
are accomplished, we are unable to form any adequate 
conception. 

The influence of the means of grace upon mankind 
may, if I mistake not, be explained under the two ge- 
neral heads of instruction and impression. 

These I shall now consider in the order already spe- 
cified. 

1. The means of grace become such by instruction. 

It will be universally acknowledged, that men, ac- 
cording to St Paul's declaration, cannot ' believe on 
him, of whom they have not heard ; nor call on him, in 
whom they have not believed.' If God, the Father or 
the Son, be unknown ; it is plain, that he can neither 
be trusted, invoked, nor obeyed. There can be no 
known relation in this case between the creature and 
the Creator; and therefore, on the part of the creature, 
no known or possible duty to the Creator. ' Where 
there is no law, there is no transgression ;' and where 
there is no knowledge, either actual or possible, of a 
law, there is, in the fullest sense, no law. The know- 
ledge of Cod, therefore, his law, and our obligation to 
obey it, is indispensable even to our possible obedience, 
or disobedience. 

When mankind had fallen, and Christ had made an 
expiation for their sins ; it was equally and absolutely 
necessary, in order to their acceptance of Christ, which 
then became their duty, that they should know this glo- 
rious Person, in such a sense as to enable them to ex- 
ercise faith in him as their Redeemer. Without such 
knowledge, it is naturally impossible for us to believe 
in him at all. The same things are equally true of 
every religious duty and subject. We cannot perform 
any duty, however well disposed, unless it be known to 
us : nor be required to perform it, unless such know- 
ledge be attainable. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE THEIR INFLUENCE. 



707 



Thus, it is evident, that the gospel is indispensable to 
the very existence of Christianity in the mind of man : 
and, as the gospel cannot be of any possible use to man, 
unless known by him ; so the knowledge of the gospel 
is indispensable to the existence of faith, repentance, 
and holiness. 

It is indeed perfectly obvious, that God can, with in- 
finite ease, reveal the fundamental truths, and all other 
truths of the gospel, to any man immediately, as he did 
to St Paul. This, however, is not to be expected ; as 
it is certainly no part of his ordinary providence. In 
the usual course of that providence, men are taught the 
gospel by preaching, reading, and other modes of in- 
struction. 'Ihese, or some of these, are therefore in- 
dispensable, in the usual course of things, to the exist- 
ence of Christianity in the minds of men. Hence, in 
one respect, the gospel is said to be ' the power of God 
unto salvation to every one that believeth :' and hence, 
in liie same respect, it is said, that, ' when the world 
by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the fool- 
ishness of preaching to save them that believe.' 

In the same manner relig'ous education, meditation, 
correspondence with religious men, and the reading of 
religious books, become thus far means of salvation to 
mankind. In all these ways the word of God is made 
known to mankind : and all of them have, and were de- 
signed by God to have, their peculiar advantages. 

Among the things most necessary to be known by 
us, in order to our salvation, our own hearts or moral 
characters, hold a primary place. I know of no man- 
ner in which he who feels himself to be whole, can re- 
alize that he needs a physician. To the existence even 
of a wish for deliverance, the sense of danger or distress 
is absolutely necessary. If we are now conscious of 
being holy, or of* being safe, we certainly can never 
desire renovation, forgiveness, or expiation ; nor seek 
for a deliverer to save us. While such a consciousness 
continues, no reason can be perceived by the man who 
experiences it, why he should look for salvation from 
Christ, any more than why an angel who has never 
fallen, should look for salvation from the same source. 
But sin, and the moral distress and danger occasioned 
by it, have their seat in the heart. If then the heart 
be unknown, these will also be unknown ; and the mind 
will never seek nor wish for deliverance from them. 
Of course, it cannot, and will not, expect its salvation 
from the Redeemer. 

The knowledge of the heart is extensively communi- 
cated by the Scriptures : so extensively, that without 
them mankind will never understand their true moral 
character in any such manner ns to produce any evan- 
gelical benefit. But all the scriptural communications 
ci' this nature will be useless to us, unless we apply them 
to ourselves. This application can never be made to 
any purpose, uidess we ' commune with our own hearts.' 
Self-examination is the direct, and in many respects, 
the only mode in which we apply the scriptural ac- 
counts of our moral nature to ourselves. Without such 
examination we may indeed admit the scriptural ac- 
counts concerning human nature generally ; and be- 
lieve that other men are sinners, in the manner and 
degree there exhibited. But we shall never realize that 
these accounts, in their whole extent, are applicable 
also to ourselves. Particularly, we shall form no just 
apprehensions of our odiousness in the sight of God, of 
the extent of cur condemnation by his law, or our ex- 



posure to final perdition. The necessity of such exami- 
nation is therefore absolute. 

Farther : when we have in fact become convinced 
of our sin and our danger, we are still equally uncon- 
vinced of our indisposition to return to God by evan- 
gelical repentance and faith. All mankind appear ori- 
ginally to believe their conversion to God to be so 
absolutely in their power, as that, whenever they shall 
make serious and earnest attempts to accomplish it, they 
shall accomplish it of course, and without any peculiar 
divine assistance. Whatever opinions they may ima- 
gine themseltves to form concerning this subject, they 
still believe, and if they ever become penitents, will 
find themselves to have believed, that whenever they 
shall resolve upon the exercise of faith and repentance, 
as necessary to their moral character and true well-be- 
ing, they shall certainly repent and believe. In this 
way they feel in a great measure secure of salvation. 
It is a secret, which probably no professed believer in 
the doctrines of free grace ever discovers, before he 
has made attempts of this nature, that, with all his ap- 
prehended orthodoxy, he still places his ultimate re- 
liance on himself; and realizes no necessity for any 
peculiar assistance from God. Among the things which 
he feels to be thus absolutely in his power, prayer, that 
is, evangelical and acceptable prayer, is always one. 
Nothing in the ordinary course of things, not even his 
own speculative belief to the contrary, will ever per- 
suade him, that he will find any difficulty in praying to 
God, until after he has seriously made the trial. His 
own efforts to pray will usually be the first and the 
only means of changing this opinion, and of convinc- 
ing him that he has essentially mistaken his real cha- 
racter. 

Actual attempts at prayer, at exercising faith and 
repentance, and at forming efficacious resolutions of 
obedience, furnish in this case a kind of instruction, 
not easily supplied by anything else. Conviction of 
the practicability or impracticability of any measures of 
the insufficiency of our own powers, and of the certain 
failure of our efforts, is wrought oidy by the trial of 
these measures, powers, and efforts. A loose, general, 
uninfluential belief may be otherwise entertained. But 
a conviction which will be felt, will be gained only in 
this manner. I know not whether, in all ordinary 
cases, this conviction is not indispensable to the attain- 
ment of holiness. 

In the conduct and character of religious men, the 
actual existence of religion is often, perhaps usually, 
first seen and believed. In the same manner are the 
dignity and beauty, and the excellence of religion usu- 
ally first discerned and acknowledged. The truth also, 
and especially the importance, of many primary doc- 
trines of the gospel, and the chief part of what is com- 
monly intended by experimental religion, are all 
principally learned and realized by means of theit 
conversation. 

These may serve as specimens, sufficient for the pre- 
sent purpose, of the instruction acquired in the use of 
the means of grace. 

2. Means of grace become such by the impressions 
which they make on the heart. 

To a person at all versed in human nature it is per- 
fectly evident, that in every case where men are to be 
moved to any serious exertion, mere conviction wii) 
often be inefficacious. The intellect is not the motive 



708 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



£Shb. cxxx</%, 



faculty of the mind. The will, in which term I include 
all the affections, gives birth to every effort which the 
mind makes concerning the objects of the present or 
the future world. But the mere conviction of the intellect 
is of itself rarely sufficient to move the will, or engage 
the affections. Something farther is in a particular 
manner necessary to engage man in the serious pursuit 
of spiritual and eternal objects, or to make him realize 
any serious interest in these objects. The mere proof, 
that a doctrine is true, is usually but one step towards 
persuading us to exertion of any kind. In addition to 
this, it is commonly necessary for the same end, that 
our imagination be roused, and our affections awakened 
and engaged. 

In accordance with these observations, mankind, in 
their customary language, regularly express the dif- 
ferent states of the mind, when it is merely convinced, 
and when it feels the truth of which it is convinced. 
To see a truth, and to feel it, are familiar expressions 
in our language, which denote ideas widely different 
from each other. So different are they, that we com- 
monly see, without feeling at all ; and therefore without 
being moved to exertion by what we see. All men use, 
all men understand this language ; and thus prove that 
there is a solid foundation in the nature of things for 
the distinction which it expresses. 

In accordance with this scheme, eloquence, both in 
speaking and writing, has ever been directed to the 
imagination, and to the passions, as well as to the intel- 
lect ; and that kind of eloquence which has been em- 
ployed in moving the heart, has been considered as 
possessing a higher and more influential nature, than 
that which is addressed merely to the understanding. 
Hence, eloquence itself is commonly considered, rather 
as the power of persuasion, than the power of conviction. 

That we are capable of being moved to a sense of 
spiritual objects, altogether different from a cold, un- 
impassioned conviction, as truly as to such a sense of 
temporal objects, cannot admit of a rational doubt. 
Every minister of the gospel, every moralist, and every 
other man, who labours to amend the human character, 
even those who deny the doctrine for which I am con- 
tending, prove that they adopt this opinion, by using 
to the utmost of their power the means of impression 
for this end, as well as those of conviction. In this 
conduct they show, more evidently than is possible by 
any other method, that they realize this difference, and 
to avail themselves of it, employ these means. 

The Scriptures themselves are universally formed in 
this manner. They are everywhere filled with instruc- 
tion ; but they are also filled everywhere with persua- 
sion. Instead of being a cold compilation of philoso- 
phical dogmas, they are filled with real life, with facts, 
with persons, with forcible appeals to the imagination, 
and with powerful applications to the heart. With 
these the instruction is everywhere interwoven. By 
these it is continually imbodied. In the Bible no affec- 
tion of the human heart is unaddressed. Our hope 
and fear, our love and hatred, our sorrow and joy, our 
desire and aversion, nay, our taste for beauty, novelty, 
and sublimity, for moral glory and greatness, are all 
alternately and most forcibly appealed to, in order that 
the whole man, as a being possessed of imagination and 
affections, as well as of understanding, may be alarmed, 
allured, and compelled, to return from sin, embrace 
holiness, and live for ever. 



Now the Scriptures were published to a world of sin- 
ners, and with the most merciful design of bringing, 
them to repentance and salvation. To them, in a pecu- 
liar manner is a great part of the Scriptures addressed. 
They are profitable in all their parts ; and are con- 
trived by Infinite Wisdom so as best to compass the 
end for which they were written. They teach, that we 
may see, they impress, that we may feel, divine truth 
in the most profitable manner. 

In the promotion of this end, all the means of grace 
conspire. By an early and well-directed religious 
education, such truths as children can understand are 
conveyed to their minds with a force eminently impres- 
sive, and singularly lasting. The state of the mind 
itself is here peculiarly favourable to the design of 
making deep impressions ; and has hence been particu- 
larly regarded by God in those precepts which enjoin 
such an education at this period. The efficacy of these 
impressions is strongly declared in that remarkable pas- 
sage, already quoted from the Book of Proverbs : 
' Train up a child in the way he should go; and when 
he is old he will not depart from it.' 

What is true of religious education is also true of all 
the means of grace which I have specified. Public 
worship is plainly formed with a particular design to 
affect the heart of man by those truths which are taught 
in the house of God. The day, the place, the occasion, 
are all in the highest degree solemn and interesting. 
The numbers united in the worship, necessarily com- 
municate and receive the strong feelings of sympathy ; 
and regard the subjects of instruction with emotions 
widely different from those which could be experienced 
in solitude. The nature of the ordinances is also in a 
singular degree solemn, awful, and affecting. In a 
word, everything pertaining to the subject is in the 
happiest manner fitted to move the mind, and deeply 
to instamp on it the truths of the gospel. 

Prayer, in the like manner, is eminently fitted to 
teach, and not only to teach, but to make us feel, the 
various doctrines of religion. Prayer, in every form. 
is a service peculiarly impressive. In the church, in 
the family, and in the closet, it is attended by pve-emi- 
nent advantages. When we retire to our 'closets,' and 
' shut the door' on the world, and all which it contains; 
and ' pray to our Father, who is in secret,' we are with- 
drawn from all external things ; are fixed in our own 
concerns : our guilt, our danger, our helplessness ; our 
dependence on God alone for hope, sanctification, and 
deliverance ; and our absolute necessity of being inter- 
ested in Christ, as the only expiation for sin, and the 
only safety to man. We bring God before us, ' face to 
face ;' and ' see eye to eye.' The awful and transcen- 
dent character of this great and glorious Being rises up 
to our view, in a manner resembling that in which the 
Israelites contemplated it at the foot, or Moses on the 
summit, of Mount Sinai. The nearness of the judgment 
is realized with singular force, and the approach of the 
final recompense anticipated with profound awe, and 
most salutary apprehensions. 

Among the things which, in the attempts to perform 
tri is duty, are deeply impressed on the soul of the sinner, 
his own inability to pray in a manner acceptable to God, 
is one of the most important and affecting. No sinner 
realizes this truth before he has made the attempt in 
earnest. Nor does anything appear to lay low the 
pride, and annihilate the self-righteousness of the hu- 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— THEIR INFLUENCE. 



709 



man heart in the same effectual manner. When lie at- 
tempts to pray, and in the very act of attempting it finds 
clear and practical proof that his prayers are selfish, cold, 
and heartless, he first begins to feel in a useful manner 
his absolute dependence on God for every good dispo- 
sition. Prayer is naturally the last hope, the last con- 
solation of man. So long as we can ask for mercy, we 
never feel entirely unsafe. But when the soul becomes 
satisfied by actual trial that its prayers are such as itself 
condemns ; it becomes also satisfied, that its only ulti- 
mate dependence is on the mere mercy of God. 

Prayer also in the same effectual manner opens to the 
view of the soul, with peculiar power, its whole moral 
state ; its guilt, its exposure, and its ruin. All these 
things, when brought up to view in its converse with 
God, in making them the subjects of its own confessions 
and requests, and in revolving them with the most so- 
lemn and interesting meditation, all enhanced by a 
realizing sense of the presence of God, are felt by the 
soul with a peculiar energy, usually followed by happy 
effects. 

Each of the other means of grace which I have speci- 
fied has its own, and that a very desirable, power of 
affecting the heart. We are so formed as to be capable 
of deep impressions in various ways, and from many 
different sources. Each way has its peculiar efficacy ; 
and every source is copious in its influence on the mind. 

The great objects concerning which these impressions 
are especially needed, and are actually made, are the 
guilt and danger of sin ; the glorious mercy of God in 
redeeming, sanctifying, and forgiving sinners; the ab- 
solute dependence of the soul on him for all good, both 
natural and moral ; and his willingness to communicate 
both through Jesus Christ. These united and thorough- 
ly understood, constitute those views and awaken those 
emotions which, together, are commonly styled convic- 
tions of conscience ; or, to speak perhaps with more 
precision, that awakened state of the conscience which 
usually precedes regeneration; and which, in the ordi- 
nary course of God's providence, seems indispensable to 
its existence. Converse with as many religious men as 
you please concerning this subject, and every one of 
them will declare that he has passed through a state of 
mind substantially of this nature ; and will inform you 
that it anteceded every hope of reconciliation to God, 
and every exercise which he has believed to be 
genuine religion in itself. Such then may be deemed 
one of the latvs of the moral or spiritual Kingdom ; a 
law which appears to be formed with supreme wisdom, 
and with supreme benevolence to the sinner. If he 
were never to entertain such a sense of sin, if he were 
never to have such apprehensions of his danger, if he 
were never thus to feel his dependence on his Maker, 
he could not I think form any just views of the nature 
or greatness of his deliverance ; nor of the goodness of 
God in rescuing him from destruction, sanctifying his 
soul, and blotting out his transgressions ; nor of the 
importance or excellence of that holiness with which he 
is endued ; nor of the nature and glory of that happi- 
ness to which he will gain a final admission. In a word, 
it seems indispensable that such a state of mind should 
precede his regeneration, in order to enable him, 
throughout all his future being, to understand what 
QoA has done for him and to feel the gratitude actually 
felt by the minds, and joyfully expressed in the praises, 
of the first-born. 



Some persons, when considering this subject, appear 
to feel as if regeneration could not be absolutely attri- 
buted to the spirit of truth, unless it was accomplished 
altogether without the employment of means. But this 
opinion is plainly erroneous. The very means them- 
selves are furnished entirely by this Divine Agent. 
When furnished, all of them united would prove wholly 
insufficient without his creative influence. No man in 
his sober senses ever mistrusted that ploughing and 
sowing, rain and sunshine, would produce wheat. The 
almighty power of God, after all these things have oper- 
ated to the utmost, is absolutely necessary even to the 
germination of the seed, and still more obviously to the 
perfection of the plant. In the same manner, whatever 
means may be employed in bringing man from sin to 
holiness, and whatever may be their influence, the crea- 
tive power of the Divine Spirit is absolutely necessary 
to accomplish his renovation. All that can be truly 
said in this case is, that this glorious person operates in 
one manner, and not in another. 

The human soul is not regenerated in the same man- 
ner with that in which the dust of the ground was 
originally made into a human body. In this case, a 
mere act of divine power, unconnected with everything 
else, accomplished the effect. But, before renewing 
man, God is pleased in the usual course of his spiritual 
providence to instruct him, to alarm, to invite, to pro- 
mise, and to persuade. To prove the usefulness of these 
means, nothing more seems necessary than to observe 
that they always precede or attend our renovation ; that 
is r always in the usual course of providence. It is the 
soul which is thus taught, alarmed, and allured, upon 
which descends the efficacious grace of the Holy Spirit ; 
and not the soul uninstructed, unawakened, thoughtless 
of its guilt, and devoted only to the pursuit of sensual 
objects. The whole history of experimental religion, 
both within and without the Scriptures, is, unless I am 
deceived, a complete confirmation of this truth. 

But to the existence of this state of the soul, the means 
of grace, as I have described them, and their influence, 
appear to be indispensable. By the instructions which 
they communicate on the one hand, and the impressions 
which they make on the other, concerning spiritual ob- 
jects, they appear, whenever employed with seriousness, 
fervour, and perseverance, to bring the soul into this 
interesting and profitable situation. It is, I conceive, 
with reference to this fact, that God says, ' Is not my 
word as the fire, and as the hammer that breaketh the 
rock in pieces?' With reference to this fact, Christ 
says, that ' his words are spirit and life ;' and that ' they 
will make men free from the bondage of corruption.' 
With the same reference, Paul declares the gospel to 
be ' the power of God unto salvation ;' and ' the word 
of God ' to be ' quick and powerful, and sharper than 
any two-edged sword.' From this power of the gospel 
was derived the fact, that the Jens who crucified Christ 
were in such numbers ' pricked in the heart ' by the 
preaching of St Peter, and cried out, ' Men and bre- 
thren, what shall we do ?' 

All the efficacy which I have attributed to the means 
of grace does not, I acknowledge, amount to regenera- 
tion, nor insure it. But it amounts to what St Paul 
terms ' planting' and ' watering.' The '. increase' must 
be, and still is, given by God only. In the same man- 
ner, God must create the grain ; or the husbandman, 
after all his ploughing and sowing, after all the rain 



710 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxvil 



and the sunshine, will never find a crop. Still, these 
are indispensable means of his crop ; so indispensable, 
that without them the crop would never exist. As truly, 
in the ordinary course of providence, there will, without 
the use of the means of grace, be no spiritual harvest. 



There will be no instructions given, no impressions 
made, and no realizing convictions of guilt, dangerj 
and dependence produced : and without these, there 
will be no regeneration of the soul, and no title ob- 
tained to eternal life. 



SERMON CXXXVIL 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.— ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE. 
OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



For though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have ye not many fathers : for in Christ Jesus t 
have begotten you through the gospel. — 1 Gor. iv. 1 5. 



In the first Discourse from these words, I proposed, 

I. To show that there are means of grace ; 

II. To show what they are ; 

III. To explain their influence ; 

IV. To answer the principal objections to this scheme 
of doctrine. 

The three first of these subjects have been already 
discussed. I shall now, 

IV. Answer the principal objections to this scheme of 
doctrine. 

These, as they are customarily alleged, may be con- 
sidered as chiefly made to two practical inferences, 
which I shall derive from the two preceding Dis- 
courses. 

I. It follows, from the observations made in these 
Discourses, that the means of grace ought to be used by 
sinners and by Christians, for the purpose of promoting 
tiie salvation of sinners. 

If there are means of grace and salvation given by 
God, then they were given for the very purpose of pro- 
moting the salvation of sinners. As this was the end 
which God proposed in communicating them to man- 
kind, it is an end in which all men are bound to rejoice, 
and which they are plainly obligated to pursue. But 
unless these means are used by sinners for their own 
salvation, they will ordinarily be of no benefit to them ; 
and, unless Christians use them also for the purpose of 
promoting the salvation of sinners, they will fail of 
their intended effect. Christian ministers must preach 
the gospel to sinners. Christian parents must educate 
their sinful children ' in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord.' Christians must live, and act, and con- 
verse with sinners: otherwise the salvation of sinners 
will usually be neglected, and therefore will be unat- 
tained. 

Farther; if there are means of grace, then the ap- 
pointment of them is wise; the communication of them 
to mankind, benevolent ; and the use of, them by those 
for whom they were appointed, proper. It can hardly 
be supposed, that God has provided and published 
means of salvation to mankind, and yet, by his own 
authority, made it improper that they should be used. 
According to this scheme, sinners, although expressly 
commanded to ' flee from the wrath to come,' to ' seek 
the Lord while lie may be found,' and to ' turn from 



the error of their way,' are yet, by divine authority, 
precluded from the very measures which alone will, in 
the usual course of things, produce the effect enjoined. 

That Christians are bound to employ the means of 
grace for the salvation of sinners, will not, I suppose, 
be doubted. That sinners must employ them also in 
various respects, is evinced by this very position, as 
well as by the observations made in the preceding 
Discourses. 

If the gospel is to be preached to sinners, they must 
hear. If Christian parents are to ' train up their 
' children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord,' 
they must listen to their instructions. If sinners are 
to become acquainted with the word of God, or even to 
know whether that which is preached to them is the 
word of God or not, they must read the Scriptures. If 
sinners are to be informed of the reality, power, and 
excellency of religion, they must converse with reli- 
gious men. If they are to understand and feel their 
guilt, they must commune with their own hearts. If 
they are ever to know the real nature of their charac- 
ter and efforts, they must pray. From their own use 
of the means of grace, almost all their deep impressions 
of their guilt, danger, dependence on Christ, and abso- 
lute need of the regenerating influence of the Spirit of 
God, must be derived. In a word, if they are to ob- 
tain salvation, as most or all other Christians have ob- 
tained it ; indeed, if they are to obtain it at all, in the 
ordinary course of providence, they must obtain it in 
the use of the means of grace. This is the way which 
God has ever blessed, and will undoubtedly bless here- 
after. Nor are we warranted to hope for his blessing 
in any other manner. 

To the proofs of this point, alleged in this and the 
preceding Discourses, I shall add but one at the pre- 
sent time. God, in the dispensation which he revealed 
to Moses, required all the Israelites to use continually 
all the means of grace furnished to them in the then 
existing scriptural canon. The parent, however sinful 
he might be, who did not circumcise his man-child 
upon the eighth day, was by the express law of God 
punished with the excision of that child. Every male 
was expressly required to present himself three times 
a-year before the Lord ; that is, at the tabernacle, or in 
the temple. All were required to keep the appointed 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



71' 



feasts, particularly to celebrate the passover. They 
were required, without distinction, to offer the various 
appointed sacrifices, to educate their children religious- 
ly, and to seek the law at the mouths of the priests, 
its ordinary ministers. It is remarkable, that for the 
omission of these duties they were, in several instances, 
to be punished with excision ; particularly such as did 
not 'afflict themselves' on the great day of atonement; 
Lev. xxiii. 29 ; such as, being ceremonially clean, for- 
bore to keep the passover ; such as killed an ox, lamb, 
or goat, and did not bring it to the door of the taber- 
nacle, to offer an offering unto the Lord ; Lev. xvii. 4. 
Thus the Israelites, and in some of the cases the stran- 
gers who resided with them, were not only required, 
but required under this terrible sanction, punctiliously 
to use the means of grace, both ordinary and extraor- 
dinary. 

It is farther to be observed, that the Israelites are no- 
where, either in the Old or New Testament, censured 
for the fact, that they attended on these various means 
of grace. They are often censured for their impeni- 
tence and unbelief, indeed, and the more severely, for 
solemn services, because the abuse of such privileges 
obviously enhanced their guilt. But not a hint is given 
us, either by Christ, the prophets, or the apostles, that 
they were censurable merely for being present when 
these means were employed by others, or for being 
active in employing them themselves for their own 
good. The gospel, therefore, regards this subject ex- 
actly as it was regarded by the law ; and has introduced 
no change in this respect into the divine dispensations. 

2. It follows from the same Discourses, that minis- 
ters ought to advise and exhort sinners to use the means 
of grace. 

If God has appointed these means, and is daily 
blessing them, if he has usually, and not improbably 
always, wherever the gospel has been published, con- 
veyed his spiritual blessings to men in this way; then 
it cannot be reasonably doubted, that ministers ought 
to advise sinners to labour in this way to gain eternal 
life. As to sinners in general, this is the only way in 
which eternal life will be gained. Refusing them this 
advice, therefore, is no other than refusing them any 
advice concerning their salvation. 

To this scheme it is however objected, 

1. That regeneration, being immediately and solely 
the work of the Spirit of God, is not at all accomplished 
by means ; and that therefore sinners, however strenu- 
ously they may use the means of grace, do in truth no- 
thing towards this change of character. 

That the act of regenerating man is an act of the 
Divine Spirit alone, I readily admit, and fully believe ; 
but I deny the consequence drawn from this doctrine. 
If I am not deceived, I have, in both the preceding- 
Discourses, particularly in the first, proved it to be an 
error. The text itself, if I mistake not, is a decisive 
proof that it is an error. The text asserts, to say the 
least, that St Paul, by his preaching, contributed to the 
regeneration of the Corinthian Christians. In an hum- 
bler sense he begat these Christians, as truly as God did 
in a. higher sense. But if Paul contributed to the re- 
generation of these men by his preaching, the men 
themselves as certainly contributed to their own rege- 
neration by being present at his discourses, by hearing 
them, by understanding them, and by feeling with 
strong impressions the truths which he uttered. Had 



not all this been done by them, St Paul might with 
exactly the same success have preached to the dead. 

In the doctrine for which I contend there is, I appre- 
hend, nothing embarrassing, and nothing which is even 
peculiar. God, as was observed in the first of these 
Discourses, is equally the sole agent in the production 
of a crop. But it would be a palpable absurdity to 
conclude from this fact, that the crop would come into 
existence without the labours of the farmer. Were he 
not to plough and sow the ground, a child knows that 
not a stalk of wheat would be produced. St Paul con- 
tributed as really to the spiritual harvest, as the farmer 
to the natural one, and in the same sense ; for without 
his labours that harvest would not have existed. Nei- 
ther Paul nor the husbandman is at all concerned in 
the creative act of God, employed in each of these 
cases. But both of them do that, without which this 
creative act would not exist. Accordingly, where the 
gospel is not preached, regeneration does not take 
place ; as crops have no existence, where the earth is 
not cultivated. 

2. It is objected, that the use of the means of grace 
on the part of sinners is itself sinful ; and that minis- 
ters therefore cannot conscientiously advise sinners to 
use these means ; since this would be no other than 
advising them to commit sin. 

As this in all probability is the objection on which 
the greatest stress is laid, and that which has contri- 
buted most to perplex those to whom, and not impro- 
bably those also by whom, it is urged, I shall consider 
myself as justified in examining it at some length. 
It is presented in various lights. I will endeavour to 
follow the course pursued by the objectors themselves. 

It is triumphantly alleged, that the Scriptures have 
decided the point in debate, and established the objec- 
tion immovably, by such declarations as the following : 
— ' The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to 
the Lord.' Prov. xv. 8. ' The sacrifice of the wicked is 
an abomination ; how much more, when he bringeth it 
with a wicked mind,' * Prov. xxi. 27. ' He that 
turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his 
prayer shall be an abomination.' Prov. xxviii. 9. If 
then the sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination ; if 
the prayer of the wicked is an abomination ; it cannot 
be lawful for the wicked to pray, nor for a minister to 
advise him to pray. 

I have, I believe, alleged the objection in its full 
force, and in the very terms in which it is usually 
alleged. This, at least, has been my design. 

It is not pretended, that sinners are in the Scrip- 
tures expressly forbidden to pray ; nor that ministers 
are expressly forbidden to advise them to pray. The 
objection is inferred from other declarations of the 
Scriptures. Like other inferences, it is, however, to 
bo suspected, until it shall be shown to be certainly and 
necessarily derived from such declarations. The au- 
thority of a certain conclusion, fairly derived from the 
Scriptures, I admit. But in order to this admission, 
I must be satisfied that it is certain, and fairly derived 
from the Scriptures. Let us now examine this inference. 

1. The objection is founded on this general doctrine, 
that, whenever an individual will commit sin in any 
conduct, he cannot lawfully adopt, nor be lawfully ad- 
vised to adopt, that conduct. 

* Especially when he offeretli it to serve some base end.— Hodgson- 



712 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. CXXXVI1. 



But from this doctrine it will follow, that sinners 
cannot lawfully do anything, while in a state of sin, 
nor be lawfully advised to do anything. There is as 
much certainty, that a sinner will sin in all other con- 
duct which he adopts while he is a sinner, as in pray- 
ing. ' The ploughing of the wicked ' is expressly de- 
clared to be ' sin,' Prov. xxi. 4. ' The way of the 
wicked,' that is, his universal course of life, is declared 
to be ' an abomination to the Lord,' Prov. xv. 9. ' The 
thoughts of the wicked' are declared to be ' an abomi- 
nation to the Lord,' Prov. xv. 26. Of course, the wicked 
cannot lawfully plough, think, nor live in the ordinary 
course of life, that is, converse, labour, buy, sell, and 
provide for their families ; nor be lawfully advised to 
do these, or any of these things. 

It will be remembered, that all these declarations, 
and all those quoted in a preceding paragraph, were 
written by an Israelite under the Mosaic dispensation ; 
and written for men living also under the same dispen- 
sation. Yet, in that very dispensation, God required 
Moses to command all sinners of that nation to labour, 
to cultivate their own ground, to circumcise their chil- 
dren, to celebrate the passover, to offer sacrifices, to be 
present at the public worship of God, to hear and learn 
his word from the mouth of their priests, and to teach 
all these things to their children. It will not, I pre- 
sume, be questioned, that Moses, in enjoining these 
things upon the sinful Israelites, as well as upon the 
virtuous ones, acted lawfully ; or, in other words, was 
guilty of no sin. But what was lawful for Moses, in 
this case, is in itself lawful. Accordingly, it was 
lawfully done by all the ministers who followed him in 
the Jewish church. It cannot therefore fail to be law- 
ful to Christian ministers, unless it has been plainly 
forbidden. 

It will here be said, that Moses, in requiring this 
conduct of the sinful Israelites, neither commanded nor 
authorized them to continue sinners in performing it. 
This is unquestionably true. So far from allowing them 
to continue in sin, he required them to perform these 
various duties from supreme love to God. Equally true 
is this of the Christian minister, in directing sinners to 
use the means of grace, or to perform any of the other 
duties of life. Instead of directing or allowing them 
to remain impenitent, he directs them to perform every 
duty with a virtuous disposition. 

From this doctrine it will also follow, that it is un- 
lawful to advise Christians themselves to use the means 
of grace, or indeed to adopt any course of conduct 
whatever. Both the Scriptures and observation teach 
us, that Christians continually sin ; that they sin in their 
repentance, in their faith, in reading the Bible, in 
prayer, in the observance of the sabbath, in their at- 
tendence on public worship, in the education of their 
children, and in the ordinary business of life. What- 
ever conduct they adopt, we know that they will sin in 
performing it. On this principle, therefore, they can- 
not lawfully adopt, nor be lawfully advised to adopt, 
that conduct. Of course, as our Lord, when he directed 
the apostles to go and preach the gospel to every crea- 
ture, knew that they would commit sin in obeying it, 
the direction itself, according to the scheme which I 
oppose, was unlawful. 

It will here probably be asked, What then shall be 
done ? Shall we advise men to commit sin ? To this 
question I answer, that, according to the spirit of the 



objection you must either advise them to nothing, not 
even to repent and believe ; or you must advise them 
to commit sin : for, according to the objection, advising 
them to anything, even to repent and believe, is ad- 
vising them to commit sin. 

But I apprehend that this account of the subject is 
as unfounded as the scheme enforced by it is impracti- 
cable. God, as it appears to me, deals with mankind 
(and, if he deals with them at all according to the sys- 
tem of providence which he has established, he must deal 
with them) as rational beings. As they are all origi- 
nally sinners, everything addressed to them, either by 
God or man, must be addressed to sinners. He has 
commanded and exhorted sinners in his own person, 
and has required men also to teach and exhort them in 
his name. In these commands and exhortations two 
things are included : the act to be done, and the dispo- 
sition with which it is to be done. The command or 
counsel sometimes includes both expressly, and some- 
times but one. Such commands and counsels as direct 
to the performance of the act, direct to that act which 
in the case stated is proper to be done ; and imply the 
disposition with which it should be done. Such as di- 
rect the disposition, require that, and that only, which 
is virtuous. Those, which require the act, regulate both 
the heart and the external conduct. These, which re- 
quire the disposition, regulate merely the affections of 
the heart. 

Commands of both these kinds God has evidently 
given to men as rational beings merely, and often with- 
out discriminating at all their moral character. They 
are given to all men. The duties which these com- 
mands enjoin are numberless. They occur every day, 
and are as obligatory on the sinner as on the Christian. 
They bind with their whole force every man by whom 
they are known. Among these are prayer, attending 
public worship, reading the Scriptures, and industry in 
our lawful business. God requires every man to per- 
form these various duties of life as they occur. He 
does not leave him at liberty to defer the performance, 
until he has discovered whether he is the subject of 
evangelical repentance. He requires the performance 
at the time ; and, if the individual refuses, God will not 
hold him guiltless. But, it will be asked, is not every 
action to be performed from supreme love to God ? An 
answer to this question has already been given. This 
disposition is implied in every action which God re- 
quires us to perform ; and God will accept of no per- 
formance which does not flow from this source. To such 
a performance only is an impenitent sinner directed, 
when he is directed to pray, to read the Scriptures, to 
worship God in the sanctuary, or to use any of the 
means of grace. 

It will be farther asked, Whether the man, who per- 
forms the act merely, can be said to obey the command 
of God ? What is here actually done is easily under- 
stood; so easily, as to admit of neither debate nor doubt. 
The person in question performs the act which God re- 
quires. But if he does not perform it cordially, he is 
not obedient in the cordial or virtuous sense. 

I shall perhaps be asked still farther, Whether the 
man who performs the act merely, is any better for 
performing it, than if he had neglected or refused to 
perform it? I answer, that, supposing the man's dispo- 
sition substantially the same in both cases, he is less 
sinful when he performs the act, than when he neglects 



MEANS OF GRACE OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



713 



or refuses to perform it. This I say with confidence 
because God has said it repeatedly, and in the most 
unambiguous manner. Of several kings of Judah, who 
were plainly sinners, particularly of Joash and Ama- 
ziah, it is directly said, that ' they did that which was 
right in the sight of the Lord.' Of Joash it is said, 
that ' he did that which was right in the sight of the 
Lord, ail the days of Jehoiada the priest.' Of Amaziah 
it is said, that ' he did that which was right in the sight 
of the Lord, but not with a perfect heart ;' that is, not 
with a good or virtuous heart. In other words, these 
princes performed those external actions which God 
had required. The same thing in substance is declared 
concerning several other kings of Judah. But who can 
doubt, that to do that which is right in the sight of the 
Lord, whatever it may be which is thus right, is less 
sinful than to do that which is wrong in the sight of 
the Lord ? Who can doubt, that these declarations 
are intentionally commendatory ; and that they ex- 
hibit these princas as thus far less sinful than those, of 
whom it is said, that ' they did evil in the sight of the 
Lord?' 

The same sentence of God concerning the same sub- 
ject is given us, in another form, in the cases of Ahab 
and Jehu. Of Ahab, it is said, that when he heard the 
words of Elijah, announcing to him the destruction of 
his family ' he rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon 
his flesh, and fasted, and lay in sackcloth, and went 
softly.' It-is immediately subjoined, ' and the word of 
the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying, Seest 
thou how Ahab humbleth himself before me ? Because 
he humbleth himself before me, I will not bring the evil 
in his days: in his son's days I will bring the evil upon 
his house.' Jehu was commissioned to destroy the fa- 
mily of Ahab. This commission he punctually exe- 
cuted. When he had finished this work, God said to 
him, ' Because thou hast done well in executing that 
which was right in mine eyes, and hast done unto the 
house of Ahab according to all that was in my heart, 
thy children of the fourth generation shall sit on the 
throne of Israel.' Immediately it is subjoined, ' But 
Jehu took no heed to walk in the law of the Lord God 
of Israel with all his heart ; for he departed not from 
the sins of Jeroboam, who made Israel to sin.' Here 
we see both these princes rewarded, and expressly de- 
clared by God himself to be rewarded, for external 
actions merely ; for both, in a manner equally express, 
are pronounced slill to be gross sinners. But that 
which is declared by God to be rewarded by himself, is 
not so sinful conduct, as that which is either not thus 
rewarded, or is punished. Of Jehu, God says farther, 
' Thou hast done well in executing that which is right 
in mine eyes.' He who has done well, in executing 
that which is right in the eyes of his Maker, has not 
done so ill, as he who has perpetrated that which is 
wrong in his eyes. 

What is thus taught in the Scriptures may be advan- 
tageously illustrated by the common experience of our- 
selves. The person who does those actions which God 
requires, dishonours his Maker by his life far less, and 
contributes to the well-being of mankind far more than 
he who does them not, or who does the contrary actions. 
To the eye of mankind the actions themselves are often 
exactly the same; and have exactly the same influence 
when performed by an unrenewed, as when performed 
by a renewed man. The actions of an unrenewed 



man, therefore, may have a very beneficent influence 
on the interests of mankind, when performed agreeably 
to those commands of God, which regulate the external 
conduct of men. According to the scheme here exhi- 
bited, the Israelites, as has been observed, were re- 
quired to be present at the various religious services 
enjoined by the Mosaic law. Yet God perfectly knew, 
and all the succeeding prophets and teachers also knew, 
that the greater part by far of those to whom these 
requisitions were addressed, were sinners. Still they 
not only required them to repent and believe, but ad- 
vised, exhorted, and commanded them also to do all 
these things. Nor would it have been any vindication 
to them for omitting the action, that their disposition 
was not sanctified : nor of the prophet or the priest for 
not exhorting them to the action, that they could not 
conscientiously advise sinners to anything beside faith 
and repentance. 

The same scheme is pursued throughout the New 
Testament. Christ, adopting the very language of the 
law, directed the ten lepers to go and show themselves 
to the priest, in order to their cleansing, Luke xvii. 12. 
Nine of these lepers appear to have been sinners. This 
Christ knew as well before, as after. Yet he did not 
think this a difficulty in his way towards giving them 
this direction. 

He directed a collection of Jews, of whom he tes- 
tifies that they did not believe, to ' search the Scrip- 
tures,' for the purpose of discovering his true charac- 
ter ; and this, plainly, in order to their faith. John 
v. 39, 44. 

He directed the young ruler, who plainly was not a 
believer, to ' go, and sell all that he had, and give to the 
poor, and come, and follow him.' 

He directed the Herodians to ' render to Cassar the 
things that are Ctesar's.' They were sinners. But pay- 
ing tribute was neither repenting nor believing. 

He directed the scribe, in the parable of the good 
Samaritan, to ' go and show kindness to his enemies.' 
Yet this scribe appears to have been an unbeliever. 

He directed Paul also, after he had fallen to the earth, 
and inquired what he would have him to do ; to ' arise, 
and go into Damascus, where it should be told him what 
he would have him to do.' 

Peter, also, directed Simon Magus to ' repent,and pray 
that the thoughts of his heart might be forgiven.' It has 
been thought, that Peter directed him to repent first, 
and then to pray for forgiveness. This certainly is an 
unnatural construction of the passage. The obvious 
meaning is, that St Peter directed both of these things 
to be done immediately ; and without indicating any in- 
tention that Simon should wait until after he repented, 
before he began to pray. Many more examples of a si- 
milar nature might be added. 

It will not be supposed, that in any one of these direc- 
tions the objects of them were commanded or advised to 
commit sin. As rational heings, they were directed to 
do such things as, in the character of actions, were pro- 
per to be done in their circumstances; while a general 
indication of their duty, as to the disposition witli which 
they were to be done, is unquestionably implied in all 
these passages. 

These passages, however, show that in his preaching 

and advice a minister is not to confine himself to the 

mere enjoining of faith and repentance : but is to extend 

them to any other conduct in itself proper to be pursued: 

4 x 



714 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh, cxxxvn. 



while he universally teaches these great Christian duties, 
as the immediate end of all his preaching. 

Antecedently to every effort which the sinner makes, 
he is wholly ignorant whether God will not enable him 
to obey with the heart. It is also his indispensable duty 
thus to obey. Whenever advice or exhortation is given 
to sinners by any minister, he is equally ignorant whe- 
ther they will or will not obey with the heart, as well as 
with the outward conduct. He knows also, that it is 
their duty to obey in this manner. The effort therefore 
ought to be made, and the advice given. 

In this manner I understand all those general com* 
mands and exhortations which respect the affairs of 
sinners. Our Saviour, preaching obviously to a collec- 
tion of sinners, says, Luke xiii. 24, ' Strive to enter in at 
the strait gate :' and again, Matt. vii. 14, ' Enter ye in 
at the strait gate : because strait is the gate, and nar- 
rowwis the way. that leadeth unto life ; and few there 
be that find it.' The gate is at the head of the way, 
leading to the house, into which those who enter at the 
gate are finally to be admitted. Christ never speaks of 
heaven as a city, but several times as a house. Those 
who have not entered are obviously sinners ; and to 
sinners he was obviously preaching in this kindred pas- 
sage of St Luke. Of the same nature is the memorable 
passage in Isa. lv. 6,7,' Seek ye the Lord while he 
may be found : call ye upon him while he is near.' The 
persons here addressed, are in the second verse men- 
tioned as those who ' spend money for that which is not 
bread, and their labour for that which satisfieth not.' 
Such persons are obviously sinners. Still they are 
directed to seek and call upon the Lord. 

If then it is still objected, that directing sinners to 
such acts is directing them to commit sin ; the answer is 
short. God gave these very directions to the Israelites 
by Moses. Christ also gave the same directions to the 
Jews. It will not be supposed that he directed them to 
commit sin. 

It may be farther said, that sinners will commit sin 
in their prayers. If they continue sinners, they un- 
doubtedly will. So will Christians. If this be a rea- 
son why sinners should not be advised to pray, it is also 
a reason why Christians should not be advised to pray. 
But it will be replied, that ' the sacrifice of the wicked 
is an abomination to the Lord : while the prayer of the 
upright is his delight. That the prayer of the wicked 
is in some respects an abomination — of hypocrites uni- 
versally, of other sinners generally — is not to be ques- 
tioned. There is plainly nothing holy in the conduct 
of impenitent men. But it will not follow, that the 
prayer of every impenitent man is in such a sense 
abominable to God, as to insure rejection from him. 
Christ did not tell the young ruler, that his inquiry 
concerning eternal life was abominable : nor refuse to 
hear and answer him. On the contrary, the Scriptures 
inform us, that ' Jesus, beholding him, loved him.' 
This love was plainly distinct from the general benevo- 
lence of Christ to sinners ; for with this benevolence he 
loves all sinners. The young ruler he loved peculiarly, 
and in a manner in which he did not love the Pharisees, 
and the Jews generally. Otherwise, the fact would not 
have been specified. He did not, I acknowledge, love 
him with complacency ; for he was not a Christian. 
But he loved him peculiarly, with what is called natu- 
ral affection. In the character of this youth there was 
a peculiar natural amiableness, such as all men see, 



love, and acknowledge ; and acknowledge often against 
their own doctrines. The foundation of this love is a 
train of attributes belonging to man, not as a sinner, 
nor as a saint, but as an intelligent being. Of this num- 
ber are native sweetness of temper, frankness, sincerity, 
simplicity, strongly seen in little children ; gentleness, 
kindness, generosity, and compassion. All these are in 
themselves amiable in a certain degree ; and in this 
degree they were loved by Christ. 
. Hence I argue, that, as all Christ's affections were 
exactly accordant with truth and propriety, so this ex- 
ercise of affection to the young man was of the same 
nature, and was perfectly approved by God. Of coursp, 
there is at times something in sinners, which, in itself'., 
is not abominable to God ; although their moral or sin- 
ful character is altogether abominable. 

It is not wrong in itself, that sinners should desire 
food, or raiment, or happiness, or safety from evil. It 
is impossible, that percipient beings should exist with- 
out desiring the two last of these objects ; and equally 
impossible, that men should not desire the two first. The 
best men, and the worst, desire them alike : and no man 
is for this conduct ever reproved in the Scriptures. 
To ask of God for happiness and final safety, is not ne- 
cessarily insincere, nor guilty, even in sinners. When 
sinners ask for mere mercy, or mere happiness, or 
mere safety, they may desire either as truly as saints, 
although their desires are not virtuous. So far as their 
desires are merely natural, inseparable from their na- 
ture, and sincere, they are not morally wrong ; nor are 
they exhibited in the Scriptures as objects of the divine 
anger. 

Accordingly, the prayer of the publican, who- was, I 
think, plainly a sinner, was not regarded with mere 
anger by God, and was exactly such a prayer as I 
have mentioned ; a prayer for mere mercy and safety. 
' He went down to his house justified rather than the 
Pharisee,' because he had, in some important respects, 
a just sense of his character, and a sincere desire to be 
delivered from the dangers of it ; while the Pharisee 
had neither. 

It is in the nature of things proper, that God, who 
saves no man for his merit, but communicates salvation 
merely from compassion, should save them who are sen- 
sible of their guilt, danger, and distress, rather than 
those who are utterly insensible, stupid, and careless. 
The former, in the natural sense, are qualified, and the 
latter are unqualified, to understand his mercy, the 
greatness of the love of Christ, and the wonderful 
work of sanctification ; and to feel the evils from 
which they are delivered, and the blessings to which 
they are introduced, beyond the grave. Accordingly, 
sanctification, as I have heretofore particularly ob- 
served, is communicated by God to sinners, only when 
they are convinced of their guilt and danger, and la- 
boriously employed in asking for forgiveness; and not 
to those who neither feel, nor strive, nor pray. If the 
prayers of convinced sinners were abominable, in the 
sense of the objector, could this fact exist? Is not the 
steady course of Providence a complete refutation of 
the scheme? 

Finally ; It will be asked, Bo not sinners grow worse 
under convictions of conscience, and in the use of 
means ? 

To this question I answer, that I do not know; nei- 
ther do my objectors. I do not believe the publican was 



MEANS OF GRACE— OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 



715 



Justified rather than the Pharisee, because he grew worse 
under his conviction. Individuals may grow worse ; 
and in one respect all certainly do, for they continue to 
sin so long as they are sinners ; and that, whether they 
are convinced or unconvinced. 

Whether their character and conduct are more guilty 
in any given instance, and during the periods immedi- 
ately preceding, I am ignorant ; and shall remain so, 
until 1 can search the heart, and measure the degrees of 
depravity. As this is beyond the power of man, the 
whole inquiry is idle and vain. 

Whenever sinners commit the same sins against greater 
light, they are more guilty than when they are commit- 
ted against less light. But no man can determine whe- 
ther this, or anything like this, is the case with a sin- 
ner under conviction in a given instance; unless perhaps 
sometimes the convinced sinner himself. I see no good 
reason why this question should ever be introduced into 
theological discourses. The only tendency of such in- 
troduction is to perplex and distress. 

1 have now, unless I am deceived, considered tin's ob- 
jection in all its parts, and in all the forms in which it 
is customarily alleged. I shall now examine how far 
the objectors are consistent with themselves, in their 
other conduct towards sinners. 

Many of these objectors have children, and educate 
them religiously, as well as prudently. These children, 
in many instances, they know to be sinners, so far as 
this character can be known in any case. Now all 
these parents advise, and exhort, and command their 
children to obey them, that is, in their external con- 
duct; to attend their family prayers, to be present at 
public worship, to learn and repeat prayers to God, 
and to be earnestly and solemnly attentive to these 
religious duties. They teach them, in the same man- 
ner, to speak truth, to do justice, and to show kindness 
to all with whom they are concerned. They require 
them also to labour, to preserve their property, to go 
regularly to school, to perform errands, and to do many 
other services. In a word, by the whole weight of 
their own authority, and that of the Scriptures, they 
require them to do every useful and desirable act, and 
to imbibe every useful and desirable habit. 

Now it is to be remembered, that these children are 
sinners, and are known to be sinners. Of course, what- 
ever conduct they adopt, they will commit sin. Of 
course also, whatever conduct they are advised to adopt, 
they will, according to the general principle on which 
the objection is founded, be advised to commit sin. 
They will as probably, or as certainly, commit sin in 
executing the commands of their parents, attending 
public or family worship, going to school, or perform- 
ing an errand, as other sinners do in praying, or per- 
forming any other act, not in itself sinful. 

How then can these parents, particularly such of 
them as are skilled in this controversy, advise their sin- 
ful children to pursue these kinds of conduct? Nay, 
more : how can they exhort and command them, re- 
ward them for obeying, and punish them for disobey- 
ing ? The bare advice or exhortation given to other 
sinners, and prompting them to pray and strive that 
they may be saved, is, in the view of these parents, un- 
lawful, and they refuse to give it. But to their own sin- 
ful children they not only give advice of the same 
unlawful nature ; but add it to their exhortations and 
commands, their rewards and punishments. 



Suppose the child of such a parent should refuse to 
obey such a command, or any other, because he was, 
and because his parent knew he was, a sinner, and 
could not therefore lawfully do the thing commanded, 
nor the parent lawfully command him to do it ; what 
could his parent answer, consistently I mean with his 
own principles? Plainly, he could not reprove the 
child for his refusal ; nor afterwards advise, exhort, or 
command him to do anythingj until after the child 
should have hopefully become a Christian. 

But in this case what would become of children, 
and ultimately of the world? If children were not ad- 
vised, what useful thing could they know ? If they 
were not exhorted and commanded, what useful thing 
would they do, — what useful habit would they establish, 
or even imbibe ? Without such habits, what valuable 
end of their being could they answer ? They would 
evidently become mere beasts of prey, and make the 
world a den of violence and slaughter. 

In the same manner, and on the same principles, no 
person intrusted with the government or instruction 
of mankind, can advise, exhort, or command them, 
while sinners, to do anything, except to repent 
and believe. Civil rulers and instructors are daily 
called upon by their offices to advise, or otherwise 
direct, such as are plainly sinners. Every law and 
regulation of a state, or seminary of science, is possessed 
of this nature ; and is a greater transgression on the 
part of the lawgiver or ruler, than advice can be ; be- 
cause it contains a stronger expression of his will, and 
a more powerful inducement to the conduct which is 
prescribed. When parents, therefore, or others, advise, 
they are, according to the objection, guilty. When they 
exhort or command, they are more guilty. When they 
reward, or punish, they are most guilty. 

As civil rulers and instructors are obliged, equally 
with ministers, to do what is right, and to avoid what 
is wrong ; they can no more be justified than ministers 
in advising, exhorting, or commanding sinners to do 
anything which is unlawful. Hence, unless their sub- 
jects or pupils should first repent and believe, they can- 
not require them to do anything, antecedently to their 
repentance. The world, then, must be uninstructed 
and ungoverned until the millennium ; and what is still 
more to be lamented, the millennium itself, according to 
the usual course of God's providence, will never arrive. 

Among the regulations which exist in all literary in- 
stitutions, one, ever esteemed of high importance, is the 
establishment of public prayers. At these, students 
universally have hitherto been required to be present. 
But, on the scheme which I oppose, this requisition is 
altogether unlawful. In every such institution, there is 
conclusive reason to believe that the great body of the 
members are impenitent. None of these therefore can, 
according to this scheme, be lawfully required to attend 
this worship, nor the public worship of the sabbath. 
But what would become of a literary institution, if this 
attendance were not required ? What would these very 
parents say, if it were to be dispensed with in the case 
of their own children ? 

A Christian is the master of a family ; but, as is 
sometimes the fact, is obviously the only Christian in 
the family. According to this scheme, it is plain, he 
cannot set up family worship ; because he can neither 
require nor advise the members of his household to bs 
present, at this religious service. 



716 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. cxxxvnr. 



Ministers, usually at least, preach more or less to sin- 
ners ; and customarily endeavour to suit their sermons 
to the circumstances of impenitent men. But they can 
never lawfully advise sinners to be present, that they 
may hear them preach. Nor can a parent be justified 
in directing his children to be present or to stand up to 
worship, or to listen, that they may learn and perform 
their duty; for in all these things they are still sinners 
and will commit sin. Nor can a minister advise his 
sinful parishioners to support him, or to build or repair 
a church ; or to do the external acts of charity, justice, 
or truth ; or even to arm in defence of his country ; or 
to obey its laws and magistrates. In all these things, 
when done antecedently to regeneration, they are as 
really sinful as in praying and in striving for salvation. 

The very persons who rely most upon this objection, 
rejoice universally when mankind are in any place 
awakened to solemn consideration concerning their 
guilt and danger, But every awakened sinner prays; 
and no person can by any ordinary means prevent him 
from praying. Why do these men rejoice ? Certainly 
not in the sin which the persons awakened are sup- 
posed to commit. Certainly not in the abominable 
character which these prayers have in the sight of God. 
In what then do they rejoice ? Undoubtedly in the 
prospect of the sinner's sanctification and return to 
God. Of course there is such a prospect. In this an- 
gels would also rejoice. 

3. It is objected, that advising sinners to pray will 
encourage them to sloth, and quiet them in sin. 

That this consequence may follow, I shall not deny. 
But it will follow only from an abuse of the doctrine 
which is here taught. A bad man may pervert a good 
doctrine to bad purposes ; but this is no objection against 
the doctrine itself. These very consequences have, I 
verily believe, flowed from the doctrine of my objectors 
in ten instances, where in one they have flowed from 
that which I am supporting. 

It is the duty of all men immediately to repent of 
their sins, and turn to God, with faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ. These things I would always preach ; and wish 
my hearers always to believe and feel. For this end 



I would exhort them to be present, that they might hear 
and feel them. For this end I would exhort parents to 
teach them to their children in the morning of life, that 
they may know and feel them from the beginning. 
Nor am I less desirous that they should read the Scrip- 
tures, that they may find and feel the same things in 
them, as uttered by the mouth of God ; that my own 
errors may, in their minds, be corrected, and the truths 
which I preach enforced, by that holy book. For the 
same reasons I wish them to marls the lives, and enjoy 
the conversation of Christians ; that they may be en- 
lightened by their views, and deeply affected by the 
excellency of religion, manifested in their conduct. The 
religious writings of others I recommend for the same 
important purposes. I preach and write in hope of do- 
ing some real good to mankind. That others, with the 
same design, possess more ability to accomplish this in- 
teresting purpose, I cannot entertain a doubt. The 
same reasons therefore which make me wish that the 
congregation allotted to me may be present to hear my 
discourses, must, with enhanced force, render me desir- 
ous that they should also read the writings of others. 

Finally ; whatever is thus taught, enforced, and gain- 
ed, I urge them to make by solemn meditation a part of 
their own habitual course of thought ; compare with 
their own moral condition ; and bring home to their 
hearts by asking God to sanctify them, and to bless the 
means of knowledge and amendment which he has been 
pleased to put into their hands. 

In all this I see no natural cause of sloth, or quiet in 
sin. On the contrary, there is here, if I mistake not, 
more done to awaken, engage, and encourage men to 
seek salvation, than on the scheme of the objector. 
When I remember, that divines of the first reputation 
and the greatest success have thus preached, and that in 
the use of these very means, the great body of mankind, 
who appear to have been, or to be now, Christians, have 
become Christians, I feel assured that this is the proper 
manner of persuading others to assume the same char- 
acter, and placing them in the way to a blessing from 
God. 



SERMON CXXXVII1. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE HEARING THE WORD OF GOB. 



Take heed, therefore, how ye hear. — Luke viii. 18. 



In the last Discourse but one I distributed the princi- 
pal means of grace under the following heads : — 

I. The preaching of the gospel ; 

II. The reading of the Scriptures ; 

III. Prayer. 

IV. Correspondence with religious men ; 

V. Religious meditation ; particularly self-examina- 
tion ; and, 

VI. The religious education of children. 



In that Discourse also I endeavoured to exhibit the 
influence of these means in the work of salvation. 

The next object which I propose is a separate con- 
sideration of these several subjects ; that their respective 
efficacy may be more particularly displayed. It will 
be remembered, that they are all here to be considered 
as means, in the application of which holiness is ori- 
ginally communicated, as well as means of improving 
in holiness. 



MEANS OF GRACE HEARING THE WORD OF GOD. 



717 



The direction in the text is, I apprehend, a direction 
given to all men who are in possession of the gospel. It 
is delivered in the most general terms; and may there- 
fore be regarded as extending to every mode of hearing 
which is useful. There are modes of hearing which, 
unless I am deceived, are eventually useful to sinners ; 
and in which the gospel becomes to sinners ' the power 
of God unto salvation.' I shall consider these modes as 
included in it ; modes in which I should wish a sinful 
child of my own, and for the same reason should wish 
others also, to hear the gospel. Such as have heard in 
these modes have in great multitudes, as I verily believe, 
been profited in a degree which no man can estimate. 

The persons who in this sense would ' take heed how 
they hear' the gospel (by which I intend the Scriptures 
at large,) ought, while they hear, to remember the fol- 
lowing things : — 

1. That the gospel is the word of God. 

To prevent any misapprehension, I wish it to be kept 
steadily in view, that no attention or reverence is here 
claimed to preaching, any farther than the gospel is 
preached. To the mere opinions and declarations of a 
preacher, as such, no other respect is due, than that 
which by common consent is rendered to the opinions 
and declarations of all men, of similar understanding 
and worth. The best opinions of men are merely use- 
ful, wholesome advice. The Scriptures are a law : pos- 
sessed of divine authority and obligation. So far as 
the doctrines, precepts, and ordinances of the Scriptures 
are preached, they claim the reverence which they them- 
selves have challenged. 

The solemn remembrance, that the Scriptures are 
the word of God, involves a variety of interesting con- 
siderations. 

In this character, particularly, they come home to us 
as the word of him by whom we were created, and by 
whom we are preserved and governed. From this great 
and glorious Being all that we have, and all that we 
hope for, is, and must be derived. We are his pro- 
perty ; and are rightfully disposed of, and rightfully 
required to dispose of ourselves, according to his plea- 
sure. In the Scriptures alone is this pleasure made 
known to us. In them alone, therefore, we learn the 
proper destination of our faculties, our services, and 
ourselves. The law, by which we are here required to 
do his pleasure, is invested with all possible authority 
and obligation ; and demands our reverence and obe- 
dience in a manner supremely impressive. 

As the word of God, also, the Scriptures are dictated 
by his wisdom, goodness, and truth. They are the 
word of him who cannot mistake, deceive, nor injure. 
Consequently they contain ' all things necessary for 
life and godliness;' whatever we need to know, and 
whatever we ought to do, for the attainment of his ap- 
probation. On their entire wisdom and integrity, their 
fitness to promote the great purpose for which they 
were written, and their conduciveness to it in our- 
selves, we are wholly to rely. Not a doubt can be 
reasonably entertained concerning the truth of the doc- 
trines, the soundness of the precepts, or the sincerity 
of the promises. Nor are we any more to distrust the 
certainty of the threatenings, or the reality of those 
awful dangers which they disclose. We are bound, on 
the one hand, not to question the truth, and on the 
other, not to dispute the wisdom and goodness of that 
which is revealed. All things which this sacred book 



contains, are to be received as they are. Our own 
opinions are implicitly to bow before them ; and we 
are ever to be ready to believe that what we think 
' the foolishness of God, is wiser than men,' wiser than 
all the substituted opinions of ourselves or others. ' Let 
God be true,' ought to be our invariable language ; 
' but every man,' who possesses his declarations, ' a liar.' 
Against this great and awful Being we have rebelled. 
Hence, although he is our Creator, Preserver, and 
Benefactor, he still regards our moral character with 
abhorrence. The Scriptures therefore are published 
to us as the word of an offended God. Hence are de- 
rived all those denunciations of anger and punishment 
found in them, which could have no place in the will of 
God, as revealed to obedient creatures. 

As the word of God, the Scriptures announce to us, 
that, notwithstanding our rebellion, he is willing to be 
reconciled to us. We are therefore ever to remember, 
that they are the word of the Father, and of the Re- 
deemer, and of the Sanctifier of mankind. In these 
venerable and amiable characters, God appears to us 
with infinite tenderness and endearment. His word is 
thus presented to us as the pleasure of the best of all 
friends, and the most affectionate of all parents. In 
our ruined condition he beheld us with boundless 
mercy ; and, unasked and undesired, undertook to 
rescue us from destruction. For this end, the Saviour 
came into the world, lived a life of humiliation, and 
died a death of anguish and infamy. For this end, the 
Spirit of truth came into the world, to convince, renew, 
and purify the hearts of mankind. Of these three 
persons in one Jehovah, the Scriptures are the word ; 
willed by the Father, dictated by the Son, and inspired 
by the Holy Ghost. 

As the word of God, the Scriptures are the word 
of him on whom we daily depend for life, and breath, 
and all things. Whatever we enjoy he gives; what- 
ever we hope for must, if enjoyed at all, be also given 
by him. Without him, we are ' poor, and miserable, 
and in want of all things.' With his favour, we shall 
be ' rich ' indeed, ' and have need of nothing.' 

The Scriptures are also the word of him by whom we 
shall be judged, and rewarded. The day is hastening, 
when we shall be called to an account for all our con- 
duct, and shall be compelled to rehearse it before him. 
If we have done well, if we have obeyed, worshipped, 
and glorified him, and ' served our generation accord- 
ing to his will,' we shall be acquitted in this great trial, 
and received to everlasting glory. If we have done 
evil, and refused to do good, we shall be driven away 
to final and irremediable perdition. 

Whenever we are assembled to hear the gospel, we 
are to remember, that with reference to all these solemn 
things it is the word of God. 

2. That we are sinners, who infinitely need forgive- 
ness and salvation. 

As sinners, we are irreversibly condemned by that 
divjne law, which we have broken, and by that just 
government, against which we have rebelled. ' The 
soul that sinneth shall die,' was the original sentence 
of that law to mankind; the sentence of him who can 
neither deceive nor change. The sentence will there- 
fore be executed in its strictest meaning on all who 
disobey, and who do not become interested in the re- 
demption of Christ. Under such a sentence, infinitely 
dreadful, and unalterably certain, our danger is im- 



713 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SfiR. CXXXVHf. 



suensely great, and our ruin entire. From this sentence 
therefore we infinitely need a deliverance. Our nil is 
at stake : nnd our souls are in a situation of the most 
terrible hazard. ' Hell,' if we continue in this situa- 
tion, ' is open before us, and destruction hath no cover- 
ing,' 

It is impossible that any being should be in a state 
of mora absolute and pressing necessity. Rational, 
immortal, and incapable of perishing by annihilation, 
we must be, and be for ever. But to exist for ever, 
and yet to be sinful and miserable only, is a doom, 
compared with which, all other characters and suffer- 
ings lose their deformity and wretchedness, and rise 
into happiness and distinction. When we are present 
in the house of God, we should recall with deep affec- 
tion this intense and melancholy necessity, and feel the 
declarations of Scripture with a concern, suited to the 
inestimable importance of our situation. 

3. That the Scriptures are the book in which alone 
the terms and means of salvation are published. 

The word gospel, as you know, signifies good tidings, 
or joyful news. This name is given to the Scriptures 
generally, and to the New Testament particularly, be- 
cause they contain the best of all tidings ever published 
to this ruined world. Independently of the gospel, all 
the race of Adam are under a sentence of condemna- 
tion, without a friend, and without a hope. To these 
forlorn and miserable beings the infinitely merciful 
God has been pleased to make known a way of escape, 
a deliverance from destruction. This glorious coiu- 
nmnication is made to mankind in the Scriptures only. 
From no other source has man ever learned that God 
is reconcilable on any terms ; that sinners can be for- 
given ; that there is in the universe an atonement for 
sin : or that any atonement will be accepted. From 
no other source have we been informed, that God will 
be pleased with any worship which we can render ; or, 
if he will, what that worship is. Without the Scrip- 
tures, we know not that the connexion between God 
and man, between heaven and earth, can be renewed ; 
or that the gates, which admit intelligent beings to the 
world of enjoyment, have been, or ever will be, opened 
to apostate creatures. 

To beings, in circumstances of such necessity and 
danger, tidings even of partial deliverance must be 
delightful. But these are tidings of complete deliver- 
ance from sin, and of an entire escape from misery. 
To beings, left in absolute ignorance of reconciliation 
to God, and in absolute despair of future enjoyment; 
to whom the world of happiness was shut, and to whom 
the ages of eternity rolled onward no bright reversion ; 
even the uncertain rumour of relief must, one would 
imagine, echo throughout every region of the globe 
which they inhabited, and thrill with inexpressible 
emotions in every heart. But these are certain tidings 
from God himself concerning this glorious possession ; 
from the God who cannot deceive ; the God whose pro- 
mises endure for ever. 

This great salvation is, however, proffered by God on 
his own terms only. In the same Scriptures are these 
terms found. From them alone can we learn on what 
conditions we may obtain life, and escape from death. 
' The way of holiness,' to which the gospel alone directs 
us, ' is ' there made ' a highway;' and ' wayfaring men, 
though fools,' need not ' err therein.' 

In tiie Scriptures also are the means of this divine 



and immortal attainment presented to our view. Here 
we are taught, that we become possessed of a title to 
everlasting life by faith, repentance, and holiness. Here 
also is pointed out the way in which these indispensa- 
ble characteristics are communicated ; viz., the means 
of grace already mentioned in these Discourses. Both 
the means and the terms are eminently reasonable and 
desirable ; in themselves real and superior good, and 
the way to greater good ; easy of adoption and use, and, 
with the divine blessing, efficacious to the end for which 
they are used ; sanctioned with supreme authority by 
the testimony of God, and daily confirmed by their ac- 
tual influence on multitudes of mankind. 

When, therefore, we hear the word of God, we are 
ever to remember, that we are taught things in this re- 
spect infinitely interesting to us, and incapable of being 
derived from any other source. 

4, That in order to be saved, we must understand the 
means, and the terms, of salvation. 

There is no other word of God but the Scriptures ; 
and, beside God, there is no other being, who can in- 
form us ' what we must do to be saved.' Philosophers 
may investigate and write from generation to genera- 
tion ; this vast momentous subject has ever lain and 
will ever lie, beyond their reach. Those who read 
and understood the instruction of the ancient philoso- 
phers were never reformed by their doctrines. Those 
who read and understand the moral system of infidel 
philosophers are never amended by then), but corrupted 
of course. The Scriptures, on the contrary, have been 
the means of renewing and reforming millions of the 
human race. But this sacred book was never of the 
least use to any man, by whom it was not in some good 
measure understood. To enable mankind at large to 
understand it, God instituted the evangelical ministry. 
All complicated objects of the intellect, are far better 
known by sober reflection and diligent research, than 
they can be by casual or cursory thinking. The Scrip- 
tures contain a system immensely complicated. They 
demand therefore the most patient, persevering study, 
and thorough investigation. Hence, ministers, conse- 
crated originally to this employment, are commanded 
to ' give themselves wholly to the ministry ;' particu- 
larly to reading, and to meditation ; that they may not 
be novices, nor furnish reasons to others for regarding 
their discourses with contempt. But all their labours 
will be to no purpose, unless those that hear them un- 
derstand their discourses, however evangelically and 
usefully they may be written. Every hearer, therefore, 
should solemnly call to mind in the house of God, that 
the means and terms of eternal life then are pub- 
lished to him ; that they are found nowhere but in the 
Scriptures ; and that the Scriptures can be of no bene- 
fit to him, unless he understands them. His highest in- 
terest and indispensable duty demand of him, therefore, 
that he should hear as for his life. 

It ought to be added, that all these things are hoi 
only explained in the Scriptures, but enforced on the 
heart with supreme power and efficacy. Motives of 
amazing import are here presented, to persuade the 
sinner to repentance. Alarms compel, invitations al- 
lure, threatenings terrify, and promises encourage, of 
such a nature, and exhibited in such a manner, as 
boundless wisdom and goodness thought best fitted to 
affect the heart. But all these also are in vain, unless 
heard, understood, and realized, by the sinner. 






THE MEANS OF GRACE.— HEARING THE WORD OF GOD, 



719 



5. We are farther to remember, that our opportuni- 
ties of hearing- the word of God are few ; and that which 
we are enjoying is, not improbably, the best which will 
ever arrive. 

' Our life ' itself is but a ' vapour, which appeareth 
for a little time, and then vanisheth away.' Of this life 
the opportunities of hearing- the gospel compose only a 
little part. The sabbath is almost the only season al- 
lotted to this end ; a seventh part merely of our time ; 
and, as actually enjoyed by us, a much less proportion. 
By the weakness of childhood, the thoughtlessness of 
youth, and the hinderances of riper years, the number 
of sabbaths which we are able to employ in gaining sal- 
vation is greatly reduced. If those which we lose in 
this manner by negligence, and by devotion to the 
world, be taken from the whole number, we shall find 
those which remain fewer by far than we are usually 
aware ; few in themselves, few especially for so great 
and important a work. 

How many sabbaths remain to us at any time, we can 
in no degree conjecture. That the number must be 
small, and that it may be still smaller, we know ; but 
whether the present sabbath be not the last, we can 
never know. Were we assured that it was the last, with 
what anxiety, care, and diligence should we devote it to 
the attainment of endless life ! As it may be the last, 
it ought to be regarded with the same anxiety. Whe- 
ther it be, or be not the last, it is unquestionably the 
best opportunity that we shall enjoy. 

It is in our possession : all others are merely expected. 
It is the sabbath on which we are less hardened and 
less guilty than we shall ever be at any future period. 
God is now reconcilable. Before another sabbath ar- 
rives, he may cast us off! His own command is, ' To- 
day, if ye will hear my voice, harden not your hearts.' 
' Behold now,' says St Paul, ' is the accepted time ! Be- 
hold, now is the day of salvation!' Whenever, there- 
fore, we are assembled to hear the word of God upon 
the sabbath, we should solemnly feel that we possess the 
best opportunity of obtaining everlasting life which we 
shall ever enjoy. 

G. We are also to remember, that the Scriptures are 
the word by which we shall be finally judged. 

' Whose soever sins ye remit,' saith our Saviour to 
his apostles, ' they are remitted ; and whose soever sins 
ye retain, they are retained.' In other words, ' I com- 
mission you to publish the terms of life and death to 
mankind. He whose life shall be condemned by the 
terms which, by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, I 
will enable you to announce, shall be condemned by me 
in the judgment. On the contrary, him whose life shall 
be approved by these terms, I will approve at the final 
day. All these terms of remitting and retaining sin, 
as published by the apostles, we now have in the gospel ; 
and they are continually preached in the house of God. 
How infinitely important is it, that they should be in- 
fixed in our understanding, our memory, and our 
hearts : that we may always know, remember, and feel 
them, that they may be the source and the guide of 
all our conduct ; and that by them we may in the 
end, not only be judged, but justified also, and re- 
warded ! 

Let every person, then, who is present at the preach- 
ing of the gospel, call to mind, that he is hearing the 
very terms of his final acquittal, or condemnation. Let 
him also remember, that one of the grounds of that 



sentence, which he will receive from the Judge of the 
quick and the dead, will be, that he is then ' taking 
heed how he hears ;' or that he is refusing or neglect- 
ing to perform this solemn duty. 

7. We are to remember, that God is present, to ob- 
serve the manner in which we hear. 

This consideration is of infinite moment; and ought 
with supreme force to come home to every heart. Let 
me beseech every member of this assembly, to think, how 
great and awful a being God is. Remember how abso- 
lutely you are indebted to him for ' life, and breath, 
and all things ' which you have enjoyed ; and how en- 
tirely you depend upon him for everything which you 
hope to enjoy, either in this world, or that which is to 
come. Remember how grossly you have sinned against 
him, by violating his holy law ; and how mercifully he 
has invited you to repent, and return to your obedi- 
ence. Think how aggravated will be the guilt of re- 
fusing to return, when thus invited, how entirely you 
are in his hands, and how impossible it is that you 
should escape from his power. 

Realize, that his eye, as a flame of fire, pervades and 
enlightens all the secret retreats of the workers of ini- 
quity ; and that he sees and records every wandering, 
stupid, worldly, and disobedient thought. Remember, 
that he will require you to rehearse before him the 
manner in which you hear his word this day. 

How immensely interesting are these considerations 
to every person in this assembly ! Who, in a full and 
realizing, who, even in the most imperfect and casual, 
view of them, can fail, with supreme solicitude, to 
' take heed how he hears ?' 

8. As all things contained in the Scriptures are wise, 
and right, and good ; so we are to remember, that they 
are worthy of all acceptation. 

My audience may remember, that I originally pro- 
posed to consider the maimer in which sinners may 
hear the gospel, with rational hopes of being benefited 
by it. The hearing of the gospel I exhibited as one of 
the means of grace ; and mentioned, that I should dis- 
cuss it as such, and not as a theme of general investi- 
gation. To this view of the subject I have therefore 
confined myself; and have purposely omitted many 
observations which might be usefully made concerning 
this subject, to persons who are already Christians. 
Almost all the observations which I have made, are 
indeed, in their full force, applicable to them also. To 
sinners they are all applicable ; and are all, in every 
sense, in their power, while they continue sinners. 
The last is as truly of this nature, as those which pre- 
ceded it. 

Every sinner may, antecedently to his regeneration, 
entertain a full conviction that the Scriptures are wor- 
thy of all acceptation. With this conviction solemnly 
impressed on the mind, every sinner may hear the gos- 
pel. Every sinner may also feel this truth in a strong 
and affecting manner. Awakened to a sense of his 
guilt and danger, he does thus actually feel, antece- 
dently to any essential change in his moral character. 
But what some sinners do feel, all others may feel. 
But under this conviction, and this sense, all those are 
sanctified, who are sanctified at all. With these very 
views of divine truth upon their minds, the Spirit of 
Cod communicates to them, I do not mean to every 
one who is in this situation ; for this I am not war- 
ranted to say, nor to believe : but to most of them, 



720 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. 



perhaps to all who do not voluntarily relinquish their 
convictions ; that change of heart, which is commonly 
styled regeneration ; a change, infinitely important to 
every child of Adam. 

' Faith,' says St Paul, ' cometh by hearing.' I have 
endeavoured to describe the manner of hearing in 
which it comes. It is to be still carefully remembered, 
that unless faith is actually obtained and exercised, no 
mode of hearing whatever will ultimately be of any 
value. The mode which I have pointed out is, in my 
apprehension, inestimably valuable, as means eminently 
useful to this great end. 

What is true of hearing the gospel, is substantially 
true of reading it; and of reading also other religious 
books. The Scriptures particularly, and other religious 
books generally, are to be read with great care, and 
with all the views which I have expressed ; that we 
may be able to judge whether those who preach to us, 
preach the truth of God. They are to be read also, 
that we may keep alive, and in full force, the impres- 
sions communicated by preaching. Finally, they are 
to be read, that we may gain the full advantages of all 
our opportunities between the returns of the sabbath ; 
and furnish ourselves with daily instruction, with re- 
proofs for our daily sins, with encouragement to our 
daily duties, and with powerful motives to a daily pro- 
gress in the divine life. 



I. From these observations it is evident, that those 
who do not hear in the manner which has been de- 
scribed, are, even according to their own principles, 
wholly inexcusable. 

All persons, present at the preaching of the gospel, 
can, if they please, solemnly remember that it is the 
word of God — that they are sinners, who infinitely need 
salvation — that in the gospel only the terms and means 
of salvation are published to mankind — that these, in 
order to be of any use to them, must be understood by 
themselves — that their opportunities of hearing it are 
few — and that the present is the best, and may be the 
last, which they will ever enjoy — that the Scriptures 
contain all the rules of life, by which they will be 
judged — that God is an eye-witness of the manner in 
which they hear — and thgt the gospel is worthy of all 
acceptation, and ought, therefore, to be received with 
the heart, as well as with the understanding. To hear 
in this manner demands no especial communication 
from God ; and he who does not thus hear, is stripped 
of the pretence even of self-justification. It is indeed 
equally the duty of every man to hear with evangelical 
faith. But as this faith is the gift of God, unrenewed 
men are ever prone to feel themselves, in some degree, 
excusable in neglecting to hear with this exercise of 
the heart. This apprehension is, I acknowledge, en- 
tirely without foundation. Still it exists. But in the 
present case, on their own ground, no plea can be of- 
fered, which will even satisfy themselves. Let them, 
therefore, when guilty of this negligence, ' lay their 
hands upon their mouths, and their mouths in the dust,' 
and confess their guilt before God. 

Of this miserable class of sinners not a small number 
are, sabbath by sabbath, seen in this house. Almost 
all who assemble here are in the morning of life ; when, 
if ever, the heart is tender, and easily susceptible of 
divine impressions from the word of God. Almost all 



enjoy also the peculiar blessings of a liberal andreligious 
education, and the best opportunities of knowing their 
duty, and their danger. Still, in defiance of the solemn 
commands of religion, and the authority of God, as well 
as of common decency, there are those who quietly lay 
their heads down to sleep when the prayer is ended, or 
the psalm read. These persons are indeed present in 
the house of God; but they are present only to insult 
him, to cast contempt upon the cross of Christ, and to 
grieve in the most shameful manner the Spirit of grace. 
They can hardly be said to hear at all. They come 
-into the presence of God, merely to declare to him, and 
to all who are present, that they will not hear nor 
obey his voice ; and to ' treasure up wrath against the 
day of wrath, and the revelation of the judgment. 
Let them remember, that the God who made them, 
and in whose hand their breath is, is here ; and that 
his all-searching eye is fixed with an intense and dread- 
ful survey upon their conduct, and upon their hearts. 
Let them remember, that he hath said, '■ Because I 
have called, and ye refused ; I have stretched out my 
hand, and ye have not regarded : but ye have set at 
nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: 
I also will laugh at your calamity, and mock when 
your fear cometh ; when your fear cometh as desola- 
tion, and your destruction as a whirlwind. Then shall 
ye call, but I will not answer. Ye shall seek me early, 
and shall not find me : because ye hated knowledge, 
and did not choose the fear of the Lord.' 

Let those also, who with more decency, and more 
momentary wisdom, really hear, and yet with the 
slightest temptations forget what they hear — vessels, 
into which the water of life is poured, only to be pour- 
ed out again— remember, that they hear to no valuable 
end. The true end of this privilege is ' repentance to- 
wards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ.' 
This end they prevent in themselves, by an absolute 
destitution of serious and deep concern for their salva- 
tion. In their final ruin they will find little comfort 
in remembering this frail, feeble attention to the word 
of God. It will be a melancholy support in that ter- 
rible day, to say to their Judge, '■ We have eaten and 
drunk in thy presence ; and thou hast taught in our 
streets:' when they hear him reply, ' Depart from me, 
for I know you not, ye workers of iniquity !' 

2. How infinitely desirable is it, that we should hear 
with good and honest hearts ! 

This, and this only, is obeying, in the proper sense, 
the command of our Saviour. As the gospel is plainly 
' worthy of all acceptation,' to accept it in this manner 
is the indispensable duty of every man to whom it is 
preached. To this end we should remember, that our 
all is depending ; our virtue, usefulness, and peace in 
the present life ; our hope and support in death ; our 
acquittal in the judgment ; our escape from final per- 
dition ; and our introduction to eternal glory in the 
kingdom of our heavenly Father. What dreadful 
emotions must every careless, stupid sinner experience 
on a death-bed, when he calls to mind, that he squan- 
dered, with infinite prodigality, all his opportunities of 
gaining salvation, and cast away the blessings of com- 
fort and hope for ever! Amid the solemn scenes of 
such a bed, when life is trembling and fluttering over 
the abyss of destruction ; the pulse forgetting to beat, 
the soul struggling, and clinging to its tenement of 
clay, with awful anticipations of the judgment ; how 



THE NATURE, SEASONS, AND OBLIGATIONS OF PRAYER. 



721 



overwhelming must it be to remember, that every 
prayer and sermon, that the gospel itself, and all the 
blessings which it contains, although so frequently of- 
fered by God with infinite kindness, were only despised, 



neglected, and forgotten ! But the lamp is now gone 
out, the oil expended, and the door shut. Nothing, 
therefore, remains to the infatuated votary of sense and 
sin, but ' the blackness of darkness for ever!' 



SERMON CXXXIX. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE NATURE, SEASONS, 

AND OBLIGATIONS OF PRAYER. 



Pray without ceasing 1 Thess. v. 17. 



The preceding Discourse was occupied by considera- 
tions on the two first of those means of grace which 
were formerly mentioned; viz., the preaching and hear- 
ing of the gospel, and the reading of the Scriptures, 
and other religious books. I shall now proceed to the 
examination of the third of those means ; viz., prayer. 

In this examination I shall depart from the scheme 
which was pursued in the preceding Discourse, and 
shall consider the subject generally under the following 
heads : — 

I. The nature, and, 

II. The seasons of prayer. 

III. The obligations to pray. 

IV. The usefulness of prayer. 

V. The encouragements to it. 

VI. The objections usually made against it. 

I. I shall briefly consider the nature of prayer. 
Prayer, according to the language of the Westminster 

Catechism, ' is the offering up of our desires to God for 
things agreeable to his will, in the name of Christ, with 
confession of our sins, and thankful acknowledgment 
of his mercies.' This definition is undoubtedly just ; 
yet it is in a degree defective. Prayer is an act of 
worship, consisting of four great parts; adoration, con- 
fession, petition, and thanksgiving. 

The first of these, adoration, consists in solemnly 
reciting the character of God ; and in reverentially 
ascribing to him the glory due to his name for the in- 
finite perfections which he possesses, and for all the 
manifestations which he has made of himself in his 
word, and in his works. 

The second, confession, demands no comment. 

The third, petition, is both by reason and revelation 
confined to ' things which are agreeable to the will' of 
God. His will involves whatever is right and good ; 
and nothing which is not agreeable to it is in reality 
desirable. 

Thanksgiving, the last of these subjects, is so gene- 
rally and so well understood, as to need no explanation 
at the present time. 

All these are to be offered up to God ' in the name 
of Christ,' in obedience to his express command. Un- 
less they are so offered, they cannot, under the Chris- 
tian dispensation, be accepted. 

II. The principal seasons of prayer are the follow- 
ing :— 

1. The sabbath. 

On this holy day we are required to devote ourselves 



to this duty in a peculiar manner. A prime part of the 
religious service to which it is destined consists of 
prayer. For this reason the sanctuary is appropriately 
styled the ' house of prayer. ' Thus God says in Isaiah, 
' I will make them joyful in my house of prayer ;' and 
again, ' My house shall be called a house of prayer for 
all people.' These promises immediately respect Chris- 
tian nations ; and teach in the clearest manner the 
proper destination of the house of God, and of the day 
upon which especially it is occupied by religious assem- 
blies. The Jewish church worshipped in this manner 
on their sabbath ; and the primitive Christian church 
on the Lord's day. These examples have been follow- 
ed in every age of Christianity by those who in any 
country have worn the Christian name. 

Nor is the sabbath a season of public prayer only. It 
is equally to be employed in private prayer. On this 
sacred day, God has required a peculiar attention to all 
our religious duties ; at home as well as in the sanc- 
tuary. Every advantage for this purpose is furnished 
by this heavenly season. The consecration of this holy 
day by the fourth command, by his own resting upon 
the first sabbath, and by the resurrection of the Re- 
deemer ; the celebration of it by the church in all the 
ages of time ; the blessing originally annexed to it ; 
and the sanctification acquired and increased, in the 
minds of many millions of the human race, all unite to 
designate it as being pre-eminently the season of prayer. 
With these affecting views of the sabbath, all others 
conspire. On this day mankind assemble in the house 
of God as brethren, and as children of the same divine 
parent, to worship their Creator, to learn his holy will, 
and to obtain a title to endless life. Here, with one 
united voice, they confess their sins before him. Hither 
they come, to acknowledge their dependence on him 
for the communication of every blessing, and the fulfil- 
ment of every hope. Here they stand as mere suppli- 
ants for mercy ; for the forgiveness of their sins, and 
the renovation of their souls. Hither they come, to be 
employed only in religious thoughts, affections, and 
pursuits ; to act as spiritual and immortal beings ; and 
to appear as candidates for everlasting life. Here, the 
word of God is presented to them as a law, immutable 
and eternal, which they have violated, and by which 
they are condemned ; as the news and means of resto- 
ration to safety, hope, and life ; as the manifestation of 
his character, and our own : and as the tidings of a fu- 
ture resurrection, judgment, and immortality. Hither 
4 Y 



722 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxix. 



they come, on this sacred day, into the immediate pre- 
sence of God, as the reconcilable Father of mankind ; 
infinitely great, venerable, and lovely in his character. 
Here they behold the Saviour in all his peculiar glory 
and beauty, his transcendent compassion and self-de- 
nial. His condescension and humiliation, his preach- 
ing and miracles, his sufferings and death, his resurrec- 
tion and exaltation, are here presented in his word and 
ordinances, and penciled by the hand of Jehovah. 

This holy season is the day appointed by God him- 
self, as a perpetual festival, for the commemoration of 
these glorious things ; especially of the creation and 
redemption of mankind, and of the divine perfections 
manifested in these wonderful works. As such a festi- 
val it is regarded and acknowledged by all who assem- 
ble for his worship. 

To all these things the strong power of sympathy 
lends an interest, a solemnity, a capacity for affecting 
the soul, unrivalled in its nature, and attainable in no 
other situation. 

As on the sabbath these things are eminently felt in 
the house of God, so the spirit imbibed here is extend- 
ed to everything of the same nature, when contem- 
plated in our own dwellings. Thither we carry the 
feelings originated in the sanctuary, and there we pro- 
long the views which the sabbath has already inspired. 
In both places, therefore, we are furnished with advan- 
tages for praying fervently and acceptably at this happy 
season, which obviously make the sabbath by way of 
distinction the day of prayer. 

2. Such occasional days as are warranted by the 
word of God, and appointed by the rulers of man- 
kind, for public worship, are also important seasons of 
prayer. 

Public annual festivals for national thanksgiving, 
and public days of national humiliation and prayer, 
were enjoined by God upon the Israelites ; the only 
nation to whom, as such, he ever gave laws and institu- 
tions. The institutions and laws of Moses are binding 
on us no farther than as they are applicable to our cir- 
cumstances. Political and ceremonial branches of this 
system are not, and cannot be, applicable to the state of 
any modern, or Christian, nation. They are therefore 
abrogated, as we are amply assured in the Scriptures 
themselves. But these national thanksgivings and fasts 
are no less applicable to the state of all nations than to 
that of the Israelites. For all nations equally with 
them have sins to be confessed and lamented, and bless- 
ings to be remembered and acknowledged. God also 
has been pleased to regard, in a favourable and merci- 
ful manner, public fasts, not directly appointed by him- 
self. Thus, when the Ninevites, alarmed by the pre- 
diction of Jonah, kept a day of solemn humiliation and 
fasting for their sins, God, ' repented of the evil, that 
he said he would do unto them ;' and he did it not. In 
consequence of the fast also of the Jews in Shushan, on 
account of the ruin threatened to their nation by the 
malicious fraud of Haman, God accomplished their de- 
liverance in a manner equally wonderful and glorious. 
Important blessing's seem also to have been given in 
consequence of the fasts proclaimed severally by Ezra 
and Nehemiah. The public services of these days are 
usually the same with those of the sabbath. Prayer, 
particularly, is a prime part of them all. On such days 
the ancient churches assembled to acknowledge the 
goodness of God to them, and to confess and lament 



their sins against him. In these religious solemnities' 
they have been followed extensively by the church in 
later times. 

3. The morning and evening of every day, are, in a 
peculiar manner, seasons of prayer. 

This truth was taught directly by the morning and 
evening sacrifice, under the Mosaic dispensation. 
Aaron, and the succeeding high-priests, were command- 
ed, Exod. xxx. 7, ' to burn incense on the altar of in- 
cense every morning.' See also Exod. xxxvi. 3 ; 
Exod. xli. Levit. vi. 12. In like manner the evening 
sacrifice and oblation are often mentioned ; as in 1 
Kings xviii. 29; 2 Kings xvi. 15; Ezra ix. 4; and 
Dan. ix. 21. 

In conformity to the language of this institution, 
David declares that he steadily performed this religious 
duty every morning and every evening, and also at 
noon every day. Daniel prayed to his God ' three 
times a-day.' Job also offered sacrifice in the morning. 
In the same manner, unquestionably, worshipped all 
the pious men of ancient times. 

With the Scriptures, the nature of the case perfectly 
accords. In the morning we are solemnly called upon 
to remember the protection which God has extended 
to us through the night ; a season in which we were 
wholly unable to protect ourselves. We are required 
to recollect also, that he has graciously given us the 
blessing of sleep, and the peace and safety with which 
we have rested upon our beds. He who does not praise 
God for these indispensable gifts, must be alike un- 
grateful and stupid. 

In the morning also we are about to enter upon the 
business of the day, and stand therefore in absolute 
need of the divine protection, favour, and blessing. 
How wretched should we be, and how useless, unless 
our food and raiment, our health and strength, our 
reason, and all our other useful faculties, were con- 
tinued in our possession ? Equally do we need secu- 
rity against temptation and sin, danger and harm. 
But for all these we are entirely dependent on God 
alone. 

In the evening we are solemnly obligated to remem- 
ber with the deepest gratitude the blessings of the day. 
These are the blessings which we supplicated in the 
morning, and which God has been pleased to bestow 
upon us, notwithstanding our sins. In the evening 
also we are about to lay ourselves down to sleep. Be- 
sides him, we have no protector; and to him we must 
be indebted both for the sleep itself, and for the peace 
and safety without which it cannot be enjoyed. 

Stated and regular seasons are indispensable to the 
effectual performance of all business. Method, prover- 
bially styled ' the soul of business,' cannot exist with- 
out such seasons. Irregularity, which is the prevention 
or the ruin of all valuable efforts, grows of course out 
of irregular distributions of time. That which is done 
at accidental seasons only, is ultimately not done at all. 
No business demands regularity and method more than 
prayer. There is in all men naturally a strong indis- 
position to pray. Stated seasons, therefore, returning 
at regular periods, are peculiarly necessary to preserve 
this duty in its full vigour. He who prays at such sea- 
sons will always remember this duty ; will form his 
schemes of life so as to provide the proper places for 
performing it ; will be reproached by his conscience for 
neglecting it ; will keep alive the spirit of prayer from 



THE NATURE, SEASONS, AND OBLIGATIONS OF PRAYER. 



723 



one season to another, so as to render the practice de- 
lightful ; and will be preserved, uninterruptedly, in the 
practice, by the strong influence of habit. He who 
prays at accidental seasons only, will first neglect, then 
hate, and finally desist from this duty. 

The morning and evening are seasons peculiarly 
fitted for the regular returns of prayer. They occur at 
intervals, perfectly convenient ; terminate, successively, 
our sleep and our labour ; are seasons necessarily dis- 
tinguished ; remind us regularly of all that for which 
we should pray ; and are effectual means of establish- 
ing in us immovable habits of praying. They involve 
everything, therefore, which can be either asked or 
wished for this interesting purpose. 

As these are seasons eminently advantageous for se- 
cret prayer, so they are almost the only possible seasons 
for the united devotion of families. Then, and then 
only, are all the members customarily present. Then 
the family business is either not begun, or ended, and 
all are at leisure to employ themselves in the worship 
of God. Strangers then do not intrude, and in this 
manner prevent the performance of the duty. Every- 
thing therefore concurs at these seasons to promote and 
establish the method, regularity, and habit which, ne- 
cessary always, are indispensable where numbers are 
concerned. 

4. The times at which we receive our food are proper 
seasons of prayer. 

On food we depend for the continuance of life ; and, 
of course, for the enjoyment of all temporal good. On 
this blessing also depends, in the like manner, the con- 
tinuance of our probation : and therefore all our fu- 
ture spiritual good, so far as it will be gained in the 
present world. With this good are inseparably con- 
nected also those immortal blessings, which God will-: 
communicate as its proper reward beyond the grave. 
Hence, the communication of this blessing demands of 
us peculiar attention, gratitude, and acknowledgments. 

These, accordingly, the Scriptures require every- 
where at our hands. ' Every creature of God,' say 
they, ' is good, if it be received with thanksgiving.' 
They inform us also, that it is ' sanctified by the word 
of God,' that is, his express permission to use it, ' and 
by prayer.' They further teach us, that ' God created 
meats, to be received with thanksgiving by those who 
believe and know the truth. In these passages they 
teach us, that meats were created for this end, that they 
should be received by us with thanksgiving: and that, 
if they are not thus received, the end of their creation 
is not accomplished ; that they are not good, when not 
thus received ; and that they are not sanctified without 
prayer. The Scriptures also direct us, that ' whether 
we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, we should do all 
to the glory of God.' But when we receive our food, 
whatever emotions we may experience within, we can- 
not glorify God before our fellow men, except by ask- 
ing for his blessing upon it, and rendering to him our 
praise for the bounty by which it is daily supplied. 

In conformity with these precepts, David often so- 
lemnly praises God for the communication of this bless- 
ing to*himself, and calls upon all mankind to unite in the 
praise. The primitive Christians are exhibited by St 
Paul as ' eating, and giving God thanks ;' or, in other 
words, as ' giving God thanks, when they received 
their food.' Our Saviour, the perfect example to all 
his followers, blessed the food provided for himself and 



those around him, to teach us, that it is our duty always 
to ask that blessing of God upon our own meals, with- 
out which they cannot be either useful or desirable en- 
joyments. The same glorious person also gave thanks 
uniformly to God for the bounties of his providence, to 
show us, that we are always to remember, with grati- 
tude and praise, the divine goodness in supplying our 
wants, and in thus prolonging our lives. From this 
glorious example, and these most reasonable precepts, 
are derived ample proofs of this important duty, and 
the most powerful motives to perform invariably, faith- 
fully, and with sincere delight, so desirable a service. 

The very heathen were so sensible of the propriety 
and obligation of this duty, as enjoined by the religion 
of nature, that to a great extent they steadily made li- 
bations to their gods before their meals, as an acknow- 
ledgment of their indebtedness to them for their daily 
food. He, therefore, who, in a Christian country, ne- 
glects to praise God for his own food, cannot with pro- 
priety be called a heathen. He may with more fitness 
be styled an animal. Nay, in some respects, he de- 
grades himself below the brutes. For ' the ox know- 
eth his owner, and the ass his master's crib ;' but he 
' doth not know, nor even consider.' 

5. Besides these regular seasons of prayer, there are 
many others continually occurring, which can be desig- 
nated by no general name. 

The times at which all peculiar blessings are bestowed 
on us, are times of prayer. Whenever we are success- 
ful in any important concern, and are especially pros- 
pered, supported, or comforted ; whenever we, or ours, 
are delivered from trouble or want, pain or sickness ; 
whenever we escape from peculiar temptations, are 
placed in safety, and furnished with strength, peace, 
hope and joy, with the peculiar blessings of Christian 
fellowship, the rectification of our views, and the im- 
provement of our religious affections, we are especially 
summoned to the duties of prayer and thanksgiving. 

In the same manner is prayer our especial duty at 
those seasons in which we are peculiarly distressed in 
body or in mind, are in peculiar danger, are exposed 
peculiarly to temptations, are sick, are bereaved of be- 
loved friends, are threatened with alarming evils, or 
whenever we find ourselves the subjects of peculiar 
sloth, reluctance to our duty, or ready to repine at the 
dispensations of God's providence, or to distrust his 
faithfulness, or his mercy. 

Nor are we less obviously called to the duties of 
prayer and thanksgiving by the peculiar prosperity or 
distresses, the dangers or deliverances of our country. 
I speak not here of this duty as performed in public. 
I refer immediately to the performances of the closet. 
No man can safely or warrantably neglect the interests 
of his country in his sacred devotions. As its interests 
ought ever to be near his heart, so they ought ever to 
be remembered, when he comes into the presence ol 
God. 

In the same manner the great concerns of the church 
of God, ought continually to be the subjects of fervent 
supplication. ' If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,' saith the. 
psalmist, ' let my right hand forget her cunning : if I 
do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the 
roof of my mouth.' All the wants and woes, all the 
blessings and consolations, of the church of God should 
be felt, as the personal concerns of every Christian ; 
and, as such, should ascend up in his daily devotions 



?24 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[See. cxt,. 



before the throne of his Maker. I only add, that both 
reason and revelation have made it our plain duty, to 
pray for all men. At the times also when we ourselves 
commence any important business, journey, or other 
undertaking, which is of particular consequence to our 
wellbeing, we are required to begin our efforts with 
humble petitions for the guidance, protection, and bless- 
ing of God. 

Retirement, likewise, and solitude, the lonely walk, 
the chamber of meditation, and the peaceful pillow, be- 
ing peculiarly friendly to this solemn enjoyment, sum- 
mon us to it with peculiar motives. 

Of these occasions generally, whether alluded to or 
specified, it is to be observed, that their return more or 
less every day runs through life, and ends only at death. 
All of them demand either silent or audible acknow- 
ledgments of our constant dependence on God, and our 
absolute indebtedness to him for all good. They de- 
mand a lively sense of his presence, perfection, and go- 
vernment, our supreme love and unchanging confidence 
to be exercised towards him, our daily communion with 
him, and our entire devotion to his service. Of all 
these prayer is the vehicle, the support, the soul. With 
it they will live and flourish ; without it they will die. 
According to these observations, the text directs us to 
' pray without ceasing.' In the same manner, the apos- 
tle elsewhere directs us to ' pray always with all prayer ; 
and in everything to make known our requests unto 
God, with supplication and thanksgiving.' In this 
manner the prophets and saints of the Old Testament, 
and the apostles and Christians of the New, lived be- 
fore God. Prayer was the breath by which their piety 
was supported and preserved. Thus lived Christ him- 
self; and thus by his example he has taught us to live. 
Immediately before he ordained his apostles, he spent 
the whole night in prayer ; and this was a characteris- 
tical specimen of his life. ' Let the same mind be in 
you, which was also in Christ.' 

III. I shall now briefly consider our obligation to 
perform this duty. 

1. To pray to God is a natural dictate of the human 
mind ; a dictate of conscience and common sense. 

We are absolutely dependent on God for all good. 
To know this, is to know a truth of immense impor- 
tance to the moral system at large, and to each indivi- 
dual of which this system is composed. To feel it with 
acquiescence and joy, is to conform in our feelings to 
that state of things which is agreeable to the will of 
God, and of course to absolute rectitude. We are 
bound to delight in such a dependence on the glorious 
and perfect Jehovah ; infinitely great, and wise, and 
good as he is ; and able and disposed as he is to supply 
all our wants, and to furnish us with every real blessing. 

But a spirit of dependence is more awakened, che- 
rished, and preserved by prayer, than by all things else. 
But to cherish and preserve it in our minds, is the in- 
dispensable duty and the supreme interest of man. 
Few things contribute, in the same degree, to render us 
excellent, amiable, or approved by God. Without it 
we can neither be approved, amiable, nor excellent. In 
this view, therefore, the importance of prayer cannot 
be estimated. 

Prayer is also the only method which nature points 
out of obtaining blessings from God. To prayer, as 
this method, we are directed by our earliest circum- 
stances in childhood. By asking we originally expect 



to gain, and actually gain, all the blessings which are 
given to us by our parents. What they grant to our 
petitions, common sense directs us to hope from God, 
in answer to similar petitions. From analogy, which 
is fairly presumed to be conclusive, we determine, that 
the mode of obtaining good which his providence has 
formed for our direction with respect to earthly parents 
and benefactors, is the mode which we ought to pur- 
sue whenever we seek to obtain good immediately from 
him, our heavenly parent and Divine Benefactor. As 
this conduct is universal, it is justly concluded to be 
natural. For we have no higher proof that anything is 
natural, than the fact, that it exists in all men, of all 
ages and nations. 

The heathen universally prayed. Of this service 
their worship was in a great measure constituted. From 
California to Japan we find this everywhere its leading 
feature : and from the- first periods recorded in history 
to the present time. There are but two sources whence 
this conduct can have beea derived ; the conclusions of 
reason, and the dictates of revelation. If it was derived 
from reason, then it was demanded by reason ; if from 
revelation, then it is required by God. 

2. What nature has thus dictated and pursued, the 
Scriptures have expressly enjoined. 

It will be unnecessary for me to multiply quotations 
on this subject. The text, and the other passages al- 
ready recited, are more than sufficient to settle the 
point, were it at all in dispute. But no truth is better 
known, or more abundantly acknowledged. I shall, 
therefore, only observe, that these commands are in- 
vested with all the authority of God. 

2. The example of Christ is of the same obligatory 
force. 

Christ, as is well known, lived a life of continual and 
extraordinary prayer ; and thus accorded with that ge- 
neral prediction in the eighty-ninth psalm, ' He shall 
cry unto me, Thou art my Father, and my God, and 
the rock of my salvation.' Accordingly, St Paul tes- 
tifies of him, Heb. v. 7, that ' in the days of his flesh 
he offered up prayers and supplications, with strong 
crying and tears, unto him that was able to save him 
from death ; and was heard, in that he feared.' This 
example, you know, is not only a pattern and a motive, 
but a law also, binding us with authority. 

4. Our own wellbeing may, with strict propriety, be 
added to these obligations, as a reason of high and com- 
manding import. 

God has taught us, that he will be ' inquired of ' by 
mankind, for the good which he is pleased to bestow 
upon them. The only promise, that he will give, or, 
that we shall receive blessings, is made to such as ask: 
' Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye shall find, 
knock, and it shall be opened unto you;' is the only 
language of revelation concerning this subject. Sup- 
plication for good, therefore, is the only condition up- 
on which it can be hoped. But we entirely need, and 
God is infinitely able and disposed to give, all that is 
really good for us. To such as ask he will give ; from 
such as ask not he will withhold. Of course, those 
who will not pray will never receive. 

On our prayers then, according to the only ordinance 
of God with respect to this subject, all our good de- 
pends, in one important sense, both for time and eter- 
nity. We may, indeed, and we actually do, receive 
many things in this world, really good in themselves, 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO INDIVIDUALS. 



725 



for which we do not pray. But they are not, and, so 
long as we neglect to pray, will not be good to us. To 
those who omit this duty, even the blessings bestowed 
by God cease to be blessings. Prayer purifies the 
heart for the reception of them ; and removes the temp- 
tations which, good as they are in themselves, they can- 
not fail to present to the passions and appetites even of 
a religious man. 

In eternity those who in this world neglect to pray 
will experience nothing which is in itself good, but will 
find that, as they refused to ask here, God will refuse 
to give for ever. 

All these sources of obligation lend their whole force 
to all the seasons, occasions, and kinds of prayer ; to 



the public worship of the sabbath, and of authorized 
fasts and festivals ; to the morning and evening sacri- 
fice ; to the religious service at our meals ; and to the 
prayers offered up on the numberless occasions present- 
ed by our daily returning wants, sufferings, and enjoy- 
ments. On all these occasions, they are accordingly 
to be felt, acknowledged, and obeyed. Of course, we 
are to remember, to feel, and willingly to feel, nay, to 
feel with delight and gratitude, that it is our indispen- 
sable duty, our highest interest, and our glorious pri* 
vilege, to ' pray always, with all prayer and supplica- 
tion, with giving of thanks; for this is good and ac- 
ceptable in the sight of God our Saviour.' Amen. 



SERMON CXL. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.— ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE USEFULNESS OF 

PRAYER TO INDIVIDUALS. 



Pray without ceasing 1 Thess. v. 17. 



Is the preceding Discourse, I considered the nature 
and seasons of prayer, and the obligations which we 
are under to pray. I shall now discuss, at some length, 
the fourth subject proposed at that time; viz., the use- 
fulness of prayer. 

The observations which I shall make concerning this 
subject will be included under the following general 
heads :— 

The usefulness of prayer by its own proper influence, 
and, 

Its efficacy in procuring blessings from God. 
The first of these heads, viz. , the usefulness of prayer 
by its own proper influence, I shall consider as it respects 
individuals, families, and public societies. 

In this Discourse it is my intention to exhibit the use- 
fulness of prayer to individuals, by its proper influence 
on themselves. 

Before I proceed to the direct discussion of this sub- 
ject, it will be useful to observe, that the personal con- 
cerns of an individual are the proper subjects of secret 
prayer. The propriety of such prayer is wholly derived 
from the fact, that we have many important interests 
which are only personal, and require to be transacted 
between us and our Maker. In their very nature, they 
are incapable of being disclosed to our fellow creatures, 
without material disadvantages. Often they are such 
as we would not on any account reveal to any human 
being whatever. Often the disclosure, although not in- 
jurious to our moral or intellectual character, would 
wound our delicacy, or involve us in other kinds of 
distress. In a multitude of instances, where they are 
already partially known, we are still unable to disclose 
them entirely, and with that freedom which is indis- 
pensable to the due performance of this duty. Before 
our Maker, strange as it may seem, we can use a free- 
dom of communication which cannot be exercised to- 



wards any created being. We know that he is already 
acquainted with whatever we have experienced, done, 
or suffered, either within or without the mind. We 
know that he is infinitely removed from all the par- 
tialities and prejudices, from all those cold, unkind, and 
contemptuous sentiments, which are so generally che- 
rished by our fellow men. We know that he will not 
betray us : but, however unworthy we have been, will 
regard us, if sincere and penitent, with kindness and 
mercy. We approach him therefore with a freedom, a 
confidence of communication, which can be used to- 
wards no other being in the universe. 

Besides, God is nearer to all men, than any man to 
another. If we are willing to choose him as our friend, 
he is infinitely the nearest, the best, the most affection- 
ate of all friends. With him therefore a communion 
can, and does exist, which no creature can hold with a 
fellow creature. 

In consequence of these facts, a freedom and a fer- 
vency also exist in secret prayer, when the subject of 
it is our personal concerns, which cannot exist in the 
presence of others. 

With these things premised, I observe, that the use- 
fulness of prayer to individuals is found. 

1. In the peculiar solemnity which it naturally induces 
on the mind. 

In 6ecret prayer a man comes directly into the pre- 
sence of God. This great and awful Being is the 
source of all solemn thoughts and emotions in his crea- 
tures, and the object in which such thoughts ultimately 
terminate. Everything in his character, everything 
in our character and circumstances, everything in out 
relations to him, and in the situation in which we are 
thus placed, the end for which we have entered our 
closets, the duty which we are performing, the retire- 
ment from the world, the presence of God, and the con- 



126 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. CX5 



sciousness that his eyo is on our hearts, all these conspire J 
to drive away every trifling thought, and to banish every 
improper emotion. It is scarcely possible that the man 
who has withdrawn to his closet, for the purpose of 
meeting God face to face, and who here remembers be- 
fore whom he stands, on what business he has come, and 
of what importance that business is to himself, should 
fail to fix his thoughts in solemnity and awe, and hush 
every tendency to an unbecoming emotion. 

To all men this state of mind is eminently useful, 
and indispensably necessary. Spiritual and immortal 
concerns demand, of course, and most obviously, this 
state of mind. We cannot attend to them in any other 
state with advantage, nor without serious disadvantage. 
We cannot see them as they are, nor feel them as they 
are. We cannot be influenced to attend to them, nor 
to provide for them, as they indispensably demand. 
As they are of all possible consequence to us, so this 
state of mind, the only one in which we can usefully at- 
tend to them, becomes of a proportional importance. 

Thus forgiveness of sin, a restoration to holiness, re- 
solutions to perform our duty, the effectual pursuit of 
salvation, and the final escape from ruin, can never be 
useful objects of attention and effort to him whose mind 
is not settled in that state of solemnity which these 
mighty concerns require. The soul which is given up 
to levity regards them, of course, with habitual indiffer- 
ence, and not unfrequently with habitual contempt. By 
a man of this character therefore they will be neglected 
and forgotten. 

2. Prayer is useful to an individual, as it enlightens 
and quickens the conscience. 

Conscience is the judgment of the mind concerning 
its moral conduct, both internal and external. By this 
judgment of the mind, we are, and of necessity must be, 
ultimately directed in every case of a moral nature. It 
is therefore of the utmost importance that it should be 
formed aright. 

Conscience also is used, both in the Scriptures and 
elsewhere, with a direct reference to those emotions, or 
feelings, which we experience, when this judgment is 
formed ; and which usually have more or less influence 
upon the formation of the judgment itself, and upon 
the conduct by which it is followed. When these are 
just and vigorous, we are not only directed, but 
prompted to act aright. When they are dull and life- 
less, we are apt, how just soever the judgment may be, 
either not to act at all, or to act in direct violation of 
its dictates. In every such case our conduct is sinful ; 
and often when, under the influence of a conscience 
more tender and susceptible, it would have been vir- 
tuous. Hence the plain necessity of having our con- 
sciences quickened, or made alive to our duty. ' A 
seared conscience ' denotes, not the want of a capacity 
to judge, but an insensibility to the importance of moral 
good and evil. 

Among the means placed in our power of enlighten- 
ing and quickening the conscience, prayer, after the 
Scriptures, is in my view the first, and far superior to 
any other. It is also the chief mean of rendering the 
Scriptures themselves effectual to this end. 

When we stand in our closets, immediately before 
God, are secluded from the world, and withdrawn from 
every eye but his ; when we feel the awe inspired by a 
ciear view of his character, and realize, in an affecting 
manner, his presence and inspection ; it can hardly be 



possible for us not to entertain concerning our Creator, 
ourselves, and all moral objects, views exceedingly dif- 
ferent from those gross apprehensions which we expe- 
rience in ordinary circumstances. We can hardly fail 
to discern our sinful character, and to regard sin as a 
real and great evil. God, in spite of all our ordinary 
stupidity, will then appear to be an awful, perfect, and 
glorious Being ; his law to be holy, just, and good ; its 
extent to comprehend all our thoughts and actions alike ; 
its nature, demands, and penalties, to be unchangeable ; 
and ourselves to be condemned, and, if left in our present 
condition, to be ruined. In this situation we further 
discern, of course, that many things are sinful, which we 
have customarily regarded as innocent ; and that many 
things are duties, to perform which we have heretofore 
felt little or no obligation. 

These views are particularly enlarged, and rendered 
more distinct, by means of our confessions and peti- 
tions. When we confess our sins before God, we are 
compelled to such sincerity of thought, as well as of 
speech, as must induce us to throw aside a multitude of 
prejudices, self-justifications, and self-flatteries ; usually, 
and very pleasingly, cherished. We know that we 
cannot deceive God ; and are certain that even our in- 
most thoughts are naked to the all-seeing eye. Little 
inducement is presented to us, therefore, to think falsely 
of our conduct. So far as our views extend, they na- 
turally become just and scriptural, In this state, every 
sin which we confess is apt to be seen as it is ; as a sin, 
as a violation of the law of God, as an act of opposition 
to his will, and as a source to us of guilt and condem- 
nation. The vanity strongly appears of attempting to 
hide our guilt from his sight ; and of course the neces- 
sity, as well as the duty, of acknowledging it before him. 
Hence, while the confession of all our sins is forcibly 
prompted, the confession of each is naturally rendered 
sincere. Hence also the sinner sees many things to be 
sinful, which he has usually thought innocent, perhaps 
virtuous ; and the whole number of his sins to be far 
greater than he has before mistrusted. 

In our petitions we ask for the blessing of God. If 
we ask for forgiveness, we ask for the forgiveness of our 
sins ; and of course discern that we have sins to be for- 
given. This forgiveness is necessary for every sin. 
While the eye of the mind is employed in wandering 
with solemn anxiety over this interesting subject, and 
inquiring with deep solicitude what, and how numerous, 
are the cases in which this forgiveness is needed ; it is 
impossible for us not to perceive that they have many, 
very many, sins to be forgiven. 

If we ask for sanctification, we ask it for sinners, to 
whom this blessing is necessary. In the same character 
we ask for justification, for adoption, for increase of 
grace, and for perseverance unto the end. In a word, 
our guilty character will recur, and present itself before 
our eyes, with every petition which we make. 

Nor will the necessity and excellence of holiness ap- 
pear with less evidence. Sin is our ruin ; holiness is 
our recovery. Both are alike important ; the one being 
as dreadful as the other is desirable. Of all the blessings' 
for which we ask, holiness is the basis, the means, and 
the end. To every one of them it inseparably adheres ; 
with every one it is intimately blended. Our views 
therefore will be as naturally and as extensively en- 
gaged by it, and be as naturally rendered clear and 
impressive. 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO INDIVIDUALS. 



727 



As these two great attributes are the only ones which 
characterize our moral conduct, so the clearer and 
brighter our views of these things are, the more en- 
lightened, of course, is our conscience, or the judgment 
of our minds concerning that conduct. When we ask 
God for his blessing on anything which we are about 
to do, we shall in this way discern with more certainty 
its real nature, especially as it appears to our own view, 
than in any other situation. We often, as we think, con- 
vince ourselves by reasoning, that a proposed pursuit 
is lawful and right ; when we in fact believe it to be 
otherwise. In most, if not all such cases, the first judg- 
ment of our minds, that which we usually denominate 
the decision of conscience, has already determined it 
to be wrong. On the future reasoning, inclination has 
usually had no small share of influence, and has warped 
the judgment of the mind so as to lead it to false con- 
clusions. With these conclusions, however, we are but 
too prone to feel satisfied. 

But if we attempt to ask the blessing of God upon 
such conduct in our closets, we shall often find our at- 
tempts to be vain. Our mouths will be stopped, and 
our efforts to pray annihilated. Some persons declare, 
and appear to believe, that gaming is lawful and justi- 
fiable. But no one ever asked, no one can ever se- 
riously ask, the blessing of God on a design to game. 
There are persons who declare lewdness to be lawful. 
But no person can ask God to bless a lewd purpose. 
An attempt of this nature would choke the utterance 
even of a profligate. 

When we ask the same blessing on similar conduct 
already past, the same consequences will follow ; and 
we shall be forced, in spite of ourselves, to acknowledge 
and feel the guilt of that which is sinful. Notwithstand- 
ing his utmost efforts, the sinner will be checked in all 
his attempts to pray, so long as he justifies, so long as 
he does not confess and lament, his guilty conduct, 
however satisfied with himself he was in the perpetra- 
tion. Until he becomes willing to forsake his sins, 
they will ' hinder his prayers.' Nor can he continue to 
sin, and continue to pray. 

This doctrine St Peter preaches in the third chapter 
of his first epistle. In the seventh verse, he directs 
husbands to live with their wives, as in the preceding 
verses he had directed wives to live with their husbands, 
in the performance of all the duties of conjugal affection, 
and in a general obedience to the precepts of the gospel. 
For these directions he subjoins his reason in the follow- 
ing words ; ' that your prayers be not hindered.' Ac- 
cording to this decision of the apostle, disobedience to 
the gospel, and the neglect of the duties required by it, 
hinder, of course, the prayers of mankind. In other 
words, sin is the direct hinderance of prayer. Every 
person who prays to God will continually find, by his 
oivn experience, that this account of the subject is true ; 
and that, whenever he sins, his prayers are hindered. 
Of course, he will be obliged to relinquish his sins, or 
desist from his prayers. Should he continue to pray, 
all the views which I have mentioned, and all others 
like them, will continually recur, and will soon become 
habitual. They will soon constitute the general current 
of his thinking on moral subjects. But the more clear, 
distinct, and habitual, our thoughts concerning moral 
subjects become, the more strongly, and the more uni- 
formly, shall we feel these subjects. Their importance 
will not only be seen, but regarded with much solemnity, 



deep interest, and influential concern. The soul, con- 
tinuing in prayer without ceasing, becomes alive to all 
such subjects. These are the chief subjects of its pray- 
ers ; and prayer is its chief duty. Moral subjects, 
therefore, resume their proper place and rank in its 
estimation, and find a susceptibility in its regard wholl y 
due to them, and immensely interesting to itself. In 
this way prayer contributes, to a degree which cannot 
be limited, to withdraw the soul from sin, to disarm 
temptations of their fascinating influence, to weaken the 
power of passion, and to increase the hopes and means of 
resistance. In the same manner are the views and emo- 
tions which regard holiness improved; and resolution 
and strength gained, to make progress in the divine life. 

3. Prayer is useful to unregenerated individuals, by 
teaching them, that, so long as they continue in this state, 
they cannot pray in the manner required by God. 

Unregenerate men, when affected with a deep sense 
of their guilt, and a solemn concern for their future 
destiny, universally pray. But all such men, before 
they have made attempts of this nature, believe, what- 
ever may be their creed, that they can pray with their 
present disposition, so as at least to satisfy themselves ; 
and, not improbably, so as to be acceptable to God. 
There is no way within my knowledge, in which they 
so effectually unlearn this doctrine, and so entirely give 
up this belief, as by their own attempts of prayer. The 
peculiarly clear, distinct, and affecting views of moral 
subjects, which I have already mentioned, are of course 
directed to their prayers, as well, as much, and probably 
more, than to any other subjects of this nature. Their 
prayers, in the act of offering them up to God, are seen 
by them in a light, and with a distinctness and certainty, 
never perhaps experienced in any other case. Amid 
the anxiety and earnestness with which awakened sin- 
ners pray, they come, without an exception, first to 
doubt their own ability to pray as they ought : and 
then, without a doubt, to believe that their prayers are 
wholly destitute of evangelical worth : at least, I never 
knew an exception to this process in any person who, 
in this situation, has disclosed his views of the subject 
to me. Perhaps I ought rather to say, I remember 
none. This important part of self-knowledge, is, 1 be- 
lieve, rarely, if at all, acquired in any other way. In this 
situation, and by these means, sinners, if I mistake not, 
are chiefly brought to a state of absolute humiliation, 
and a full conviction of their entire dependence on 
Christ for holiness and salvation. Not to be able to 
pray, so as to be in some degree satisfied and comforted 
by our prayers, is to be poor indeed. This humbled, 
dependent state of the mind, is, as I formerly observed, 
that in which the grace of the gospel is usually bestowed 
on men. 

4. Prayer is useful to individuals, as it teaches them 
their dependence on God. 

The act of asking for blessings in prayer, which is 
its primary employment, brings up forcibly to our view, 
the impossibility of furnishing them to ourselves. The 
blessings also for which we ask, are seen to be absolutely 
necessary for us, and such as none but God can give. 
They are the results of infinite power, wisdom, and 
goodness alone. Of these interesting truths, the sup- 
pliant cannot fail to perceive the clearest evidence, and 
to experience the strongest impression. 

To this sense of dependence on God, our adoration, 
in which we recite his glorious perfections in the most 



728 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sen. cxl. 



solemn manner ; our confession, in which we recount 
our sins and wants, our infinite need of forgiveness, and 
our utter insufficiency to supply ourselves with the ne- 
cessary good, and our thanksgiving, in which we ac- 
knowledge that all the blessings enjoyed by us have 
come from God only ; irresistibly conspire to make 
large additions. As the God, whose immensely great 
and glorious character we humbly and solemnly repeat, 
is presented to our view as rich in all good, we feel 
ourselves to be poor, and little, and sinful, and naked, 
and in want of all things. 

Alone, withdrawn from the world, in the immediate 
presence of Jehovah, we cannot but see these things in 
the strongest light, and by themselves. The eye of the 
mind is turned solely and intensely upon them, and 
prevented from the obscurity, confusion, and consequent 
perplexity, which necessarily attend all complicated 
views. With such apprehensions, we can scarcely fail to 
feel, in the deepest manner, this most important subject. 
It becomes the burden of our thoughts and our language. 
The value of the blessings themselves, our indebtedness 
to God for them, our own unworthiness of them all, 
and the mercy manifested in bestowing them, unitedly 
impress them on our hearts with a force peculiar and 
pre-eminent. 

As the pardon of our sins, and the justification, adop- 
tion, and sanctification of our souls, constitute the 
means of all other good, so they are seen, felt, and ac- 
knowledged, even by the convinced sinner, to be his 
own highest and immediate good. For this good he 
will cry with intense earnestness to him, in whom alone 
he finds either ability or disposition to communicate 
this invaluable blessing. With deep humiliation, with 
intense anguish, he casts himself at the foot of the 
cross, with the prayer of the publican, ' God, be merci- 
ful to me, a sinner !' or with that of the disciples, when 
the ship in which they were conveyed was ready to 
sink, ' Lord, save me, or I perish !' In this situation 
of the soul, desponding, convinced of its guilt and dan- 
ger, and feeling the infinite necessity of forgiveness 
and renovation, God, in all his ordinary providence, 
has been graciously pleased to extend mercy to sinners, 
and to bring them into his kingdom. This is not done 
because of any excellency in their prayers, or in their 
characters ; for no such excellency exists : but because 
they infinitely need his mercy ; and also, if I am not 
deceived, because there is an evident propriety in be- 
stowing it on them, when in this situation, rather than 
while they are stupid, blind, and hardened in their sins. 

The Christian, in the same manner, learns with still 
more clearness and stronger affections, his own absolute 
dependence on his Maker. All his springs of holiness 
and happiness he perceives to be in God. Innumera- 
ble sins he discovers lying at his aoor ; many and vari- 
ous lusts remaining in his heart ; wants of many kinds, 
and of great importance, rising up continually to his 
view; his guilt dreadfully great, and his danger ex- 
'reme. No being but God can remove the evils from 
which he suffers, or those which he dreads. None but 
God can supply the blessings which he feels to be his all. 

In the whole of the Christian course, he realizes, in 
the most affecting manner, his absolute necessity of be- 
ing enabled by the grace of God to resist temptations, 
to overcome lust, to vanquish enemies, to subdue sin, 
and to advance in obedience. Every evil affection he 
6ees capable of being removed or lessened by the assis- 



tance of God only ; and by the same assistance he must 
be furnished with all his ability to live a holy life, and 
to cultivate every virtuous propensity. From God only, 
he also knows, must be derived his daily hope, support, 
and consolation ; peace of mind, evidence of the love of 
God, increase in grace, and ' a patient continuance in 
well-doing.' God only can cleanse his soul, refine and 
exalt his views, remove his fears, quicken his affections, 
brighten his hopes, and multiply his joys. All these 
are blessings, possessed by none beside the Infinite 
Mind ; and gifts of none but the Almighty Hand. At 
the same time, they are blessings which God is supremely 
pleased to bestow. His nature is bounty ; and giving 
is his favourite employment. 

But he is pleased to be ' inquired of for all bless- 
ings. Ready as he is to bestow, it is his pleasure that all 
his i-ational creatures should ask. Accordingly he re- 
quires ' all flesh to come to him ' with their requests ; 
and, for their encouragement, styles himself ' a God 
hearing prayer.' With these delightful views of the di- 
vine character, and with affecting apprehensions of his 
own circumstances, every Christian comes to God ; and 
finds in prayer peculiar encouragement, hope, assistance, 
strength, enjoyment, and universal edification. 

5. Prayer is useful to individuals, as it furnishes to 
them the best views of the divine character. 

Prayer brings home to the mind, the character of 
God with peculiar advantage in many ways. Some of 
these have been already mentioned, as being insepara- 
bly connected with the subjects which I have had occa- 
sion to consider. Several others I shall now briefly 
recount. It is impossible that a suppliant should fail to 
remember, with peculiar strength and conviction, this 
glorious Being as his Creator, Preserver, and Bene- 
factor, his Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. These 
are the themes of his prayer, in all the parts of it, and 
are perpetually recurring. They rise in his adoration, 
confession, thanksgiving, and petitions. They rise in 
every profitable form. He cannot think of a want, a 
sin, or a blessing, without realizing against whom his 
sins have been committed, by whom his wants must be 
supplied, and from whom his blessings must flow. He 
cannot but recall, with deep affection, the justice of that 
great Being whom he has offended ; the holiness of 
him, whose image he is required to exhibit ; the purity 
of him, whose all-seeing eye is intent on his sins ; the 
power of him, by whom he was created, and has been 
always preserved ; and the goodness, faithfulness, truth, 
and mercy of him, to whose mercy, truth, and faithful- 
ness he must be indebted for the forgiveness of his 
sins, and the performance of all the promises contained 
in the covenant of grace, and to whose goodness he 
must owe every future blessing of time and eternity. 

In prayer, God literally draws nigh to him, and he 
to God. In a sense, he beholds his character in full 
view ; as we distinctly see near objects with the bodily 
eye. The divine perfections are therefore realized and 
acknowledged, and not merely and loosely proved by 
argument -to our understandings. Like Job, he before 
had heard of God ' by the hearing of the ear ; but now 
his eye seeth him.' As his prayers return daily, so his 
views returning with them soon become habitual ; and, 
like other habitual things, become continually stronger 
and stronger, more and more bright, just, and affecting. 
The great, glorious, and delightful character on which 
he so frequently dwells, is in a sense enstamped on his 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO INDIVIDUALS. 



729 



heart, and always realized and enjoyed. Thus a peace 
and satisfaction are derived to him from prayer, for 
which nothing can be a substitute. By prayer, there- 
fore, as a Christian, he lives, and lives with holiness and 
wisdom daily increasing; is continually a better man 
in all the relations of the present life, and a more and 
more proper candidate for immortal happiness in the 
world above. 

That each of the several things which I have men- 
tioned, as effects flowing from the performance of this 
duty is, in an eminent degree, useful to him who per- 
forms it, will be questioned by no sober man. Still 
more strongly will it be perceived, that all these advan- 
tages united must be of pre-eminent importance. To 
be destitute of them must be, in the spiritual sense, to 
be ' poor, and wretched, and miserable.' All of them, 
however, exhibit this subject, when considered by them- 
selves, in an imperfect manner. These views and dis- 
positions, in their connexions and consequences, are 
branched out into others, and then into others still, in 
such numbers, in so continual a succession, and with 
such efficacious influence, as to affect, with the greatest 
advantage, the whole Christian character, and to reach 
through every part of the Christian life. Everywhere 
their influence is felt, and wherever it is felt is benign 
and happy. Hence the Scriptures insist so abundantly 
on the performance of this duty; and, to secure their 
benevolent purpose, multiply everywhere, commands, 
examples, and promises. 



From this summary and imperfect account of the 
usefulness of prayer to individuals, I remark, 

1. That he who does not habitually pray to God, can- 
not be a Christian. 

Cod has commanded us to pray to him ; and is 
pleased to be ' inquired of by his creatures, for all the 
good which they need. Ke who does not pray, violates 
continually a plain command of the Scriptures; and 
proves himself indifferent to the great and comprehen- 
sive duty of obeying his Maker. But this is a contra- 
diction to the whole Christian character. 

This, however, is not the only ground of the conclu- 
sion, nor that on which I meant principally to insist at 
the present time. In the character and circumstances 
of a Christian is laid the most solid foundation of habi- 
tual prayer. His sins perpetually present to him the 
infinite necessity of forgiveness and sa notification. His 
love to God, and his good-will to mankind, excite in 
him, by their very nature, unceasing desires, and gene- 
rate vigorous efforts to increase this evangelical cha- 
racter. His faith in Christ, and his disposition to obey 
his commands, require continual additions of strength ; 
and the peculiar consolation, peace, and hope, which he 
finds in prayer, and which without prayer he cannot 
find, call unceasingly upon him to be faithful, steadfast, 
and fervent in this duty. A hungry man might as well 
be expected to abstain from food, or a thirsty man from 
drink, as a Christian from prayer. Prayer is the 
breath on which Christianity lives, and from which it 
derives peculiarly its power, activity, and enjoyment. 
Mark the manner in which David describes his distress 
in being cut off from the solemn services of the taber- 
nacle ; and the relief, the comfort, the strength, and 
the joy, which he found when he drew nigh to that 
holy place. Mark the discourses of our Saviour on 



this subject, and the most edifying example of perform- 
ing this duty, which lie has left on record for our inti- 
tation. Attend diligently to the commands, exhorta* 
tions, and encouragements, given to St Paul, to engage 
us to ' continue always in all prayer.' Here you will 
see with the most certain evidence how naturally, and 
how irresistibly, holiness prompts to the performance 
of this duty. Such is the spirit by which all Chris- 
tians are governed, and without which no man can be 
a Christian. By our fruits are we known, both to our- 
selves and to others. Prayer is the prominent fruit of 
the Christian spirit; and where this fruit, is not found, 
it will be in vain to search for the tree. 

From these observations we easily learn the reason 
why hypocrites rarely continue steadfast for any length 
of time in secret prayer. A sinner, under strong con- 
victions of sin, will betake himself of course to his 
closet. Why will he do this? He is still a sinner, and 
a stranger to the evangelical character. He finds no 
part of the Christian's pleasure in things divine ; no 
obedience to God, or the contemplation of his perfec- 
tions, commands, or designs; in his sabbath, word, or 
ordinances. Of that relish for spiritual objects which 
is implanted in regeneration, and which constitutes 
what is called the spiritual mind, he is wholly destitute. 
In seeking salvation, however, he is altogether in 
earnest ; and in seeking the forgiveness of his sins, 
and the sanctification of his heart, as indispensable 
means of this most interesting attainment. Hence he 
prays. But to this character the hypocrite is a stranger, 
and feels not therefore these inducements to prayer. 

Still more is he a stranger to the views, affections, 
and enjoyments of a Christian. For spiritual objects 
he has no relish, no desire. In the character of God, 
the character of Christ, and the nature of religion, he 
finds no pleasure, and sees no profit, except so far as 
hypocrisy may increase his reputation, and promote his 
selfish purposes. For this, his governing end, he will 
often appear more engaged in religion when he expects 
to be seen by men, than Christians themselves. In 
public and family prayer he will frequently be exact 
and abundant ; because this conduct will gain him the 
character which he covets. Here others see him. Here 
therefore he finds an advantage sufficient to excite his 
perseverance in these external services. 

But in secret prayer there can be no gain besides 
that which is spiritual and immortal. No reputation 
can spring from conduct unknown to men. If there- 
fore the hypocrite begins the performance of this duty, 
he will usually soon desist ; because, on the one hand, 
he has no anxiety about salvation, and, on the other, 
no delight in the duty. Accordingly, Job says of the 
hypocrite, ' will he delight himself in the Almighty ? 
Will he always call upon God?' that is, he will not 
always call upon God. He will, at times, call upon 
God for a little period ; but will cease, of course, from 
this duty, after that period is ended ; because he expects 
from it neither profit nor pleasure. 

2. From these observations, it is evident, also, that lie 
who does not pray is guilty of pre-eminent folly. 

Prayer is the only communication between mankind 
and their Maker, and the only means of obtaining 
blessings from him. The man who refuses or neglects 
to pray, voluntarily cuts himself off therefore from all 
hope of good. The easiest, least expensive, least bur- 
densome, possible mode of acquiring good, is to ask for 
4 so 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxli. 



it. God has been pleased to constitute this the only 
mode of obtaining it from him. He therefore who does 
not pray cannot rationally hope for any blessing. 

To renounce all good, when it is attainable by any 
means, however difficult, is the conduct of a fool. To 
renounce it when the means are the easiest possible, is 
the conduct of a madman. Such a fool, such a mad- 



man, is he who neglects prayer. To pray costs neither 
money, pains, nor time. Why do multitudes in this 
house neglect to pray ? The true explanation of this 
mysterious, sottish violation of every dictate of reason, 
conscience, and revelation, is, that all these persons hate 
their duty. They ' sin against God, and wrong their 
own souls ; they hate him, and love death.' 



SERMON CXLI. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.. 
OF PRAYER TO FAMILIES. 



-THE USEFULNESS 



Praying always with all prayer Eph. vi. 10. 



Having considered the usefulness of prayer to indivi- 
duals, I shall now, according to the scheme proposed, 
examine its usefulness to families. 

The text, as will be seen by attecding to its connex- 
ion with the preceding verse, contains a command in 
which we are required to ' pray always (sv ■ko.wti iu> 
kxi^i, at every season), with all prayer ;' that is, with 
prayer of every kind ; or prayer offered up to God in 
every form. By this precept, then, mankind are com- 
manded to pray at every season suited to the perform- 
ance of this duty ; and with such prayer as becomes the 
circumstances, wants, and characters, of those by whom 
the duty is to be performed. 

The family prayer, is included in this general direc- 
tion, as one kind of prayer especially suited to the 
wants and circumstances of mankind, will not be ques- 
tioned by most of those who profess the religion of the 
gospel. Nor will it be doubted that every morning 
and every evening presents a proper season for the per- 
formance of this religious service. 

In examining the proposed subject of discourse, it 
will be useful to consider, 

The advantages of performing , 

The disadvantages of neglecting , and 

The objections commonly made against this duty. 

The foundation of family prayer is laid in the inti- 
mate connexion of those who are members of these 
little societies. This connexion necessarily creates a 
variety of interests, wants, enjoyments and sufferings, 
.vliicli are common to them all. United in all these 
concerns in a very intimate manner, the several mem- 
bers of a family find a common interest in unitedly sup- 
plicating upon them the blessing of God, without which 
neither prosperity nor relief can be expected. A com- 
mon interest is the source of all communion in the 
worship of God, whether in families, particular churches, 
nations, or the Christian world at large. Nor is there 
any reason against family worship, which does not lie 
against the worship of churches, and larger Christian 
communities. Indeed, ancient churches were not un- 
frequently formed of single families. 

Among the advantages which attend family prayer, I 
shall mention the following : — 

I. The intimate communion which exists in this 



worship, naturally renders our devotion intense and 
exalted. 

Religion is in its nature social. Worship, particu- 
larly, is naturally social. Every man possessed of 
the spirit of the gospel feels an interest in those things 
in which others are alike interested with him, which it 
is difficult for him to feel in things, even of the same 
nature, which concern himself only. Nay, selfish as 
the human heart is, mankind are naturally more af- 
fected, on many occasions, by those concerns in which 
they share with others, than in those which are merely 
personal. He who would fly, when himself only was at- 
tacked, would fight when an enemy assaulted his family. 
Many a slothful man has become industrious, many a 
prodigal prudent, many a parsimonious man generous, 
and many a lightminded man sober, in consequence of 
the interest which he took in the affairs of his household. 

All the members of a family are connected by the 
strong bonds of natural affection ; bonds which unite 
human beings together with a power and intimacy 
found in no other circumstances of life. The sympathy 
here experienced is therefore intense and peculiar. 
The wants and interests are not only common, but near 
and important ; reaching every heart at once ; awak- 
ening instinctively a lively, vigorous concern, a power- 
ful sympathy, and united efforts, of singular energy 
and ardour. The members of a family all dwell also 
in the same house, are daily united in one common 
system of employments, interchange unceasingly and 
habitually their kind offices, and are accustomed to re- 
joice and mourn, to hope and, fear, to weep and smije 
together. No eloquence, no labour, no time is neces- 
sary to awaken these sympathetic emotions. They are 
caught at once, from eye to eye, and from heart to 
heart ; and spread instantaneously, with an electric in- 
fluence, through ,all the endeared and happy circle. 

In the devotions of this little assembly, parents pray 
for their children, and children for their parents ; the 
husband for his wife, and the wife for her husband ; 
while brothers and sisters send up their requests to the 
throne of infinite mercy, to call down blessings upon 
each other. Who that wears the name of man can be 
indifferent here ? Must not the venerable character of 
the parents, the peculiar tenderness of the conjugal 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO FAMILIES. 



731 



union, the affectionate intimacy of the filial and frater- 
nal relations, must not the nearness of relations long 
existing-, the interchange of kindness long continued, 
and the oneness of interests long cemented, all warm 
the heart, heighten the importance of every petition, 
and increase the fervour of every devotional effort ? 

The blessings asked for are common to all. The pa- 
rent, in speaking for one member of the family, speaks, 
even when he does not directly design it, for every one. 
For here, as in the natural body, ' whether one member 
suffer, all the members suffer with it ; or one member 
be honoured, all the members rejoice with it.' These 
blessings are also indispensable and invaluable. They 
are no other than the health, union, peace, prosperity, 
forgiveness, sanctification, and everlasting life, of all 
this circle of beloved objects. How necessarily then 
must all the natural affections of the heart, and all the 
power of religion, conspire to render prayer, thus of- 
fered up, eminently fervent and devout ! The world 
perhaps does not furnish a single prospect so beautiful, 
so lovely, to the eye of virtuous contemplation, as a 
family thus assembled in the morning for their affec- 
tionate devotions ; combining the two most charming 
among all the exercises of the human heart, piety to 
God their common Parent, and tenderness to each 
other ; and living through the day in that course of 
evangelical conduct, which is pre-eminently suited 
to so delightful a beginning. No priest, no minister, 
is so venerable as a father ; no congregation so dear 
and tenderly beloved as a wife and children ; and no 
oblations are offered with the same union, interest, and 
delight, as those of a pious and affectionate household. 

2. Family prayer eminently contributes to domestic 
order and regularity. 

The worship of the morning and of the evening com- 
mences and closes the concerns of the day, with an ex- 
actness of method, almost necessarily diffused through 
all its concerns. The regular returns of an employ- 
ment, distinguished by its importance, communicate to 
the business connected with it, and to those who perform 
it, a character of regularity, unavoidably felt, and uni- 
versally prevailing. The worship of God is always of 
the highest importance. The spirit of religion which 
dictates it is, in its nature, a spirit of order. Its re- 
turns take place every morning and every evening, 
after short intervals, and with exact regularity. Its 
influence is therefore necessarily diffused through the 
day, operates with an efficacy wholly peculiar, and 
controls with a superior authority both the mind and 
the life. No influence is equally felt, and no minds are 
equally prepared to be acted upon by influence. The 
method established is invested with unrivalled solem- 
nity, enforced by the sanctity of religion, regarded with 
singular veneration, and submitted to without a ques- 
tion, even in thought. But method is the soul of all 
business, especially of complicated business, and pecu- 
liarly of business in which numbers are concerned. 
The method here produced is formed with perfect re- 
gularity, with supreme ease, without the consciousness 
of any difficulty, and without a thought of any resis- 
tance. Its nature is delightful ; its efficacy is complete. 

3. Family worship greatly strengthens parental go- 
vernment. 

In the morning and evening devotion, the parent is 
invested with the solemn character of a priest of God, a 
minister of Christ. This character, eminently venerable 



in itself, adds in the highest degree to the personal 
venerableness and dignity of the parent. When we 
think of any object, whatever may be its nature, we 
necessarily associate with it those ideas which have cus- 
tomarily been connected with it in our minds. Chil- 
dren naturally regard a parent with reverence. But 
they cannot fail to reverence a respectable parent more, 
and a contemptible parent less, on account of his per- 
sonal character. Whenever they have been accustomed 
to behold their parent daily sustaining the office of a 
minister of God, -they necessarily associate with every 
idea which they form of his person and character this 
solemn and important apprehension. Every image of 
this venerable relation presented to their minds will in- 
clude in it that of a divinely appointed guardian of their 
spiritual concerns; a guide to their duty, given them 
from above ; a venerated and beloved intercessor for 
their salvation. 

At the same time, the apparent habitual piety thus 
exhibited, will persuade the children that the authors 
of their being are sincere in all their religious profes- 
sions, and in their various moral instructions to them ; 
and that they are therefore, in the evangelical sense, 
virtuous. The evidence furnished in this manner may 
be, I acknowledge, and often is, overthrown by the sin- 
ful conduct even of praying parents. But I see not 
how this conviction can exist, where parents do not 
maintain the worship of God in their families. The 
want of such worship presents to the eye of children a 
palpable and indubitable inconsistency between their 
conduct and their professions, which no child can fail 
to see, or feel. An unhappy conviction will here un- 
avoidably spring up in their minds, which cannot be 
stifled, and which will necessarily lessen the character 
of the parent, and the weight of his commands ; a con- 
viction that these persons, notwithstanding their venera- 
ble name, and their relation to himself, are unpossessed 
of that singleness of heart, and that integrity of pro- 
fession, which he cannot avoid regarding as indispen- 
sable. 

This union in their worship, presents also in a very 
forcible manner to the eyes of their offspring that pecu- 
liar union of views and affections, of interests and de- 
signs, with respect to the most important of all subjects, 
and by necessary consequence with respect to every 
other, without which, it is hardly necessary to observe, 
no parental government can be successful ; and the 
happy influence of which is proverbially acknowledged 
wherever it is found. 

It is unnecessary to insist here upon the interesting 
nature of these subjects. It is unnecessary to show how 
indispensable it is that children should entertain the 
most reverential thoughts concerning their parents, feel 
an undoubted conviction of their sincerity in all things, 
and realize in the strongest manner their cordial union 
in every valuable purpose. 1 shall only add therefore, 
that, from the numerous complaints so often made by 
parents concerning the difficulty of governing theiic 
children, it may fairly be inferred, that all persons sus- 
taining this character, and possessed of common under- 
standing, must consider so efficacious an addition to 
their authority as of inestimable value. 

4. This worship, in an eminent degree, preserves and 
promotes religion in a family. 

Whenever a family or an individual observes an ex- 
act regularity in performing the duties, and celebx-ating 



732 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxli. 



the ordinances of the gospel, religion naturally becomes 
flourishing and vigorous in their hearts and in their 
lives. From family prayers both the parents and their 
offspring go, happily prepared, to the devotions of the 
closet; and from these devotions return, with the same 
becoming spirit, to the worship of the house : and from 
the retired and affectionate services of the week, they 
proceed with the best preparation to the more solemn 
duties of the sanctuary. 

To children, and servants, especially, the worship of 
the house is of incalculable importance. The advan- 
tages of both these classes of mankind for understand- 
ing and practising the duties of religion, in many re- 
spects, are obviously few and limited ; while their minds 
are imperfectly fitted to make tiie most advantageous 
use of such as they enjoy. To increase their number 
and their power, .and certainly not to lessen either, 
must naturally be the wish of every benevolent man. 
Among these, the household worsiiip is eminently im- 
portant. Here, so soon as they are able to understand 
anything, they see religion appearing, daily, in one of 
its most affecting forms ; celebrated by those whom 
nature teaches them most to respect and love ; and oc- 
cupied about interests which they easily understand, 
and deeply feel. Under the happy influence of these 
considerations, they grow speedily into fixed habits of 
thinking reverentially, and believing favourably con- 
cerning religion. The very aspect of the service teaches 
them, that it holds the uppermost place in the mind of 
a parent ; while a conviction of this truth renders his 
opinions and conduct more venerable and affecting in 
those of the children. In these circumstances they 
naturally feel as if God was always to be worshipped, 
sought, honoured, and praised ; and that his blessing was 
to be implored in every concern, temporal and spiritual. 

A family, habituated in this manner, goes from the 
house to the church with the most profitable apprehen- 
sions concerning the ordinances of the sabbath. .Reli- 
gion, in the view of all its members, wears a solemnity 
and importance, ordinarily not otherwise attainable ; 
and a frame of mind is acquired, most happily suscepti- 
ble of ihe best impressions in the house of God. 

Thus by prayer in the family, the religion of its 
members, if they are religious at all, is rendered more 
sincere, fervent, and efficacious. They are all better 
beings ; better husbands and wivss, better fathers and 
mothers; better children, brothers and sisters, better 
masters and servants, than they otherwise would, or in 
the ordinary course of providence could be. All the 
endearing interests of families, all the strong ties, the 
tender relations, and the vigorous affections which grow 
oat of this happy union of mankind in these little socie- 
ties of nature, are in this manner converted into most 
useful means of promoting the holiness of all. 

At the same time, and from the same source, chil- 
dren and servants are furnished with the most power- 
ful persuasives to become holy. Family worship is a 
primary branch of religious education, as that education 
is a primary source of religion to mankind ; and one 
of the two great pillars, on which rests the salvation of 
men. Without family worship, religious education will 
always be essentially defective; and the instructions, 
reproofs, and persuasives, suspected, at least, if not 
accounted insincere. 

But holiness is the great interest of all rational 
beings. In itself it is happiness of the noblest kind. 



It is also the parent of all other happiness which is solid 
and enduring. On family prayer then, God has founded 
a great and important part of all the real good of his 
rational creatures in the present world. 

No man can be insensible to this consideration, who 
is not insensible both to the present and future welfare 
of his offspring. Almost all parents wish their children 
to be virtuous here, and happy hereafter ; and this, even 
when themselves are vicious. Family prayer is one of 
the chief means, among those which are placed in the 
hands of parents, of rendering their children the sub- 
jects of holiness, and the heirs of eternal life. The 
parent therefore who does not make the utmost use of 
this mean, always in his power, so easily employed, so 
obviously fitted to produce the effect, and so fraught 
with invaluable consequences, ought never to pretend 
that he has any real love for his children. 

When therefore he sees them sinful, thoughtless, and 
dissolute, let him, instead of complaining of the difficulty 
whicli he finds in governing and reforming his children ; 
instead of quieting himself with the belief, that they are 
so peculiarly froward, as to frustrate every effort, and 
discourage every hope, take shame and confusion of 
face to himself for his own guilty negligence. Let him 
remember, that himself is eminently the cause of their 
profligacy and their ruin. Let him tremble, lest the 
f fury ' invoked by Jeremiah ' upon the families whicli 
called not upon the name of God,' should descend upon 
his own house, as the propar reward of his own irreli- 
gion. 

5. Families have the best reason to expect the blessing 
of God in answer to their prayers. 

All the promises, and other encouragements, given in 
the Scriptures to prayer, are addressed to individuals, 
families, and larger communities, alike. ' The effectual 
fervent prayer of the righteous' as truly ' availeth much ? 
in the household, as in the closet, or the church. The 
house is the place to ask for family blessings. Here all 
concerned in them unite their humble and fervent 
requests for the merciful communication. Nations war- 
rantably hope for national blessings, when they join in 
public supplications to God. The same observation is 
equally applicable to all inferior societies among man- 
kind. The members of a household are here the per- 
sons interested, the persons who hope to receive, and 
therefore the persons who should ask. They are unit- 
edly to receive ; their supplications therefore ought to 
be united. Nor is there any case in which a gracious 
answer to prayer may more justly be expected. 

Among the disadvantages, which flow from the ne- 
glect of family prayer, may be mentioned its unhappy 
influence. 

1. On domestic order. 

The mind naturally opposes order ; and cannot be 
brought to observe or relish it, unless by influence long 
exerted, arguments often repeated, and habits slowly 
and firmly established. Where these advantages do not 
exist in some good degree, man more resembles a wild 
beast, than a rational being : is impatient of all regu- 
larity, and all restraint : and is precluded alike from 
all worth, usefulness, and enjoyment. But no means 
contribute so easily, so powerfully, or so happily, to the 
establishment of good order in the house, as family 
worship. I do not deny, that this benefit flows in 
various degrees from other sources. But even these are 
prevented of no small part of their influence, where this 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO FAMILIES. 



733 



speeies of prayer is neglected. They are pillars, stand- 
ing on one side of the building ; and incapable of sup- 
porting it ; because those on the other side are taken 
away. 

2. On parental government. 

By this neglect all the advantages, already mentioned 
■with reference to this subject, are lost ; and all the dis- 
advantages derived from the opposite conduct are 
incurred. An irreligious parent cannot fail to be seen 
by children in an unhappy light. Nor is this any fault 
in them. The most dutiful children will regard him in 
this manner. Irreligion is in its nature odious and 
contemptible ; and cannot, unless under the influence 
of strong habitual prejudice, fail to be seen as it is. 
The conscience of every child will tell him this truth, 
however affectionate and reverential may be his dispo- 
sition. 

But the parent who is thus viewed by his children, 
and who gives them reason to view him thus, will find 
his instructions, reproofs, and punishments stripped of 
their principal efficacy. This efficacy is chiefly depen- 
dent on the reverence with which he is regarded ; ar.d 
this reverence, in a higher degree than he will probably 
be aware, is inseparably dependent on their apprehen- 
sion, that he is a religious man. But the omission of 
family worship, will necessarily attach to this character, 
always in some degree, and usually not in a small one, 
the appearance of irreligion. Even in the most amiable, 
and in other respects unblamable men, it will prevent 
that full conviction in the minds of children of parental 
respectability, which it is so desirable that they should 
entertain. Even this fact will have a considerable and 
malignant influence upon the government and obedience 
of children. 

3. On the religion of a family. 

In a family where such worship does not exist, there 
is, it must be acknowledged, no appearance of religion. 
If the parent, a case which rarely happens, should be a 
religious man : he is not seen to possess this character. 
Should he appear to sustain it in some things, he is 
plainly discerned not to sustain it in others; and thus 
exhibits an inconsistent, vibratory course of life, on 
which the eye cannot rest with either conviction, or 
pleasure. Such a contradictory character can have 
little influence in doing good to the minds of children. 
Whatever desirable efficacy it may possess, when viewed 
on one side, it will impair and destroy when seen on the 
other. 

All professions of religion, all pretensions to being 
religious, pass for nothing in the minds even of children, 
when unsupported by a religious life. But in the pre- 
sent case, the children behold their parent live in the 
continual neglect of what their consciences naturally 
declare to be one of the first duties of religion. Hence 
whatever regard he may testify to this sacred subject ; 
how numerous and how solemn soever his instructions 
to them may be, his power of making useful impressions 
on their minds, will in a great measure be prevented. 
Let it be remembered, that this prevention will be 
voluntary and wanton. No necessity can be pleaded 
for it, no advantage alleged, and no excuse found. 
How solemnly ought parents, who thus causelessly strip 
themselves, and rob their families of these inestimable 
benefits, to ponder this unhappy course, and to give 
themselves neither rest nor peace, until they shall 
have begun a final reformation! 



The objections which, within my knowledge, have 
been alleged against family prayer, or rather which have 
been intended to excuse the neglect of this duty, are 
chiefly the following: — 

1. The want of an express injunction of it in the 
Scriptures. 

There is not, I acknowledge, any passage in the 
word of God, which in so many terms enjoins prayer 
in the family as a duty, in distinction from other modes 
of religious worship. Of him who thinks this fact an 
objection to the performance of this duty, I ask, will 
you neglect every Christian duty which you do not 
find enjoined in express terms? Are you prepared to 
go through life without dedicating your children to God 
in baptism? Will you refuse to observe the first day 
of the week as the Christian sabbath ? Do you feel 
authorized to exclude the female sex from commu- 
nion at the table of Christ? Yet in vain would you 
look for precepts enjoining these things in express 
terms. 

But I deny the inference drawn by the objector from 
the silence of the Scriptures concerning this subject. 
Not only is the general principle, that nothing is our 
duty which is not expressly required in the Scriptures, 
false ; but the application of it also, even if it were 
allowed to be true, is in the present case incapable of 
being justified. As the objection itself seems to be 
generally relied on more than any other, it will be use- 
ful to consider the subject of it at length, as it is exhi- 
bited in the Scriptures. 

Prayer is nowhere in the Scriptures enjoined as a 
duty which was before unknown, and new at the time 
of the injunction, or as then to be begun. On the con- 
trary, it is always spoken of as a duty already known, 
confessed, and practised. All the commands concern- 
ing it, respect either the times, manner, degree, spirit, 
universality, or some other circumstance, with which 
the performance ought to be connected. In no instance 
is the duty enjoined as original, or as the subject of a 
new institution. 

The first mention made of this subject in the Scrip- 
tures, if we adopt the common translation is in Gen. 
iv. 26. Here, after the birth of Enos, it is said, that 
' then began men to call on the name of the Lord ;' 
that is, mankind then began publicly to worship God in 
a solemn, religious assembly. I suppose, however, that 
this translation is erroneous ; and believe the words 
ought to be rendered, ' then began men to be called 
after the name of the Lord ;' that is, the family of Seth 
began to be called ' the sons of God ;' in opposition to 
the apostate family. of Cain, who were styled ' the chil- 
dren of men.' See Gen. vi. 2. 

According to this opinion, the first passage in which 
prayer is mentioned, is the prayer of Abraham foJ 
Ishmael, Gen. xvii. 18. 

Tire second is his intercession for Sodom, Gen. 
xviii. 24. 

The third is the direction, that Abraham should praj 
for Abimelech, after his offence in taking away Sarah. 
This may be considered as a command. 

The fourth is the declaration, that ' Isaac went out 
into the field to pray in the evening,' Gen. xxiv. 63. 

To these may be subjoined, as next in order of time, 
several instances in the book of Job. 

' Yea, thou restrainest prayer before God,' Job. xv. -1. 

' My prayer is pure,' Job xvi. 17, 



734 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxli. 



' What profit shall we have, if we pray to him ? 
(words of the wicked,) Job xvi. 15. 

' He shall pray to God, and he will be favourable to 
him,' Job xxxiii. 26. 

' My servant Job shall pray for you :' (A command,) 
Job xlii. 8. 

The first passage which can be fairly construed as an 
injunction of prayer in the general sense, is the exhor- 
tation of the psalmist, ' pray for the peace of Jerusalem :' 
that is, the church at large ; Psal. cxxii. 6. 

The second is in Jer. xxix. 7, ' Seek the peace of the 
city whither I have caused you to be carried away cap- 
tives, and pray unto the Lord for it.' 

In all these passages (the whole number of those in 
which the subject is mentioned, until after the period 
of the last which has been quoted), there are four in- 
stances in which prayer may be said to be commanded. 
In the two first, individuals are required to pray for 
individuals, on singular and peculiar occasions. In 
the third, saints are commanded, or rather exhorted, 
when assembled for public worship, to pray for the 
peace of the church. In the fourth, prayer is enjoined 
upon the Jewish captives, for the peace of the city whi- 
ther they were to be carried. All the other passages 
are merely circumstantial accounts of the subject. 

The first injunction of this duty, the terms of which 
regard it as in any sense generally obligatory, was 
t>iven when the world was about three thousand years 
old ; and the Jewish church about eight hundred. The 
second about two hundred years afterward. 

From these facts I conclude, that it was not the in- 
tention of the Scriptures to institute this duty anew, in 
any passage whatever ; there being no passage in 
which it is thus instituted. They took up this subject 
in the only way which was natural or proper. Men 
had always prayed from the beginning, and on all 
occasions confessed prayer to be a duty. Nothing more 
therefore was necessary, natural, or proper than to 
regulate it as a duty already begun, acknowledged, and 
practised by mankind. The state of facts demanded 
only, that the Scriptures should teach the manner, the 
times, the spirit, the constancy, and the universality of 
prayer. Nothing more was necessary ; and this is 
done in the happiest and most effectual manner con- 
ceivable. 

From this account of the manner in which prayer is 
treated in the Scriptures, it appears evident, at least to 
me, that original and particular directions concerning 
the three divisions of this duty customarily made in 
modern times, viz., secret, family, and public prayer 
ought never to have been expected. * The circumstances 
in which the subject is taken up, and the manner in 
which it is exhibited, forbid every expectation of this 
nature. The question, whether prayer in secret, in the 
family, or in public, is a duty of man, was probably 
never asked, nor the obligation to perform it in either 
case doubted, during the whole period from the begin- 
ning of the world to the completion of the scriptural 
canon. Men always prayed on every solemn and pro- 
per occasion ; in public, in private, and in secret. 
When one man had wants of his own, which he wished 
to spread before God, or blessings which he wished to 
ask, he performed this duty in secret. When two, 
twenty, a hundred, or a thousand, had common wants, 
and wished for common blessings, they united in their 
devotions ; and thus formed a greater, or smaller, reli- 



gious assembly. Thus families, thus churches, and thus 
nations met together for social prayer and praise, as I 
well as for the purpose of offering social sacrifices. 

To this origin are to be referred the family sacrifices 
of Elkanah and Jesse ; and among the heathen nations 
the existence of household gods, and domestic liba- 
tions. Such gods, derived from the same source, 
were in all probability the teraphiin, which Rachel 
took from Laban. Abraham's family plainly worship- 
ped together ; so did the family of Job ; so did Christ 
and his apostles ; so did the apostles after his ascen- 
sion. There were little religious assemblies also in the 
houses of Aquila and Nymphas ; consisting probably 
of their own households, and of such others as were 
occasionally present. The whole congregation of Israel 
also assembled at the times specified in the law of Mo- 
ses, from the days of that lawgiver to the latest period 
of their national existence. In the same manner wor- 
shipped the Christian churches at Jerusalem, Antioch, 
Rome, and other places. 

The truth unquestionably is, prayer was instituted 
by divine appointment from the creation of man, and 
was traditionally spread through all nations, as a duty 
evident to common sense, and acknowledged by the 
universal voice of mankind. The Gentiles practised it 
in every form, as did the patriarchs, Jews, and Chris- 
tians. It was performed by one, few, or many ; that is, 
by all who were interested in the wants felt, and the 
blessings supplicated ; and secretly, privately, or pub- 
licly, just as the occasion required. 

On this scheme is the text formed : ' pray always, 
with all prayer ;' that is, pray on every proper occa- 
sion, with prayer suited to that occasion : if the occa- 
sion be your own, with the prayer suited to it; viz., 
secret prayer; if your own, and that of others also, 
be they few or many, with prayer suited to every such 
occasion. 

Families are always together at least twice every 
day ; and every day furnishes at least two occasions to 
all the members for communion in prayer. All the 
members therefore are required by this precept unit- 
edly to spread their common wants before their Maker, 
and to ask for blessings in which they have a common 
interest. 

In the same manner are both secret and public 
prayer enjoined. Neither of these duties is enjoined 
originally. All the precepts relating to them are em- 
ployed in regulating the disposition with which, the 
manner in which, the times at which they are to be 
performed; or the modification, or other circumstances 
pertaining to the performance. Neither of these duties 
is anywhere in the Scriptures instituted anew ; but 
both are always spoken of as already existing. 

At the same time, several passages of Scripture, be- 
sides those already mentioned, refer to this subject in a 
manner too evident to leave a reasonable doubt, that 
family worship was their immediate object. When 
Joshua informs the children of Israel, that ' as for him 
and his house, they will serve the Lord ;' he teaches 
us directly, that they united, and had customarily 
united, in this service. The Lord's prayer, after the 
manner of which we are directed by Christ to pray, is 
a social prayer, and seems plainly to have been in- 
tended, not for an individual, not for the closet, not for 
the church, but for the family and the fireside. In 
this prayer we are directed to ask for our daily bread, 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO FAMILIES. 



735 ' 



on the day in which the prayer is used. As therefore 
we need, and are bound to ask for, our daily bread 
every day, it was plainly designed to be a daily prayer, 
and could not therefore be intended for the church ; 
since mankind are not, and cannot be, present in the 
church every day. That it was not intended for the 
closet, is obvious from the fact, that it is addressed to 
God by more persons than one. That it may with pro- 
priety be used both in the church, and in the closet, as 
to its substance, I readily acknowledge : but it was, I 
think, plainly intended principally for the household. 
' What a live coal,' says Dr Hunter beautifully, ' is ap- 
plied to devotion, when the solitary my Father and my 
God, is changed into the social our Father, and our 
God! How delightful, let me add, how interesting, 
how animating, how encouraging to every amiable and 
virtuous emotion, for the pair, thus united, to be able 
to sny, and actually to say, ' Behold, here are we, and 
the children whom thou hast given us !' 

In Zechariah x. 10, the prophet informs, that, as 
a commencement of the millennial glory and happiness, 
the people of Israel shall worship God with peculiar 
earnestness and devotion, as it is expressed in the 
Hebrew, ' families by families.' In other words, he 
teaches us, that there shall be a wonderful prevalence 
of family worship. This also he exhibits as followed 
by remarkable testimonies of the divine favour, and as 
crowned with blessings new in their degree, and emi- 
nently glorious in their nature. It is difficult to con- 
ceive how God could testify in a more affecting manner 
the peculiar favour with which he regards family reli- 
gion. 

2. Diffidence and timidity are often alleged as serious 
objections to the performance of this duty. 

This certainly is a very unhappy excuse for neglect- 
ing this dsity, and very unfortunately alleged. I should 
feel myself bound to ask the author of it, Are you too 
diffident to perform your customary business? Are 
you too diffident to pursue customary amusements ? 
Are you too diffident to commit sin ? Does the bash- 
fulness, which hinders you from family prayer, hinder 
you also from censuring, and laughing at others who 
practise it ? Does it prevent you from using the lan- 
guage of profaneness ? Why should you be timid only 
concerning the duties of religion ? Is there anything 
in the nature of this subject, which can reasonably ex- 
cite shame, or which can fairly excuse you in indulging 
it? Is it not true, that religion itself is the thing of 
which you are ashamed ? 

Remember, I beseech you, the awful declaration of 
Christ concerning this subject, ' Whosoever shall be 
ashamed of me, and of my words, of him shall the Son 
of man be ashamed, when he shall come in his glory.' 
Family worship, presented in the name of Christ, is as 
real a confession of this divine Person, as the partici- 
pation of the sacramental supper. 

3. Inability to pray, to devise proper thoughts, and 
to find proper expressions, is also no unfrequent objec- 
tion against the performance of this duty. 

To him, who alleges it, I would say, Have you not 
wants to be supplied, woes to be relieved, sins to be 
forgiven, and blessings to be supplicated? Can you 
not confess your sins, recite your wants and distresses, 
and mention the blessings which you need ! Do you 
ordinarily find any difficulty in conferring with an 
earthly friend, or in soliciting aid . from an earthly 



benefactor? Have you, when in earnest, ever found 
auy serious embarrassment in telling others what you 
needed, or what you desired? 

Wherever religion gains possession of the heart, re- 
gular experience proves, that all these blessings vanish. 
Nay, where serious conviction of guilt and danger is 
entertained by the mind, every man who is the subject 
of it forgets at once both his inability and bashfulness. 
Is it not evident, then, that the true reason why these 
things have such unhappy influence over you is, that 
you have no proper regard for religion, and no just 
sense either of your guilt, or your need of forgiveness ? 

At the same time, these difficulties are incomparably 
more formidable in prospect, than in reality. As you 
approach them, they vanish. Thousands and millions, 
originally neither wiser nor better than you, neither 
less timid nor less embarrassed-, have got over them all. 
Certainly then you may achieve the same victory. 

4. Multitudes allege also, as a serious objection to the 
performance of this duty, that they shall meet from their 
families nothing but opposition, censure, and ridicule. 

To the author of this objection I shall answer, that 
it is usually, if not always, founded in mistake. Chil- 
dren are by nature prepared to reverence religion. 
The conscience of man, before it has been warped and 
overpowered by passion, prejudice, and sin, prompts 
him, of course, to regard this solemn and awful object 
only with emotions of respect. So obvious is this truth 
that it has often been acknowledged by infidels. Chil- 
dren therefore present no obstruction to the perform- 
ance of this duty. 

Whatever may be true of other countries, it is cer- 
tainly true in this, that the number of women is ex- 
tremely small who discourage, in any manner which 
may be styled direct, the ordinances of religion. From 
them, therefore, no hinderance will be presented to this 
duty, unless in cases of a very extraordinary nature. 
The difficulty then which is here alleged is, in almost 
every case, created solely by the man himself. 

I would further ask this objector, Have you made the 
experiment ? If not, where is your proof of its truth ? 
If you have, have you attempted to remove it; and, 
like a wise and good man, determined to govern your 
family, and subdue so unreasonable a spirit ? 

This evil is oftener feared than felt. It is doubtful 
whether the man can be found, who, after a faithful 
trial, has been prevented by it from the regular wor- 
ship of God in his family. 

There is another objection which, though perhaps 
never alleged in form, has had no small weight in par- 
ticular cases. It is this : The persons in question have 
long neglected it, and feel extreme reluctance to exhi- 
bit to their families their inconsistency of character. 
Concerning this objection I shall only observe, that it 
lies equally against all reformation ; and, if yielded' to, 
would effectually prevent every sinner from becoming 
a Christian. 

Upon the whole, all those objections are either erro- 
neous, or nugatory ; either advised, or adopted, by a 
mind already willing to neglect the duty ; and fastened 
upon, as the best means within its reach, to quiet its 
own conscience, and to justify its conduct in the sight 
of others. 



736 SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. [Ser. cxui. 



SERMON CXLII. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.—THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER 

TO COMMUNITIES ITS EFFICACY IN PROCURING BLESSINGS ENCOURAGEMENTS TO 

PRAYER. 



It is good for me to draw near unto God. — Psal. lxxiii. 28. 



In the last Discourse, I considered the usefulness of 
prayer to families. The next thing proposed for dis- 
cussion was its usefulness to communities. 

It may be proper to remind my audience, that the 
usefulness of prayer was originally mentioned as two- 
fold ; consisting, 

1. In its immediate influence on the suppliant; and, 

2. Its efficacy in procuring blessings. 

It may be proper further to observe, that, next to the 
usefulness of prayer, I proposed to examine the encou- 
ragements to this duty. These three subjects will be 
considered in the present Discourse. 

In the text, the psalmist declares, that ' it was good 
for him to draw near to God.' If it was good, that is, 
profitable, for the psalmist to perform this duty ; it must, 
without a question, be equally profitable to every other 
individual, who prays with the same spirit. There was 
nothing in the character of David Which rendered 
prayer more beneficial to him, than it may be to others. 
He prayed, frequently, faithfully, and earnestly. All 
who pray in the same manner will find the same bene- 
fits. Nor will this usefulness be, in any degree, less- 
ened by the communion of multitudes in this solemn 
service. On the contrary, it will be increased. The 
power of sympathy cannot fail to enhance the fervour 
of prayer, when offered up to God by numerous bodies 
of mankind. Whatever advantages then result from 
prayer, generally considered, whether offered up in the 
closet, or in the family, all these will result from the 
prayer of communities. Besides these, public prayer is 
accompanied by several advantages, in a great measure 
peculiar to itself. Particularly, 

1. Public worship is in a prime degree constituted of 
public prayer. 

The benefits of public worship I have considered at 
large in a former Discourse. All these benefits are 
not, I confess, derived solely from public prayer. They 
are, however, so connected with it, as, in a remoter 
sense, to be justly attributable to its proper influence. 
It seems scarcely probable, that, without public prayer, 
the other ordinances of public worship would be cele- 
brated at all, or the sabbath itself at all observed. If 
we did not feel our dependence upon God for all good, 
and the absolute necessity of deriving, and asking it 
from him, there would, apparently, be no motives of 
sufficient efficacy to preserve public worship in the 
world. If public prayer were to cease, the sabbath, it 
is to be feared, would be forgotten and the sanctuary 
deserted. 

These things being admitted, it follows, that all the 
blessings above mentioned are derived from public 
prayer ; not, indeed, immediately, but ultimately. On 
their importance I need not now expatiate. 



2. Public prayer, above all things, preserves alive a 
sense of national dependence on God. 

The prime mean of preserving in the mind of an in- 
dividual a sense of his own dependence on his Maker 
is, confessedly, prayer ; as has been shown at large in a 
preceding Discourse. On families and on nations its 
influence is the same. No human emotion has a more 
advantageous influence on the mind than this. It af- 
fects men deeply in all stations and circumstances ; and 
affects them all happily. It is a feeling perfectly just, 
and the only just feeling respecting the subject. It is 
a feeling of high importance ; it is a feeling of the most 
useful tendency. 

On rulers its influence is that, and only that, which 
they need to incline them to ' rule justly and in the 
fear of God.' A ruler who feels his dependence on his 
Maker will be just, of course ; because he knows that 
God is just, and demands exact justice of him ; because 
he knows that God is an eye-witness of all his conduct; 
and because he knows he must give an account of that 
conduct, and be rewarded according to its nature. If 
he does that which is right, he is assured of accep- 
tance ; if not, sin, he is equally assured, will lie at 
his door. 

With sue!) a sense of his dependence, a ruler will be 
merciful also ; because he knows that God is merciful ; 
that he loves those who are merciful, and requires mercy 
of all men, and peculiarly of rulers; because he knows, 
that ' mercy and truth uphold the throne of a king,'' 
and the office of every other ruler ; and because he 
knows that, in the end, he himself will infinitely need 
mercy ; that God has pronounced the merciful, blessed, 
and promised that ' they shall obtain mercy,' and has 
awfully declared, that ' he shall have judgment with- 
out mercy, who showeth no mercy.' 

With this sense of dependence also, a ruler will be 
humble. In the sight of God every man, however high 
his station, however extensive his power, is merely a 
' worm of the dust, and crushed before the moth.' To 
a being so frail, so feeble, so dependent, pride cannot 
belong. His own littleness cannot fail to stare him in 
tiie face, whenever he remembers that everything which 
he has, oris, or will be, has been, and must be, solely 
derived from God ; and for its continuance must de- 
pend solely on his pleasure. It is impossible for a mind 
fraught with these sentiments not to forget the haughti- 
ness of power, and the splendour of station. At the 
same time, a ruler thus disposed will ever call to mind, 
that the poor in spirit, the meek, and the humble, are 
the only persons to whom good is promised in the gos- 
pel. ' The haughtiness of man,' it is there declared, 
' shall be brought low, and the pride of all human glory 
shall be stained.' It is there declared, that every proud 






THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO COMMUNITIES. 



737 



man is ' an abomination to the Lord,' and shall be stub- 
ble for the final day. 

It is scarcely necessary to observe, how important 
these attributes are to every ruler, or how beneficial 
they invariably prove to subjects. With such a cha- 
racter, the ruler cannot fail to be equitable in his laws 
and administrations, reasonable in his exaction and 
management of public property, clement in the distri- 
bution of justice, conscientious in the performance of 
every duty, and universally ' a minister of God for good ' 
to his people. 

A corresponding influence, equally happy, will the 
same sense of dependence have on those who are ruled. 
The same general conscientiousness will prevail in their 
minds ; a scrupulous obedience to all laws, and lawful 
authority ; and a steady attachment to the good order 
and peace secured by a wise administration. 

Men formed to sentiments and habits of this nature 
are almost wholly a different kind of beings, from those 
to whom such sentiments are unknown. The motives 
by which these two classes of men are governed are 
totally diverse. Those of the former class are swayed 
by the fear and love of God, a disposition to obey him, 
the dictates of conscience, the hope of final approbation, 
and the dread of final ruin. Those of the latter class 
are influenced only by present, selfish considerations ; 
and universally inquire how much they shall gain by 
submission to government, or how much they shall lose 
by revolt. The former obey rulers, are just and kind 
to each other, and perform all the duties owed to their 
fellow men, from conscience and principle. The latter, 
so far as they perform these duties at all, perform them 
from convenience only. On the former class, full re- 
liance may be uniformly placed. To the latter no con- 
fidence can safely attach, except when their duty and 
their selfishness coincide. The obedience of the former 
is voluntary, that of the latter mercenary and venal. 

Between rulers and subjects, governed by this sense 
of dependence on their Maker, arises of course an uni- 
versal confidence. In a country thus influenced, the 
government can therefore easily, and will naturally, be 
mild and gentle. In every other, it must ultimately be 
a system of coercion, an administration of force. So- 
ciety in such a country is established on sounder prin- 
ciples, is formed with juster views, and assumes a nobler 
character. It is the society of reason, of friendship, of 
virtue, of piety. Everything in the understanding, the 
heart, and the life, is more accordant with the commands 
of God, and therefore with truth and rectitude. The 
bonds which bind the society together are stronger, the 
trespasses against human happiness are fewer and less 
atrocious, the punishments inflicted by the magistrate 
are milder, and more rare ; and the safety, comfort, 
and prosperity enjoyed are more absolute, uniform, and 
entire. 

Of all these blessings, prayer, both public and private, 
is in such a sense the source, that without it they never 
existed in this corrupt world, and never will exist. Nor 
will their extent ever fail to be proportioned to the 
prevalence of this duty. 

I have now finished the observations which I intended 
••oncerning the usefulness of prayer, by its proper in- 
fluence on the suppliant. The next subject which de- 
mands our attention, according to the plan proposed, is 
its efficacy in procuring blessings from God. 

Every considerate man will see infinite motives in- 



viting him to pray, when he discerns that prayer will 
of course make him a wiser and better man, recom- 
mend him to the approbation and favour of God, and 
prepare him to receive blessings from his hands ; when 
he perceives, that in praying he has become obedient 
to a high and solemn command, and more attempered 
to the spirit and character of heaven. These are the 
most estimable of all blessings ; and as they are bless- 
ings of such import in themselves, and extend through- 
out eternity, their value, it is plain, cannot be mea- 
sured. 

But to many minds, the hope of being actually an- 
swered, and directly blessed with good of some extra- 
neous kind, not inwrought in the present character, and 
distant from personal improvement and distant fruition, 
is usually a still more powerful persuasive to prayer. 
Some persons would be moved by this consideration, 
who would imperfectly feel the other, great and obvious 
as it appears. It is also a consideration founded in truth 
and reality ; and for both reasons merits a place in this 
system of discourses. 

If I am not deceived, the following observations will 
place it in a convincing light. 

1. From the influence which prayer has naturally on 
the suppliant, there is no small probability, that God 
will grant blessings in answer to the petitions of those 
who faithfully perform this duty. 

From the observations made in a former discourse 
concerning the influence which prayer has on the sup- 
pliant, it is evident that by the faithful performance of 
this duty, he is in all respects made a fitter recipient of 
blessings, than he can be otherwise. No rational doubt 
can be entertained, that God will bestow his blessings 
on such as are thus fitted to receive them, rather than 
on such as are not. It is evidently proper, that he 
should regard with compassion and kindness, and that 
he should communicate good to those who felt their de- 
pendence on him, acknowledged his sufficiency and 
disposition to supply their wants, humbly besought his 
mercy, realized their own undeserving character, and 
were grateful to him for every blessing which they re- 
ceived ; when with equal propriety he would refuse the 
same blessings to men who felt no dependence but on 
themselves ; who were too indifferent, too lazy, or too 
proud to ask ; who questioned his right to require, and 
their own obligation to perform this duty ; or who were 
too ungrateful to acknowledge their own indebtedness 
to him for the mercies which they receive, or his good- 
ness in bestowing them. Were God to pursue any other 
course of administration, it is difficult to conceive how 
he could act as a moral governor, and secure, without 
coercion, the obedience of his subjects. 

2. The instances are numerous, in which blessings are 
actually given in answer to prayer. 

I am well aware of the objection which lies against 
this doctrine. It may, I am sensible, be always said in 
reply, that we know not whether the same blessings 
would not have descended, if prayers had not been of- 
fered up for them. Without the aid of revelation, I 
acknowledge, this cannot be known with certainty ; 
since he who gives blessings, is the only being who 
originally knows the reason for which he gives them. 
Still, from the course of providence merely the proba- 
bility is strong, that the blessings in question are given 
only in answer to prayer. In support of this assertion 
1 observe, that blessings have in many instances been 
5 A 



733 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxlh. 



given, after fervent prayers have ascended to God, 
when none but God could have contributed to their ex- 
istence, when they were utterly unattainable by any 
human efforts ; after all such efforts had been made 
without success ; after all hope of obtaining- them, except 
by prayer, had vanished; and when, 'Give us help 
from trouble, for vain is the help of man,' had become 
the only language seriously thought of by those who 
were concerned. Of such instances I could easily men- 
tion a considerable number. Many more, there is every 
reason to believe, are remarked by every observing, re- 
ligious man. Many more still would, I doubt not, 
have been remarked, if religious men were more obser- 
vant, and prayer were more continually and faithfully 
performed. 

It will be said still, that even these blessings might 
have been given, had they not been supplicated. To 
this suggestion of possibility the proper answer is, 
' They might not.' We know they were not given 
without prayer ; and have not a shadow of reason to 
conclude that, if they had not been "prayed for, they 
would ever have been given. The suggestion therefore 
is useless to the purpose for which it is made. 

But the complete proof lies in this ; that certain bless- 
ings are not given to men who do not pray, and those, 
blessings of the highest importance. Such are peace of 
conscience, ' joy in the Holy Ghost,' the ' hope ' which 
' maketh not ashamed,' increase of grace, and final per- 
severance in piety. These are the best of all blessings ; 
and these are never found by those who do not pray. 
They are also blessings which none but God can give. 
As therefore they are given to those only who pray, so 
they are plainly given as an answer to prayer. 

At the same time, I am bound, as an inhabitant of 
New England, solemnly to declare, that were there no 
other instances to be found in any other country, the 
blessings communicated to this would furnish ample 
satisfaction concerning this subject to every sober, much 
more to every pious man. Among these, the destruc- 
tion of the French armament under the Duke D'An- 
ville, in the year 1746, ought to be remembered with 
gratitude and admiration by every inhabitant of this 
country. This fleet consisted of forty ships of war ; 
was destined for the destruction of New England ; was 
of sufficient force to render that destruction, in the or- 
dinary progress of things, certain ; sailed from Chebuc- 
to, in Nova Scotia, for this purpose ; and was entirely 
destroyed on the night following a general fast through- 
out New England, by a terrible tempest Impious men, 
who * regard not the work of the Lord, nor the opera- 
tion of his hands,' and who for that reason are finally 
destroyed, may refuse to give God the glory of this 
most merciful interposition. But our ancestors had, and 
it is to be hoped their descendants ever will have, both 
piety and good sense sufficient to ' ascribe to Jehovah 
the greatness, and the power, and the victory, and the 
majesty ;' and to ' bless the Lord God of Israel for ever 
and ever.' 

3. The Scriptures put this subject out of doubt, by 
declaring directly, that blessings are given to mankind 
in answer to prayer. 

To prevent any misapprehension concerning the 
views now to be exhibited of this subject, I observe, 
that I do not consider prayer as meriting in any case 
the blessings which are given to the suppliant. All bless- 
ings are bestowed upon man by the unmerited mercy of 



God ; as is unanswerably evident from the fact, that 
men universally are sinners, and deserve of course no- 
thing but punishment. 

Nor do I intend, that the prayers of men change at 
all the views, dispositions, or purpose of God. ' The 
Father of lights, from whom cometh down every good 
and perfect gift, is without variableness, or shadow of 
turning.' No suppliant therefore is encouraged to 
pray by an expectation, or a possibility of producing 
the least change in the glorious object of his prayers. 

But I intend, that prayer is in this sense the means 
of procuring blessings ; viz., that without prayer the 
blessings would never be obtained. 

In the immutable counsels of God it is established, 
that there shall be an inseparable connexion between 
humble, faithful prayer, and the blessings needed by the 
suppliant. Prayer is therefore as regularly, nay, more 
regularly, a cause of blessings, than ploughing and sow- 
ing, rain and sunshine, are of the harvest. 

In support of this position, I shall now allege several 
passages of Scripture, sufficient in my view to establish 
the doctrine beyond reasonable debate. 

The only condition upon which mankind receive any 
blessings, is given us by our Saviour in that remarkable 
passage : ' Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye 
shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For 
every one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seekelh, 
findeth ; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.' 
As asking is here made the condition of leceiving; it 
is plain, that if we perform not this condition, we are 
assured that we shall not receive. 

Again : ' Verily, verily 1 say unto you, that whatso- 
ever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give 
it you,' John xvi. 23. Here the promise is unlimited, 
as to the good which is asked ; and absolute, as to the 
certainty of receiving it. More cannot be expressed, 
nor desired. Again : * Whatsoever we ask, we receive 
of him,' 1 John iii. 22. Quotations of this nature need 
not to be multiplied. 

As proof that prayer is not offered up in vain, I al- 
lege Isa. xlv. 19: * I said not to the seed of Jacob, 
Seek ye me in vain.' In this passage God declares that 
it was no part of his declarations to Israel, that they 
sought him, or prayed to him in vain. Of consequence, 
it was no part of his counsels with respect to that peo- 
ple. But the counsels of God towards his people, in 
the different ages of the world, are in substance- the 
same. It is now as true as it was when this prophecy 
was uttered, that they never seek, that they never pray, 
in vain. 

'I he prevailing power of prayer is directly as well as 
strongly asserted by St James ; ' The effectual fervent 
prayer of a righteous man availeth much.' 

' Is any sick,' says the same apostle, ' let him call for 
the elders of the church ; and let them pray over him. 
And the prayer of faith shall save the sick ; and the 
Lord shall raise him up ; and if he have committed sins, 
they shall be forgiven him:' 

To illustrate all these declarations, St James adduces 
the example of Elijah ; who, although a frail man, 
like others, 'prayed earnestly, that it might not rain, 
and it rained not on the earth by the space of three 
years and six months. And he prayed again, and the 
heaven gave rain, and the earth brought forth her fruit.' 
These great effects, it is to be remembered, were conse- 
quences of the prayers of a single man. 



THE USEFULNESS OF PRAYER TO COMMUNITIES. 



739 



After the glorious prediction communicated to Eze- 
kiel concerning the return of the Jews to their own land 
in the latter days, a prediction delivered in absolute 
terms by God himself, the same great being declares, 
' Yet for all this will I be inquired of,' that is, prayed 
to, ' by the house of Israel to do it for them.' Absolute 
as the promises of these vast blessings were, still the 
blessings were to be given only in answer to the prayers 
of the recipients. 

Among the divine promises concerning the millennial 
happiness, this is a happy one: ' My house shall be a 
house of prayer for all people.' From this great fact will 
arise inseparably the happiness itself. Without such an 
universal spirit of prayer as is here predicted, the pecu- 
liar blessings of that singular period would never exist ; 
lor then, as in all preceding periods, the only ordinance 
of God concerning this subject will be, ' Ask, and ye 
shall receive.' 

From all these passages it is, I think, unanswerably 
evident, that prayer is entirely efficacious to procure 
blessings from God. 

It ought here to be further observed, that we are not 
to expect anything in answer to our prayers which 
is not agreeable to the will of God. Nor ought we to 
wish anything which is not of this nature to be given 
to us ; for nothing else will prove a blessing. What- 
ever is right and proper to be done, is a part of the 
divine will. 

Nor ougbt we to expect the very same kinds or mea- 
sures of good for which we pray. Often these would 
not be good for us ; or if good for us at all, they would 
not be so at the times, and in the manner in which we 
ask for them. Good will always be given in answer to 
our prayers ; but it will be real good, such as God sees 
to be good, and not such as we erroneously may ima- 
gine to be of this nature. 



1. All persons have abundant encouragement to pray 
to God. 

This was originally proposed as a distinct head of 
discourse. I have chosen to introduce it in this form, 
because it grows so naturally out of the two preceding 
heads ; and because it has of necessity been anticipated 
in the consideration of them. The usefulness of prayer 
by its own proper influence, and by its efficacy in pro- 
curing blessings from God, are prime encouragements 
to the performance of this duty. 

The certain prospect of becoming better, wiser, more 
lovely in the sight of God, and more fitted to receive 
blessings from his hands, and of actually gaining the 
blessings by known, limited, and easy efforts, is a com- 
bination of the highest and noblest motives which can 
influence a rational being. To every suppliant these 
motives are continually presented. They are presented 
by God himself; they are established by his undeceiv- 
ing declarations ; they are obvious to our own reason : 
they are therefore real, and ought plainly to have their 
full influence on every reasoning mind. The good in 
view is the greatest good. Nay, there is no other real 
good. It is good in certain reversion for every suppliant 

In support of this scheme may be alleged, as full evi- 
dence, the numerous examples in which these great 
consequences of prayer have actually existed ; exam- 
ples faithfully recorded in the Scriptures for our en- 
couragement in this duty. 



Abimelech received an entire deliverance from the 
distresses in which his family were involved, as an an- 
swer to the prayer of Abraham. 

As an answer to the prayers of Abraham, also, God 
assured him, that, if ten righteous men should be found 
in the cities of the plain, he would spare those cities, 
and not consign them to the punishment which their sins 
had so eminently deserved. 

In answer to the prayer of Job, God forgave the sin 
and folly of his three friends, in not speaking of hiiu 
the thing which was right. 

At the prayer of Moses, the Israelites were not only 
delivered from many other evils, but preserved also 
from utter extinction. 

At the prayer of Gideon, the dew fell on the ground, 
and not on the fleece ; and again on the fleece, and not 
on the ground ; that he might know the will of God, 
and be satisfied that he acted under a divine commis- 
sion. 

At the prayer of Samuel, the Lord thundered on the 
army of the Philistines, and wrought a great salvation 
for Israel. 

At the prayer of Hezekiah, his life was lengthened 
fifteen years. 

In answer to the prayer of Daniel, Gabriel was sent 
from the highest heavens, to explain the wonderful and 
distressing vision, disclosed to him concerning future 
times. 

As an answer to the prayers of Cornelius, an angel 
was sent to direct him to send for Peter, who should 
' teach him words, whereby he, and all his house, should 
be saved.' 

The apostles lived on prayer ; and received conti- 
nually many great and wonderful blessings, as imme- 
diate answers to their prayers. 

To these, and other examples of the same nature re- 
corded in the Scriptures, may be added the commands, 
parables, and promises, which everywhere enjoin, ex- 
plain, and enforce this great duty. 

To all these things may also be added the perfect ex- 
ample of the Lord Jesus Christ, ' who in the days of his 
flesh offered up prayers and supplications, with strong- 
crying and tears, unto him that was able to save him 
from death ; and was heard in that he feared :' or, as 
the Greek may well be rendered, ' on account of his 
piety.' This example unites all motives. It is a per- 
fect pattern to us, as being perfectly conformed to the 
will of God. It is a clear proof, that no being in a de- 
pendent state, however excellent, is exempted from this 
duty, or from the universal law of God's providence, 
which connects blessings only with prayer. If God 
would have blessed any being without prayer, he cer- 
tainly would have blessed Christ. As certainly, Christ, 
had such been the fact, would not have prayed, since 
his prayers in that case would have been a vain and 
useless service. The will of his Father he certainly 
knew ; and prayed only because it was agreeable to his 
will. Accordingly, his prayers were heard, and always 
heard. This example also has the entire force of a 
command, and is invested with divine authority. If, 
then, we obey and follow him in this great duty, we 
shall do that which is right in the sight of God, as he 
did ; shall be accepted for his sake, as he was accepted, 
and shall be rewarded and blessed as he was. 

In these things, thus combined, there is plainly all 
possible encouragement to pray, and to ' continue stead- 



740 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CXMI. 



fast in prayer.' ' The Father of all mercies ' regards us 
in this situation as his children ; prepares us by this 
duty most happily to realize his character as ' the giver 
of every good and perfect gift ;' and fits us in the best 
manner also to receive his blessings, when they are be- 
stowed. He forms us to the spirit and conduct of chil- 
dren ; and is himself ready to give good things of all 
kinds to us, when we thus ask him. In our petitions 
we learn the nature and value of his blessings, our own 
absolute need of them, and his unspeakable goodness 
in furnishing them for our enjoyment. We learn to 
depend on him, to trust in him, and to exercise towards i 
him unceasing love, reverence, gratitude, and praise. 
At the same time we are assured, that we shall never 
ask in vain. 

2. From these considerations I urge, anew, the folly 
and sin of those who neglect prayer. 

Prayer is the avenue to all good, temporal and 
eternal, and to us the only avenue. He who will not 
pray, therefore, shuts up the only passage which has been 
opened for him by God to the attainment of happiness. 
It may be alleged here, but it will be alleged to no pur- 
pose, that multitudes who do not pray are as prosperous 
as those who do. An ox is pampered, but it is only for 
the slaughter. The enjoyments of this life are never 
blessings to him that does not pi'ay. If they are merely 
means of luxury, hardness of heart, and grossness of 
life, he who enjoys them will only ' treasure up wrath 
against the day of wrath.' On the part of God, indeed, 
they are always kindly given ; but on the part of the 
recipient, they are regularly abused, by being made in- 
centives to sin. They are therefore curses to him by 
his own perversion ; and are styled blessings, only by 
an abuse of language. 

Without prayer there is no virtue, no piety, no obedi- 
ence to God. The commencement of piety in Saul of 
Tarsus was thus announced by the Holy Ghost, ' Be- 
hold he prayeth ?' But without piety there is no blessing 
reserved for man. He may indeed be rich, and great, 
and luxurious ; ' may be clothed in purple and fine 
linen ; and may fare sumptuously every day.' Such 
was the condition of the rich man in the parable. But 
at the end of a short life, ' he lifted up his eyes in hell, 
being in torment ;' and found, that he had received all 
his good things in this life. 

What excuse then can be devised for the neglect of 
prayer ? Is it a hard service ? Be it so. Is not the 
reward sufficiently great to retribute the toil? Good in 
hand, of every kind which is real and desirable, and 
good to come, inestimable and endless, are certainly 
deserving of any labour or suffering which men can 
undergo. However severe may be the labour of per- 
forming the duty, the compensation is certainly ample 
and complete. 

But is it more severe than the daily toil of laborious 
men ? This you yourselves see cheerfully undergone, 
merely for the common gains of avarice, by millions 
who do not and cannot know, that those gains will be 
good at all. To every sincere suppliant ' all things 
work together for good.' How vast the difference in 
these rewards ! 

Is it harder than profane swearing and cursing ? In 
them, as in prayer, all the labour which exists, exists 
only in the utterance of words : and multitudes in these 
evil practices expend much more time and breath than 
is demanded in prayer. All these also ' labour in vain, 



and spend their strength for nought.' Nay, what is 
infinitely worse, they labour only to be ' poor and 
wretched, and miserable.' 

But is it hard at all? Is it a hard condition, for the 
attainment of all good, to ask it; and, above all things, 
to ask it of the infinitely blessed and bountiful God ? 

It has been, and undoubtedly will be again, objected 
by multitudes, some of them probably in this audience, 
that they cannot pray. Let me ask those who make 
this objection. Have you tried? — tried, I mean, in ear- 
nest. You will be obliged to answer in the negative. 
You have never seriously attempted to perform this 
duty. Whence then do you know that you cannot 
pray ? How do you know that God will net willingly 
do for you whatever you find it impossible or difficult to 
do for yourselves ? He is infinitely willing to give, in 
answer to your prayers. Whence have you learned, 
that he is not equally willing to befriend you in your 
attempts to pray ? 

The truth is, you do not choose to make such at- 
tempts. You have wants endlessly numerous, and in- 
calculably important. They might be supplied ; but 
you will not ask God to supply them. You have souls 
of infinite value. They might be saved ; but you will 
not ask God to save them. You are sinners, and ex- 
posed to perdition. From these tremendous evils you 
might be delivered ; but will not ask God to deliver 
you. You are made candidates for heaven ; and might 
be received into that glorious world of everlasting joy. 
Bather than pray, you choose to perish. 

All blessings are opened for your enjoyment. The 
condition, on which you may obtain them all, is to ask. 
No sacrifice, expense, or loss, is demanded of you. 
None will be incurred. On the contrary, praying is in 
itself unspeakable gain, and solid pleasure ; higher, 
more rational, more unmingled pleasure, than you ever 
found, or ever will find in sin. The condition there- 
fore is a gainful condition of a reward without bounds, 
and without end. What then is your conduct, but su- 
preme and unmingled folly ? 

' Fools,' saith Solomon, ' despise wisdom and instruc- 
tion, and hate knowledge.' This wisdom, of supreme 
import, has been taught to you a thousand times. 
Hitherto you have despised and hated it. The evil of 
neglecting prayer has been often urged on you ; but 
hitherto it has been urged in vain. Hitherto you have 
deceived yourselves with the folly of believing that God 
will bless you, while you refuse to pray to him ; in other 
words, that he will bless you in direct contradiction to 
his own express declarations. What specimen of folly 
can be greater? That you should be thus deceived with 
your present character is not strange; since the Scrip- 
tures inform us, that it is the nature of folly to be 
deceitful. That you should think yourselves right in 
these views, and in the conduct which grows out of them, 
is as little strange ; for persons of this character, accord- 
ing to the same divine testimony, usually think them- 
selves right. But let me remind you from the same 
sacred book, that ' fools die for want of wisdom.' In 
your present course, you are in the road to death. For 
want of wisdom only, do you continue in it a single day. 
Should the same folly be prolonged, the period is nut 
distant when you will die for ever 



THE OBJECTIONS TO PRAYER CONSIDERED. 



741 



SERMON CXLIII. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.— ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.— THE OBJECTIONS 
TO PRAYER CONSIDERED. 



H7(a/ is the Almighty, that we should nerve him ; and what profit shall we have, if we pray unto 

hi m f — Job xxi. 15. 



Thk five first subjects, originally proposed as themes 
of discourse concerning the duty of prayer, have been 
examined at length in the four preceding Sermons. 
The sixth, viz., objections against this duty, will now 
occupy our attention. 

In the text, a general objection is made against all 
obedience to God, and is professedly founded on his 
character. ' What is the Almighty, that we should 
serve him ?' — There is nothing in the character of 
God, nor in our relation to him, which requires our 
obedience to his will. We are neither obliged by any 
duty, nor drawn by any interest, to his service. This 
impious sentiment is exhibited in the context as the 
sentiment of abandoned men only; and is plainly of a 
nature too impious to be uttered by any other. The 
following one, proceeding from the same mouth also, is 
with perfect propriety exhibited to us as resulting from 
the same spirit. Yet there are multitudes, who are far 
from deserving the character of profligacy, who yet say 
concerning God, ' What profit shall we have, if we 
pray to him ?' This objection, it will be observed, is an 
universal one. ' What profit shall we have ?' — that is, 
we shall not be profited at all, either in our minds, or 
in our circumstances. We shall not be profited by the 
proper influence of prayer on ourselves, nor by its effi- 
cacy in procuring blessings from God. All objections 
against prayer may be justly regarded as being summed 
up in this single question. 

It cannot, however, be expected, that on this occasion 
every objection which an irreligious mind can devise 
against this duty, will be taken up, and refuted. Se- 
veral such objections have been anticipated in the pre- 
ceding Discourses. Of such as remain, I shall examine 
those only which may be supposed to have some real 
■weight in the mind of a sober man. These, so far as 
I recollect them, respect the predetermination, immu- 
tability, knowledge, and wisdom of God ; and, the 
supposed vanity and presumption of prayer. 

I shall consider ihem in their order. 

The two first of these subjects are commonly united 
in the scheme of the objector ; and may therefore with 
propriety be here considered together. If God be a 
changeable being, although he may have predetermined 
all things, yet he may be supposed to alter his plans, in 
consequence of requests presented to him by his intelli- 
gent creatures ; and may therefore be addressed as a 
changeable being. On the other hand, if God be im- 
mutable, and yet have formed no system of things in 
his own mind, he may perhaps constitute his designs, 
from time to time ; with some degree of conformity to 
their supplications. 

The first objection which I shall mention, and which 
is derived from these sources, is usually stated in terms 
like the following :-— 



' Prayer is fruitless, or, in the language of the text, 
unprofitable, because all things are determined from 
everlasting by an immutable God, and will therefore 
take place according to his determination. Hence our 
prayers, making no alteration in anything, must be an 
idle, perhaps an impious service: idle, because they 
can ell'ect nothing; impious, because they are expres- 
sions of our desires for blessings, which God has not 
chosen to give. If God has determined to give us 
these blessings, we shall receive them without prayer. 
If he has determined not to give them, we shall not 
receive them, however fervently we may pray. So far 
then as we pray for things which God has determined 
to give, our prayers are useless. So far as we pray for 
those which he has determined not to give, our prayers 
are directly opposed to his pleasure.' 

I have endeavoured to state this objection at full 
length, because I wish to present it with all the force 
which it has, or can have, in the mind of the objector. 
To the several things contained in it, I answer, 

1. There cannot possibly be any impiety in prayer, 
offered up in the manner stated in these Discourses. 

The original definition which I gave of prayer, and 
with which all the subsequent accounts of it have ac- 
corded, is that of the Westminster Assembly of Di- 
vines ; That ' prayer is an offering up of our desires to 
God for things agreeable to his will.' To desire that, 
and that only, which is agreeable to the will of God, 
cannot be impious. Evangelical prayer supposes, in its 
very nature, that we ask either for those things for which 
the Scriptures have expressly permitted us to pray ; 
or for those which we professedly submit to his will in 
our petitions. In this conduct, impiety cannot exisi. 
On the contrary, no human being was ever the subject 
of piety who did not pursue this conduct. 

The objection is now reduced to a single article ; 
viz., The fruitlessness of prayer; or its inefficacy to 
change the purposes of God, and therefore to procure 
blessings. To this I answer, 

2. This objection lies, with exactly the same force, 
against every other human effort, as against prayer. 

If the predetermination and immutability of God 
render it improper for men to pray, because their 
prayers cannot change his purposes ; then the same things 
must render it equally improper for men to plough, 
sow, reap, or make any other effort for any end what- 
ever. All these, without the divine blessing will be in 
vain ; and can no more change the purpose of God 
than prayer. With just the same propriety and force 
may the farmer say, ' It is in vain for me to plough, or 
sow, or reap : since, if God has determined to give me 
a crop, I shall have it without either of these efforts. 
On the contrary, if he has determined not to give 
me a crop, I shall not have it, however faithfully 1 



742 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sen. oxMIt 



may labour My ploughing, sowing, and reaping, there- 
fore, must be all idle, because they will all be fruitless.' 

In the same manner may the student say, ' If God 
has determined that I should possess learning, I shall 
possess it without study ; but if he has determined that 
I shall not possess learning, I shall not acquire it, 
although I study with ever so much diligence.' 

In the same manner may every man say concerning 
his exertions. 

This reasoning, were we governed by it, would plainly 
put an end to all human exertions at once ; and we 
should neither plough, nor build, nor collect food, or 
fuel ; nor teach, nor study, nor make any other attempt 
to promote the good, either of ourselves or others. 
Conclusions, so evidently false as these, and so fraught 
with necessary mischief, cannot flow from sound prin- 
ciples. Safely, therefore, may we pronounce the proofs 
by which they are professedly established, to be hollow 
and deceitful. 

3. There is a radical and gross error in this objec- 
tion ; viz., that God has predetermined the end, and not 
the means. 

This opinion is equally contradictory to the Scrip- 
tures, and to common sense. St Paul, a little before 
his shipwreck, was informed by an angel, that God had 
' given him all them that sailed with him.' Yet after- 
ward, when the ' shipmen were about to flee out of the 
ship ; when they had let down the boat into the sea ; 
L'aul said to the centurion, and to the soldiers, Except 
these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved ;' Acts 
xxvii. 22, 30, 31. The end here determined was the 
preservation of the ship's company. The means indis- 
pensable to this 'end, were the continuance of the seamen 
in the ship, and their exertions to bring it to land. 
These were predetermined equally with the end, and 
were absolutely necessary to its existence. Equally 
necessary are ploughing and sowing, rain and sun- 
shine, to the existence of a crop ; studying to the 
acquisition of knowledge; and all other efforts of men, 
to the purposes which they actually accomplish. All 
these are equally predetermined with the ends accom- 
plished, and equally parts of the divine system. 

Another error is involved also in the same objec- 
tion ; viz., that God bestows blessings upon mankind 
which are not given in answer to prayer. Of such a 
determination there is not, and there cannot be any 
evidence. The Scriptures decisively teach us, that the 
only condition of receiving is asking. Prayer, there- 
fore, as means to the end, that is, the reception of 
blessings, is itself a part, and an inseparable part, of 
the predetermined plan of God. When any man con- 
siders how useful prayer is to form us into a fitness 
for the reception of blessings, he will easily discern 
one great and solid reason of this divine constitution 
of things. 

There is no moral subject concerning which mankind 
appear to have fallen into more and greater errors than 
concerning this. The character of God, with respect 
to both these subjects, is undoubtedly far removed, in 
many particulars, above our comprehension. In seve- 
ral others, it seems to be capable of a satisfactory illus- 
tration to a sober mind, not unwilling to be satisfied. 
Nothing is more certain, than that, if God ever was, is, 
or will be, the subject of any determinations, he must 
I ave formed them from eternity. In him ' there is no 
variableness, neither shadow of turning.' Of course, 



he can never be the subject of any new determinations. 
He can have no new ideas, thoughts, or views. ' All 
his works were known to him from the beginning.' 
This is certain even to reason ; for all his works were 
contrived by him, and therefore were unquestionably 
known. Hence, no being, and no event, can be any- 
thing but what he contrived and knew. As he is per- 
fectly the same ; as the being and the event in each 
case is also invariably the same as when originally 
contemplated by him ; whatever choice or preference 
he originally experienced, must for ever be his invari- 
able choice or preference. If therefore he did not ori- 
ginally determine, choose, or prefer, he certainly never 
will. 

Farther: the existence of God is one unvarying pre- 
sent existence ; and his duration an eternal now, with- 
out part or future ; nearer in its nature to one indivisi- 
ble moment of our existence, than to anything else 
which we experience or know. He literally ' inhabits 
eternity,' or fills it all at once ; just as he fills immen- 
sity at once, arid not successively its several parts. 
When therefore we say, that God predetermined all 
things, it is as true, in the metaphysical sense, that he 
determines them after, as before their existence. In 
strict truth, there is no proper comparison between our 
successive being, and the unchanging existence of God. 
One thing only is present to us at any present time. 
Everything and every time is absolutely present to 
God. His creation and providence, together with all 
their beings and events, are always before his view, 
as a picture, containing many images, is present be- 
fore ours. 

Every part of God's predetermination is founded on 
exactly the same reasons with those on which the same 
determination would be founded, if all beings and 
events had already existed ; and God, in possession of 
the same omniscience, should then survey them with a 
perfect discernment of their natures and relations, form 
his own determinations concerning them and pro- 
nounce, with respect to every one, his unerring judg- 
ment. Of course, his predeterminations are exactly 
the same with such determinations as would exist in 
his mind, after everything had taken place ; and are 
all exactly just and right; such as perfect wisdom and 
goodness, understanding them entirely, would dictate 
and approve. 

Nor is the immutability of God at all more liable to 
objections. God from everlasting was exactly what all 
beings ought to wish him to be; possessed of every ex 
cellence in an infinite degree, and the subject of no 
imperfection, either natural or moral. He knows, and 
ever knew, all things, both actual and possible, lie , 
can do all things : and is infinitely disposed to do every- 
thing, and that only, which is absolutely right and 
good. Consequently, there is nothing, there never has 
been, there never will be, anything which, considered 
merely as a work of God, is not exactly right. In that 
vast kingdom, which fills immensity and eternity, there 
will never exist a single being or event, which perfect 
wisdom and goodness could wish not to have existed. 

Who can rationally desire a change in such a cha- 
racter as this ? What would the change be ? A change 
from perfection to imperfection ; from knowledge to 
ignorance ; from truth to falsehood ; from justice to 
injustice ; from kindness to cruelty ; from universal 
excellence to universal turpitude. Perfection can be 



THE OBJECTIONS TO PRAYER CONSIDERED. 



743 



changed into nothing but imperfection. The immuta- 
bility of God, is indispensable to the glory of his char- 
acter, and is itself a part of his perfection ; for no 
, mutable being can be perfect in the same sense with 
; one who is immutable. Equally is it the corner-stone 
. on which the universe rests. Were the support taken 
. away, the immense fabric would tumble into ruin. To 
I his creatures there would be neither safety nor hope ; 
, but immensity and eternity would be filled with sus- 
i pense, terror, and anguish. 

Particularly, there would not, in this case, be the 
. least foundation for encouragement in prayer. If all 
the determinations of God were not settled in heaven, 
who could divine what new decisions would exist; 
what new laws ; what new systems of administration ? 
. Prayer, commanded to-day, might be forbidden to- 
. morrow. Prayer, acceptable to him to-day, might be 
hateful to him to-morrow. The things for which we 
, now ask with certain assurance of being heard, might 
. speedily be denied. He who at one season did his duty, 
might at another, by the very same conduct, be only ex- 
posed to punishment. Nothing in this case could be 
. known by creatures to be permanently agreeable to his 
will, and finally secure of a reward. The government 
i of the universe would be a government of fickleness and 
caprice ; and consequently more or less, and no finite 
being can conjecture how far, a government of oppres- 
i sion and cruelty. Think what would be the exertions 
| and effects of infinite knowledge and power, wielding the 
sceptre of the universe under the control of so danger- 
. ous a disposition. For aught that can be foreseen, the 
time might speedily, as well as easily arrive, when, un- 
i der such a dominion, this vast empire might, in a mo- 
. ment of change, be reduced to a desert of ravage and 
: ruin. 

■ As things are actually ordered by God, every part of 

i the system is established on immovable foundations. 

i Every intelligent creature knows therefore, or may 

. know, on what he is absolutely to depend. If he is 

obedient, his obedience will always be acceptable to his 

, Maker. The law, once established, will never be 

i changed. ' Sooner shall heaven and earth pass away, 

than one jot or tittle of it shall pass, until all be fulfilled.' 

i Every declaration of God is true ; every promise will 

< be exactly accomplished. Whatever sins or backslid- 

ings the children of God may have committed, his pro- 

i mise assures them of everlasting life. Whatever gross 

guilt, or impious rebellion, a Christian may have been 

the subject of, if they do not involve the sin against the 

i Holy Ghost, still, if he exercises repentance towards 

God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, he will 

be received in the end. 

Of this unchangeable system, one great and glorious 
part is, that every humble, faithful prayer shall be cer- 
tainly heard, accepted, and answered. Not one ever 
was, or ever will be, offered up in vain. This scheme 
of things contains every possible encouragement to pray, 
and displays the absolute necessity, as well as the su- 
perior usefulness and efficacy of prayer. Any other 
scheme would exceedingly lessen, or entirely destroy, 
both the encouragement and the usefulness of prayer. 

So far then are the predetermination and immuta- 
bility of God from preventing and discouraging prayer, 
that they hold out infinitely more and greater induce- 
ments to this duly than can be furnished in any other 
maimer. 



I have dwelt the longer, and the more particularly, 
upon this objection, because I consider it as the funda- 
mental one, and because I believe it to be in some 
minds regarded as possessing real weight, and attended 
by real difficulties. 

2. It is also objected, that it is useless and imperti- 
nent, to declare our wants to an omniscient Being, be- 
cause he knows them already. 

That God knows all our wants, that he knows them 
more perfectly than ourselves, and that he thus knew 
them from eternity, will, it is presumed, be universally 
admitted here. This knowledge must be attributed to 
God by every man who believes the Scriptures, or con- 
siders him as the author of all things. To give Kim 
therefore any information concerning ourselves, with a 
supposition that he needs thus to be informed, can never 
be the intention of a Christian suppliant, nor any part 
of a Christian prayer. 

The true end of reciting our wants before God is, 
doubtless, far distant from anything that is even glanced 
at in the objection. Unquestionably, it is the same end 
with that winch we proposed in confessing our sins ; viz., 
the production of proper views in our own minds. It 
is to awaken in ourselves a strong sense of our feeble- 
ness, our guilt, our dependence on God for all good, 
and our indebtedness to him for every blessing which 
we receive. By such views deeply impressed, we are 
more happily prepared for the reception of blessings 
than we otherwise can be. We are rendered humble, 
submissive, affected with the greatness of our necessi- 
ties, the importance of those supplies which we ask, and 
the glory of that goodness by which such wants of such 
beings are supplied. This state of mind is the happiest 
of all dispositions for the reception of mercies, and is 
inwrought effectually in us only by prayer. Unless 
man, therefore, has an interest in not acquiring this dis- 
position, the objection is groundless. 

3. It is farther objected, that, as God is infinitely 
wise and good, whether we consider him as having pre- 
determined all things or not, his wisdom and goodness 
will prompt him to give us whatever is proper to be 
given, and to withhold whatever is not, equally with, and 
without our prayers. Our prayers, therefore, must at 
the best be useless. ' We cannot,' says the objector, 
' prevent, change, or influence the dictates of infinite 
wisdom and goodness by our prayers. If we could, it 
would be wrong and undesirable, and ought plainly 
neither to be done nor wished.' 

All this is readily admitted ; and, were the design or 
the nature of prayer such as is here supposed, the im- 
propriety of praying would, I presume, be also admit- 
ted. Certainly, it could never be a proper design in 
any creature, to attempt a change in the dictates of in- 
finite wisdom and goodness. 

But it may be very proper for infinite wisdom to be- 
stow on an humble suppliant, that which it would very 
properly withhold from him who refuses to pray. The 
question is not here concerning what infinite wisdom 
will, or will not, give; but concerning the persons to 
whom it will give. Infinite wisdom may bestow all its 
favours on those who are willing to ask for them; and 
not on those who are unwilling : on those who feel their 
dependence upon himself; not on those who say in their 
conduct, ' What is the Almighty, that we should serve 
him, and what profit shall we have, if we pray unto 
him?' on those who cheerfully and implicitly subject 



744 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY, 



[SER. CM.1K. 



themselves to its dictates ; not on those who speculate 
ingeniously concerning them. 

Finally : Infinite wisdom may with propriety com- 
municate its blessings to those who, by such means as 
are in their power, become prepared to receive them 
with a spirit of gratitude, reverence, and obedience ; 
and may with equal propriety withhold them at the 
same time from such as are too proud, too indolent, too 
indifferent, or too worldly-minded to regard them with 
serious attention, or to receive them with a grateful or 
reverential spirit. Until all this can be disproved, the 
objection will stand for nothing. But this can never be 
disproved. Reason declares it all as her own decision-; 
and revelation places it beyond a cavil or a doubt. In 
the Scriptures we are taught expressly, that such is the 
real system of infinite wisdom and goodness ; and that 
blessings actually descend only as answers to prayer. 

4. It is farther objected, that to suppose our prayers 
sufficiently efficacious to procure blessings for ourselves, 
arid especially for others, indicates vanity and presump- 
tion. 

If we thought our prayers sufficiently meritorious in 
the sight of God, to deserve such blessings as are be- 
stowed either on ourselves, or on others, there would 
be some ground for this objection. But when we pray, 
as an act of obedience to his will, it is obviously un- 
founded. There can be neither presumption nor vanity 
in believing that God is pleased with obedience, and 
that he will bless those who obey. God has command- 
ed all men to pray to him. There is no presumption 
in believing this precept. He has declared, that faith- 
ful prayer is pleasing to him. There is no presumption 
in believing his declaration. He has promised to bless 
those who thus pray. Without presumption we may 
rely on his promise. 

He has commanded us to pray for all men ; and has 
promised to answer such prayers, when faithfully pre- 
sented. In the Scriptures he has recorded numerous 
instances, in which he has actually answered such 
prayers, by giving blessings to those for whom they 
were asked. To obey this command, to confide in this 
promise, and to receive this testimony, is neither vain 
nor presumptuous. The contrary conduct is charge- 
able with this criminality ; for the objector supposes, 
that God will give him blessings in a way directly op- 
posed to that in which alone he has encouraged men to 
expect them. 

But farther : does not God make one man the in- 
strument of blessings to another — to many — to thou- 
sands — to millions ; and that in an immense variety of 
ways? How does it appear that the heart, the desires, 
the supplications of a good man, may not be the means 
of such blessings, as truly, as properly, and as often as 
his voice or his hands? All these blessings come from 
God. Will not he, who ' seeth not as man seeth, but 
looketh on the heart,' as willingly regard the virtuous 
efforts of which he is there a witness, as those of the 
hands, or the tongue? How few blessings do we en- 
joy, in which others have not been more or less instru- 
mental ? For our daily food and raiment, nay, for our 
very being, we are indebted to those who have lived in 
every age of time. In the same manner Ave are now 
reaping the benefits flowing from the prayers of good 
men in all past ages. The salvation of every Christian, 
is a direct answer to the prayer of Christ ; John xvii. 
21, 22. 



These are all the material objections usually made 
against prayer, as a duty of man ; I mean, all which 
are customarily exhibited as material by the objectors 
themselves. If the observations which have here been 
made in answer to them, have the same weight in the 
minds of others, as in my own, it will be seen that they 
have no solid basis. Notwithstanding the speciousness 
which, in the eyes of some individuals, they have seem- 
ed to wear, the encouragements to this duty mentioned 
in these Discourses stand altogether un assailed, and 
possessed of their whole strength. The objectors have 
conceived erroneously both of the nature and design of 
prayer, and misapprehended the proper influence of 
the several things from which they derive their sup- 
posed difficulties. 

Let every one of my audience then go fearlessly and 
constantly to the duty of prayer ; and be perfectly as- 
sured that, if he prays faithfully, he will not pray in 
vain. Let him remember, that prayer is a duty insti- 
tuted by God ; that he cannot but honour his own in- 
stitution ; and that he cannot but be pleased with those 
by whom it is obeyed. To pray is to obey God, to 
please him, to honour him. Those ' who honour him 
he will honour ; while those who despise him shall be 
lightly esteemed.' He has set before you every motive 
to induce you to perform this duty ; commands, exam- 
ples, particularly that of Christ, promises, instances of 
the actual and wonderful efficacy of prayer, and the 
clearest testimonies of his own approbation. At the 
same time, while he has taught you that no blessing is 
given but in answer to prayer, he has assured you also 
that all good, temporal and eternal, descends as its 
proper answer from heaven. Nothing has he left un- 
tried to persuade you to this duty. 

With his good pleasure all your own interests conspire 
in urging you to pray. Prayer will make you daily 
better, wiser, and lovelier in his sight, by cherishing in 
you those views and emotions which constitute the cha- 
racter of a good man. It will soothe every tumult of 
your bosoms, allay your fears, comfort your sorrows, in- 
vigorate your hopes, give you peace in hand, and an- 
ticipate glory to come. It will restrain you from sin, 
strengthen you against temptation, recall you from 
wandering, give lite and serenity to your consciences, 
furnish you with clearer views concerning your duty, 
alarm you concerning your danger, and inspire you with 
ardour, confidence, and delight, in the Christian course. 

In prayer God will meet you, and commune with 
you face to face, as a man with his friend. He will 
' lift upon you the light of his reconciled countenance ;' 
will ' put joy and gladness in your hearts ;' and will 
awaken in you the spirit of ' thanksgiving and the 
voice of melody.' ' When you pass through the waters 
he will be with you ; and through the rivers, they shall 
not overflow you ; when you walk through the fire, you 
shall not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle on 
you : for he is the Lord your God, the Holy One of 
Israel, your Saviour.' — ' In an acceptable time he will 
hear you, and in a day of salvation will he help you.'- 
' The mountains will indeed depart, and the hills he' 
removed : but ' (if you seek him faithfully) ' his kind- 
ness shall not depart from you, nor his covenant of 
peace be removed.' — ' Seek, then, the Lord, while he! 
may be found : call ye upon him, while he is liear.'- 
' When you call he will answer; and when you cry 
unto him. he will say, Here I am.' 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— FOBMS OF PRAYER, 



745 



SERMON CXLIV. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE— FORMS OF PRAYER. 



After this manner, therefore, pray ye. Our Father, which art in heaven : hallowed be thy name. Thy 
kingdom come, thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And 
forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation ; but deliver 
us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen. — 
Matt. vi. 9 — 13. 



In the preceding- Discourse I finished the observations 
which I thought it necessary to make concerning- the 
nature and seasons of prayer ; the obligations to pray ; 
the usefulness of prayer ; the encouragements to it ; and 
the objections against it. 

The next subject, which claims our attention in a 
System of Theology, is forms of prayer. 

In the first verse of the text, our Saviour directs us 
to pray * after the manner ' begun in that verse, and 
continued through those which follow. There are two 
modes in which this direction may be understood. The 
first is, that this is a form of prayer prescribed to us; 
a form which therefore we are required to use, when 
we approach to God in this solemn service. Hence it 
has been considered as a strong proof that we are re- 
quired to use a form of prayer, at teast in the public 
worship of God, if not in that which is private. Even 
the candid and enlightened Paley says, ' The Lord's 
prayer is a precedent, as well as a pattern for forms of 
prayer. Our Lord appears, if not to have prescribed, 
at least to have authorized, the use of fixed forms, when 
he complied with the request of a disciple, who said 
unto him, ' Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught 
his disciples,' Luke xi. 1. 

The other mode of construing this direction is this : 
Christ is supposed to have taught hare those subjects of 
prayer which on all occasions are its proper subjects ; 
the spirit with which we are to pray, and the simplicity 
of style and manner with which our thoughts are to be 
clothed, when we are employed in this duty. 

That our Saviour is not here to be considex-ed as 
prescribing a form of prayer to his followers, seems 
not improbable from a comparison of the text with the 
context. In the context he directs us ' not to do our 
alms before men, but in secret ; when we pray, to enter 
into our closets ; when we fast, not to be of a sad coun- 
tenance, that we may not appear unto men to fast ; and 
not to lay up for ourselves treasures upon earth.' None 
of these passages is, I apprehend, to be understood in 
the absolute, or literal sense. We may give alms be- 
fore others. It is our duty to give bread to a starving 
man in the sight of our families. Nay, it is often our 
duty to contribute publicly to public charities. We 
are warranted and required to pray and to fast before 
others; and commanded to 'provide for our own, 
especially for those of our own households.' As none 
of these assertions will be disputed, they demand no 
proof. I shall only observe, therefore, that the object 
of our Saviour in these precepts was to forbid ostenta- 
tion, and covetousness ; and to establish a sincere, 
humble, self-denying temper in our minds. 



As these directions, which are unambiguously ex- 
pressed, are evidently not to be construed in the literal 
sense ; there is no small reason from analogy to be- 
lieve, that the direction in the text, which is plainly 
ambiguous and indefinite, ought also not to be con- 
strued in this manner. There is, to say the least, as 
little reason to suppose that our Saviour has here di- 
rected us to use this form of prayer, as that he has 
required us to do alms, pray, and fast, only in secret ; 
and not to lay up property for the exigences of a future 
day. 

This presumption is, I think, changed into a certain- 
ty by the following arguments: — 

1. According to this scheme, we are required always 
to use this form, and no other. 

The words, ' After this manner pray ye,' if under- 
stood literally, plainly require, that we always pray in 
this manner ; and therefore in no other. If they re- 
quire us to use this form, they require us always to use 
it. But this will not be admitted by those who hold 
the opinion against which I contend. 

2. When our Saviour gives directions to his disciples, 
at another time, to pray after this manner, he uses seve- 
ral variations from the form which is here given. 

In Luke xi. 2, &c, our Saviour recites, in substance 
the form of prayer which is contained in the text, and 
adopts no less than ten variations. These he, who is 
' the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever,' adopted 
unquestionably with design. Of this design it was not 
improbably a part to teach us, that mere words are 
matters of such indifference, as at any time to be alter- 
ed, with propriety, in whatever manner the occasion 
may require. V* 

One of the variations used by our Saviour in this 
place is the omission of the doxology. I am aware, 
that this is also omitted by a considerable number of 
manuscripts in the text. But the authority for the ad- 
mission of it is such, as to have determined in its favour 
almost all critics, and given it a place, so far as I know, 
in almost every Bible. It is therefore to be considered 
as a genuine part of this prayer of our Saviour. This 
shows that the substance even of this prayer may with- 
out impropriety be varied, in one part or another, ,-is 
the particular occasion may demand, or allow. 

3. The petitions here recited are not presented in the 
name of Christ. 

But our Saviour says, John xvi. 23, 24, 26, ' Verily, 
veiily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the 
Father in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto have 
ye asked nothing in my name. Ask, and ye shall re- 
ceive, that your joy may be full. At tiiat day ye shall 

5 B 



748 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. cxliv. 



ask in my name.' St Paul also, in Col. iii. 17, says, 
' Whatsoever ye do in word, or deed, do all in the 
name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God, even 
the Father, by him.' This prayer therefore is defec- 
tive in one particular which Christ and St Paul have 
in these passages made essential to the acceptableness 
of our prayers. 

4. Christ himself does not appear to have used this 
prayer. 

We have several prayers of Christ recorded. All of 
these are such as plainly arose out of the occasion on 
which they were offered up. They were, in the strict- 
est sense, extemporaneous : the mere effusions of his 
heart concerning the subjects by which they were 
prompted. So far then as the example of Christ may 
be supposed to bear upon this question, it is unfavour- 
able to the supposition, that we are obliged to use this 
form ; and favourable to the use of extemporaneous 
prayer. 

5. The apostles do not appear ever to have used this 
prayer. 

There are many prayers of the apostles recorded. 
All these were extemporaneous, like those of Christ, 
and the prophets who went before him, and sprang out 
of the occasion. If it be admitted, that the apostles 
are here an example to us, it will follow, that our own 
prayers may, to say the least, be with the strictest pro- 
priety extemporaneous, and grow out of that state of 
facts by which we have been induced to pray. A full 
proof is also furnished here, that the apostles did not 
consider this form as obligatory on themselves. 

6. This prayer contains no expressions of thanks- 
giving. 

St Paul, in Phil. iv. 6, says, ' Be careful for nothing ; 
but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with 
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto 
God.' A similar injunction is recorded, 1 Tim. ii. 1. 
From both these it is evident, that St Paul considered 
thanksgiving as universally and essentially a part of 
prayer. Had he considered this form as obligatory on 
himself, or upon Christians in general, or had Chris- 
tians in general so considered the subject at that time, 
he must I think have added a form of thanksgiving as 
a supplement to this prayer ; and not left them to ex- 
press their thanksgiving extemporaneously in their own 
words. There is no perceptible reason why Christians 
should utter thanksgiving extemporaneously, in words 
of their own, rather than adorations, petitions, or con- 
fessions for sin. If the Spirit of inspiration thought 
proper to prescribe a form to us, in which we were 
required to present our petitions, it is reasonably be- 
lieved that he would also prescribe to us a form in which 
the other parts also of this devotion were to be uttered. 

T. St Paul refutes this supposition, when he requires 
us to ' pray always with all prayer,' Eph. vi. 18. 

From the prayers recorded in the Scriptures, of the 
ancient saints, of Christ, and his apostles, we know that 
there is much prayer which, unless by very distant 
application, cannot be said to be contained in this form. 
In the sentence which contains this precept of St Paul 
he directs the Ephesians to pray that ' utterance might 
be given unto him ;' and that ' he might open his mouth 
boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel.' It 
will hardly be pretended, that this request is clearly 
contained in the Lord's prayer. The same thing is 
true of a vast multitude of other prayers found in the 



Scriptures. The truth plainly is, that the prayers con- 
tained in this sacred book almost universally sprang 
from particular occasions ; are exactly such as suited 
those occasions, the natural effusions of the heart con- 
templating their nature, and feeling their importance. 
This fact effectually teaches us what it is to ' pray 
always with all prayer :' viz., what I formerly explained 
it to be : to pray on every proper occasion with prayer 
suited to that occasion. But this cannot be accom- 
plished unless we pray often, at least, without a form, 
and in the extemporaneous manner. 

These arguments, if I mistake not, prove that the 
Lord's prayer was not prescribed to Christians as a 
form which they were intended or required to adopt. 
That it may be used both lawfully and profitably, at 
various times, both in public and private, and that it 
may be very often thus used, I entertain not a single 
doubt. 

The question concerning forms of prayer is now- 
become a question of mere expediency. If the Lord's 
prayer is not enjoined upon us; it is certain, that no 
other form of prayer can lay the least claim to such an 
injunction. 

It is well known that various sects of Christians are 
attached to forms of prayer in the public worship of 
God, and sometimes even in private worship. Such 
forms are prescribed by them as directories of public 
worship ; and all those who belong to their commun- 
ion are required to worship in this manner. Every 
objection to extemporaneous prayer is considered, and 
I think justly, by these Christians as evidence of the 
advantages of a liturgy; and may, without any incon- 
venience, and without any discrimination, be blended 
with the positive arguments in favour of worshipping 
by a form. I shall therefore blend them in the follow- 
ing examination. These arguments I. consider- as col- 
lected by Dr Paley, so far as they have any force. I 
shall therefore follow this respectable writer in this dis- 
cussion. 

In behalf of forms of prayer, as directories of public 
worship, it is pleaded, 

I. That the use of them prevents the use of improper 
prayers ; such, particularly , as are absurd, extrava- 
gant, or impious. 

' These,' says Dr Paley, ' in an order of men so 
numerous as the sacerdotal, the folly and enthusiasm of 
many must always be in danger of producing, where 
the conduct of the public worship is intrusted, without 
restraint or assistance, to the discretion and abilities of 
the officiating minister.' 

To the argument here alleged, I reply, That this 
complaint has been originated by those who have used 
liturgies, and not by those who have worshipped with 
extemporaneous prayer. Yet these persons are incom- 
parably more interested to complain ; because, if the 
evil exists, they, and they only, suffer by it. At the 
same time, they are also the only proper judges, as 
being the only persons who have sufficient experience 
of this evil, or the want of a liturgy, to enable them to 
judge. The allegation Was invented therefore to jus- 
tify the use of a liturgy already adopted : and not ad-> 
mitted as a proof of the necessity of worshipping by a 
liturgy ; and as a truth forced upon the conviction of 
men by the existence of the evil, which in this case it 
would be intended to remedy. 

Facts are often discordant with theories, and often 



THE MEANS OF GRACE FORMS OF PRAYER. 



747 



ri'fute them. Such, I apprehend, is the truth in the 
present case. In the vast multitude of Christian con- 
gregations who in Switzerland, Protestant France, 
Germany, Ireland, and America, in Holland, England, 
and Scotland, worship without a form, no material 
difficulty of this nature has ever been perceived. Within 
the many millions of mankind who for centuries have 
worshipped in this manner, there has certainly been a 
sufficient number of enlightened men, a sufficient 
length of time, and a sufficient variety of character and 
circumstances, to have presented, and to have felt, this 
evil, if it has actually existed, in every manner and de- 
gree in which it is capable of existing. Yet no com- 
plaint has ever prevailed to any extent, in any Protes- 
tant age or country, among those who have worshipped 
without forms of prayer. It will not be pretended that 
among these persons, religion, in the proper sense, has 
not had as extensive and happy influence as it has had 
during the same period among- any of the human race. 

.That there have been solitary instances of this na- 
ture, I readily admit. Rut that they have been suffi- 
ciently numerous to furnish ground for this allegation, 
cannot be seriously maintained for a moment by any 
man who considers this fact with candour, or even with 
sober attention. 

I speak not here of the performances of ignorant 
men, who thrust themselves into the desk, without right, 
propriety, or even decency ; nor of those who, without 
any appearance of piety, are admitted into the church, 
merely because they are (in the language of Dr Paley) 
' descendants of large families,' and for the purpose of 
furnishing them with easy means of subsistence : men 
who, as this writer says, are ' no farther ministers of 
religion, than as a cockade makes a soldier.' From the 
former of these classes, extravagant addresses to God, 
from the latter, such as are impious, and from both such 
as are absurd, may indeed be expected. But the exis- 
tence of such persons in the desk, although an indelible 
reproach to those who are bound to ' lay hands suddenly 
on no man,' and to all who voluntarily attend the minis- 
try of these persons, infers no objection against extem- 
poraneous prayer. Among the men who are educated 
and morally qualified for the ministry, too few will 
always be found guilty of this conduct to furnish any 
serious argument in favour of a liturgy. While among 
so many and so discreet Christians, who through many 
ages, and in many countries, have worshipped in this 
manner, no difficulty of this kind has ever been seriously 
felt, the objection is plainly imaginary. 

Prayer is, of all kinds of discourse, that which least 
demands elegance of style. Every professed ornament 
it rejects with disdain. The simplest, plainest, and 
least artificial manner of uttering his thoughts alone 
becomes the character of a suppliant, or the occasion 
and design of his supplication. He who feels inclined 
to pray will loafhe all critical phraseology in his prayers. 
Decency, everywhere demanded, is indispensable in the 
worship of God ; but beyond this nothing is necessary 
in our prayers, beside humility, faithfulness, and fer- 
vour. But decency is easily attainable by men of 
moderate talents, without the aid of a superior educa- 
tion. Plain men, as is not unfrequently seen both in 
private and public religious assemblies, pray with much 
propriety, and with no small edification to their fellow 
Christians. He who has universally made prayer a prime 
only of man, has qualified man for the performance of 



this duty; and, as I apprehend, much more happily 
than this objection supposes. 

2. It is objected also, that extemporaneous prayer mubt 
be attended with confusion in the mind of the hearer. 

The ignorance of each petition before it is heard, the 
want of time to join in it after it is heard, the necessary 
suspension of devotion until it is concluded, the neces- 
sity of attending to what succeeds, the detention of the 
mind from its proper business by the very novelty with 
which it is gratified, form together the sources of this 
confusion, and furnish, in the view of Dr Paley, a fun- 
damental objection against extemporary prayer, even 
where the minister's office is discharged with every 
possible advantage and accomplishment. Concerning 
this objection I observe, 

(I.) That it attaches a gross and fundamental im- 
propriety to the prayers of inspired men, mentioned in 
the Scriptures. 

The prayer of Solomon at the dedication of the tem- 
ple was, I think, unquestionably intended to awaken 
the spirit of devotion in the great assembly before which 
it was uttered, and to become the vehicle of their own 
supplications. But this design was impracticable on that 
occasion, and with respect to that assembly, as truly and 
as extensively as with respect to any modern congrega- 
tion of Christians. There are many -kistances also in 
which the apostles and their fellow Christians assembled 
for prayer. The prayers actually uttered on these 
occasions were, I think, with a degree of probability 
next to certainty, extemporary. The persons who 
heard them could no better tell the import of each 
petition before they heard it, than modern Christian 
assemblies. Their devotion was as much suspended, 
until a petition was concluded. They were as much 
held in continual expectation ; were detained as much 
from their proper business of joining in prayer; and 
were in all other respects subjected to as many disad- 
vantages. The unavoidable conclusion from these pre- 
mises is, that the apostles prayed in a manner unfitted 
for the purposes of devotion, unedifying to those with 
whom they prayed, and of course unapproved by the 
Spirit of God. 

This conclusion no objector will admit. But if the 
objector refuse to admit the conclusion, he must, I think, 
give up the premises. If men could profitably unite in 
extemporary prayer in the days of Solomon, or in the 
days of the apostles, they can do it now. 

(2.) The same objection lies with equal force, to a 
great extent, against the union, which the objectors them- 
selves suppose to exist, and will acknowledge to be abso- 
lutely necessary, in other parts of religious worship. 

A considerable number of persons, from perhaps one 
half to seven-eighths of the whole number, usually ga- 
thered in religious assemblies, are, throughout almost 
all Christian countries, unable to read. Of these it may 
be properly observed here, that from the confused man- 
ner in which the responses in a liturgy will ever be 
read by a numerous and mixed assembly, they must 
very imperfectly hear and understand this part of the 
prayers. That which they gain by hearing, however, 
is all which they gain. All these, unless they learn the 
prayers by heart, a fact which, it is presumed, rarely 
happens, must be in a much less favourable situation in 
some respects, and better situated in none, than when 
they are present at extemporary prayers. 

Equally unable are these persons to read psalms, If 



748 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CXL1V. 



men cannot join in the prayers uttered by a minister, it 
will be difficult to show how they can unite in the praises 
sung by a choir. 

My audience well know, that hearing the word of 
God is in my own view a part, and a very solemn and 
important part, of public worship. To receive divine 
truth and divine precepts, as being really divine, with 
reverence, faith, and love, is an ordinance as truly 
appointed by God, and as acceptable means of honour- 
ing him, as prayer or praise. To hear with any advan- 
tage, it is necessary, that we should both understand and 
feel what we hear. In order to understand, it is indis- 
pensable that we examine everything uttered by the 
preacher, which is not absolutely obvious, with a mo- 
mentary investigation employed upon each of his asser- 
tions. In order to feel, it is equally necessary that a 
little longer time should be spent upon every part of a 
discourse, which is fitted to awaken feeling. The time 
necessary for both these acts of the mind must, at least, 
be equal to that which is demanded for such union in 
prayer, as will make the several petitions our own. But 
all the confusion, suspense, detention, and embarrass- 
ment from novelty, will here have as much influence 
to prevent us from hearing a sermon in a proper man- 
ner, as from joining in extemporary prayer. Here also 
the labouring recollection, and embarrassed or tumul- 
tuous delivery of which Dr Paley complains, will have 
their full effect. Most men, unless when destitute of 
self-possession, speak extemporaneously with more dis- 
tinctness and propriety than they read ; and are there- 
fore more readily and perfectly understood. But if an, 
audience do rot understand and feel a sermon, they 
fail as effectually of performing this part of religious 
worship, as of performing the duty of prayer, when they 
do not join in the petitions. The same difficulties there- 
fore attend, thus far, the performance of both these reli- 
gious services, which are here supposed to attend extem- 
porary prayer. It is presumed, however, tliat they are 
imaginary in both cases : for, 

(3.) The answer to the former objection is applicable, 
with the same force, to this : viz , That the difficulties 
complained of have never existed in such a manner as 
to be of serious importance, in the view of those who 
have worshipped publicly with extemporary prayer. 

In the long periods throughout which, and among 
the numerous millions by whom, this mode of worship 
has been adopted, no complaint of any magnitude has 
ever arisen concerning this subject. It will not be as- 
serted, and with decency cannot, that these persons 
have been less serious, less scrupulous about their wor- 
ship, or less anxious to perform the duties of religion 
aright, than an equal number of their fellow Christians. 
Experience therefore is wholly against both these ob- 
jections ; and experience is the only evidence, or um- 
pire, in the case. 

The advocates for forms of prayer admit that they 
are attended by some disadvantages. Among these, 
Dr Paley considers the two following as the principal. 

1. That forms of prayer composed in one age become 
unfit for another, by the unavoidable change of lan- 
guage, circumstances, and opinions. 

This objection must, doubtless, be allowed to have 
some degree of force. I do not, however, think it ne- 
cessarily of very .serious importance. To make fre- 
quent alterations in so solemn a service, would certainly 
be dangerous. Nor ought they ever to be made with- 



out extreme caution. Yet when they are plainly de- 
manded by existing circumstances, it can hardly be 
supposed, that a collection of Christians would refuse 
their consent to safe and reasonable changes : especially 
after the evil had become considerable. 

2. That the perpetual repetition of the same form of 
words, produces weariness and inattentiveness in the 
congregation. 

This I esteem a more serious difficulty than the for- 
mer, so far as such a repetition exists; while I readily 
acknowledge, that its existence appears to me unneces- 
sary. For this evil Dr Paley observes, ' Devotion 
may supply a remedy.' I admit that it may, and doubt 
not that in individual minds it does, at least in a consid- 
erable measure. Still the objection is far from being re- 
moved. Every mode of worship ought to be so formed,, 
as to awaken devotion, always too languid, and not so 
as to diminish a flame which is scarcely perceptible. 
It is the nature of all repetition, as well as of continual 
sameness, soon to weary minds, formed like ours with 
an inherent love of change and novelty. This, in 
every other case, is perceived and acknowledged. No 
reason appears why it should not be acknowledged in 
this. Devotion easily languishes in the most pious 
minds, and ought therefore to be assisted, not repressed. 
The best men complain often and justly of lukewarm 
affections, and wandering thoughts. What then shall 
be said of others? Certainly the fervour of devotion 
referred to, must be unsafely relied on, to remedy the 
evils of a wearisome service in the midst of a congre- 
gation at large. 

To obviate the force of these remarks, it may be 
said that psalms and hymns are sung in frequent repe- 
tition. I reply, that these are rarely repeated, when 
compared with repetitions in forms of prayer. Yet 
even these, when sung several times within a short pe- 
riod, become obviously tiresome. 

But besides that the psalms are given us in the 
Scripture, and are therefore regarded with a reverence 
which can be claimed by "no human composition, both 
psalms and hymns are always sung ; and ai - e therefore 
recommended to the hearer by the powerful aid of 
music. This is an advantage which nothing else can 
boast, and counterbalances whatever tediousness would 
otherwise be found in any necessary or proper repeti- 
tion. These therefore may be fairly laid aside, as be- 
ing without the debate. 

3. To these objections ought to be added another ; 
That the mode of uttering the forms of prayer in actual 
use is unhappy. 

This mode, as is well known, is the audible union of 
a whole congregation in reading each prayer, through- 
out a considerable part of the service, The effect of 
this practice, so far as I can judge from my own expe- 
rience, is, in a greater or less degree, to disturb the 
attention, and confound the thoughts of the several 
suppliants. How far the power of habit may go to- 
wards lessening or removing these evils, it is impossible 
for me, without more experience of the effects of this 
mode of worship, to judge. But, independently of this 
consideration, so many voices, set by nature to so many 
different keys, and directed in so many different me- 
thods of modulation, are certainly an embarrassment 
of that quietness and steadiness of thought, that entire 
self-possession, so desirable during the time of reli- 
gious worship. Sounds which are very numerous are, 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.— FORMS OF PRAYER. 



749 



when utterod at the same moment, almost of course per- 
ulexing. Discordant sounds are necessarily unplea- 
sant ; and no circumstances can prevent this effect on 
the mind. 

4. Forms of prayer must necessarily be general ; 
whereas, the nature of prayer demands that our peti- 
tions should in a great measure be particular. 

It is no part of the design of prayer to change the 
purposes or conduct of the Creator. Its whole import 
consists in exciting our obedience to him, and the 
amendment of ourselves. By awakening in our minds 
a sense of our guilt, dangers, necessities, helplessness, 
dependence, and indebtedness ; of our own littleness, 
and the greatness, wisdom, and goodness of our Maker, 
we are improved in our moral character, and fitted to 
receive the blessings which we need. The more these 
emotions are excited, the more effectually are these 
ends accomplished. Of course, the most advantageous 
means should always be used for this purpose. 

Hence, it will be easily seen, that prayers ought, as 
far as may be, to consist of petitions, confessions, 
thanksgiving, and adoration, formed in particular (not 
in general) thoughts and expressions. General decla- 
rations and images of all kinds, except when eminently 
important, are feeble and unimpressive. Particular 
ones, on the contrary, are deeply and alone impressive. 

Whenever the end of what we speak or write, is to 
interest either the imagination, or the heart, it is a 
rule of every rhetorical writer, and ordinarily the prac- 
tice of every man who follows nature, to use particular 
images and expressions. No reason appears why this 
rule, founded in the native character of man, may not 
be applied to the present case with the same propriety 
as to any other. 

The principal end of prayer is, not to teach, but to 
move the heart. The more this rule is followed, the 
more will the end be attained. In all the warrantable 
means of quickening the affections, prayer ought 
plainly to abound. Both the sentiments and language 
ought to be simple, artless, apparently the result of no 
labour, derived from the occasion, and springing di- 
rectly from the heart. To this scheme, the confessions, 
petitions, and thanksgivings should, I think, be gene- 
rally conformed, wherever it is intended to be made 
deeply impressive. 

This is a purpose which no form of prayer, however 
admirably composed, can successfully accomplish De- 
signed for so many persons, occasions, and ages, it must 
of necessity be to a great extent general ; and so far 
defective. The mind, deeply interested by the occa- 
sion, must be disappointed of what it naturally expects, 
and displeased when it finds the strain of sentiment fall- 
ing short of its own feelings. In this degree, therefore, 
it will fail of being edified. The emotions which it 
wishes to have excited, and which the occasion demands 
and awakens, are either faintly excited, or suffered to 
sleep. If persons accustomed to the use of a liturgy find, 
as they think, those difficulties in extemporary prayer 
which are alleged by Dr Paley, such as are accustomed 
to prayer of this nature complain, with not less feeling, 
and as they apprehend with not less reason, of the ge- 
neral, unimpressive character of forms, and their want 
3f perceptible adaptation to the particular circumstances 
of the suppliants. 

Almost every prayer recorded in the Scriptures 
sprang out of the case which prompted it, and expresses 



its particular, important, and most affecting circum- 
stances. Such are Abraham's for Ishmael, (jien. xvii. ; 
Abraham's for Sodom, Gen. xviii. ; Lot's for himself, 
Gen. xix. ; Isaac's for Jacob and Esau, Gen. xxvii. ; 
Jacob's for himself, Gen. xxviii. ; those of Moses for 
Israel, Exod. xxxii. and xxxiii. ; Gideon's, Judges vi. ; 
Samson's, Judges xvi. ; Hannah's, 1 Sam. ii. ; David's, 
2 Sam. vii. ; Solomon's, 1 Kings viii. ; Jehoshaphat's 
for Judah, 2 Chron. xx. ; Hezekiah's for Israel, 2 Kings 
xix. ; Hezekiah's for himself, 2 Kings xx. ; Ezra's for 
Judah, Ezra ix.; the prayer of the Levi tes for Judah, 
Neh. ix.; those of Jeremiah and Daniel, that of Josiah, 
those recorded of Christ, and those recorded of the 
apostles. 

In all these, and several other instances, particularly 
many contained in the Psalms, the prayer is chiefly di- 
rected to the occasion in hand, whether a public or 
private one; for it is to be remembered, that several of 
them were prayers of the most public nature; and, al- 
though uttered chiefly by individuals, were uttered in 
the midst of great assemblies, and offered up in their 
name. Nor is there, so far as I remember, a single 
prayer recorded in the Scriptures (the text being here 
laid out of the question), which has at all the aspect of 
having been a form, or a part of a standing liturgy. 

From these observations it will be seen, that prayer 
is no other than the thoughts of a devotional mind, 
ascending silently to God, or audibly expressed. What 
these thoughts are in the mind, the prayer of the voica 
ought ever to be. Hence, as the thoughts will vary, so 
the prayer will also vary, according to the numberless 
cases of suppliants ; the cares, wants, fears, distresses, 
supplies, hopes, and joys. In this manner, the pro- 
phets, apostles, and our Saviour himself, prayed. Thus 
the Spirit of God directed those who alone were under 
his express direction. Whatever ' infirmities : we, who 
are uninspired, may labour under, the same ' Spirit ' 
may with humble confidence be expected to ' help,' so 
far as it shall be necessary for us, as he helped theirs. 
Their example he has recorded both for our instruction 
and encouragement. As their circumstances gave birth 
both to their thoughts and expressions, no reason ap- 
pears why our prayers should not arise also out of our 
circumstances. The difficulties supposed to attend this 
manner of worshipping God will, it is believed, vanish, 
if our hearts are engaged in our services. 

Such are the views which have occurred to me con- 
cerning this subject. Still, I have no controversy with 
those who think forms of prayer most edifying to them- 
selves. They undoubtedly must be their own judges. 
Particularly, as their experience concerning this side 
of the question has been far greater than mine, I can- 
not controvert the decisions of this experience, so far 
as they are to respect themselves only. Very many 
unquestionable and excellent Christians have worship- 
ped in both these methods. In both these methods, 
therefore, men may be excellent Christians, and wor- 
ship God in an acceptable manner. On this subject, 
whether considered as a subject of speculation or of 
practice, no debate ought ever to arise, except that which 
is entirely catholic and friendly; and no feelings, be- 
sides those which are of the most charitable nature. 
Zeal, however commendable it may be in some cases, 
seems here out of place. 

I have now finished the observations which I have 
thought proper to make concerning forms of prayer, 



750 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sep.. c.xlv. 



and concerning the Lord's prayer, considered as eillier | 
requiring- or warranting us to pray by a form. It may, 
however, be proper to add, as a mere opinion of my 
own, that it is perfectly proper, and will be wise for all 
such persons as are in danger of losing their self-poss- 
ession, or of being otherwise embarrassed when they 
are to perform this duty, whether in public or in pri- 
vate, to obtain well-written forms of prayer, and make 
them their directories in the performance of this duty. 
This practice I should recommend also so long as the 
danger of embarrassment should continue, even if it 
should continue through life. To pray by a form may 
not be the best method of directing this duty at large, 
and may yet be the best method which, in given cir- 
cumstances, will be in our power. It certainly will be 
far more desirable to use a form of prayer, than to pray 
in an embarrassed and interrupted manner. 

In the beginning of this Discourse, I have suggested 
that the Lord's prayer was intended to teach us the 
subjects, the spirit, and the manner of our prayers. 
Concerning the subjects we are taught particularly, that 
we ought to pray continually and extensively for the 
prosperity of the kingdom and worship of God, and the 
conversion and obedience of mankind ; to ask daily for 
our daily bread ; for the forgiveness of our sins ; for a 
spirit of forgiveness towards others; for security against 
temptations ; and for protection and deliverance from 
evil, both natural and moral. We are also here di- 
rected to look to God, as our Father and Friend, for 
parental love, tenderness, and blessings ; and to rejoice 
that ' the kingdom, the power, and the glory,' are his, 
and will be his only, and for ever. 

These things are all plainly taught in this very re- 
markable form of prayer. They are, however, far from 
being all that are taught. No composition, it is pre- 
sumed, ever contained more, or more valuable instruc- 
tion. Among the truths which are obviously involved 
in it, are the following: — 

1. That we are not to expect a gracious audience of 
God, ' for our much speaking,' but for the sincerity, 
humility, and piety, with which we pray. 

2. That all places, where we can pray with decency, 
and without ostentation and interruption, are proper 
places for the performance of this duty. 



All men are to use this prayer, at least in substance ; 
but all men cannot resort for this purpose to the tem- 
ple of Jerusalem, to a church, nor to any other places 
supposed to be consecrated. 

3. That prayer is a social employment. 

' Our Father ' is the language of numbers ; of a fa- 
mily, or of a congregation : not of an individual. Simi- 
lar phraseology runs also through the whole form. 

4. That we are to pray for others. 

Three of these petitions are employed as prayer for 
others; viz., the three first. 

5. That we are equally dependent on God for spirit- 
ual good, as for temporal ; and for safety from moral, 
as well as from natural, evil. 

C. That our desires for natural good must always be 
moderate and humble. 

We are here taught to pray daily, not for wealth, but 
for ' daily bread.' 

7. That we cannot pray acceptably, unless we exer- 
cise a spirit of forgiveness towards our enemies. 

8. That we are to pray equally for those things which 
God has foretold, as for those which to us are unknown 
and uncertain. 

Gotl has foretold, that ' his name shall be hallowed, 
his kingdom come, and his will be done,' in the man- 
ner here specified : yet for these things we are directed 
to pray. 

9. That the predetermination of God, therefore, 
ought never to be a hinderance, nor discouragement to 
prayer. 

That God lias predetermined that his kingdom shall 
be built up, his name hallowed, and his will done, 
throughout the earth, will not be questioned by any 
man, who reads and believes the Bible. Yet for these 
things we are here required to pray. 

Finally : We are taught by this prayer, that he who 
does not sincerely desire that ' the name of God may 
be hallowed,' that ' his kingdom may come, and his will 
be done ;' who cannot heartily rejoice, that ' the king- 
dom, the power, and the glory, are his,' and will be his 
throughout eternity ; and who cannot subjoin to all 
these things his own solemn ' Amen ;' does not and 
cannot pray in the manner required by the Redeemer 
of mankind. 



SERMON CXLV- 



THE MEANS OF GRACE ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.- 

WITH RELIGIOUS MEN. 



-INTERCOURSE 



He that walketh with wise men shall be wise. — Prov. xiii. 20. 



Havixq finished the proposed examination of the great 
Christian duty of prayer, I shall now proceed to the 
next subject in the order formerly mentioned : viz., 

Intercourse with religious men. 

The text informs us, that ' he who walketh with 
wise men shall be wise.' Wisdom, it is well known, 
is extensively employed by the divine writers, par- 
ticularly by Solomon, to denote religion. ' Wise men' 



therefore are, in the language of the Scriptures, religious 
men. 

To ' walk.' denotes, in the same language, to converse 
familiarly and frequently, or to have our whole course 
of life intimately and familiarly connected with the per- 
sons or objects with whom, or amid which, we are sup- 
posed to walk. 

The following doctrine is tlierefore obviously con- 



INTERCOURSE WITH RELIGIOUS MEN. 



iSi 



tained in the text : That he who lives and converses fre- 
quentlyandintimately with religious men, may ordinarily 
he expected to become religious. The declaration in the 
text is absolute ; but I understand such declarations as 
usually meaning no more than I have here expressed. 
Thus, ' Train up a child in the way he should go, and 
when he is old he will not depart from it,' another 
expression of the same nature, intends not, that every 
child thus educated will certainly become religious, but 
that this will ordinarily be the fact, and may therefore 
always be fairly expected. 

There are two senses in which the text, without any 
violence, may be understood : the obvious one, 

That persons hitherto destitute of religion will assume 
this character ; and the more remote one, 

That persons already religious will by this intercourse 
become more so. ' He that walketh with wise men 
shall be wise :' that is, emphatically, or eminently. 

I shall take the liberty to consider the subject with 
respect to both these senses. 

I. Those who are destitute of religion, and converse 
frequently and religiously with religious men, may ordi- 
narily be expected to become religious. 

In proof of this position, I observe, 

1. Religion, in the conduct of a man really and emi- 
nently possessed of this character, appears to others to 
be real. 

The Bible exhibits religion with abundant proof, and 
with supreme force and beauty. It presents this great 
subject to us, in the form of doctrines, precepts, and, so 
far as history can furnish them, of examples also. It 
presents us at the same time with the most satisfactory 
arguments, to prove that these exhibitions are made by 
the hand of God himself. Still, although the mind is 
unable to deny the sufficiency, force, and beauty of the 
representation, or to refute the arguments by which it 
is supported, it can withdraw itself from both; and in 
this manner can avoid the conviction which it is intended 
to produce, and the emotions which it is fitted to inspire. 
The subject is naturally uncongenial to the taste of man, 
and from every such subject man almost instinctively 
wishes to withdraw his attention, and turn his eye away. 
To do this is almost always in his power ; and however 
dangerous may be the conduct, and however desirable 
the contrary conduct, will almost of course be the dic- 
tate of inclination. The subject which he disrelishes he 
can shun. To the arguments which sustain it he can 
refuse to listen. Against the evidence which they con- 
vey he can close his eyes. In this manner it will be 
easy for him to say, in the case under consideration, 
' The religion presented to us in the gospel forms in- 
deed an excellent character, and would be not a little 
desirable, were it real and attainable by such a being 
as man. But, out of the Scriptures, where shall it be 
found ? There are, it is true, those who profess to be 
religious ; and who, it must be acknowledged, are 
somewhat more grave, specious, and imposing in their 
deportment than most other men. But I see nothing 
in their character which may not be rivalled by other 
men ; nothing which may not be explained by the 
common principles of our nature ; nothing which proves 
them to possess the extraordinary spirit exhibited in 
the gospel. I think therefore it may be reasonably con- 
cluded that the religion taught in the Scriptures, 
although beautiful and desirable to the eye of the mind, 
exists in the Scriptures only, and has no real or prac- 



tical being in the hearts of men. As a speculative object 
it is commendable, as a practical one, it is I think chiefly 
imaginary.' Such may be, such I doubt not often have 
been, the sentiments of persons living under the gospel 
concerning religion; persons who have read the accoums 
concerning it given in the Scriptures, and at the sanio 
time have surveyed the conduct of its professors only at a 
distance, and seen it only in the gross. Nor can it be 
denied, that these sentiments, although false ami 
groundless, are yet natural, frequent, and in a sense 
common. 

But in real life the subject plainly wears a different 
aspect. There are many persons and many cases, by 
whom and in which the spirit of the gospel is manifested 
so unambiguously as to allow of no doubt concerning 
its reality, nature, and efficacy, in the mind of an honest 
beholder. The evidence is of such a nature that it 
cannot be evaded, unless by a prejudice too gross, a 
violation of conscience too palpable, to be admitted by 
a man, who can lay any claim to fairness of character. 
It would be oftener seen, and oftener acknowledged, 
were the person on whom the sight and acknowledg- 
ment might have the happy influence under considera- 
tion, to converse more frequently and more intimately 
with men of piety. If we were really to walk with wise 
men, if we were to live by their side, mark their con- 
duct, compare it with that of others, and inquire con- 
cerning the principles from which it was derived, it 
would be difficult for us to mistake the nature of this 
subject. We should see the conduct itself to be exceed- 
ingly different, nay, in many respects directly opposite 
in the two cases. Effects of this diverse and opposite 
nature we should be compelled to attribute to diver&e 
and opposite causes. One class of them we should, in 
a word, be obliged to ascribe to religion, and the other 
to the native character of man. Even in our secret 
thoughts we should be forced to make this acknowledg- 
ment. The understanding could not withdraw itself 
from conviction, and conscience would not fail to hold 
up the subject in full view. 

2. In the conduct of such men religion also appears 
solemn, dignified, and superior. 

All wicked men, unless when under the influence of 
violent passion, necessarily feel the superiority of those 
who are truly and unaffectedly virtuous. A sense of 
this superiority, and of their own comparative depres- 
sion, is the source, in an extensive degree, of that hos- 
tility, which they so often manifest towards persons of 
this character. From these emotions no such man can 
escape. In the neighbourhood of virtue they are al- 
ways in the shade, and are not unfrequently shrunk 
and withered. Milton, after having recited the rebuke 
of Zephon to Satan, says very justly, as well as very 
beautifully, 

' Abasli'd the Devil stood, 
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 
Virtue in her shape how lovely.' 

Such, in multiplied instances, has been the effect of 
rebukes administered by virtuous men to those who 
were wicked. 

The awe, the reverence, the consciousness of superi 
ority, inspired in the minds of sinners by virtue, ap- 
pearing with its own solemn and venerable dignity, 
are not always accompanied nor followed by hatred. 
If I mistake not, they in many instances terminate in 
a settled respect and admiration for the virtuous per- 
sons by whose conduct they were excited; emotions. 



752 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Set., cxlv. 



not (infrequently productive of the happiest effects on 
the hearts and lives of those by whom they are enter- 
tained. It is unnecessary to prove, that men naturally 
seek the company of those whom they respect and ad- 
mire. As little is it necessary to show, that the senti- 
ments and opinions of such persons have, of course, no 
small influence over the minds of such as thus seek 
their company. Between reverencing- and embracing 
the sentiments of persons thus situated, the steps are 
few, and the transition is easy. There is the utmost 
reason to believe that this happy progress has often 
taken place. 

3. In the conduct of such men also religion appears 
lovely. 

The consciences of sinful men, perhaps of all such 
men, when their consciences are permitted to testify at 
all, testify to the loveliness of evangelical virtue. In 
their language, I confess, it is often denied ; and still 
more frequently, perhaps, is given in a grudging nig- 
gardly manner. By their consciences it is acknow- 
ledged of course. 

Wherever the judgment of the mind is allowed to 
decide without a bias, it of course pronounces the law 
of God to require nothing but what is reasonable, ex- 
cellent, and useful. Of this nature, beyond a question, 
is piety to its Author, and benevolence to his creatures. 
In no form can these exercises of mind be manifested, 
without being seen to be amiable by every unprejudiced 
eye. Justice, kindness, truth, disinterestedness, for- 
giveness to enemies, and mercy to the suffering, are 
always desirable, always lovely. With the same amia- 
bleness is the government of our passions and appetites, 
regularly adorned. Meekness, gentleness, sobriety, 
and temperance, are indispensable to an amiable char- 
acter ; and all persons who wish to be loved by others, 
areforced invariably either to assume, or at least to ex- 
hibit, these characteristics to their fellow men. 

The union of these attributes is the consummation of 
moral excellence to man, and involves whatever is 
really and eminently lovely. Wherever they are thus 
united, and are at the same time exhibited in their na- 
tive light, without the obscuring influence of character- 
istical passions, prejudices, uncouthness, or vulgarity, 
the understanding is compelled to acknowledge their 
excellence, and, secretly at least, to pronounce them 
lovely. Even gross and hard-hearted men, much more 
persons possessing dispositions naturally sweet and 
susceptible, are often greatly affected by the sincere 
and artless display of these attributes. In many in- 
stances, there is good reason to believe, they produce 
in the minds of unrenewed men a conviction of the re- 
ality of religion, which argument has never been able 
to produce ; and a sense of its worth, followed by the 
happiest consequences. 

A man of my acquaintance, who was of a vehement 
and rigid temper, had many years since a dispute with 
a friend of his, a professor of religion, and had been 
injured by him. With strong feelings of resentment 
he made him a visit, for the avowed purpose of quarrel- 
ling with him. He accordingly stated to him the na- 
ture and extent of the injury, and was preparing, as he 
afterwards confessed, to load him with a train of severe 
reproaches ; when his friend cut him short by acknow- 
ledging with the utmost readiness and frankness the 
injustice of which he had been guilty, expressing his 
own regret for the wrong which he had done, request- 



ing his forgiveness, and proffering him ample compen- 
sation. He was compelled to say, that he was satisfied ; 
and withdrew full of mortification, that he had been 
precluded from venting his indignation, and woundin^- 
his friend with keen and violent reproaches for his 
conduct. As he was walking homeward, he said to 
himself to this effect : ' There must be something mure 
in religion than I have hitherto suspected. Were any 
man to address me in the tone of haughtiness and pro- 
vocation with which I accosted my friend this evening, i 
it would be impossible for me to preserve the equani- 
mity of which 1 have been a witness ; and especially 
with so much frankness, humility, and meekness to ac- 
knowledge the wrong which I had done, so readily 
ask forgiveness of the man whom I had injured, and so 
cheerfully promise a satisfactory recompense. I should 
have met his anger with at least equal resentment, paid 
him reproach for reproach, and inflicted wound for 
wound. There is something in this man's disposition, 
which is not in mine. There is something in the reli- 
gion which he professes, and which I am forced to be- 
lieve he feels ; something which makes him so superior, 
so much better, so much more amiable, than I can pre- 
tend to be. The subject strikes me in a manner to 
which I have hitherto been a stranger. It is high time 
to examine it more thoroughly, with more candour, 
and with greater solicitude also, than I have done hith- 
erto.' 

From this incident a train of thoughts and emotions 
commenced in the mind of this man, which terminated 
in his profession of the Christian religion, his relin- 
quishment of the business in which he was engaged ; 
and his consecration of himself to the ministry of the 
gospel. 

4. The conversation of religious persons has often 
great power upon the consciences of sinners. 

None can set the truths of the gospel in so strong or 
solemn a point of view as those who feel them. None 
can speak of sin so justly, so clearly, or so pungently, 
as those who under alarming convictions have realized 
their guilt and their danger, and been roused by a 
strong sense of their ruin to the most anxious and la- 
borious efforts for their recovery ; and who with an 
ingenuous contrition of heart, have learned to realize 
its hateful nature, as well as its dreadful consequences. 
None can speak of holiness like those who understand 
its nature, the delightful tenor of its affection, the peace 
which accompanies it, and the joy which it inspires, by 
their own undeceiving, impressive, and happy experi- 
ence. 

Who can present in such strong, affecting, awful co- 
lours the world of perdition, as will naturally be em- 
ployed by those who have beheld its transcendent evils 
with realized conviction, and deep amazement, who 
have seen it naked before them, felt their own near 
approach to its sufferings, and still tremble under a 
sense of their marvellous escape ? 

Who can bring heaven before the eyes, and delineate 
with a glowing pencil, in living colours, its immortal 
glory, like those who have thought long and often of 
that happy world, with the ' faith which is the substance 
of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not 
seen,' and ' the hope,' which * entereth into that within 
the veil ?' Who can discourse concerning the celestial 
paradise like those who, with a divine relish already 
formed in their minds, are prepared to enjoy the bless- 



INTERCOURSE WITH RELIGIOUS MEN. 



753 



ings of eternal life ; who, conscious that they ' are pil- 
grims and strangers here,' regard themselves as citizens 
of the New Jerusalem, and look forward with delight- 
ful anticipation to that period, when they shall there be 
united to all who love them, and to all whom they love ? 

Who can reprove with such pungency, with such effi- 
cacy, with such success, as those who are believed to be 
in earnest, to loathe and shun the sin which they re- 
prove, and to delight in the holiness which they incul- 
cate ? Who can reprove in so acceptable or so persua- 
sive a manner, as those who perform this delicate and 
difficult duty with the meekness and gentleness, the 
humility and forbearance of the gospel, and whose lives, 
' adorning the doctrine of God our Saviour,' add to 
every remonstrance the peculiar weight of an unblem- 
ished example ? 

What is true of these subjects, is equally applicable 
to all others which are made the themes of religious 
conversation. ' The words of the wise,' that is, of re- 
ligious men, says Solomon, ' are as goads, and as nails 
fastened by the masters of assemblies.' ' The words of 
the wise,' says Peter, in his translation of this passage, 
' are as goads, or as if planted with briars.' 

When the disciples went to Emmaus, they expressed 
the influence of Christ's conversation in these remark- 
able terms: ' Did not our hearts burn within us, while 
he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to 
us the Scriptures ?' The conversation of pious men is 
not, indeed, that of Christ ; but it possesses in some de- 
gree the same influence ; and wherever it is conformed 
to the gospel, and conducted with the prudence which 
■the gospel requires, cannot fail to leave behind it de- 
sirable effects. 

In the revivals of religion, when conversation con- 
cerning this subject prevails, and the tidings of conver- 
sion are multiplied, when the power of sympathy is 
awake, and the soul is prepared readily to interest it- 
self in the spiritual affairs of its fellow men, everything 
pertaining to their religious circumstances appears to 
have a peculiar influence upon the minds of others. 
Their views and affections, their conversation and their 
conduct, nay, the bare narratives of whatever pertains 
to their religious interests, appear, through the power 
•of sympathy, to produce great, extensive, and happy 
effects on those, to whom they are made known. It is 
a remark of President Edwards, derived from his own 
observation during an extraordinary revival of religion, 
that ' nothing seemed to produce greater effects on the 
minds of his own congregation, than recitals of the pre- 
valence of religion in other places.' 

The more frequent and the more intimate our inter- 
course with such persons is, the greater and the hap- 
pier is its efficacy. The same thing is true, when the 
persons with whom we converse and live are possessed 
of characters peculiarly venerable, or of manners and 
dispositions peculiarly lovely. Amiable companions, 
near and affectionate relatives, parents, ministers, and 
rulers, when persons of unaffected piety, contribute 
more by their conversation and example than can be 
easily imagined to spread religion among mankind, 
and to preserve the world from profligacy and ruin. 
The ' light ' of these persons ' so shines before others, 
that they, beholding their good works,' actually ' glo- 
rify their Father, who is in heaven.'* 

* Matt. v. 1G. 



II. Persons already religious will by this intercourse 
become more so. 

All the observations made under the preceding head 
are applicable to this also, and with additional force. 
But there are other considerations peculiar to this, and 
those of distinguished importance. 

1. Persons already religious are prepared to realize 
whatever is communicated to them by others of the same 
character. 

' As face answereth to face in the water, so doth the 
heart of man to man.' This observation may be em- 
phatically applied to the hearts of Christians. Their 
views are substantially the same, their taste is the same, 
their character is the same. They have all a common 
interest, are engaged in common pursuits, and are 
bound towards a common home. They are all of one 
family ; are children of one Parent, and followers of 
one Redeemer. All of them discern ' spiritual things 
in a spiritual manner,' and relish them with a spiritual 
taste. To the interests of the divine kingdom, and to 
the concerns of the least individual who belongs to it, 
not one of them is indifferent. All are prepared to 
feel the concerns of all ; and by every one, so far as 
they are communicated, they are actually felt. Every- 
thing therefore in the life and conversation of one 
Christian, will easily be transferred to his own circum- 
stances by every other. 

It is easy to perceive, that mutual communications 
among persons of such a character, and in such circum- 
stances, will of course be regarded as the communica- 
tions of friends and brethren. Every man knows with 
what a welcome he hears, how readily he believes, how 
deeply he feels, and how much he is influenced by the 
conversation and sentiments of a beloved friend. The 
importance of this consideration is peculiarly seen in 
every case of reproof. The difficulties which usually 
attend the administration of reproof, and its frequent 
want of efficacy and success, are subjects of complaint 
in the mouth of every thinking man. All these diffi- 
culties plainly lie in the character, either of the reprover 
or the reproved. It is indispensable, that the reprover, 
if any hope be entertained of success, be regarded as a 
friend; and that he assume the lowliness, meekness, 
long-suffering, and forbearance of the gospel. Such is 
the character of the Christian in the eye of his fellow 
Christian ; and such is the disposition with which his 
reproofs will be administered. They will therefore 
have all the advantage furnished by the fact, that they 
are derived from the best source. 

At the same time, religion prepares the person who 
is to be reproved in the best manner to receive this 
office of friendship. It teaches him his own frailty, the 
guilt and danger of backsliding, the absolute necessity 
of reproof to himself, as well as to others, the obliga- 
tions which his fellow Christians are under to administer 
it, the benevolent ends which it is designed to answer, 
and the peculiar friendship employed in reproving- 
agreeably to the injunctions of the gospel. Thus the 
Christian is by his disposition prepared to discern, that 
' the reproofs of instruction are the way of life;' and 
thus 'a reproof entereth more into a wise man, than a 
hundred stripes into a fool.' 

Nor is the Christian less fitted to derive instruction, 
improvement, and enjoyment from other religious com- 
munications. By a kind of instinctive application he 
makes the cases, views, and feelings of his fellow Chris- 
5 c 



15i 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxtv. 



tians Iiis own. From their dangers lie learns the means 
of safety to himself. From their backslidings he de- 
rives watchfulness. From their victories he acquires 
courage. Their fortitude, patience, and resignation he 
transplants into his own life. In their faith and hope, 
their comfort and joys, he exercises an evangelical com- 
munion, which makes them all his own. In their sor- 
rows also he experiences a refined and affectionate in- 
terest, springing from the very nature of Christian 
sympathy, and rendering him better and lovelier when- 
ever it is experienced. In this manner, while on the 
one hand his heart is softened and purified, he acquires 
on the other the rare and difficult science of regulating 
the affections, and directing wisely the conduct to which 
they gave birth. 

2. Notwithstanding this sameness of character, the 
views of different Christians concerning the same objects, 
and the emotions excited by them, are in many respects 
different. 

It is a remarkable fact, that in the creation and pro- 
vidence of God, we find no two beings or events exactly 
alike. In this diversity, God undoubtedly designed to 
exhibit the endless diversities of beauty and utility 
existing in his own endlessly various wisdom ; so that 
everything might, in some respect, be a new display of 
his perfect character. In nothing is this variety more 
conspicuous than in rational minds. These undoubtedly 
differ not a little in their original structure, and vary 
unceasingly in their views, affections, and efforts. The 
very optics of the mind, although possessing the same 
common nature, are nevertheless so diverse from each 
other, as to see the same objects in lights often widely 
different, and to rest on very different parts of each 
individual object. Let any two persons who have been 
employed in contemplating the same subject, or viewing 
the same object, recite their respective views ; and this 
difference will be strongly evinced. All these varieties 
are also predicable of the human heart. Affections 
very variously modified are continually awakened in 
different persons by the same events, even when they 
have the same common interest. The compassion ex- 
cited by a scene of distress in a company of friends or 
neighbours, is proved by their own expressions to have 
many diversities of shade and character. 

All these varieties of thought, feeling, purpose, and 
exertion are found everywhere in Christians, with re- 
spect to every religious subject. From this fact it has 
been often, but rashly, concluded, that men were so 
made, as necessarily to form inconsistent views of the 
same doctrine or the same precept ; and hence an 
apology has been made for error, which is intended to 
excuse it from criminality, and to quiet the minds of 
men, when chargeable with false religious opinions. 
This scheme attributes to God such indifference to truth, 
or such love to falsehood, as to have induced him to 
make men incapable, either from their nature, or from 
their circumstances, of discerning truth, and avoiding 
error. It is fairly presumable, that those who hold this 
scheme are not intentionally guilty of charging God 
thus foolishly. 

But although God has not made the reception of 
error necessary, he has plainly formed us so as to re- 
ceive truth, perhaps necessarily, certainly in a manner 
highly advantageous to us as social beings, in an un- 
ceasing diversity of lights. In a careful investigation 
of a complicated subject, it is not improbable that of a 



thousand persons thus employed, every individual would 
discern something not discerned by the others, and that 
something true and just. Everything in the character 
of man, in his understanding, affections, and habits, 
contributes to this diversity. 

Let me illustrate this subject by a familiar, and at the 
same time unobjectionable example. There are in the 
Scriptures, perhaps one hundred writers and speakers, 
all of whom have spoken truth only ; while each has 
yet uttered it in his own characteristical manner. How 
universally various are these manners, and how much 
additional beauty, force, and profit are in this way 
added to the truth in the mind of every reader! Luke, 
Paul, and John are the most voluminous writers in the 
New Testament ; and have communicated the greatest 
number of doctrines and precepts to mankind. How 
unlike each other are these writers, in their several 
modes of viewing the interesting subjects which they 
communicate to mankind. Paul and John, particular- 
ly, are remarkably eloquent and sublime, as well as 
remarkably instructive. Yet how different is the sim- 
ple, artless, gentle manner of John, from the bold, ar- 
dent, abrupt manner of Paul ! Both at the same time 
are pre-eminently impressive, useful, and happy. 

All Christians have their peculiar views of divine 
subjects, and their peculiar affections. All these also, 
when just and true, have their own peculiar utility. In 
the familiar intercourse of Christians these views are 
continually interchanged, and these affections mutually 
communicated. By this interchange, the views of all 
become more just, more expanded, more noble. The 
varieties of divine excellence, the multiplied relations 
of divine truth, and the endless modifications of duty, 
are in this way far more extensively perceived by every 
one than would otherwise be possible. The difference 
between the knowledge thus imbibed, and that which 
would be gained by a Christian in absolute solitude, is 
substantially the same with that which exists between a 
savage and a man educated in enlightened society. 

Nor is this mutual communication of affections less 
improving. Piety, benevolence, and self-government 
are capable of being endlessly modified. In a solitary 
mind it is impossible, in the present state of man, that 
they should fail of being sluggish, contracted, austere, 
or in some other unhappy manner defective. Even 
where persons of the same sect, class, or character, con- 
sort with each other only, a narrow-minded, prejudiced, 
bigoted, and often very censurable spirit is diffused, 
cherished, and confirmed. An expansive correspon- 
dence among Christians, on the contrary, enlarges the 
heart, exalts its feelings, and dignifies its designs. Let 
it be remembered, that to this immense good every 
Christian may contribute, whatever is his station, what- 
ever the extent of his talents, and whatever the charac- 
teristical tenor of his affections. The greatest may 
learn and amend by the assistance of the least ; the 
wisest, by that of the most uninformed. Thus, ? as iron 
sharpeneth iron, so every Christian sharpeneth the 
countenance of his friend,' Prov. xxvii. 17. 

3. The affections of Christians are strongly invi- 
gorated by their frequent intercourse with each other. 

Social beings are formed in such a manner as to be 
easily and deeply interested in each other's concerns : 
and to share in each other's hopes and fears, joys and 
sorrows. Naturally, and in a sense instinctively, we love 
when others love, and hate when others hate ; exult in 



INTERCOURSE WITH RELIGIOUS MEN. 



755 



their prosperity, and mingle our sighs and tears with 
liieirs. Whenever these emotions are communicated, 
they are caught. Heart, in this case, beats in regular 
response to heart ; and the bosom spontaneously heaves, 
and glows, and throbs at the call of those by whom we 
are surrounded. All this is continually seen in the 
common occurrences of life ; particularly in the zeal of 
parties, the agitations of political assemblies, and the 
distracted violence of tumultuous crowds. Much more 
delightfully is it exhibited in the more rational and af- 
fectionate meetings of friends, and far more delightfully 
still in the intercommunion of Christians, the best of all 
friends. Here the noblest subjects engage the atten- 
tion, and the most interesting of all concerns engross 
the heart : concerns, approved by the conscience, and 
approved by God. In their nature they are fraught 
with peace ; in their progress they are sources of un- 
ceasing and immortal good. To every person in such 
an assembly, ' the wisdom, which is from above,' is the 
supreme object of pursuit ; that ' godliness, which has 
the promise of the life which now is, and of that which 
is to come.' In the pursuit of this glorious object, full 
of comfort, hope, and joy, the best emotions which can 
be felt by the human heart are awakened and recipro- 
cated. The flame which glows in one breast is caught 
and kindled in another. The light which illumines one 
mind, sheds its lustre over all the minds by which it is 
encircled. The soul, raised above itself by this happy 
communion, feels that it ' has passed from death unto 
life, because it loves the brethren.' On such an assem- 
bly the Spirit of grace fails not to shower his balmy 
influence, and to awaken in the minds of which it is 
composed, delightful anticipations of future glory. 
Peace, and hope, and joy, descending from above, 
scatter here their richest blessings ; and with a divine 
enchantment raise up a transient but delightful image 
of heaven on this side of the grave. 

REMARKS. 

1. These observations teach us the invaluable bless- 
ing of being born in a Christian land. 

In such a land, all these advantages are primarily 
obtained. There Christians live. There religion is 
manifested in the life and conversation. There its reali- 
ty, dignity, solemnity, and loveliness are seen by the 
eye, and declared to the ear. There ' the words of the 
wise are as goads.' They counsel, exhort, reprove, and 
alarm with evangelical power. The minds of sinners 
are there awakened in this manner to a "sense of their 
guilt, and urged, by motives of singular import, to listen 
to the alarming denunciations of offended justice, and 
So the delightful invitations of boundless mercy. There 
the worth of the soul, its immortal being, and its amaz- 
ing destinies, are explained and understood. There the 
charms of a religious example are displayed and felt. 
There, of course, man is taught, allured, and compelled 
to provide for his eternal welfare. 

In other lands how dreadfully reversed is the scene! 
What a bleak and barren wilderness, what a dreary 
solitude, does their moral state present to the compas- 
sionate eye ! Stretch the wings of your contemplation, 
and pass over them with a momentary, but painful sur- 
vey. From climate to climate, not a house of God is 
presented to your eyes ; not a pious family, not a reli- 
gious example. Listen. No voice of prayer rises on 
the winds. No notes of praise are wafted to the 



heavens. Look. No sabbath smiles with peace and 
mercy on the desolate waste. No dews of divine grace, 
no showers of life-giving rain, descend on the sterile 
soiL ' The heaven over their head is brass : the earth 
under their feet is iron.' 

2. The same observations teach us the peculiar bless- 
ing of being born in a religious family. 

In such a family religion lives and prospers, is visible 
and powerful, in a still more eniphatical manner. It is 
seen always; it is seen in the most beautiful attitudes, 
and the fairest colours. It is seen with an influence 
peculiarly persuasive and heavenly. 

In their morning and evening devotions piety begins 
and closes the day ; prepares the heart to go patiently, 
serenely, faithfully, and gratefully through its active 
concerns ; and the eyes to close in peace, and to enjoy 
the sleep of such as are beloved by God. The interval 
between these solemn seasons is filled up with successive 
acts of justice, truth, and kindness to others, and to the 
happy circle where they originate ; and with a watch- 
ful, assiduous, and faithful superintendence of them- 
selves. In the blessings of their intercourse with others, 
all around them successively share ; while their friends 
and neighbours are delighted, strangers are welcomed, 
and their enemies are not excluded. The poor and 
suffering not only make peculiar claims, but find those 
claims cheerfully admitted. 

With each other, life is only a sweet interchange of 
lovely affections, and evangelical offices ; and assumes 
an aspect on which angels would smile with compla- 
cency, and heaven descend in a shower of blessings. 
Every day which passes over their heads calls forth from 
them all new displays of evangelical love, new efforts to 
make each other happy. Every place furnishes them 
new opportunities of showing how much ' more blessed 
it is to give, than to receive.' But the sabbath, of all 
days, surrounds them with peculiar lustre and loveli- 
ness. Of all places, the sanctuary most unfolds their ex- 
cellence, sublimes their virtues, and prepares them to 
meet ' the assembly of the first-born.' 

How can those who are young grow up in such a fa- 
mily, in the midst of such conversation, by the side of 
such examples, and in the sight of such excellence hour- 
ly displayed, and fail of becoming wise ! The example 
is that of parents ; the most venerable, and the most 
impressive which in this world was ever presented be- 
fore their eyes. The excellence is that of brothers and 
sisters ; the most lovely, the most alluring, which is 
found below the sun. Must not ' the angels of the Lord 
encamp round about' such a family? Will not God 
behold them with uninterrupted and unclouded smiles ? 
Who can be a witness of the piety, the benevolence of 
such a family, and not exclaim, 

• Thus on the heavenly hills 

The saints are bless'd ahove ; 
Where joy like morning dew distils, 

And all the air is love V 

3. These observations teach us the wisdom and good- 
ness of Christ in establishing a church in the world. 

The church is one great family, in which all Chris- 
tians are united, and enabled to walk together, and de- 
rive wisdom from each other. Here their correspond- 
ence is intimate, and their advantages are all concen- 
trated. Their instructions, their reproofs, their prayers, 
their example are here mutually exhibited and mutually 
enjoyed. Here also these blessings are perpetuated. 
Keligion here is visible from day to day, and from age 



758 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxlvi. 



to age ; and piety and beneficence shine, like the sun, 
with perennial beams. ' The Lord loveth the gates of 
Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob. Glorious 
things are spoken of thee, O city of God. The Lord 
hath chosen Zion ; he hath desired it for his habitation. 
This is my rest for ever ; here will I dwell. I will 
abundantly bless her provision. I will satisfy her poor 
with bread. I will clothe her priests with salvation ; 
and her saints shall shout aloud for joy.' 

In this assembly of. the faithful, the word and wor- 
ship of God, the means of eternal life, and the religion 
of the gospel, have all been preserved. By the example, 
the labours, the prayers, and the piety of the church in 
'one land, and in one age, have piety and salvation been 
extended and perpetuated, through other lands and 
other ages. This is the stem, from which have sprung 
all the blossoms and fruits of righteousness which have 
gladdened this desolate world. Here sinners in mil- 
lions have seen, felt, and acknowledged the reality and 
power of religion ; and under its divine influence have 
' turned from darkness to light, and from the power of 
Satan unto God.' Of Zion it shall be said, ' This 
and that man was born in her. The Lord shall count, 
when he write th up the people, that this man was born 
there.' 

4. We hence learn also how important it is, that 
Christians should adorn their profession with a holy life 
and conversation. 

Considerations very numerous and highly interesting- 
urge the performance of this duty. On this occasion I 
shall, however, omit them all, except those which have 
been insisted on in this discourse. These ought to be 
more than sufficient for a design so strongly commended 
by its own inherent importance, and so necessary to 
peace of mind, and the final approbation of God. 

If religion be not fervent in the heart, it will not be 
conspicuous in the life. If it be not conspicuous in the 
life, saints will not be edified, and sinners will not be 
saved. 

A dull, cold, stupid heart, and its necessary conse- 
quence, a dull, cold, and stupid life, a life resembling 
more that of a heathen moralist, than that of a disciple 
of Christ, robs a Christian of his proper usefulness, pre- 
vents the comfort which he might enjoy, and overcasts 
his brightest hopes of future acceptance. I speak of 



this man as a Christian ; for such Christians there are 
Such there were in the church of Sardis ; op whore 
Christ calls to ' strengthen the things which remained 
which were ready to die.' Nay, there are churches of 
this character. At Sardis there was such a church. But 
all persons of this character, whether churches or indi- 
viduals, are mere burdens upon the kingdom of Christ ; 
heavy weights, under which Christianity struggles, and 
languishes, and faints. Their profession is so exten- 
sively contradicted by their life, as to wound every 
good man, and to provoke the censure, scorn, and ridi- 
cule of every bad one. Not only is their own profes- 
sion esteemed insincere, and themselves regarded as 
hypocrites ; but Christians universally are scandalized 
for their sakes, and their religion pronounced to be a 
farce, a pretence, a cheat. The injury done in this 
manner is incalculable. Instead of improving at their 
side, in the enjoyment of their communion, and by 
means of their example ; Christians learn from them 
only to be dull and slothful, as they are ; to languish in 
all their duty ; and, although they have ' a name to live,' 
to become the subjects of such a benumbing torpor as 
is scarcely distinguishable from the chill of death. 

In the mean time, unrenewed men, discerning the 
mighty difference between the religion described and 
required in the gospel, and that which is displayed in 
the lives of such professors, not unnaturally though very 
unhappily, conclude, that practical religion is nowhere 
to be found. To induce this conclusion, such examples 
need not be very numerous ; but, whenever they be- 
come frequent, it is drawn of course. Thus by a luke- 
warm life, and a profession violated by stupidity and 
negligence, the hearts of Christians are broken, and the 
salvation of sinners prevented. Vice and infidelity, in 
the mean time, rear their heads in triumph. ' The ways 
of Zion mourn, because few come to her solemn feasts,' 
and the path to heaven is trodden only by here and 
there a solitary traveller. He who would not be charge- 
able with the guilt of effectuating these deplorable evils, 
must 'awake to righteousness;' must watch, and strive, 
and pray alway ; must resolve to do ' whatever his hand 
findeth to do with his might ;' and must remember, that 
the day is approaching, when ' every man's work shall 
be made manifest : for that day shall declare it, because 
it shall be revealed by fire.' 



SERMON CXLVI. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE—ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE RELIGIOUS 

MEDITATION. 



Ponder the path of thy feet, and let thy ways be established.— Pkov. iv. 26. 



Our next subject of consideration, in the order former- 
ly proposed, is religious meditation. 

This duty is enjoined in the text. ' Ponder,' says 
David to Solomon, ' the path of thy feet; and let all 
thy ways be established.' By ' the path,' here men- 



tioned, is undoubtedly intended the course of life ; in- 
cluding all the thoughts, affections, and conduct of the 
man. The latter clause is rendered in the margin, 
' And all thy ways shall be ordered aright.' The con- 
sequence therefore of pondering our course of life is 






MEANS OF GRACE.— RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 



757 



here declared to be, ' that all our way shall be ordered 
.iright.' Of course, the text obviously contains this 
doctrine, 

That habitual, religious meditation is a direct mean 
of our present and eternal well-being. 

This subject I shall discuss under two heads : 

I. Religious meditation, generally considered ; 

II. Self-examination. 

Of the former of these I observe, 

1. That it alone enables us to make religious truths 
a part of our own system of thought. 

Knowledge is never of very serious use to man 
until it has become a part of his customary course of 
thinking. This is accomplished, when by familiar ac- 
quaintance we are enabled to call it up to view at plea- 
sure, to arrange the parts so as easily to comprehend 
the whole, to perceive readily their mutual connexion 
and dependence, to discern the evidence by which each 
is supported, to refer each to its proper place, and to 
judge concerning the whole with correctness and expe- 
dition. In this manner every man of common sense 
thinks concerning every subject with which he is well 
acquainted ; and the power of thinking in this manner 
he gains only by meditation. Whatever information 
we may possess, it is of no serious use to us, until it is 
thus made our own. The knowledge which barely 
passes through the mind, resembles that which is gained 
of a country by a traveller, who is whirled through it 
in a stage, or by a bird flitting over it, in his passage 
to another. 

No interesting subject is examined by the mind in 
this cursory way. Every such subject it instinctively 
turns over and over ; and never desists, until it has 
gained a familiar and comprehensive knowledge of the 
whole. In this situation we may be said to understand 
a subject, so as to constitute it a part of our system of 
thought, and to make it a directory of our opinions and 
conduct. 

This truth is at least as applicable to religious sub- 
jects, as to others. Whatever knowledge we derive, 
either from the Bible, or from other sources of instruc- 
tion, is thus made our own, only by meditation, 

2. Meditation enables us to feel religious subjects with 
strength and efficacy. 

Every person who has attended to the state of his 
own mind, must have discovered that there is a wide 
difference between perceiving and feeling ; and that 
of two things equally understood, one has passed lightly 
over his mind, while the other has left a deep impres- 
sion. A religious man particularly will easily remem- 
ber, that the truths of the gospel have at times barely 
swept the surface of his mind ; and at others have 
powerfully affected his heart. He will easily remem- 
ber, that the same things, whether arguments, images, 
or motives, have affected him in these widely different 
manners. If he will bestow a little pains on this sub- 
ject, he will farther remember, that he has often been 
astonished at this fact, and has looked back to find 
what mysterious cause prevented him from realizing at 
one time, what he so deeply felt at another. 

That, and that only, which we feel, moves us to use- 
ful action. What is merely perceived, or understood, 
scarcely moves us at all. The ' pipe' must be relished, 
before the 'dancing' will begin. The 'mourning' 
must be felt before we shall unite in the ' lamentation.' [ 
A great proportion of mankind in Christian countries | 



believe loosely and generally the divine origin and the 
genuine doctrines of the Scriptures. But while they thus 
believe, they live, and feel, and act, just as if there 
were no Scriptures. Almost all men believe the exis- 
tence and government of God. Still they live as if 
there were no God ; or as if he exercised no govern- 
ment over the world, or over themselves. • Multitudes 
believe that Christ is the Saviour of men ; and yet 
never think of applying to him for their own salvation ! 

Religious meditation is the only method in which 
men learn to feel the concerns of religion. In this 
method the doctrines, precepts, and motives, presented 
to us in the Scriptures, which are quietly and carelessly 
admitted by most men in Christian countries, and 
which thus neither amend the life, nor affect the heart, 
are, when often and deeply pondered, brought home to 
the soul, set strongly before its view, applied to itself, 
and felt to be of real and momentous import. In this 
way we begin to fear and hope, to mourn and rejoice, 
to desire and loathe, and to seek and shun them ac- 
cording to their respective natures. In this way only 
do we regard the things of religion with profit to our- 
selves, and consider them with an efficacious attention. 
In every other situation of mind, we are ■ settled upon 
our lees,' and instinctively say, ' The Lord will not 
do good ; neither will the Lord do evil.' 

3. Religious meditation renders the thoughts and 
affections thus gained habitual. 

Nothing in the moral concerns of man is of much 
importance to him, until it is formed into a habit. 
Every opinion and every impression which is transi- 
ently entertained, is entertained to little purpose. If 
it produce any consequences, they .are momentary and 
useless. In the mean time, other things of an unhappy 
tendency, having already become habitual, and possess- 
ing the controlling power of habit, return with speed 
and violence, and drive away the feeble and short-lived 
influence of such opinions and impressions. Thus that 
which, if continued, might become the ' glory and 
beauty of man, is as the flower of the grass. The grass 
withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.' 

Habits are formed only by repetition. That which 
is often repeated becomes, by the mere tendency of 
nature, more and more interesting and necessary ; and 
acquires, therefore, a daily increasing power over man. 
After it has continued for a season, and gained a cer- 
tain degree of strength, it becomes in a sense immov- 
able ; acquires a decisive control over the conduct, and 
is rarely, and not without extreme difficulty, overcome. 

This influence of habit seems to be inwrought, as a 
primary characteristic, in the very nature of intelligent 
beings. No other consideration will explain, at least 
in many situations, the permanent continuance of either 
virtue or vice. Under this influence only does the 
drunkard resist all motives, and adhere immovably to 
his cups, the idler to his sloth, the swearer to his pro- 
faneness, the spendthrift to his prodigality, the thief to 
his stealing, and all other sinners to their respective 
iniquities. Under this influence the mature Christian 
overcomes the most powerful temptations, and advances 
firmly to the rack or the fagot. Under the same in- 
fluence will the inhabitants of hell persist in their rebel- 
lion, in spite of all the motives which so powerfully 
persuade them to cease from sin. Finally, ' the church 
of the first-born,' and the ' innumerable company of 
angels,' will, under the same influence also, persevere 



758 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seb. cxlvi. 



in their obedience, whatever temptations may solicit 
them to revolt from God. 

Moral habits, their strength, and their consequences, 
are all. produced by a repetition of those things of 
which they are constituted in the mind. In other 
words, they are produced by frequent meditation on the 
several subjects out of which they are formed, together 
with a repeated indulgence of the emotions which such 
meditation creates. Ultimately, therefore, they grow 
out of religious meditation. 

Of self-examination, proposed as the second head of 
discourse, I observe, 

1. That it alone makes us acquainted with ourselves. 

Every man has a certain moral character, partly like 
that of others, and partly peculiar to himself. This 
character in both respects is incapable of being known 
without self-examination. Our own hearts answer, 
generally, to the hearts of others, ' as the face to the 
face in water.' By knowing our own hearts only, 
can we therefore know effectually the general character 
of man. It may, perhaps, be said, that this character is 
delineated with perfect exactness and supreme skill 
in the Scriptures, and by searching them may therefore 
be known. The position I admit ; the consequence I 
deny. The instruction given us in the Scriptures con- 
cerning this subject will never be understood, unless ap- 
plied to ourselves in the examination of our own hearts. 
Invaluable as the knowledge is which they communi- 
cate concerning this subject, it is, like all other know- 
ledge, never realized, never made our own, except by 
meditation. 

But there are many things in our own characters 
which are peculiar to ourselves. All these exist in the 
heart alone ; and there only can they be either taught, 
or learned. Even the very opinions which we enter- 
tain, together with the manner and degree in which we 
entertain them, will never be perfectly understood 
by us, without this investigation for ourselves. We 
suppose ourselves to embrace many opinions, which a 
critical inquiry will show we have never received. 
Many others Ave imagine ourselves to have admitted 
without a doubt, which by this trial we shall find regard- 
ed by us only in an uncertain and conjectural manner. 

Still more ignorant are we of our dispositions. About 
no subject have the apprehensions of man been more 
erroneous, than about his will, affections, and propen- 
sities. Self-knowledge, in this respect chiefly, has been 
proverbially acknowledged to be extremely difficult, as 
well as highly important. Hence the memorable ob- 
servation, Id, yvafo asccvTou, e ccslo descend.it : an ob- 
servation grounded perhaps equally on the usefulness 
and the difficulties of the precept. Whatever man can 
accomplish in this arduous concern must be accomplished 
by self-examination. He must watch carefully every 
movement of his disposition ; the commencement and the 
progress of every affection, aim, resolution, and habit; 
the manner in which everything affects him ; and the 
means by which he is affected ; the causes of his suc- 
cess and his failures, in regulating the state of his mind • 
and, generally, all his movements within, and all his 
impulses from without. 

in this way, and in this alone, can the sinner learn 
effectually that he is a sinner. In this way only will 
he discern the nature and extent of his guilt, the strength 
of his evil propensities, the obstinacy of his unbelief and 
impenitence, the uniformity of his disobedience, the 



completeness of his ruin, his exposure to final condem- 
nation, and his utter indisposition to return to God. 
All these things he learns only and effectually by ob- 
serving them as they exist and operate in himself, or 
arise, as consequences, from the state of his own mind. 
Whatever knowledge he may possess of them from in- 
struction, even from that of the Scriptures, it can never 
be of any serious use to him, until he has made it his 
own, by an investigation of his heart and life. What- 
ever he may have heard or read of sin, and guilt, and 
danger, it is to him merely news concerning other men, 
not knowledge of himself Other men, according to 
the views which he entertains before he commences the 
examination of himself, are sinners, odious to God, chil- 
dren of wrath, and in danger of perdition. But for 
himself, he is almost innocent, and perhaps entirely 
safe. Should you prove the contrary to him by argu- 
ments which he will acknowledge to be unanswerable, 
you have gained nothing. The application to himself 
will still be wanting, and the story might almost as well 
have been told to another person, or communicated in 
an unknown tongue. 

In the same manner only does the Christian learn 
that he is a Christian. To decide this great point even 
hopefully, his heart and his life must pass before him 
in continual review. The doctrines by which he is 
governed, the affections which he exercises, the actions 
which he performs, and the views with which they are 
performed, must be daily scrutinized ; and from thenj 
all must be derived the momentous result. Without 
this diligent investigation of himself, no man, however 
long, or however eminently he has possessed the Chris- 
tian character, can even with well-founded hope con- 
clude that he is a Christian. In the same manner also 
must every question which we ask concerning our moral 
character be answered. Unless we thus explore our- 
selves, whatever may be our state, we cannot under- 
stand it; and shall on the one hand, be exposed to all 
its evils, and lose, on the other, no small part of its 
blessings. 

2. Self-examination naturally prepares men to turn 
from sin to holiness, and to' advance from one degree of 
holiness to another. 

Conviction of sin is eminently the result of self-ex- 
amination, as, I think, must already be evident to a 
very moderate attention. Equally applicable is this re- 
mark to all apprehensions concerning our future des- 
tiny, all efficacious fears concerning the anger of God, 
all affecting views of our helplessness, all thorough con- 
victions of the necessity of betaking ourselves to Christ 
for salvation. ' They that are whole need not a physi- 
cian.' But all are whole, in the sense intended by our 
Saviour, until convinced of their diseased condition, by 
solemnly attending to their own case. So long as this 
is not done, there will be no recourse to the physician 
of the soul. 

Two objections, or at least two difficulties, may here 
perhaps arise in the minds of my audience. One is, 
that the effect which I have attributed to self-examin- 
ation is to be attributed to the Spirit of grace. The 
other is, that I have elsewhere attributed the same ef- 
fect to prayer. On the former I observe, that the Spirit 
of grace operates on the mind, in this state of its moral 
concerns, chiefly by leading it to a solemn investigation 
of itself. On the latter I observe, that prayer has this 
efficacy in the manner recited in a former discourse, 



MEANS OF GRACE — RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 



759 



principally by prompting us to examine ourselves more 
effectually, than any other exercise of the mind, and 
more thoroughly to explore our moral condition. Self- 
examination is the primary mean by which the Spirit 
of God brings the soul into this state. This glorious 
agent can, I acknowledge, accomplish this work in any 
other manner which he shall choose. But this seems 
plainly to be the manner in which it is usually accom- 
plished. Indeed, it seems difficult to conceive how con- 
victions of sin, whatever might be their cause, could ex- 
ist, at least to any extent, without self-examination. To 
such convictions it seems absolutely necessary that the 
soul should know its own guilt ; and to this knowledge 
it seems equally indispensable, that it should explore its 
own moral character and conduct. 

Of prayer it may be truly said, that its nature is very 
imperfectly understood by him who does not know that, 
to a considerable extent, it is employed in the most 
solemn, the most intimate, and the most effectual exa- 
mination of ourselves. The advantages which prayer 
furnishes for this employment are singular and supreme. 
But no man will ever avail himself of them, who does 
not more or less occupy the intervals between the sea- 
sons of prayer in ' communing ' diligently ' with his 
own heart' It was in this view of prayer, that I ex- 
hibited it as contributing so efficaciously to a solemn 
conviction of his guilt in the mind of a sinner. 

Nor is this employment less effectual in enabling us 
to advance from one degree of grace to another. To 
do this, the Christian must know his present and past 
condition, that he may renounce whatever is amiss, 
and retain whatever is commendable. Unless he know 
his sins, how can he renounce them ? Unless he know 
his weaknesses, how can he guard against them ? Unless 
he perceive the means of his success in past cases, how 
can he adopt them again ? Unless he discern the causes 
of former failures, how can he be safe from future ones? 
If he have no acquaintance with his backslidings, how 
can he either repent, or reform? If he be ignorant 
of the means by which he has heretofore improved in 
holiness, how can he be enabled to improve hereafter ? 
Thus the most important conduct of man, as a moral 
being, is eminently dependent on the investigation of 
himself. 

From self-examination also spring, in a great mea- 
sure, all our resolutions of amendment. The seasons 
in which, by looking into ourselves, we learn our guilt, 
our danger, and the indispensable necessity of an alter- 
ation in our lives, are those in which the mind exerts 
itself in earnest to accomplish such alteration. In 
this situation alone are resolutions made of sufficient 
strength and solemnity materially to affect the life. 
To resolve firmly against any evil, we must feel it. 
To resolve with efficacy on the pursuit of any good, we 
must realize that in an important sense it is good to us. 
Finally : some of the most affecting views of the 
Divine character grow out of this employment. God 
is never seen in the most interesting manner, except 
when seen in relation to ourselves. Whether we re- 
gard his hatred of sin, and his determination to execute 
vengeance on the impenitent, or his boundless goodness 
in forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying mankind; we 
see these things in a far clearer light, and feel them 
with far greater strength, as exercised directly about 
ourselves, than as employed about others. When we 
come to discern our own sins, their sjuilt and their 



aggravations, we first begin to form proper views of 
the awful justice of God in our condemnation. At the 
same time, the first sound and affecting apprehensions 
which we entertain of the goodness of God, are awaken- 
ed by a strong sense of our own need of his mercy, 
and an humble hope of our own interest in his forgiving 
love. 

The omnipresence of God is then only realized, when 
we consider him as present with ourselves, as dwelling 
with us and around us. The omniscience of God is 
never brought to the view of the mind, until it regards 
him as exploring its own recesses, tracing all its secret 
windings, and accompanying itself with his all-seeing 
eye, while employed in unravelling the mysteries of 
its own iniquity. Generally, God is seen and realized 
in our religious meditations, particularly in those which 
are directed to our own hearts, to be a vastly different 
being from that which we imagine for ourselves in loose 
contemplation, and lukewarm inquiry. 

From these observations it is evident, that religious 
meditation is not only the effect, but the cause also, of 
that soberness of mind, exhibited in the Scriptures as 
indispensably necessary to sound wisdom. Of this 
character, it scarcely needs to be observed, the benefits 
are numberless, and surpassing estimation. 

3. Self-examination is a principal source of self- 
government, and therefore of peace of mind and solid 
enjoyment. 

On the knowledge of ourselves, obtained in this 
manner only, the knowledge of our imperfections, pas- 
sions, appetites, sins, temptations, and dangers, and an 
acquaintance with such means as we possess of strength, 
encouragement, and safety, our self-government almost 
entirely depends. In acquiring the knowledge of these 
things, we both learn how to govern ourselves, and 
gradually obtain an earnest and fixed desire to perform 
this duty. 

Without self-examination there can be little self- 
government : without self-government there can be no 
peace of mind. Peace of mind is the result only of a 
consciousness of having done our duty. But of this 
duty self-government is one of the three great branches ; 
the other two being piety to God, and beneficence to 
mankind. These can never be separately performed. 
Evangelical virtue, the only spirit with which either 
was ever truly performed, is a thing perfectly one ; 
without any variety or division in its nature. Towards 
all the objects of our duty, whether God, our neighbour, 
or ourselves, it operates in the same manner. 

Besides, self-government is indispensable in its very 
nature to the performance of all other duty. This 
might be evinced with respect to every case in which 
duty can be performed ; but may be sufficiently illus- 
trated in the following: If we do not control our envy, 
wrath, or revenge, we cannot be contented, meek, or 
forgiving. If we do not subdue our selfishness, we can 
never, in the sense of the gospel, love either God, or 
mankind. 

But, without recurrence to these proofs, the case is 
perfectly plain in its own nature. In the experience 
of every man it is abundantly evident, that, so long as 
his passions and appetites are unsubdued, they keep 
the mind in a continual agitation. The appetites are 
syrens, which sing only to deceive, and charm only to 
destroy. He who listens to them is certain of being 
shipwrecked in the end. The passions are equally 



760 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxlvi. 



dangerous, equally fatal, by their violence, and toss the 
soul with the tempestuous fury of billows which never 
rest. Without a pilot, without a compass, without a 
helm, no hope of safety remains for the unhappy voy- 
ager, but in the hushing of the storm, and the subsi- 
dence of the tumultuous ocean. 

Ungoverned desire, and fear, and rage, and revenge, 
dwell only in the gloom of a dungeon, and in the midst 
of maniacs. In such a cell it is impossible for soft- 
eyed, gentle-minded, peace even to enter From such 
companions she can only fly. These unclean spirits 
must be subdued, and chained, and banished, their 
curses and blasphemies must have died upon the ear, 
the windows of their mansion must be opened to the 
light of day, the house must be swept and garnished 
anew, before this divine guest can be induced to bless 
the habitation with her presence, her smiles, and her 
joys. 

But without peace of conscience there is, there can 
be, no solid, rational, lasting enjoyment. Real and 
enduring good must begin at home. The soul, which 
is not self-approved can never hope for the approba- 
tion of God. The soul which is not at peace with itself, 
cannot be at peace with its Maker, nor exercise a pacific 
spirit towards its fellow creatures. What real good 
then can it hope for ? What permanent enjoyment can 
it possibly share ? 



1. From these observations it is plain, that religious 
meditation is of high importance to mankind. 

It has been shown, if 1 am not deceived, that from 
this source are derived our profitable possession of reli- 
gious instruction, whencesoever obtained, our realizing 
useful sense of religious things of every kind, our at- 
tainment of desirable habits, both of thinking and feel- 
ing, our knowledge of ourselves, our best preparation 
to turn from sin, and to advance through superior de- 
grees of holiness, and our self-government, peace of 
mind, and solid enjoyment. Each of these benefits is 
sufficiently great to justify the remark which has been 
made above ; and all of them united, place religious 
meditation in a light eminently strong, clear, and af- 
fecting. As a mean of salvation it holds a high rank, 
a place of distinguishing importance. Most reasonably 
most kindly, then, are we required to ' prove ourselves,' 
to ' examine ourselves, whether we be in the faith,' 
obedience, and kingdom of God. Most mercifully are 
we directed to * ponder the path of life :' for the natu- 
ral, the proper, the inestimable consequence is, that 
' our ways will be ordered aright.' 

2. The same observations teach us the pre-eminent 
folly of those who neglect religious meditation, especially 
the examination of themselves. 

In the minds of these persons, instructions from 
abroad will be like furniture thrown into a garret, out 
of place, and out of use : incapable, until it shall have 
been arranged in its proper order, of being applied to 
any valuable purpose. In these minds, also, nothing 
good will be either strongly felt or habitually exercised. 
Every moral, every valuable thing, whether a truth, a 
precept, or an affection, will, in such minds, float at 
random, as the down of the thistle through the atmo- 
sphere. In the moment of its appearance it will vanish. 
Tiie best purposes, the firmest resolves, of such minds, 
are mere abortions, and exist only to expire. 



Men of this character can never become possessed of 
self-knowledge ; a kind of knowledge so useful, so ex- 
cellent, that even the heathen supposed the precept en- 
joining it to have descended from heaven. If they are 
deformed by sin, if they are in the most imminent 
hazard of ruin, they can never know this as it ought to 
be known. They can neither understand nor feel their 
real guilt, their real danger, or the real necessity of 
providing for their escape. They are, therefore, utterly 
unprepared to ' turn from the error of their ways,' and 
to ' save their souls alive.' 

There are in the Christian world men who, under the 
influence of strong convictions of conscience, and with 
the aid of that anxious investigation of themselves 
which always accompanies such convictions, have, by 
the influence of the Holy Ghost, been ' turned from 
darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
God;' and who yet have afterward become lukewarm 
in religion, and, with a Laodicean spirit, in a great 
measure ceased to ' commune with their own. hearts.' 
All these persons linger at the point where they origi- 
nally stood, and yield up both the means, and the hopes, 
of improvement in the Christian character. I do not 
intend, that this is absolutely the fact ; for no Christian 
is absolutely destitute of self-examination. But, so far 
as this destitution exists, he who is the subject of it, 
will cease to keep his body and spirit in subjection, to 
' grow in grace,' to acquire peace of conscience, and 
'joy in the Holy Ghost.' 

Why do sinners refuse to examine themselves, and 
to gain the blessings to which this conduct gives birth ? 
Plainly, because they are too slothful, or too much 
alarmed at the thought of uncovering the mass of sin 
and guilt in their hearts. Thus they would rather de- 
cline every hope of good, than encounter the labour of 
searching themselves, or turn their eyes upon the dis- 
mal prospect within. The latter is the usual and pre- 
dominant evil. The picture is too deformed, too dread- 
ful, and, sooner than behold it, they will run the hazard 
of damnation. But is not knowledge always better 
than ignorance ? Is not truth always more profitable 
than delusion ? To know the truth in this case, might 
prove the means of eternal life. To continue ignorant 
of it cannot fail to terminate in their ruin. What folly 
can be more complete than to hazard this tremendous 
evil, rather than to encounter the pain of looking into 
ourselves ; a pain abundantly overpaid by the profit 
which is its certain consequence ? Such persons hood- 
wink themselves, and then feel safe from the evils of 
the precipice to which they are advancing, because they 
cannot see their danger. They make the darkness in 
which they grope, and stumble, and fall. 

3. These observations also teach us, that this neglect 
is inexcusable. 

Meditation on every moral and religious subject is 
always in our power. Every man is able to look into 
himself, and into every moral subject concerning which 
he has been instructed. Nor is the performance of this 
duty attended with any real difficulty. The motives to 
it are infinite. God has required it ; our own temporal 
and eternal interest indispensably demands it ; the be- 
nefits of it are immense. Sloth only, and a deplorable 
dread of knowing what we are, can be alleged in behalf 
of our neglect. 

But to how low a situation must he be reduced, how 
forlorn must be his condition, who can plead for his 



RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.— OBJECTIONS. 



761 



conduct, in so interesting' a case, no reasons but these ! 
Can these reasons excuse him even to himself? Will 
they excuse him before the bar of God ? What can 
even self-flattery, with her silver tongue, allege in his 
behalf, but that he is too slothful, or too indifferent, to 
the command of God? This is worse than the wretched 
plea of the unprofitable servant in the parable. Even 
he was able to say, that he thought his Master was ' an 
austere man,' and ' hard' in his requisition. 

But, whatever may be thought of these excuses, let 



no sinner pretend that he has laboured for eternal life, 
until he has thoroughly examined his heart, and de- 
voted himself to religious contemplation. This is a 
duty which every man can perform, a duty to which 
every man is bound, a duty, in the way of which 
reason can find no obstacle. He who will not perform it, 
ought therefore to say that he will not; and to acknow- 
ledge that he values the indulgence of his sloth, or the 
sluggish quiet of self-ignorance, more than the salva- 
tion of his soul. 



SERMON CXLVII. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE—ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE— THE DUTY OF EDUCATING 
CHILDREN RELIGIOUSLY— OBJECTIONS. 



Train up a child in the way he sliould go, and when he is old he will not depart from it Prov. xxii. 6. 



The next subject of inquiry, in the order proposed, is 
the religious education of children. 

In a, former Discourse I observed, that the word 
' train,' originally denotes to ' draw along by a regular 
and steady course of exertions ;' and is, hence, very 
naturally used to signify drawing from one action to 
another by persuasions, promises, and ether efforts, con- 
tinually repeated. The ' way in which a child should 
go,' as ivas also observed in that Discourse, is undoubt- 
edly the way in which it is best for him to go ; particu- 
larly with respect to his eternal well-being. With this 
explanation, the text will be seen, 

I. To enjoin upon parents the religious education of 
their children. 

II. To teach the manner in which this duty should be 
performed. 

III. To promise a blessing to such as faithfully dis- 
charge this duty ; and thus to present powerful motives 
to the performance. 

These 1 shall examine in the order proposed. 

The duty enjoined in the text has, by multitudes of 
mankind, been strenuously denied. " Children religi- 
ously educated," say these persons, '' will regularly be 
biassed to one side of the case, and equally prejudiced 
against the other. Should they then believe in the di- 
vine revelation of the Scriptures, and adopt any one of 
those numerous systems of doctrines and precepts which 
have existed in the Christian world, their belief would 
spring from prejudice only, and not from candour, in- 
vestigation, or evidence. Consequently, it will be des- 
titute alike of solid support and useful efficacy. Chil- 
dren would, therefore, be incomparably better situated, 
were they permitted to grow up without any extraneous 
impulse, with respect to religion ; and, being thus un- 
prejudiced, would select for themselves, with much more 
probability, whatever is true and right." 

To oppose this scheme will be the design of the fol- 
lowing Discourse ; and in the progress of the opposition 
all the proof of the propriety of performing this duty 



may be advantageously alleged. As the scheme is ad- 
dressed to Christians, the arguments against it must be 
also addressed to Christians. I observe, then, 

1. That the mind, when uneducated, is a mere blank 
with respect to all useful knowledge ; and with respect 
to the knowledge of moral subjects, as truly as any 
other. 

Both infidels and others (for unhappily there are 
others who adopt this scheme) will acknowledge the 
truth of the proposition here asserted. It will therefore 
need no proof. What then will be the consequence of 
the omission contended for? The uneducated child 
will grow up without any knowledge of moral subjects, 
until the season allotted by God for instruction, and the 
only useful season is past ; all future instructions will 
find his attachments and his memory pre-occupied, and 
will make and leave feeble impressions, little regarded, 
and soon forgotten. His passions and appetites, having 
from the beginning increased their strength by the mere 
course of nature, and the want of seasonable control, 
will effectually resist every attempt to communicate and 
impress such doctrines as oppose their favourite dictates. 
The authority and influence of the parent also, which 
are indispensably necessary to infix all important les- 
sons in the mind of the child, will in a great measure 
have ceased. Of course, the instructions thus given 
will slide over the understanding, and leave no trace of 
their existence upon the heart. 

Besides, the child will naturally believe that things 
so long untaught cannot, in the parent's own view, be 
of any serious consequence. Instinctively will he say, 
" If these things are true, and of such importance, why 
have I hitherto been kept a stranger to them ? I might 
have died in my childhood, or in my youth. Had this 
been the case, where should I have been now? Did 
parental tenderness disregard the eternal well-being of 
my soul, and leave me to become an outcast of heaven, 
merely because I had not arrived at adult years ? Is 
then the eternal life of the soul at twelve or fifteen of 
5 D 



762 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. cxlvh 



no value, and at twenty-five of infinite importance ? 
(Jan it be, that I am destined to endless happiness, or 
misery ; and yet that my father, and still more my 
mother, should have felt this vast subject, and loved me 
so little as to let me lie to the present hour in profound 
ignorance of this amazing- destination ? Had I died 
before this time, I had died ' for lack of vision.' The 
things themselves are therefore not true : at least, they 
have never been seriously believed by those from whom 
I have derived my being." To these remonstrances, it 
is hardly necessary to observe, there could be no satis- 
factory answer. 

At the period proposed, therefore, the instructions in 
question would be useless. The mind, already grown 
up with those views only which a savage entertains of 
moral subjects, few, gross, false, and fatal, would now be 
incapable of imbibing better; and, in the chief concern 
of man, would continue, notwithstanding all the light 
and all the blessings of the gospel, a savage for ever. 

2. If children are not educated to just moral princi- 
ples, they will of course imbibe those which are false. 

The mind is by nature prone to wrong. By this I 
intend, that it is prone to forget God ; to exercise to- 
wards him neither love, reverence, gratitude, nor sub- 
mission ; to be governed by selfish, and not benevolent 
affections towards mankind ; and to indulge pride, 
envy, wrath, sloth, lewdness, intemperance, and light- 
ness of mind. In a word, it is prone, to be impious, un- 
kind, insincere, unjust, and dissolute. These, and the 
like things, notwithstanding the ingenious discoveries 
of infidel philosophy, I call wrong; because they are, 
beyond a doubt, dishonourable and displeasing to God, 
injurious to our fellow men, and debasing to ourselves. 
They do no good ; and produce all the evil which ex- 
ists. That the human race are naturally prone to these 
things is certain ; because children evince their pro- 
pensity to them as soon as they commence moral action. 
Every man who sees at all, sees some or other of these 
characteristics in every one, except himself. 

There are but two methods in which these propensi- 
ties may be either removed, or checked : the grace and 
providence of God, and the labour of man : I mean 
the labour of man, especially when in the best manner 
exerted in the beginning of life, to educate children in 
virtue. That God may be expected to remove, or even 
to check them, will hardly be admitted by most of the 
men against whom I am contending. But they will uni- 
versally acknowledge that the labours of man are im- 
portant to this end, and that they coincide in their 
efficacy, if he acts at all, with the agency of God. So 
far then as these evils can be exterminated or re- 
strained, the labours of man are not only useful, but 
indispensable. 

Childhood is the seedtime of life ; the season in 
which everything sown in the mind springs up rea- 
dily, grows with peculiar vigour, and produces an 
abundant harvest. In this happy season the garden is 
fitted by the Author of our being for the best cultiva- 
tion. If good seeds are then sown, valuable produc- 
tions may be confidently expected ; if not, weeds of 
every rank and poisonous kind will spring up of them- 
selves, of which no future industry will be able to 
cleanse the soil. 

What is implanted in childhood takes deep root also, 
and can never be eradicated in future life. The prin- 
ciples established in this golden period are regarded 



with more veneration and attachment, are retained 
longer, and are more powerfully operative, than any 
other. They re-appear, after having been for a great 
length of time invisible ; and renew their energy, after 
having been supposed hopelessly extinct. Such then 
being confessedly the importance and strength of early 
instructions, how interesting must it be in the view of 
every sober man to prevent, while they can be pre- 
vented, the immense evils of wrong principles, and to 
secure, while they can be secured, the inestimable be- 
nefits of those which are right. 

The child who is not religiously educated in the 
dawn of life must, even with the happiest future advan- 
tages, be ignorant of many interesting moral doctrines 
during all that season in which doctrines are capable of 
high and happy influence. In the mean time, he will 
also imbibe many others which are false and malignant. 
No man is better than his principles will make him. 
Virtue is nothing but voluntary obedience to truth ; 
vice is nothing but voluntary obedience to falsehood. 
The doctrines which he obeys will form his whole 
character. If they are false, they will form him to 
sin, to odiousness, and to ruin ; and that they will 
be false, at least chiefly, if he is left to choose for him- 
self, needs no proof. Thus the child left, according to 
this scheme, without a religious education, will become 
a savage in his morals, not from disposition only, but 
from ignorance also. In his mind there will be no 
good principles to counteract the bad; nothing to en- 
lighten or direct him in the path of virtue ; nothing to 
suggest the necessity, the wisdom, or the duty of resist- 
ing sin, and avoiding temptation. Such a child will, 
of course, become a mere beast of prey ; and he who 
sends him out yito society is more hostile to its peace, 
than he who unchains a wolf, and turns him loose into 
the street. 

3. The abettors of this scheme contradict it in their 
own conduct. 

Many of these men assiduously teach their children 
industry, economy, justice, veracity, and kindness to 
their fellow men. Why do they educate their children 
in this manner? They will answer, Because they think 
these things useful to their children, and childhood the 
time in which they can be most effectually taught. Let 
us examine their conduct by their own rules. 

All these things are by a part, and not a small part, 
of mankind denied to be useful. They are of course 
in dispute. I return them, therefore, their own reason- 
ing, and say, " You ought not to teach your children 
industry until they are grown to adult years, lest they 
should practise industry through prejudice, and not from 
candour and conviction. Multitudes think sloth pre- 
ferable to industry. Why do you forestall the judg- 
ment of your children, and give them by education a 
bias to the other side of this question ? 

" Why do you teach them economy ? Great numbers 
of mankind, and among them many persons of superior 
talents, have thought profusion preferable to economy, 
and have proved the sincerity of their opinion by theii 
own prodigality. The question is hitherto undecided. 
You ought not to prejudice the minds of your children, 
but leave them to examine for themselves. 

" Why do you teach them justice ? Fraud has a nu- 
merous train of advocates, who will strenuously urge 
the error of your judgment. Ought not your children 
to find the field of decision unoccupied ? 



RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OBJECTIONS. 



763 



" Why do you teach them truth ? David ' said in 
his haste, that all men were liars :' and universal expe- 
rience proves that the number is very great of those 
who think truth of little value. Preclude not your 
children from the chance of judging- candidly on this 
important question. 

" Why do you so sedulously teach thein kindness ? 
Mark the vast multitude of those who prove by their 
conduct that they think this attribute a weak and con- 
temptible characteristic of man. You are therefore 
prejudicing your children concerning a subject which 
is far from being settled, and of pre-eminent importance 
to their success in the world. All these things are as 
strenuously opposed and disputed in the world, as piety, 
faith, repentance, or evangelical good-will. There is, 
therefore, no justification of your conduct on this 
ground. 

" Can you pretend that piety is not as rational, and 
as important to man, as either of the things which you 
enjoin upon your children ? If love and reverence to 
God are not important, nothing is. All good comes 
from God. When he gives, we enjoy : when he with- 
holds, we are destitute. But he cannot be expected to 
give, he certainly will not give, to those who finally 
neither love nor reverence his character. If he is not 
believed nor trusted, he cannot be reverenced nor 
loved. Without faith, therefore, piety cannot exist. If 
sin be not hated, regretted, nor renounced, or in other 
words, ' repented of,' piety will in like manner be im- 
possible. 

"-Besides, you teach your children, as you teach 
others, both with diligence and ardour, to disbelieve, 
despise, and hate the Scriptures. The Scriptures, you 
know, profess themselves to be a revelation from God. 
To the question whether they are such a revelation, 
Christians believe the positive, and you the negative 
answer. You will not deny, that they have the same 
right to adopt their belief, and their consequent obedi- 
ence, which you have to adopt your disbelief, and your 
consequent disobedience. Neither can you doubt that 
he who believes with the best evidence is the wisest 
man. Their arguments you have utterly failed to an- 
swer. Your objections they claim to have refuted ; and 
can plead this strong proof of the justice of their 
claim, furnished by yourselves, that for many years you 
have quitted the field of discussion. On good grounds, 
therefore, they regard you as vanquished. In this 
respect, at least, you must acknowledge that they have 
an advantage over you, which is infinite. Should the 
Scriptures prove to be false, they will lose nothing by 
believing them. Should they prove to be true, you 
will gain nothing, and lose your all ! 

" The case of yourselves, and Christian parents, is 
the case of your children and theirs. By teaching your 
children to disbelieve the Scriptures, you expose them 
to infinite loss. Christians, by teaching their children 
to believe the Scriptures, do what is in their power to 
secure to them infinite gain. You may therefore be 
challenged to show, that their conduct is not wiser and 
more defensible than yours. 

" But it is enough for the present purpose, that you 
prove yourselves insincere in your scheme, by pursuing 
the contrary conduct. You prove unanswerably that, 
in your opinion, children ought diligently to be taught 
that 3ystem of moral principles which you think good 
and useful. The conduct to which you object in Chris- 



tians is exactly the same. All that they teach, they 
think good, eminently good, and infinitely useful." 

4. As virtue is nothing but obedience to truth, so truth 
must be taught, before virtue can be practised. 

If the former part of this position be admitted, the 
latter will be self-evident. As the former cannot be 
denied with even a pretence of argument, I shall take 
it for granted that truth must be taught to children, in 
order to render them virtuous. But the religion of 
the Scriptures is the only system of truth which will 
make children virtuous. This I say with confidence, 
because no other system of doctrine has ever made men 
virtuous. Cicero testifies this of the western heathen 
philosophy. The Brahmins frankly acknowledge it of 
the eastern* Every man of common information 
knows it to be true of infidel philosophy. 

If, then, children are to be rendered virtuous while 
they are children, that is, while there is the best reason 
to hope that they may become virtuous, they must be 
educated in the religious system of the Scriptures. 

5. Virtue is a simple, indivisible thing ; and must 
therefore exist, and be taught entire, or not at all. 

There never was an instance in which a man was 
possessed of half the character of virtue ; or in which 
he exercised the affections and voluntarily performed 
the duties of virtue towards one class of objects, and 
not towards another, and towards all. A man may un- 
questionably be virtuous, and yet not perfectly virtu- 
ous : but it is impossible that he should be the subject 
of piety, and not of benevolence ; or of benevolence, 
and not of piety. It is impossible that he should ' love 
God, whom he hath not seen, and hate (or not love) 
his brother, whom he hath seen.' It is equally impos- 
sible to love our fellow creatures, and not love him who 
made, preserves, and blesses both us and them. Equal- 
ly impossible is it, as was shown in the preceding Dis- 
course, to love either God or man, without governing 
our selfish passions. Thus it is plain, that virtue can- 
not exist in parcels, or by halves. 

As virtue cannot exist in this manner, so it cannot to 
any purpose be taught in this manner. The whole use 
of teaching is to execute the practical end of the in- 
structions which are given. If these are limited in 
such a manner as not to comprise the objects in view, 
they will necessarily fail of their effect. Partial in- 
structions on this subject fall utterly short of teaching 
what virtue is ; and must therefore be fruitless. Virtue 
is love to God, love to mankind, and the subordination 
of all our passions to this great affection. If this be 
not taught, nothing is taught to the purpose in view. 
The very doctrine, that a part of this is virtue, will, by 
leading him into a fundamental and fatal error, effec- 
tually prevent the child from becoming virtuous. Thus 
the Christian system alone teaches what virtue is, and 
leads alone to the attainment of this glorious attribute, 
and the practical obedience of its dictates. If children, 
then, are not religiously educated, they will be perfectly 
destitute of all human aid towards becoming virtuous. 
Should they die before they arrive at adult years, they 
must, if th^s scheme be pursued, die without a hope. 

6. If children are not religiously educated, they will, 
instead of being candid, be strongly prejudiced against 
Christianity. 

The professed intention of those with whom I con- 

* They declare that in the present Yngue all men are only sinful 
Sue Aaiat. Research. ; Maur. Ind. Autiq. ; and Bant. Miss, ltcporte.. 



764 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbb. cxivii. 



tend, is to establish candour in the minds of children, 
and prevent them from bias and prejudice. This, un- 
doubtedly, wears a fair appearance ; but, like many 
other specious things, is false and hollow. Children, 
by means of the evil propensities which I have men- 
tioned, are naturally prejudiced against everything 
which is morally good. They are unfriendly to the 
Scriptures, to God, and to their duty ; and are prone 
to all unbelief, and to all sin. The sin which they love 
and practise, the Scriptures forbid ; and threaten the 
commission of it with the most awful penalties. Still 
they choose to practise, it; and therefore hate the 
Scriptures, by which it is thus forbidden and threaten- 
ed. Thus their minds are spontaneously prejudiced 
against the religion of the Scriptures. If, then, 
they are not religiously educated, the very bias, the 
very want of candour, which the authors of this scheme 
professedly design to prevent, will exist of course 
in the highest degree. Thus the scheme defeats 
itself, and frustrates the only purpose for which it is 
proposed. 

These truths are obvious in fact, particularly in the 
conduct of the objectors themselves. Both they and 
their children are always prejudiced against Christian- 
ity. Among all the infidels whom I have known, I do 
not recollect an individual who appeared to me to have 
examined thoroughly even the objections of infidels 
against the Scriptures ; much less the arguments which 
have been adduced by Christians in support of their 
divine origin. I do not remember one who appeared 
to have investigated with serious attention the truth, 
evidence, or excellence of the doctrines which they 
contain. So far as my knowledge extends, they have 
all rejected them botli in the gross, and without a single 
earnest inquiry. Such cannot be the conduct either of 
candour or common sense. 

7. Children, however religiously educated, cannot 
think too favourably of Christianity: and in this sense 
cannot be prejudiced. 

The Christian system is the only system of moral 
truth, and Christianity is the only real virtue. ' All 
things pertaining to life and to godliness ' are revealed 
in the Scriptures, either expressly, or by plain and ne- 
cessary implication. Man has added nothing defensi- 
ble to what they contain on the subjects of duty and 
salvation, the character of God, or the moral character 
of himself. Obedience to the law, which they alone 
publish, is the only virtue ; the only voluntary confor- 
mity to the will of God ; the only foundation of praise 
and reward. 

But truth and virtue cannot be loved too intensely ; 
neither can be so highly regarded as its worth demands. 
All men esteem and love these divine objects incom- 
parably less than they merit. In the estimation and 
affection of glorified beings, their excellence will rise 
higher and higher, and their lustre become more bright, 
beautiful, and lovely, throughout all eternity. It is im- 
possible for a created being to regard them so highly 
as their importance deserves. The martyr, who ex- 
pired on the rack, or perished in the flames, for his 
attachment to these inestimable objects, gave to their 
worth the highest testimony in his power. But even 
this testimony was faint and languid, compared with 
their inherent glory and beauty. Should the truth of 
this assertion be questioned ; let it be remembered, that 
the Son of God became incarnate, and died on the 



cross, to restore the love of truth and the exercise of 
virtue to the soul of man. 

Thus the argument »n which this scheme is built is 
itself founded on a gross and miserable falsehood, and 
a proof of lamentable ignorance concerning the subject 
in question. Who can estimate truth too highly, when 
he remembers that it is the basis and the support of 
the divine kingdom ; or virtue, when he perceives that 
it is the object of boundless complacency, and eternal 
reward : when he remembers especially that truth and 
virtue are the beauty and glory of Jehovah ? 

8. God has expressly commanded men thus to educate 
their children. 

' The foolishness of God is wiser than men.' The 
objector here attributes foolishness to God ; but it is 
easily seen that his own arrogated wisdom terminates 
only in folly ; that his scheme is idle and ruinous; and 
that the argument on which it professedly rests, is a 
mere falsehood. Such, in the end, are to the eye of 
sober investigation, all the devices of that vain, deceit- 
ful philosophy, which men so proudly exalt in opposi- 
tion to divine wisdom. 

But were we unable to detect either the folly or the 
mischief of this scheme ; or to evince, by arguments 
of our own, the wisdom of the divine command ; still 
every Christian would find his doubts satisfied, and his 
duty clear, in the command itself. ' Thus saith the 
Lord,' is to him a pole-star, an infallible guide over 
the ocean of doubt. To know that anything is the 
will of God, is enough. He obeys, and asks no rea- 
sons to prove his obedience wise and safe. Would he 
even preserve the character of consistency, he cannot 
fail to perform this duty. Religion he esteems in- 
finitely important to himself; can he fail to teach it 
to his children, that they also may share in so vast a 
blessing ? 

Were he to omit this duty, he would sacrifice his 
children ; for he would lose the best opportunity of 
doing them the greatest good which is ever to be in his 
power. But to omit it wholly, would be impossible, 
unless he should cease to live like a religious man. 
All his religious conduct would teach with commanding 
efficacy the very truths which his voice denied. They 
would unceasingly behold religion in all the duties of 
his life ; they would hear it every morning and every 
evening in his family devotions. 



From these observations it is evident, 

1. That the scheme of education against which I have 
contended is false, vain, and mischievous. 

It is false, because the argument by which it is sup- 
ported is false ; because the opinions which accompany 
it are erroneous; and because the views with which it 
is professedly supported are hypocritical. This is clear 
from the conduct of those who defend it; since that is 
directly contradictory to the scheme itself, and to the 
reasons alleged in its defence. It is vain, because, 
instead of accomplishing the purpose intended, it would 
effectuate the contrary purpose. Instead of increasing 
candour, and producing investigation, it would only 
prevent investigation, and advance prejudice. It is 
mischievous, because it would prevent children from 
knowing and embracing truth in the highest of all 
concerns, their duty and salvation; and would lead 
them only to ignorance, error, and iniquity. 



RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.— OBJECTIONS. 



765 



Indeed, all this is so obvious, and so certain, that I 
hesitate not to pronounce those who propose it, when- 
ever they are men of understanding, wholly insincere 
in the proposal. It is, I think, impossible, that they 
should be so blind to such obvious truth, as for a mo- 
ment to imagine the education which they urge to be 
consistent with reason and common sense. On the 
contrary, it may without any want of candour be as- 
serted, that their design is of a very different nature. 
Instead of aiming at the promotion of candour in chil- 
dren, they unquestionably intend to persuade men to 
educate their children in ignorance of the Scriptures, 
in an habitual disregard to them, and ultimately in a 
confirmed hatred of their precepts. They are sagacious 
enough to discern, that all persons are best fitted to re- 
ceive religious impressions in childhood ; and that, if 
they are suffered to grow up without them, they will 
either never receive them, or receive them with exces- 
sive difficulty. By prescribing and urging this mode 
of education, they expect to see children habituated to 
irreligion, and confirmed, without argument or convic- 
tion, in infidelity. In this manner, far more easily and 
surely than in all others, they hope to exterminate re- 
ligion from the world. 

Of all these observations, complete proof is furnished 
by the conduct of modern infidels. In defiance of this 
very scheme, they have laboured with immense industry 
and art to possess themselves of the education of chil- 
dren throughout France, Germany, and other countries 
of Europe. Nor have they laboured without success. 
Distinguished infidels have extensively become instruc- 
tors of those who were born to wealth and greatness ; 
and men corrupted by themselves have still more ex- 
tensively taught the mass of mankind. All these they 
have trained up to the principles of infidelity, and to 
the unlimited practice of vice. The mind, almost from 
its infancy, they have debauched by sentiments and 
images of pollution ; withdrawn it from duty, from 
God, and from heaven, by fraud and falsehood ; and 
allured it to sin and to hell, by art and ingenuity, by 
sophistry and entanglement, by insidious temptation 
and impudent example. Willi a smooth, soft, and lu- 
bricous progress, they have crept into the bosoms of 
the rising generation, and pierced them to the soul 
with fangs of poison. A general dissolution of health, 
a hopeless decay of the vital energy, has followed the 
incision. The bloom of life has vanished, a livid hue 
overspread the frame, and every harbinger of death 
hastened to announce the speedy dissolution. 

Here no anxiety has been ever pretended concerning 
the preoccupancy of the early mind, or the prevention 
of future candour. No succeeding investigation has 
been even hinted, and no intentional discussion of the 
great question proposed. Such fairness, indeed, was 
not to be expected from such men. Their only object 
has ever been to destroy the Bible, truth, and virtue ; 
and to the nature of all means, provided they will ac- 
complish the end, they are perfectly indifferent. The 
man who is deceived by such a scheme, supported by 
such arguments, and recommended by such men, must 
be a dupe of choice ; a gudgeon, caught even without 
a hook. 

2. From these observations it is alsoevident, that the 
religious education of children is a high and indispens- 
able duty. 

In the text, and in many other passages of Scrip- 1 



ture, it is solemnly commanded by God. If the consi- 
derations suggested throughout this Discourse are just, 
it is powerfully enforced by reason. Our children are 
' bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh ;' endeared to 
us by a thousand ties, and a thousand delightful offices. 
All their interests are ours, and often nearer to our 
heart than our own. They are committed to us in 
solemn charge by our Maker, to be educated by us for 
his service and kingdom. He lias made all things in 
their situation and ours conspire to this great end. 
Their helpless state calls for the habitual care and 
watchfulness, the uniform kindness and control of their 
parents. Their minds, unoccupied by falsehood, are 
easily susceptible of truth, and fitted to receive and re- 
tain every useful impression. If the best impressions 
are not made, the worst will be ; and parents are the 
only friends from whom may rationally be expected 
the communication of good, or the prevention of evil. 
If this duty be not early done, they may die before it 
is done, and their souls be lost. If they live, we waste 
the golden season of doing them eternal good. • 

Who, that is not dead to conscience, to humanity, 
and even to instinct, can thus act the ostrich ; and leave 
his little ones to be crushed by every foot? Think of 
the awful account to be given of wrapping this talent 
in a napkin, and burying it in the earth. Think of 
the infinite difference between ascending with them to 
heaven, and accompanying them down to the regions 
of perdition. Think of the reflections which must 
arise in their minds and ours throughout eternity, 
when their ruin shall be seen to have sprung from our 
neglect. 

Nor is this duty incumbent on parents only. Every 
instructor is bound indispensably to second their endea- 
vours, where they are faithful, and to supply, as far as 
may be, the defect, where they are not. Education 
ought everywhere to be religious education. The mas- 
ter is as truly bound to educate his apprentice or his 
servant in religion, and the schoolmaster his pupil, as 
the parent his child. In the degree of obligation, and 
of sin in violating it, there may perhaps be a difference. 
In the nature of it there is none. The command is, 
'Train up a child in the way he should go;' directing 
all who are intrusted with the care of children to edu- 
cate them in this manner. 

At the same time, parents are farther bound to em- 
ploy no instructors who will not educate their children 
religiously. To commit our children to the care of 
irreligious persons, is to commit lambs to the superin- 
tendency of wolves. No sober man can lay his hand 
on his breast, when he has placed his child under the 
guidance of an irreligious teacher, and say that he has 
done his duty, or feel himself innocent of the blood of 
his child. No man will be able, without confusion of 
face, to recount this part of his conduct before the bar 
of the final Judge. 



766 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxlvui. 



SERMON CXLVUI. 

MEANS OF GRACE ORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.— THE MANNER IN WHICH RELIGIOUS 

EDUCATION IS TO BE CONDUCTED MOTIVES TO THIS DUTY. 



Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it. — Pkov. xxii. 6. 



In the last Discourse, I considered the duty of educat- 
ing children religiously. In this I propose, 

II. To point out the manner in which religious edu- 
cation should be conducted. 

III. To exhibit some of the motives to the perform- 
ance of this duty, suggested by the promise in the text. 

The terms, in which the command in the text is com- 
municated, teach us, as I have heretofore observed, 
that children, in their education, are to be drawn from 
one action and attainment to another, by persuasion, 
promises, and other efforts, continually repeated. Un- 
der the general meaning of this phraseology may be 
easily included whatever I shall think it necessary to 
observe concerning this subject at the present time. 

Some of the observations formerly made concerning 
the general education of children, will be applied here 
to their religious education. So important a subject 
deserves to be presented in a full light. No interest- 
ing, useful adjunct ought to be forgotten by the mind, 
while employed in the consideration of a duty which 
holds so high a rank. So far as the narrow limits ne- 
cessarily assigned to it in such a system of discourses will 
allow, I shall endeavour to omit nothing, which is of 
peculiar weight. 

I. Keligious education should be begun in the dawn 
of childhood. 

The earliest days, after intelligence is fairly formed 
in the mind, are incomparably the best for this purpose 
The child should be taught, as soon as he is capable of 
understanding the instructions which are to be commu- 
nicated. Nothing should be suffered to pre-occupy the 
place which is destined to truth. If the intellect is not 
filled with sound instruction as fast as it is capable of 
receiving it, ' the enemy,' who never neglects to ' sow 
tares, 1 when parents are ' asleep,' will imperceptibly fill 
it with a dangerous and noxious growth. The great 
and plain doctrines of religion should be taught so 
early, that the mind should never remember when it be- 
gan to learn, or when it is without this knowledge. 
Whenever it turns a retrospective view upon the preced- 
ing periods of its existence, these truths should seem 
always to have been in its possession, to have the charac- 
ter of innate principles, to have been woven in its 
nature, and to constitute a part of all its current of 
thinking. 

In this manner the best security which is in the 
power of man will be furnished against the introduction 
and admission of dangerous errors. The principles of 
infidelity have little support in argument or evidence ; 
but they easily take deep root in the inclinations of the 
mind, and hold but too frequently a secure possession 
of its faith by the aid of passion and prejudice. No 
human method of preventing this evil is so effectual as 
engrossing the assent to evangelical truth, when the 
mind is absolutely clear from every prepossession. A 



faith thus established, all the power of sophistry will be 
unable to shake. In the same manner ought its reli- 
gious impressions to be begun. No period should be 
within the future reach of the memory, when they had 
not begun. Every child easily imbibes at this period 
a strong and solemn reverence for his Creator ; easily 
realizes his universal presence, and the inspection of 
his all-seeing eye ; admits without difficulty, and with- 
out reluctance, that he is an awful and unchangeable 
enemy of sin ; and feels that he himself is accountable 
to this great Being for all his conduct. The conscience 
also is at this period exceedingly tender and suscepti- 
ble ; readily alarmed at the apprehension of guilt, and 
prepared to contend, or to fly, at the approach of a 
known temptation. All the affections also are easily 
moved, and fitted to retain permanently, and often in- 
delibly, whatever impressions are made. The heart is 
soft, gentle, and easily won ; strongly attached by kind- 
ness, peculiarly to the parents themselves, and gene- 
rally to all others with whom it is connected. To 
every amiable, every good thing it is drawn compara- 
tively without trouble or resistance ; and united by 
bands which no future art nor force can dissolve. 
Against every odious and bad thing its opposition is 
with equal ease excited, and rendered permanent. Its 
sensibility to praise for laudable actions is exquisite ; 
and no less exquisite its dread of blame for conduct 
which is unworthy. Its hope also of future enjoyment, 
and its fear of future suffering, are awakened in a mo- 
ment, without labour, by obvious considerations, and 
with a strength which renders them powerful springs of 
action. 

This susceptibility, this tenderness of heart and of 
conscience, constitute a most interesting, desirable, and 
useful preparation of the mind to receive evangelical 
truths and religious impressions, and invest it with all 
the beauty and fertility of spring. Almost everything 
which the eye discerns is then fair, delightful, and pro- 
mising. Let no person to whom God has committed 
the useful, honourable, and happy, employment of cul- 
tivating minds, be idle at this auspicious season. On 
faithful, wise, and well directed labours, busily em- 
ployed at this period of the human year, the mildest 
winds of heaven breathe, its most fertilizing showers 
descend, and its softest and most propitious sunshine, 
sheds its happy influence. He who loses this golden 
season, will, when the autumn arrives, find nothing in 
his fields but barrenness and death. 

Nor is this period less happily fitted for the establish- 
ment of useful moral habits. Habits, as has been here- 
tofore observed, are the result of custom or repetition, 
and may, in this manner, be formed at any age. But 
in early childhood the susceptibility is so great, and 
the feeling so tender, that a few repetitions will gene- 
rate habitual feeling. Every impression at this period 



MEANS OF GRACE.— RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 



767 



is deep. When these, therefore, fire made through a 
moderate succession, the combined effect can rarely be 
effaced. Thus good habits are soon and durably esta- 
blished, and all that course of trouble prevented, of 
which parents so justly and bitterly complain, when this 
work is to be done at future seasons of life. 

But habits constitute the man. Good habits form a 
good man, and evil habits an evil man. Subtract these 
from the character, and it will be difficult to conceive 
what will be left. It is plain, therefore, that habits are 
of supreme importance to the well-being of the child, 
li is character, his all. Of course, the establishment of 
those which are good is the first object of parental 
duty. 

2. Religious education should be continued with 
steadiness and uniformity. 

In the whole employment of educating a child, 
steadiness of character in the parent is indispensable to 
success. The parent, as was formerly observed, should 
be decisively seen always to approve and love the same 
things, and always to disapprove and hate such as are 
opposed to them. A settled purpose should be con- 
tinually discovered in the conduct of the parent, with 
regard to this great concern ; a purpose to fix in the 
mind of the child just views and principles of religion, 
and dispositions really and evangelically virtuous. 
From this purpose nothing should appear to divert his 
attention, or withdraw his efforts. The religious edu- 
cation of his child should evidently appear to be a 
commanding business of his life ; not a casual or occa- 
sional employment. A changing, vibratory character 
in the parent will prove him to be either unstable, or 
not in earnest. No attribute which is not obviously 
vicious is, perhaps, more unhappily found in the paren- 
tal character. 

The parent who exhibits a steady, firm, unalterable 
disposition, will naturally be believed by his children 
to love religion as he ought, to make it the chief busi- 
ness of his life, to be deeply engaged in rendering 
them religious, and in all his instructions to mean 
whatever he says. The whole weight of his character 
will, therefore, accompany his precepts, and enforce 
them in the most efficacious manner upon the minds of 
his children. 

To convince the child of this character in the parent, 
uniformity is of the last moment. Whatever is pur- 
sued at times only, and in a desultory manner, children 
will never believe to be a serious object in the view of 
tlie parent. Whatever is sometimes exhibited in the 
light of importance, and at others in that of unconcern, 
will only awaken doubt, and ultimately produce indif- 
ference. Important objects, it is well known, always 
wear this character in the view of him who regards 
them as important, and are, therefore, felt and exhi- 
bited in one, and that a serious, manner 1 . So plainly, 
and so entirely, is this the fact, that children, as easily 
as men, discover at once the true place which any thing- 
holds in the estimation of those around them, by the 
uniformity, or the inconstancy, with which they attend 
to it; and by the seriousness, or levity, with which it is 
accompanied in their communications. That, and that 
only, which is taught every day, or on every proper 
occasion, and which is always taught seriously and 
earnestly, is ever believed by the pupil to hold a place 
of high importance in the mind of the instructor. On 
the contrary, whatever is taught occasionally only, with 



levity, or with indifference ; or taught in a manner 
now grave, now light, sometimes earnestly, and some- 
times with negligence, regularly at one period, and 
with long intermissions at another, can scarcely be sup- 
posed to be of any great significance in the view of the 
teacher. This language of nature can be misunderstood 
by none. The earliest and the weakest mind perceives 
it in a moment, as well as the oldest and the wisest. If 
then parents wish to make deep and solemn impressions 
on their children, let them remember that uniformity 
in their instructions is indispensable to this end. 

Besides, uniformity in teaching is absolutely neces- 
sary to the establishment of habit, both in thinking and 
feeling. If instructions succeed each other after con- 
siderable intervals, or are given with a diversity of 
feelings on the part of the instructor, one truth, and 
one impression will, in a degree, be worn out, before 
another is introduced. In the mean time, others of a 
different, and often of a contrary nature, will be im- 
bibed. Thus the work, like the web of Penelope, will 
be woven at one period, only to be destroyed at an- 
other. In this way the parent will find his task always 
discouraging, and often fruitless. 

It ought to be remembered, that uniformity should 
extend to everything which concerns this subject. The 
instructions, the spirit with which they are enforced, 
nay, the very deportment of the instructor, as well as 
the control, the example, and life, should always wear 
one consistent appearance of solemnity, earnestness, 
and entire conviction. 

3. In a religious education the Scriptures only should 
be taught. 

The youngest mind, which can perceive moral truth 
at all, clearly discerns that no doctrines can be invested 
with an importance, comparable to that of the doctrines 
taught by God. The character of this great and awful 
Being is seen by the humblest intelligent creature to 
be immeasurably distant from every other. This dis- 
tinction of supreme consequence in itself, should be 
preserved in its full force by the parent throughout all 
his instructions. Religious truth, that is, whatever is 
an obligatory object of faith, or rule of duty, whatever 
' pertains to life and to godliness,' is wholly and only 
taught by God. This great doctrine should be origi- 
nally impressed on the early mind ; and should after- 
ward be never suffered to escape from its attention. 
Scriptural truths should, for this reason, be clearly dis- 
tinguished at every period as the unquestioned word of 
God, and come to the child with the sanction of divine 
authority. In this method the child will imbibe a re- 
verence for these truths entirely peculiar ; and, if no 
human opinions should be mingled with them in the 
instructions, will carry it through life. A little mixture 
of philosophy, however, will, in a great measure, pre- 
vent this desirable effect ; and imperceptibly lower the 
Scriptures from their supreme dignity, and inestimable 
importance, down to the humble level of mere human 
opinion. 

4. Such parts of the Scriptures only should be taught 
at any time, as may be made distinctly intelligible to the 
mind of* the pupil. 

The plainest things are universally the most impor- 
tant. God, in his infinite wisdom, has in this respect 
mercifully brought the means of religious knowledge, 
our duty, and our salvation, within the reach of the 
young and the ignorant, who always constitute tha 



768 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbr. cxlviii. 



great body of mankind, and are equally interested in 
them with the experienced, and the knowing-. The 
most important things are thus placed in the power of 
children. 

At the same time it is evident, that these are the only 
things which are within their power. The instructor 
who attempts to teach them either doctrines or precepts 
more obscure, or more complicated, or who mixes any 
extraneous instruction with that which is obvious, will 
only perplex, and ultimately confound, the understand- 
ing of the pupil, will cloud all his views, and destroy 
his relish for learning. 

Nor should the manner of teaching be less plain and 
intelligible, than the doctrines which are taught. In 
teaching children, there should be no display of learn- 
ing, no extensive or profound investigations, no intro- 
duction of things which are foreign to the subject in 
hand. The simplest language, the fewest and plainest 
words, and the most familiar illustrations only, should 
be adopted, and the whole force of the instructions, and 
the whole attention of the child should, as much as pos- 
sible, be confined to the doctrines themselves. For all 
superior discoveries, for objections and their answers, 
for the connexion and dependence of the truths which 
are taught, and for the proofs of their reasonableness 
and utility, the child should be referred to future op- 
portunities, and the vigour of riper years. 

5. The disposition discovered and felt by the instruc- 
tor should always be that of tender affection. 

No instructions are ever advantageously imbibed by 
children, except from those whom they love ; and they 
love none, except those by whom they think them- 
selves beloved. The real air, aspect, and proof of af- 
fection, are as discernible by a child, as by a man, and 
his real friends as easily known. No persons feel affec- 
tion more tenderly, or more carefully watch the con- 
duct in which it is discovered. But the only way to 
appear kind is to feel kindly ; and the only way to be 
believed to have this character, is to possess it. 

It is not easy to estimate the importance of the man- 
ner in this employment. The instructions of an un- 
kind teacher are hated of course, of a cunning one sus- 
pected, of an uninterested one received with listless 
indifference. On the contrary, the affectionate instruc- 
tor is viewed by his pupil as a beloved friend. No 
employment invests man with more amiableness than 
well-directed instruction, especially when his pupil is a 
little child. From such a friend everything is re- 
ceived, retained, and obeyed, with reverence and de- 
light. By a teacher of this character more good can 
often be done in a day, than by a disgusting one in a 
life. 

6. Religion should always be exhibited in a solemn 
and pleasing, and never in a gloomy and discouraging 
light. 

There are persons, usually very ignorant, and fre- 
quently of a melancholy cast, who seem to suppose 
themselves and others required to be always of a sor- 
rowful and downcast demeanour. The only religious 
duties which appear to arrest their attention, are those 
which belong to self-mortification. Between. the licen- 
tious gaiety of loose men, and the serene cheerfulness 
of religion, they make, and are apparently willing to 
make, no distinction. A smile, they mistake for an ex- 
pression of unwarrantable levity; and the grateful, 
cheerful lives of their fellow Christians, they construe 



into mere courses of worldly ease, and sinful security. 
Of these persons, some are undoubtedly self-deceivers, 
some are gross hypocrites, especially those who make 
great pretensions to sanctity, and much bustle about 
their religious attainments. Others of them also are 
unquestionably Christians. Those of this class are all 
persuaded that their views of religion are just ; and, 
both from a sense of duty, and the exercise of affection, 
feel themselves obliged to communicate them to their 
children. What they teach they exemplify. Accord- 
ingly, both the instructions and the examples are only 
gloomy and awful, and are regarded by their children 
only with dislike and dread. From the mere force of 
nature the teacher may be loved, and his instructions 
reverenced; but both will still be met and listened to 
only with pain and disgust. Both the precepts and the 
religion which they inculcate, will be dreaded before- 
hand, and disrelished afterward. A release from them 
will be regarded as an escape. No useful impressions 
'can be made by them, no desirable conduct effected. 
Children thus taught, usually dislike religion, even 
more than those who are not taught at all. A moderate 
share of common sense must, one would think, banish 
forever this disastrous mode of instruction. 

It is far from being my intention to deny that there 
are painful considerations connected with religion. One 
of its employments is to form just views of sin, and 
another, to regard it with suitable emotions. Sin is 
always a painful subject of contemplation. Nor is re- 
pentance without its mixture of pain. Self-denial, 
also, is at many times, and in various respects, a source 
of serious suffering. But sin itself is no part of reli- 
gion ; and the anguish of repentance is, in the beautiful 
language of Mrs Steele, ' a painful pleasing anguish ;' 
incomparably more desirable than the sinner's hardness 
of heart. There is something so pleasant, so sweet, so 
congenial to the proper taste of a rational being, in in- 
genuous sorrow for sin, an honest confession of it to our 
heavenly Father, cordial resistance to temptation, and 
faithful resolutions of new obedience, in victory over 
our lusts, in a consciousness of evangelical worth, in 
the conviction that we have glorified our Creator, and 
in an humble hope of his approbation, all involved in 
the exercise of repentance, as to render this affection 
of the heart too welcome to the penitent, ever to be 
deliberately exchanged by him for the gratifications of ' 
sin. The same enjoyments also accompany Christian 
self-denial too obviously to demand proof; and to 
every mind, controlled by religion, render it universally 
agreeable and frequently delightful. What, then, shall 
be said of the Christian's faith, and love, and peace, 
and hope, and joy ; all of them other names for refined 
and elevated pleasure ? Look into the writings of 
David and Paul, and learn from their own expressions 
how Christianity can allay the storms of trouble, and 
gild the gloom of a sorrowful life with serenity and 
sunshine. 

If, then, religion itself is presented by an instructor 
with gloom and discouragement, it is falsely presented ; 
truths may be taught, but they are exhibited in a false 
garb. With this garb they will always be associated in 
the mind of the pupil; and the whole effect will be 
misconception and error. 

In this mode of instruction children are kept at a 
distance from religion by a regular repulsion, and 
scarcely approach so near as to learn its real nature. 



MEANS OF GRACE.— RELIGIOUS EDUCATION- 



769 



Even truth itself will to tliem be odious truth ; religion 
will be hated and dreaded before it is known ; and to 
receive instruction will be regarded as a mere and pain- 
ful task. That which is taught, the child will neither 
Jove, respect, nor remember ; and the teacher s own 
example of its influence will complete the alienation 
which his precepts began. 

Austerity in an instructor will produce, substantially, 
the same effects. Religion is in its nature, and by a 
child is regularly seen to be, eminently solemn, and in 
some respects awful. At the same time, it is serene, 
cheerful, and lovely ; the source of the purest peace, 
the most solid consolation, and the most refined joy. 
Its whole character ought to be set before the child. 
Let its solemnity awe ; let its cheerful and delightful 
aspect inspire hope, and engage affection. Escape 
from evil, and the attainment of good, are the only mo- 
tives by which a rational being can be influenced at 
all. Both these, therefore, should be placed in the view 
of the child. St Paul has thought proper to urge our 
obedience to the law by the consideration, that it is 
good, as well as just, and holy ; and to recommend our 
duty by the argument, that it ' is our reasonable ser- 
vice.' Every Christian in the education of his children, 
is bound to follow the example of this great instructor. 

7. Religious education ought to be enforced by the 
government, example, and prayers cf the teacher. 

Government is the great means by which the autho- 
rity of the parent is preserved, and the obedience of 
the child kept alive. It is also the great means of 
communicating to the child lasting and influential im- 
pressions, and of preparing him cheerfully and affec- 
tionately to receive the truths which he is taught. Sound 
government perfectly harmonizes with sound instruc- 
tion. No character is so highly regarded by man, as 
that which is displayed in wise, just, and benevolent 
control. . Government also presents every instruction 
in the form of law, and all conduct in the solemn guise 
of duty ; enjoins obedience with authority, and en- 
forces its injunctions with penalties and rewards. 

A child well governed, loves n is parent of course. 
From the parent his affection is easily transferred to 
his precepts. He is prepared to obey, as well as to 
listen ; and desirous to please his instructor, as well as 
to profit himself. An ungoverned child, on the con- 
trary, will neither listen nor regard ; neither obey nor 
profit. His only disposition, his only design will be 
to neglect whatever is taught, and oppose whatever is 
enjoined. The former he will despise ; against the 
latter he will rebel. Two children, of these contrary 
characters, ran hardly be compared. The one will 
learn and do everything; the other, nothing. 

What government thus happily begins, example 
confirms. The teacher who does not live agreeably to 
his own instructions, will never be supposed to love, nor 
even to believe, what he enjoins. All his labours will 
therefore be attributed to sinister views, to the pursuit 
of his own convenience, and not to the love, either of 
religion, or his pupil. Instructions thus regarded, will 
never be welcomed to the heart, and rarely to the un- 
derstanding. He, on the contrary, whose life is go- 
verned by the same rules which he prescribes to his 
child, will always be considered as proving his own sin- 
cerity ; as teaching what he believes, and enjoining 
what he loves. The precepts of such an instructor are 
rarely disrelished, and never doubted. 



All our instructions, however, like our other efforts, 
are in vain without the blessing of God. This blessing, 
to be obtained, must be asked. Prayer for the success 
of our instructions should accompany them of course. 
The child should be a witness of the parent's supplica- 
tion to God for him, and should be taught to supplicate 
for himself. All the duties of religion are eminently 
solemn and venerable in the eyes of children. But 
none will so strongly prove the sincerity of the parent, 
none so powerfully awaken the reverence of the child, 
none so happily recommend the instruction which he 
receives, as family devotions, peculiarly those in which 
petitions for the children occupy a distinguished place. 

At the same time, God will actually bless those who 
seek his blessing. But, where it is not sought, it will 
not be given ; and where it is not given, our best exer- 
tions will be in vain. ' Except the Lord build the 
house, they labour in vain that build it. 1 

HI. / shall now exhibit some of the motives to the 
performance of this duty, suggested by the promise in 
the text. 

' Train up a child in the way he should go ; and 
when he is old, he will not depart front it.' 

This promise has been differently construed by dif- 
ferent commentators. Some have supposed it to be an 
absolute promise ; declaring, that in every instance 
in which a child is thus educated, he will persevere 
' in the way he should go.' Others have supposed it 
to declare merely the usual result of such education. 
The former class say, that every instance of failure on 
the part of children is owing to a want of faithfulness on 
the part of the parents. They add, that if parents were 
perfectly faithful in this duty, their children would 
never come short of eternal life. With this construc- 
tion I cannot agree, for two reasons : — 

(1.) The Scriptures abound in such absolute declara- 
tions, which are not, and cannot be, understood in this 
absolute manner. Thus it is said, that ' neither drun- 
kards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the 
kingdom of God.' Yet some men of all these classes 
unquestionably become penitent, and by the reforma- 
tion of their lives, prove themselves to be Christians. 
Should it be said, that sinners of these several charac- 
ters, who leave the world without repentance, will not 
inherit the kingdom of God ; and that this is what is 
intended : I answer, ' The declaration would undoubt- 
edly be true ; but would, I think, be nugatory ; because 
it would be equally true of all other sinners.' 

(2.) According to this construction, there would be 
nothing declared. No person ever educated his child 
with perfect faithfulness. On this ground, therefore, 
no child would persevere in this desirable way. Of 
course, the promise, considered in a practical light, 
would be nothing to mankind. 

If these observations are just, it will, I suppose, be ad- 
mitted without difficulty, that God intended this promise 
as a direct encouragement to parents, who should be 
faithful in such a degree as we sometimes see exercised 
in the education of children. The amount of the pro- 
mise to these parents is, I apprehend, that their chil- 
dren will, generally, when trained up in the way they 
should go, not depart from it. This, as it appears to 
me, has also been the course of providential dispensa- 
tions. 

To this declaration, however, it probably will be, as 
it often has been, objected, that the course of providence 
5 K 



770 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CXLV1II. 



here alleged is against the promise ; and that it is con- 
tradicted by plain tacts. ' The children,' it has been 
often said, ' of religious parents, the children particu- 
larly of clergymen, who, if any, must be supposed to be 
religiously educated, exhibit as few proofs of a virtuous 
character, and as many proofs of a sinful one, as the 
children of other men.' Nay, it has been said, I have 
frequently heard it said, that ' the children of professing 
Christians, and particularly of ministers, are less vir- 
tuous, and more distinguished for profligacy than other 
children.' These observations are not always made with 
an intention to utter slander, and with a conviction that 
they are false. They are sometimes uttered by sober 
men. Nay, they are sometimes countenanced by Chris- 
tians, and even by ministers ; especially in the indul- 
gence of zeal against the doctrine, that there are means 
of grace. I have heard it asserted, and apparently with 
some feelings of victory, that in a given case or cases, 
persons who have not been religiously educated, had 
become subjects of piety, in as great and greater num- 
bers than those who had received such an education. 
That many persons who have not been religiously edu- 
cated are sanctified, is undoubtedly true. That their 
number is proportionally so great as is here indicated, 
will be affirmed only by the ' zeal which is not ac- 
cording to knowledge.' Let any man read the history 
of the revivals of religion, and he will need no far- 
ther arguments on this point. Still, as this doctrine 
has spread so far, and assumed so serious an aspect, I 
shall now make a few brief remarks concerning the 
subject. 

(1.) All professors of religion, and all ministers, are 
not Christians. From those who are not of this char- 
acter, the religious education of their children cannot 
be expected. 

(2.) Some who are Christians, perform this duty very 
imperfectly. Men of both these classes are not unfre- 
quently too much engrossed by other concerns. Pro- 
fessors are sometimes so deeply engaged in their busi- 
ness, and ministers by their studies, as to neglect this 
and many other duties. Some of them, also, are 
negligent, through a characteristical easiness and care- 
lessness of temper. Some are injudicious, and pursue 
ill-devised plans. Some are of a changeable disposition, 
and undo to-day, partially at least, what they did yes- 
terday. From these, and other causes of the like 
nature, the manner in which they educate their chil- 
dren is very imperfect. Of this imperfection the con- 
sequences will be experienced of course. 

(3.) Some Christians govern their children unhappily. 
They are passionate, and govern with fickleness and 
violence. They are indulgent, and scarcely govern 
them at all. They are austere, or gloomy, and thus 
discourage and disgust their children, insensibly alien- 
ating their minds both from their instructions and them- 
selves. 

(4.) One of the parents is sometimes irreligious, and 
thwarts the labours of the other. 

(5.) Some Christian parents, though it is believed this 
number is small, do not pray in their families; and in 
this manner fail of receiving blessings upon themselves, 
and upon their children. 

(6.) The children of Christian parents, for various 
reasons, are often educated chiefly by others, who are 
incompetent, or unfaithful. 

(70 The children of Christian parents are not unfre- 



quently corrupted by evil companions ; and that, per- 
haps, during the best education. 

(8.) Christian churches extensively neglect the disci- 
pline which they ought to administer, both to the parents 
and the children, when negligent of their respective du- 
ties. By this neglect the spirit of educating children 
religiously has been suffered to languish ; and the ob- 
ligations to this duty have ceased to be felt, as its im- 
portance demands. 

These remarks will, if I mistake not, sufficiently ex- 
plain the real state of facts, so far as to show that they 
are consistent with the promise, as it has been inter- 
preted above. 

But the truth is, the assertion itself is substantially 
false. That there are children of religious parents, 
who are themselves destitute of religion through life, 
that the whole number of these is considerable, will not 
be questioned. Who, after what has been said, could 
rationally expect it to be otherwise ? That some of these 
are profligates, and some even remarkable for their pro- 
fligacy, I shall not deny. Those who have broken 
through peculiar restraints, and sinned against power- 
ful motives, are usually abandoned sinners. Accord- 
ingly, Dr Young says forcibly and justly, though sole- 
cistically, 

' A shameless woman is the worst of men.' 

But notwithstanding these exceptions, the great body 
of Christians is made up of those who have been religi- 
ously educated, imperfect as this education has been. 
Every sober man may perceive this truth by his own ob- 
servation. It is true of this seminary ; it is true of this 
country ; it is true of every other Christian country ; it 
has been always true. A striking proof of it is fur- 
nished here, by the character and offices which the sons 
of clergvnien have holden in New England, ever since 
it was settled by our ancestors. A complete" proof of 
it everywhere is furnished by the history of revivals of 
religion. Every contradictory instance, it is to be re- 
membered, is regarded with surprise ; a fact which 
could not exist, if the declension were common ; and is 
made, very improperly, a representative of multitudes. 
Nor ought it to be forgotten, that when members of ir- 
religious families become pious, surprise is equally ex- 
cited. 

Having now, as I hope, removed all the objections 
which might be supposed to attend this subject, I pro- 
ceed to remark, 

1. That by a religious education of their children, 
parents more easily and more perfectly than is possible 
in any other manner, will render them dutiful, harmo- 
nious, and happy in the present world. 

A family religiously educated will in a good degree 
become orderly and dutiful of course. The doctrines 
and sentiments which they are taught, and habitually 
imbibe, the conduct to which they are formed, the ex- 
amples which they daily behold, the motives steadily- 
presented to their view, and the worship to which they 
are daily summoned, all conspire with supreme force to 
call up every thought, affection, and action which con- 
stitutes a part of their duty. Their minds are wrought 
into a character, a course of action, widely different from 
that of other children. This difference even a stranger 
cannot fail to discern at once. Among those who are 
charged with the instruction of youth, it has long since 
become the object of proverbial remark. 



THE CHARACTER OF MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH. 



771 



All the tendencies of religion are dutiful tendencies, 
and are therefore peaceful and pleasing- Harmony of 
minds, and harmony of purposes, cannot without this 
aid be produced for any length of time, or any extent 
of operation. Unity of conduct may indeed be effec- 
tuated, to a considerable extent, by the rod of power ; 
but not unity of affection or design. Constrained union 
can never be the source of happiness to any collection 
of rational beings, and will peculiarly fail of producing 
happiness in a family. To repress the native selfish- 
ness of the heart, means of some kind or other are in- 
dispensable. Nothing has hitherto effectually accom- 
plished this purpose but religion. Even the mere fixed 
belief of its truths and duties, and of accountableness to 
God, will go far towards overcoming the open indul- 
gences of passion and appetite. A cordial reception of 
these truths and duties will finally vanquish them all. 
Religious education, then, is the road to the religion of 
a family ; and that religion is the road to domestic 
happiness. 

As happiness in this world is chiefly enjoyed in the 
family, and, under God, supremely dependent on do- 
mestic peace ; the religious education of children be- 
comes plainly the chief means of the first earthly good. 
A glorious motive is here held out to induce us to edu- 
cate our children religiously. 

2. Children thus educated will persevere also in the 
way to eternal life. 

This I consider as the main subject of the promise in 
the text. In the sense in which I have explained it, it 
has, I apprehend, been universally verified. Of this 
truth, the proof already alleged is presumed to be suf- 
ficient. 

The parent must be an unnatural wretch by whom 
this motive is not deeply felt. The salvation of his 
child is promised to him, and in the most endearing of 
all methods; viz., as the consequence of his labour. 
He who is not a barbarian, or a brute, must wish his 
children to be happy, favoured of God, and beloved by 
his own companions, throughout eternity. To the heart 
of him who knows the tenderness of nature, this' desire 
must come home with supreme and unmingled power. 
The very thought of presenting one's children to the 



Judge, at his right hand, on the final day, and of being 
able to say, ' Behold, here am I, and the children whom 
thou hast given me,' is a thought of ecstasy, which be- 
wilders the heart with joy. Let no parent, who is not 
compelled by this consideration to a duty so delightful 
in itself, pretend to love his children at all. 

If we f train up ' our children ' in the way ' they 'should 
go,' they will enter it almost of course ; follow us to 
heaven, and be our companions for ever. There they 
will be everlasting witnesses of our tender affection to 
them, and our faithful care of their souls, while we were 
both in the present world. At their dying bed, if we 
survive them, on our dying bed, if they survive us, we 
shall be saved also from the distressing reflection, that 
through our negligence they have been lost, and are 
destined to sin and suffer for ever. 

3. In this manner parents perform their prime duty. 

The great end of our being is the performance of our 
duty. In this God intends that we should find our 
happiness, and that a greater happiness than we can 
otherwise attain. All parts of our duty are plainly to 
be regarded according to their importance. To parents, 
that which is enjoined in the text is primarily impor- 
tant. On their children they can usually have more 
and better influence than they can possibly have on 
others. In a high and endearing sense they are their 
property, are united to them by the tenderest ties, are 
ever in their presence, and regard them with singular 
reverence and affection. From all these sources parents 
derive the power of making more, deeper, and happier 
impressions, than others can make, or than they can 
make on others. This power God has required all 
parents faithfully to exert ; and in religious education 
alone is it faithfully exerted. To perform this duty is, 
therefore, the chief end for which we are made parents : 
the chief good which men are usually able to do, the 
chief means of glorifying our Creator. If, then, we 
wish to please God, to enjoy the greatest happiness in 
this world, or to carry our children with us to heaven, 
and enjoy their company for ever, we shall not fail, 
with deep solicitude, watchful care, and unshaken con- 
stancy, to ' train them up in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord.' 



SERMON CXLIX. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.. 



-EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE CHARACTER OF 

MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH. 



Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers 2 Cor. vi. 14. 



In the last Discourse I finished, the observations 
which I have thought it necessary to make concern- 
ing the ordinary means of grace. In the several Dis- 
courses on this subject, I have endeavoured to show, 
that — there are means of grace ; — what they are ; — and 
what is their influence ; — and to answer the objections 
usually made against this scheme of doctrine. I then 



severally considered each of these means, at some 
length ; and gave such directions concerning the use of 
them, such explanations of their efficacy, and such 
answers to objections against them, severally, as this 
system of discourses appeared to require. 

The next subject in order is — 

Those means of grace which are of limited appli- 



772 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. cxux. 



cation : viz., baptism ; the Lord's Supper ; and the com- 
munion of Christians. 

But, before I enter upon the immediate discussion of 
these subjects, it will be necessary to consider the cha- 
racter and circumstances of those, by whom these means 
of grace are to be used ; viz., that collection of persons 
which is denominated the church of Christ. In examin- 
ing- this interesting subject, I shall 

Describe the church of Christ, as exhibited in the 
Scriptures ; and then 

Explain the nature of its peculiar ordinances and 
employments. 

The church of Christ is composed of its ordinary 
members and its officers. In the present Discourse, I 
shall attempt to exhibit the character of its ordinary 
members, as presented to us in the Scriptures. 

To this subject we are naturally led by the text : ' Be 
ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.' The 
word, here translated \ unequally yoked,' is in the Greek, 
£TS(>o£vyovi/Tz(, and denotes, literally, being yoked to 
those of a different kind ; and here means being yoked 
unfitly, or improperly. Concerning the communion 
here forbidden there have been various opinions. 

(I.) It has been frequently supposed to be marriage. 

That this is not a just interpretation is evident, be- 
cause there is not, before or afterward a syllable said 
concerning this subject ; and because the direction given 
in the 17th verse of the context, concerning the commu- 
nion here specified, would, if marriage were intended, 
contradict the precept given by the apostle, 1 Cor. vii. 
12, 13. Here the direction is, ' Wherefore come ye 
out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch 
not the unclean thing ; and I will receive you.' The 
precept there is, ' If any brother hath a wife that believ- 
eth not, and she be pleased to dwell with him ; let him 
not put her away. And the woman, that hath a hus- 
band that believeth not, if he be pleased to dwell with 
her, let her not leave him.' 

(2.) It has been supposed, also, to mean common 
social intercourse with mankind, whether more or less 
intimate. 

This, I think, cannot be the meaning; because the 
direction above mentioned would then contradict the 
declarations of the apostle in 1 Cor. v. 9, 10, ' I wrote 
unto you in an epistle not to company with fornicators. 
Yet not altogether with the fornicators of this world, or 
with the covetous, or extortioners, or with idolaters : for 
then ye must needs go out of the world.' 

(3.) It has been supposed, also, to be religious cora- 
nmnion with the worshippers of idols. 

This, indeed, is undoubtedly forbidden ; as being 
airly included in the phraseology of the text. The 
worshippers of idols, are one class of unbelievers ; but 
no reason can be given why a particular class should be 
intended in the text, and not all other classes. The 
prohibition is general, without an exception. We are 
obliged to receive it as it is ; and, since the apostle has 
not thought proper to limit it, we cannot warrantably 
annex a limitation. 

That the communion here intended is religious com- 
munion, I have not a doubt. This is forbidden with 
unbelievers. To illustrate the impropriety of religious 
communion with persons of this character, the questions 
following the text in the fourteenth and fifteenth verses, 
are asked by the apostle. For this end only are they 
asked ; as might easily be made evident by a particu- 



lar comment, if the occasion would permit. I shall, 
therefore, consider the text as containing this doc- 
trine : — 

That Christians are bound not to enter into religious 
communion with unbelievers ; or, what is equivalent, 
The church of Christ ought to consist of Christians 
only. 

The truth of this doctrine is strongly exhibited in 
the words themselves ; particularly as they have been 
illustrated. The proper meaning can, indeed, be no- 
thing else. 

The same interpretation is also unanswerably evident, 
because, 

(1.) There are but three kinds of communion, of which 
man is capable ; marriage, social intercourse, and reli- 
gious communion. I have shown, that the two first 
cannot be meant in this passage. The last, therefore, 
is meant. 

(2.) That all unbelievers are intended in the text, is 
evident, because in the 17th and 18th verses, God says, 
' Wherefore, come ye out from among them, and be ye 
separate ; and touch not the unclean thing; and I will 
receive you, and will be a Father to you ; and ye shall 
be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.' 

These things, it will be remembered, were written to 
the Corinthian church. Of the members of this church 
it is said, that if they will come out from among the 
persons with whom their communion was forbidden, 
and be separated from them, God will receive them, 
and be a Father to them ; and that they shall be his 
sons and daughters. But this promise could not be 
made to those who were not Christians, however decent, 
moral, and unobjectionable they might be in their ex- 
ternal deportment. The persons to whom the text is 
addressed were addressed as Christians only, because 
the promise cannot have been made to any others. 
But if this church had, in the apostle's view, been 
intentionally and scripturally made up of others beside 
Christians, the apostle could not have addressed them 
in language applicable only to Christians. The text, 
therefore, in connexion with the context, furnishes 
clear evidence of the truth of the doctrine. As, how- 
ever, it is a doctrine of great importance, and not a 
little debated even in the present age, I shall consider 
it more at length ; and endeavour to illustrate it by the 
following considerations : 
I. The original formation of the church in the world : 

II. The establishment and character of the Jewish 
church, as exhibited in the Scriptures; 

III. The nature of the covenant between God and the 
members of the church : 

IV. The nature of Christian communion: 

V. The nature of Christian discipline : and, 

VI. The manner in which the Christian church is 
spoken of in the New Testament. 

These subjects, if I mistake not, involve everything 
of importance in the concerns of the church. If, then, 
they all point the same way, and prove the same tilings, 
the consequence will, it is hoped, be a fair and scrip- 
tural determination of the point in debate. It will be 
expected, from a consideration of the limits beyond 
which the discussion cannot here proceed, that many 
things must be omitted which might be fairly demanded 
in a regular treatise. It will also be supposed, that 
whatever is said must be said in a summary manner. 
Having premised these things, I observe, 



THE CHARACTER OF MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH. 



773 



I. This doctrine is illustrated by the original founda- 
tion of the church in the world. 

Of this event we have a summary account, Gen. iv. 
26 : ' And to Seth, to him also, there was born a son : 
and he called his name Enos : then began men to call 
upon the name of the Lord ;' or, as in the margin, ' to 
call themselves by the name of the Lord.' The mean- 
ing of this declaration is plainly, that they took upon 
themselves the title of the ' sons of God ;' considering 
themselves as his children by adoption, in distinction 
from wicked men, who were children of God by crea- 
tion only, and had forfeited this relation by their apos- 
tasy. By this title they professed themselves to be 
penitents, believers, obedient, to have the disposition 
of children, and to reverence, love, and serve God. 
As this title is adopted afterward by the divine writers 
throughout the Scriptures ; it is fairly presumed to 
have been directed originally by God himself; for it 
is scarcely credible, that God would everywhere call 
his church by a name derived from mere human as- 
sumption. 

I have observed, that this phraseology is ever after- 
ward used to denote the church. The members of the 
church are called ' sons of God ' twelve times in the 
Scriptures ; his ' children ' twice in the Old, and ten 
times in the New Testament ; and his ' people' in in- 
stances, too numerous to be reckoned. In all these in- 
stances, the ' sons ' and ' children of God,' denote those 
who are such by adoption ; and in very many the 
phrase, ' the people of God,' has the same meaning. 
But the adopted children of God are Christians. The 
original church, therefore, consisted of Christians; or, in 
other words, those who were subjects of faith, repen- 
tance, and holiness. This is evident also from the fact, 
that the holy angels are called the ' sons of God :' an 
application of the phrase which indicates, that holy 
beings only are designated by this title. 

The same doctrine is also illustrated by the ordinance 
of baptism. In the administration of 'this ordinance, 
persons are 'baptized ' (not in, bin) ' into the name of 
the Father, and of" the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:' 
that is, by his appointment ' they are introduced into 
his family, and take his name upon them, as being his 
children.' 

This title also was adopted at first to distinguish those 
by whom it was adopted, from persons who were desti- 
tute of faith, repentance, and holiness; and therefore 
was a direct profession of piety on the part of those by 
whom it was assumed. 

II. The doctrine is illustrated by the establishment 
and character of the Jewish church, as exhibited in the 
Scriptures. 

The establishment of the Jewish church was not the 
formation of a new church, but a continuation of the 
original, or patriarchal church, under a form in soma 
respects new. Particularly, it was confined to a single 
family, that of Abraham ; was furtiished with a series 
of written revelations, from the time of Moses ; and had 
new sacraments instituted ; viz., circumcision in the 
time of Abraham, and the passover in the days of 
Moses. 

A new ritual was also given at this latter period, for 
the universal direction of its worship ; typifying in a 
decisive manner the mediation of Christ, and the wor- 
ship of Christians. Agreeably to this scheme, the 
church was established on the same foundations as 



before. In Genesis xvii. Ave have an account of this 
establishment, from the 4th verse to the end of the 14ih. 
The amount of this covenant was plainly, ' That God 
would be the God of Abraham and his seed;' as God 
himself explains this subject, Ezek. xvi. 8 ; where, 
speaking of the Jewish nation, as his church, he says, 
' I sware unto thee, and entered into a covenant with 
thee ; and thou becamest mine.' In accordance with 
this exhibition, God directed Moses to say to Pharaoh, 
' Thus saith the Lord, Israel is my son, even my first- 
born.' 

The same thing is also evident from the manner in 
which the Israelites renewed, and took upon themselves 
individually, the covenant made with Abraham. Of 
this transaction we have an account in Deut. xxvi. 16, 
&c. ' This day the Lord thy God hath commanded 
thee to do these statutes and judgments. Thou shalt 
therefore keep and do them with all thine heart, and 
with all thy soul. Thou hast avouched the Lord this 
day to be thy God, and to walk in his ways, and to 
keep his statutes, and his commandments, and his 
judgments, and to hearken unto his voice ; and the 
Lord hath avouched thee this day to be his peculiar 
people, as he hath promised thee ; and that thou 
shouldst keep all his commandments, and to make thee 
high above all nations, which he hath made, in praise, 
and in name, and in honour: and that thou mayest 
be a holy people unto the Lord thy God, as he hath 
spoken.' 

Here it is manifest, that the Israelites avouched, that 
is, publicly and solemnly declared, Jehovah to be their 
God, whom they chose, as such ; and whom, as such, 
they covenanted faithfully to obey in all his command- 
ments, with all the heart, as a holy people. Equally- 
evident is it, that God avouched them to be his people ; 
whom he had chosen to be a peculiar people to himself. 
Accordingly, on the one hand, it was perpetually en- 
joined upon them, that they should ' love the Lord their 
God with all the heart :' in which case he promised to 
keep his covenant with them (see Deut. vii. 9); and 
on the other he declared repeatedly, that he had chosen 
them to be a ' special ' and ' peculiar people ' unto him- 
self: Deut. vii. 6, and xiv. 2. 

The same thing is also evident from God's express 
prohibition to the wicked, of taking his covenant into 
their mouths. Psal. 1. 16. ' Unto the wicked, God 
saith, What hast thou to do to declare my statutes, or 
that thou shouldest take my covenant into thy mouih ?' 
— ' Unto the wicked ;' that is, to all included under 
this title, or to all wicked persons, ' God saith,' that is, 
universally, as an expression of his will at all times. 

This declaration was made immediately to the Is- 
raelites, to the wicked members of the Jewish church, 
and contains an absolute prohibition of this conduct on 
the part of sinful men. No national connexion, there- 
fore, with a church, no descent from Abraham, gave a 
right to any wicked Israelite to take the covenant into 
his mouth. Although he had been circumcised, he was 
still abhorred in this transaction ; and exposed himself 
in a peculiar degree to the anger of God. 

Finally : The same thing is evident from the manner 
in which God speaks of their sin in breaking his cove- 
nant. In Lev. xxvi. 15, &c, God says, ' If ye shall 
despise my statutes ; or if your soul abhor my judg- 
ments, so that ye will not do all my commandments, 
but that ye break my covenant ; I will also do this unto 



774 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. cxkx. 



you. I will even appoint over you terror, consumption, 
and the burning- ague, that shall consume the eyes, and 
cause sorrow of heart ; and ye shall sow your seed in 
vain ; for your enemies shall eat it. And I will set 
my face against you,' &c. In Deut. xxix. 22, and on- 
ward, Moses says, ' So that the generation to come of 
your children, and the stranger that shall come from a 
far land, shall say, when they see the plagues of your 
land, and the sicknesses, which the Lord hath laid upon 
it, and that the whole land thereof is brimstone, salt, 
and burning, like the overthrow of Sodoin and Gomor- 
rah, Admah, and Zeboim ; even all the nations shall 
say, Wherefore hath the Lord done thus unto his land, 
and what meaneth the heat of this great anger ? Then 
men shall say, Because they have forsaken the cove- 
nant of the Lord God of their fathers.' See also Jer. 
xxii. 8, 9 ; Ezek. xvi. 59 ; Hos. x. 4. 

III. This doctrine is illustrated also by the nature 
of the covenant between God and the members of the 
church. 

As there have been various opinions relative to this 
subject, it seems necessary that it should be considered, 
with some particularity. I observe, therefore, 

1. That the Israelites were required expressly to en- 
ter into an open, public covenant with God. 

' Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, and serve him, 
and shalt swear by his name,' Deut. vi. 13. — ] Thou 
shalt fear the Lord thy God : him shalt thou serve : to 
him shalt thou cleave, and swear by his name.' Deut. 
x. 20.- — ' In that day shall five cities in the land of 
Egypt speak the language of Canaan, and swear to the 

Lord of hosts,' Isa. xix. 18 'And it shall come to 

pass, if they will diligently learn the ways of my peo- 
ple, to swear by my name, The Lord liveth (as they 
taught my people to swear by Baal) ; then shall they 
be built in the midst of my people,' Jer xii. 16. — 
' Them that worship the host of heaven upon the house 
top, and them that worship, and swear by the Lord, and 
that swear by Malcham,' Zeph. i. 5. 

It is observed by President Edwards, that the phrase, 
' Swear by the Lord,' ought to be rendered, ' Swear to, 
or unto, the Lord ;' and that the true meaning of the 
phrase is, ' Ye shall enter into covenant with the Lord 
your God.' Accordingly, the transaction already 
quoted from Deut. xxvi. 16, in which God avouched 
the Israelites to be his people, and they avouched him 
to be their God, is styled both a covenant and an 
oath. ' Ye stand this day, all of you, before the Lord 
your God,' says Moses to the whole people of Israel, 
' that thou shouldest enter into covenant with the Lord 
thy God, and into his oath, which the Lord thy God 
maketh with thee this day ; that he may establish thee 
to-day for a people unto himself, that he may be unto 
thee a God, as he hath said unto thee, and as he hath 
sworn unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to 
Jacob. Neither with you only do I make this cove- 
nant, and this oath, but with him that standeth here 
with us this day, before the Lord our God, and also of 
him who is not here with us this day.' 

Of the transaction here recorded, I observe, 
( I .) That it is styled both an oath and a covenant. 
(2.) That it was entered into by all the Israelites, 
both old and young, and by the strangers who were 
with them: and was made, on the part of Godj with 
their posterity: — 'Him that is not here with us this 
day.' 



(3.) It was a covenant of the same tenor with that 
which God made with Abraham : * That lie might be 
unto thee a God, as he had sworn unto thy fathers, to 
Abraham,' &c. 

(4.) That the covenant, or oath, was the same with 
that recorded in Deut. xxvi. Jehovah avouched them 
to be his people ; and they avouched him to be their 
God. 

(5.) That it is the same covenant afterward prophe- 
sied of by Jeremiah, chap, xxxi., &c, and quoted by St 
Paul, lieb. viii. 8, as the covenant of the Christian 
church ; ' I will be to them a God, and they shall be 
to me a people.' 

From these remarks it is plain, that the oath here 
sworn by all the people of Israel, was no other than a 
religious covenant between God and them, as members 
of his church. Scarcely one in one thousand of these 
persons could have any lawful occasion for swearing 
in any other sense ; and, at the time here specified, 
no such occasion existed to any individual : their 
whole business being merely to enter into this cove- 
nant with God. 

As they are accused frequently of having broken this 
covenant in their succeeding generations, it is plain 
that throughout those generations they entered into it 
in a similar manner. Several instances of this nature 
are particularly recorded. A remarkable one is found 
in 2 Chron. xv. 12, &c. Here it is said of all Judah, 
and Benjamin, and strangers from Israel, that ' they 
entered into a covenant, to seek the Lord God of 
their fathers, with all their heart, and with all their 
soul.' Of this transaction it is said, that ' they sware 
unto the Lord with a loud voice ; and all Judah re- 
joiced at the oath ; for they had sworn with all their 
heart, and sought him with their whole desire.' The 
covenant and the oath, therefore, were the same thing. 
It was also a service commanded ; for it is subjoined, 
' and he was found of them :' that is, he blessed them. 
But God blesses men to whom he has made a revela- 
tion of his will in no religious service which he hath 
not commanded. ' In vain,' saith our Saviour (quoting 
from the prophet Isaiah), ' do they worship me, teach 
ing for doctrines the commandments of men.' 

Another instance is alluded to in 2 Chron. xxix. 10 
Another is recorded in 2 Chron. xxiii. 16. 
Another, 2 Chron. xxxi v. 31, 32. 
In a word, the whole tenor of the Old Testament 
teaches us, that the Israelites were required publicly to 
enter into covenant with God in this manner: and that 
this covenant is styled indifferently a covenant, and an 
oath. As, therefore, there is no hint of any other oath 
ever taken to God by this people, as a nation ; as there 
is no conceivable occasion upon which a whole nation 
can be supposed, throughout its successive generations, 
to enter into any other oath to God ; it is plain that 
the precepts requiring them to swear to God, required 
them solely thus to take upon them this covenant. 

2. The members of the Christian church are, in my 
view, required to enter into the same covenant, in the 
same public manner. 

In Isa. xlv. 22, God says, ' Look unto me, and be ye 
saved, all the ends of the earth : for I am God ; and 
there is none else. I have sworn by myself; the word 
has gone out of my mouth in righteousness, and shall 
not return ; that unto me every knee shall bow, and 
every tongue shall swear.' In this passage, as quoted 



THE CHARACTER OF MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH. 



775 



Rom. xiv. 11, by the apostle Paul, the word rendered 
' swear,' is translated ' confess ;' i^oftoXoyiiasrai, as it 
had before been by the LXX. This, I think, is a 
direct proof of the real meaning of the word ' swear,' 
when used in this manner in the Old Testament. The 
same meaning appears to be given by God himself in 
the following verse in Isaiah : ' Surely shall one say, 
In the Lord have I righteousness and strength. ' The 
verb of&ohoysoi signifies, indifferently, to profess, and 
confess; and being thus a translation, both by the 
LXX. and St Paul, of the Hebrew verb, which signi- 
fies to 'swear,' may be considered, wherever it is used 
with the same reference, or in the absolute manner, as 
having the same meaning. In allusion to the same 
passnge of Isaiah, and with an almost literal transla- 
tion of it, St Paul says, Phil. ii. 10, ' That at the name 
of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and 
things in earth, and things under the earth ; and that 
every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
to the glory of God the Father.' Here the same verb 
is used, and translated confess. In 1 Tim. vi. 12, the 
same verb, and its kindred substantive, are rendered 
profess : as also in 2 Cor. ix. 13 ; Heb. iii. 1 ; iv. 14 ; 
x. 23, &c. The truth is, the words profess, and confess, 
differ only in this, that one of them denotes an ac- 
knowledgment made with, the other without, any sup- 
posed present, or previous, reluctance. Wherever such 
reluctance is not supposed, it ought to be translated 
profess. The duty of men to make this profession, and 
their future performance of it, our Saviour clearly dis- 
closes in Matt. x. 32, ' Whosoever, therefore, shall con- 
fess me before men, him will I confess, also, before my 
Father who is in heaven.' In exact conformity to this 
declaration, St Paul says, Rom. ix. 10, 'If thou shalt 
confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt be- 
lieve in thine heart, that God hath raised him from the 
dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man 
believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth con- 
1 fession is made unto salvation.' In both these passages 
the word ought to be profess, and profession. It is not 
easy to conceive how, in so sbort a compass, the duty 
of making a profession of religion could, without a 
precept in form, be more strongly enjoined, than it is 
in these two passages. The same duty is strongly in- 
dicated from the passage above quoted from the Epistle 
to the Philippians. 

It may naturally and reasonably be asked, Why, in 
a case of so much importance, we are not furnished 
with express precepts, solemnly enjoining this duty? 
I answer, that the Scriptures have pursued the same 
plan in this particular, with, respect to this subject, 
which they have pursued with respect to several others 
of similar importance : in the cases, for example, of 
infant baptism, and the observation of the Christian 
sabbath. In the Jewish church, a public profession of 
religion was abundantly enjoined. The Christian 
church was only a continuation of the same church 
under a new form. It seems to have been unnecessary 
so far as we can judge, to repeat a command which had 
already been so amply given. Especially was this 
unnecessary for Jews, among whom the Christian 
church commenced, and among whom alone it conti- 
nued to exist for about twelve years. All these were 
familiarized from their childhood to such a profession ; 
and acknowledged that to make it was their indispen- 
sable duty. 



The existence of this profession among the first 
Christians is often exhibited in the New Testament. 
Thus St Paul, 2 Cor. ix. 13, says to these Christians 
concerning their fellow Christians, ' They glorify God 
for your professed subjection unto the gospel of Christ ;' 
better rendered, ' for your subjection to the gospel of 
Christ, which you have professed.' In Heb. iv. 14, St 
Paul says, ' Seeing, then, that we have a great High 
Priest, who is passed into the heavens, Jesus, the Son 
of God ; let us hold fast our profession.' And again, 
Heb. x. 21, 23, ' Having an High Priest over the 
house of God, let us hold fast the profession of our faith 
without wavering : for he is faithful who promised.' 
In these instances a profession of faith, or of religion, 
is evidently spoken of as having been made by Chris 
tians universally. To Timothy the same apostle says, 
1 Tim. vi. 22, ' Fight the good fight of faith ; lay hold 
on eternal life; whereunto thou art also called, and 
hast professed ' (or, having professed), ' a good profes- 
sion before many witnesses.' What Timothy did in 
this respect, is reasonably supposed to have been done 
by all other Christians. 

' The answer of a good conscience towards God,' 
mentioned. by St Peter as given at the time of baptism, 
1 Pet. iii. 21, denotes, in my view, the same profession. 

St John speaks of the same thing ; and sufficiently 
indicates its necessity and universality, when he says, 
' Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God : 
God dwelleth in him, and he in God,' 1 John iv. 15. 
And again, ' For many deceivers are entered into the 
world, who profess not that Jesus Christ has come in 
the flesh. This is a deceiver and an antichrist.' 

From these passages of Scripture it appears to me 
evident, that Christians are required, not only to be- 
lieve the religion of Christ in their hearts, but also to 
profess it with their mouths ; that such a profession was 
universally made by the. Christians under the conduct 
of the apostles ; and that such as did not make this 
profession, were not considered as Christians. 

3. So far as I know, all those modern churches who 
do not insist on a public, verbal profession of religion, as 
a term of admission to their communion, either demand 
a private one, or consider the proposal to enter into their 
communion, as being, in itself, such a profession. 

The difference of opinion here respects evidently, 
not the substance of the thing in debate — not the duty 
of making a profession — but merely the manner in 
which it shall be made. Whatever modes may be 
adopted by different churches, there seems to be no 
debate between them concerning the main object. All 
of them suppose a profession to be actually made. 
About the manner of making it, the Scriptures have, I 
think, left room for some latitude of opinion ; about 
the profession itself, I think, they have left none. Every 
communicant is, I believe, supposed by every church, 
not grossly warped from the faith, to have made a pro- 
fession of the religion of the gospel, when he entered 
the church. 

Having now, as I hope, given a scriptural, and there- 
fore a just account of this subject, I will proceed to 
illustrate the main doctrine of the discourse from the 
nature of the covenant into which Christians enter in 
making this profession. This transaction is obviously 
the most important, and the most solemn of those which 
exist between the soul and its Maker ; its public re- 
introduction into his name, favour, family, service, 



776 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sjer. cars. 



mid efornal kingdom. The subject of it, the soul, is 
of inestimable value. The time is the sabbath ; the 
place, the sanctuary; the occasion, the public worship 
of God ; the most solemn of all occasions, places, and 
times. The Being with whom we are immediately con- 
cerned, is Jehovah. The foundation on which the 
transaction rests, is the atonement of Christ, the Medi- 
ator of the new covenant. The things which we pro- 
fess, are no other than that we choose God as our God, 
and give ourselves to him as his children. God is the 
Father, the Redeemer, and the Sanctifier of men ; the 
best Friend, the supreme Benefactor, and the highest 
portion. He is also the righteous Lawgiver and Sove- 
reign of the universe. In this covenant we publicly 
avouch him as our God, in all these characters. 

Ourselves, as children, we devote to him with all our 
talents, and services ; engaging-, through his grace, to 
obey, honour, and glorify him, according to his good 
pleasure, as revealed to us in the Scriptures. 

The consequences of this transaction are eternal life, 
virtue, and glory. 

Can it be asked, whether, in such a transaction, God 
requires that we should be sincere ; that we should mean 
what we say ; and that with the heart we should choose 
Yun as our God, and give ourselves to him as his chil- 
dren ? In such a transaction (an he fail to ' require 
truth in the inward parts ?' Surely in this case, if any, 
he demands that we should not ' love in word, nor in 
tongue, but in deed, and in truth.' If Ananias and 
Sapphira were so awfully punished for insincerity, in 
professing to give their property to God, can the guilt 
be less of those who insincerely profess to give their 
souls? The views which God entertains concerning 
this covenant, are strongly declared, when he so fre- 
quently styles it an oath. He who has thoroughly con- 
sidered the guilt of perjury, will, I think, be well pre- 
pared to estimate justly, that of intentional falsehood in 
this still more solemn transaction. 

IV. The doctrine is forcibly illustrated by the nature 
of Christian communion. 

Christian communion is a participation of the heart 
in the same interests and pursuits of evangelical reli- 
gion. 

That evangelical love is indispensable to such com- 
munion, is evident from 1 John i. 7, ' If we walk in the 
light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with 
another.' Here, walking in divine light, or possessing 
evangelical religion, is exhibited as absolutely neces- 
sary to the existence of fellowship among Christians. 
The same truth is also taught in the questions imme- 
diately following the text. In these questions it is most 
explicitly declared, that there is no fellowship, no com- 
munion, between the righteous and the unrighteous, 
between believers and unbelievers. 

What the Scriptures thus declare, both reason and 
experience unanswerably prove. The doctrines and 
precepts embraced by persons of these opposite dispo- 
sitions may be, indeed, and have in many instances 
been, in substance the same. Yet even here there 
would often be very serious diversities, furnishing a 
wide foundation for very unhappy differences. The 
iron and the clay, however nicely fashioned into well 
proportioned members, and however skilfully united, 
so as apparently to constitute a single body, would yet 
whenever the form began to move, be easily separated ; 
and show, that it was ' partly iron and partly clay.' 



Frequently, also, persons so unlike in their wishes, al- 
though originally agreeing in these respects, would 
cease from this agreement by the mere progress of 
everts. Unrenewed men, continuing unrenewed to old 
age, often give up their original orthodoxy, and zan- 
der very far from the truth. All this is abundantly at- 
tested by experience. 

Still more unharmonious would these two classes be 
in their dispositions. Men, who disagree in the essen- 
tial doctrines and precepts of religion, and often in 
those which are unessential, are apt, whatever may be 
their dispositions, to agree very imperfectly in their 
views and measures. When they are possessed of dis- 
positions very unlike, especially when wholly opposed, 
it is impossible for them to act together with harmony 
or success. Religion is an object of so much import- 
ance, that by men really religious it cannot be given 
up. It cannot be given up in parts ; it cannot be mo- 
dified, softened, or in any manner altered, so as to 
make it more palatable, or less offensive, to those with 
whom they have intercourse. All its doctrines are 
taught, and all its duties enjoined, by the authority of 
God. Pious men, therefore, can neither add, diminish, 
nor alter. Yet such alterations would often be very 
convenient, and therefore very pleasing, to their unre- 
newed brethren ; and such as refuse to make them, 
would be pronounced illiberal, imprudent, unkind, and 
bigoted. Among persons so circumstanced harmony 
is already destroyed. 

One of the great Christian duties is the reproof of 
our brethren for their faults. A religious man is pre- 
pared by his religion both to administer and receive 
evangelical reproof with the meekness and gentleness 
of the gospel. In his view sin is a great evil ; to re- 
claim or be reclaimed from which is a pre-eminent 
blessing. Reproof is the proper, efficacious, and evan- 
gelical means, of communicating or acquiring this bless- 
ing ; and will, therefore, be administered and received 
with the kindness of the gospel. 

But to sinners, reproof is the pain ; and sin the plea- 
sure ; for reproof will always be regarded merely as the 
means of restraining and lessening this pleasure. It 
will be viewed, therefore, with feelings of hostility ; and 
he who administers it will be considered as an enemy. 
Nor will the sinner himself ordinarily administer it to 
others, unless when prompted by some selfish motive ; 
nor without very visible emotions of superiority, resent- 
ment, or contempt. Sinners, therefore, are plainly un- 
qualified to take any useful part in this important 
branch of Christian communion. 

Nor are they better fitted either for giving or re- 
ceiving religious consolation. It is plainly impossible 
for them to enter cordially and deeply into interests 
which they never felt ; to indulge emotions which they 
never experienced ; to feel the- force of motives, whose 
import they cannot understand ; or to derive either 
peace or hope from the truths or promises of a religion 
to which, though professing it, they are still strangers. 

But a single point will set this part of the subject in 
the clearest light. It is this ; that Christ has enjoined 
upon all his followers brotherly love. This affection, 
as I formerly observed, is that which is commonly called 
complacency, or the love of virtue ; and is directed, not, 
like benevolence, towards the happiness of intelligent I 
beings, but towards the virtue of good beings. That 
sinners cannot exercise this affection, will not be ques- 



THE CHARACTER OF MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH. 



777 



lioned. But this is not the point at which I aim. 
Christians cannot exercise this affection towards sinners; 
because sinners do not possess the virtue which this 
command requires Christians to love. Christ cannot 
require of his disciples anything which is physically 
impossible ; but it is physically impossible to love vir- 
tue in those who have it not. Yet Christ has required 
all the members of his church to exercise this affection 
towards all. He intended, therefore, in this command, 
as well as elsewhere, that all the members of his 
church should be such as could be the objects of this 
affection. 

To this command he accordingly subjoins the follow- 
ing declaration : ' Hereby shall all men know that ye 
are mv disciples, if ye love one another.' But it is 
impossible that sinners, who are not his disciples, should 
be known to be his disciples. Sinners, therefore, were 
not included by him in the number of those of whom 
he speaks in these passages ; or, in other words, are not 
proper members of his church. 

Universally : There is, there can be, between Chris- 
tians and sinners, as members of the church of Christ, 
no community of interests, views, affections, or designs. 
A church, intentionally made up of these discordant 
materials, may be a decent company of men ; but it will 
very imperfectly sustain 'the character of a church of 
Christ. 

V. With similar clearness is the doctrine illustrated 
by the nature of Christian discipline. 

Of this subject I can give only a very summary ex- 
hibition. Christian discipline consists of private ex- 
hortation, public admonition, and excommunication. 
The end of all these administrations is the amendment 
of the offender, and the peace, purity, and edification 
of the church. By every Christian they will be regard- 
ed as institutions eminently useful to himself, and emi- 
nently beneficial to that great interest which supremely 
engrosses his heart. To him, therefore, they will be 
objects of affection and reverence. When a fellow 
Christian expostulates with him kindly, evangelically, 
and between themselves, concerning a fault, which he 
has really committed, he will be -. gained by his brother:' 
because, with a Christian spirit, and with Christian 
views, he will feel that his brother has designed good to 
him, and conscientiously performed his own duty. Un- 
der the influence of the same spirit, he will receive an 
admonition from the church with reverence and awe ; 
because he knows that the church is merely discharging 
the same duty, and aiming at the same benevolent end. 
Even if he should be excommunicated, an event which 
in such a church will rarely take place, he will of course, 
when his passions have subsided, and the period of self- 
examination has returned, resume the character of a 
penitent ; humbly acknowledge the rectitude of the ad- 
ministration ; and by an ingenuous confession of his 
fault, and the reformation of his life, become reconciled 
to his fellow Christians. 

Sinners, on the contrary, will receive all these acts 
of discipline with reluctance and resentment ; and will 
never realize their necessity, nor their usefulness. The 
faults for which discipline is instituted, they will usually 
consider as commendable actions, as matters of indiffer- 
ence, or at the worst as mere peccadillos, about which 
no man ought to feel any serious concern. Remon- 
strances against them they will regard as flowing from 
personal pique, pride, or a spirit of meddling ; and 



every subsequent measure of discipline, as springing 
out of bigotry, persecution, or revenge. An ecclesias- 
tical process will be viewed by them as a mere prosecu- 
tion ; and those concerned in it against them, as mere 
litigants, influenced only by selfish passions, and not by 
a sense of duty. 

In the administration of discipline, unless stimulated 
by such passions, they will either net unite at all, or 
unite with indifference and reluctance. They will be 
too prudent to provoke their neighbours, and too worldly 
to trouble themselves about the peace or purity cf the 
church. It may, I believe, be truly said, that Christian 
discipline never was, and never will be, for any length 
of time maintained, where the majority of those intrust- 
ed with it are, or have been, men of this character. 

VI. This truth is decisively proved by the manner in 
which the Christian church is spoken of in the New 
Testament. 

The common name for the church in the Old Testa- 
ment is ' Zion.' Under this name it is spoken of as ' a 
holy hill ;' as ' loved by God;' as ' the heritage of God ;' 
as ' the Zion of the Holy One of Israel.' It is said, that 
' Christ is her King,' that ' God will place salvation in 
her;' that ' he will reign in her;' that 'he commands 
there the blessing, even life for ever more.' In these, 
and a multitude of other instances, exactly the same 
character is given of the church under the Mosaic, which 
was afterward given of it under the Christian dispensa- 
tion. This fact furnishes unanswerable proof, that the 
church was intentionally formed, and is actually regard- 
ed, in the same manner by God in every age. 

The character of the church, as given in the New 
Testament, will be sufficiently learned from the follow- 
ing passages : — 

To the church at Rome, St Paul writes in these terms: 
' Among whom are ye also, the called of Jesus Christ. 
To all that are in Rome, beloved of God, called to be 
saints. First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ 
for you all ; that your faith is spoken of throughout the 
whole world,' Rom. i. 6 — 8. 

' And I myself am persuaded of you, my brethren, 
that ye also are full of goodness, filled with all know- 
ledge, able also to admonish one another,' Rom. xv. 14. 
To the Corinthians he writes, ' Unto the church of 
God, which is at Corinth, to them that are sanctified in 
Christ Jesus, called to be saints. I thank my God al- 
ways on your behalf for the grace of God, which is given 
you by Christ Jesus,' 1 Cor. i. 2, 4. 

To the Galatians he writes, 'Now we, brethren as 
Isaac was, are the children of the promise,' Gal. iv. 28. 
To the Ephesiar.s he writes, ' Paul, an apostle of 
Jesus Christ by the will of God, to the saints who 
are at Ephesus, and to the faithful in Christ Jesus,' 
Eph. i. 1. 

To the Piiilippians he writes, ' I thank my God for 
your fellowship in the gospel, from the first day until 
now : being confident of this very thing, that he who 
hath begun a good work in you, will perform it until 
the day of Jesus Christ,' Phil. i. 3, 5, 6. 

To the Colossians he writes, ' Paul, an apostle, to the 
saints and faithful brethren in Christ, who are at Co- 
losse : we give thanks to God, since we have heard of 
your faith in Christ Jesus, and of the love which ye have 
to all the saints, for the hope, which is laid up for you 
in heaven,' Col. i. 1 — 5. 

To the Thessalonians he writes, ' We give thanks to 
5 F 



778 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



God ahvay for you all, remembering without ceasing 
your work of faith, and labour of love, and patience of 
hope, in our Lord Jesus Christ, in the sight of God 
even our Father; knowing, brethren beloved, your 
ejection of God,' 1 Thess. i. 4. 

To the Hebrews he writes, < Brethren, we are persuad- 
ed better things of you, and things that accompany 
salvation,' Heb. vi. 9. 

St James, speaking of himself, and of the churches to 
whom he wrote, says, < Of his own will begat he us with 
the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits 
of his creatures,' James i. 1 8. 

St Peter writes to the churches in Pontus, &c., ' Elect 
according to the foreknowledge of God the Father 
through sanctification of the Spirit, unto obedience, and 
sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ/ 1 Pet. i. 2. 

St John says, < I write unto you, little children' be- 
cause your sins are forgiven you. I write unto you 



[Ser. cl. 



fathers, because ye have known hiin that is from the 
beginning. I write unto you, young men, because ye 
have overcome the wicked one,' 1 John ii. 12, 13. 

St Jude, addressing his epistle to the churches 'gene- 
rally, writes, < To them that are sanctified by God the 
father, and preserved in Jesus Christ, and called' 
Jude 1. ' 

With this language everything found in the New 
lestament perfectly harmonizes. One character and 
one only, is given in it of the church ; and that is the 
character of Christians. There is no mixture of any 
other character. Even when the faults of its members 
are mentioned, they are mentioned solely as the back- 
slidings of Christians, and never as the sins of unbe- 
lieving and impenitent men. How then can we enter- 
tain a rational doubt, that God, when he instituted his 
church,- intended it to be an assembly of believers ' 



SERMON CL. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE.-EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.-OFFICERS OF THE CHTTRPH 
-MINISTERS OF THE GOSPEL.-WHO ARE MINISTERS "' 



oversight thereof, not by constraint, bitt willingly ■ not for Lb! i' f !■ u amon 9 ^u ; taking the 
be ln g lords over God's heritage, but' being ensal/pies Tothe^ct.^il *?£l ""* M ! •*>* " 



In the preceding Discourse concerning the constitution 
ol the Christian church, I observed, that < the church is 
composed of its ordinary members, and its officers ' 
I he character of its ordinary members I investigated 
at that time. I shall now consider, the character of its 
otncers. 

Before I commence the direct examination of this 
subject I shall make a few preliminary observations. 

1. Ihe Scriptures have actually constituted certain 
officers in the church. 

iJV-TZ d f erences of "Pinion exist concerning 
the kinds of officers in the church designated by the 
Scriptures, it is agreed by most, if not all Christians, 
that such officers, of some kind or other, are established 
by the sacred volume. We there read of ministers 
pastors, teachers, bishops, &c. By these names, it is 
generally acknowledged, officers of one or more classes 
were denoted, who were intended always to be found in 
the Christian church. Certain powers also they were 
intended to possess, and certain duties to perform. 

2. Whatever the Scriptures have said of these men is 
of divine authority and obligation ; but nothing else is of 
such authority, nor at all obligatory on the consciences 
or mankind. 

Whatever the Scriptures have instituted, required 
or directed, is instituted, required, and directed by 
God ; and is invested with his authority. All else by 
whomsoever said, or in what age soever, is said by man. 



But man has no authority over the conscience, and can 
never bind his fellow man in any religious concern 
whatever. If, then, we find in the present, or any past 
age, anything said on the subject, whether by divines 
or others, however learned and esteemed they may have 
been, which at the same time is not said in the Scrip- 
tures, it is totally destitute of any authority or obliga- 
tion with respect to us. It may, or may not, be said 
wisely. It may be good or bad advice or opinion ; 
but it cannot in any degree have the nature of law, nor 
be at all obligatory on their fellow men. 

The fathers of the church, for example, were in 
many instances good, and in some, wise men. They 
are often valuable witnesses to facts. On a variety of 
occasions they help us to the true meaning of words 
phrases, and passages in the Scriptures. They often 
edify us also by their piety. But their opinion, or 
judgment, or injunctions, are totally destitute of autho- 
rity, and stand upon exactly the same level with those 
ot men, who now sustain a similar character. If we 
could rely on the authenticity of the smaller Epistles 
ot St Ignatius ; or had we the autographs in our pos- 
session, all the injunctions and declarations contained 
in them, exclusively of those derived from the Scrip- 
tures, would be mere advice, or information 

3 Whatever church officers the Scriptures have esta- 
Wished 1 as standing officers, are appointed by God him- 
self. The church, therefore, is bound to receive them 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH.— WHO ARE MINISTERS. 



779 



as having been thus appointed ; and to take effectual 
care that they always exist. 

This will not be denied by any man, who admits the 
divine revelation of the Scriptures. 

4. No other officers besides those thus appointed, have 
any authority to plead for their existence in office. All 
others are of mere human institution ; convenient and 
useful, perhaps ; but never to be regarded as possessing 
any authority, except what arises from the personal 
consent, or engagement, of those who receive them : 
and this can never be obligatory on the consciences of 
others. 

It is to no purpose here to allege, that they have 
been introduced and established by the deliberate deter- 
mination of wise and good men, or of the whole church. 
It is to no purpose to allege that they have existed for 
any length of time, however great ; nor that they have 
existed in various churches, however distinguished for 
learning and piety. It is to no purpose to allege, that 
these churches have believed them to be divinely insti- 
tuted. This belief, respectable as those are who have 
entertained it, can claim no more authority, and in- 
volves no more obligation, than any other opinion con- 
cerning any oilier subject. 

5. T/ the Scriptures have constituted officers in the 
church, and have partially and imperfectly designated 
their classes, numbers, offices, and duties ; then this im- 
perfect exhibition of the subject, and this alone, is of di- 
vine authority and obligation. 

It has been often supposed, that God has of design 
left the subject of ecclesiastical government partially 
exhibited in the Scriptures. Whatever else was neces- 
sary to complete the system, he is farther supposed to 
have left to be supplied by the prudence of Christians, 
as the various circumstances of the church, in various 
ages and countries, might require. If this supposition 
be admitted, then whatever is contained in this imper- 
fect institution of ecclesiastical government in the 
Scriptures is authoritative and obligatory ; and what- 
ever is supplied by human wisdom to complete the sys- 
tem, is merely advisory and prudential. 

The full admission of these principles would, as it 
seems to me, prepare the way for a final removal of 
most disputes concerning this subject. 

These things being premised, as indispensable to a 
just decision concerning this subject, I observe, that the 
system of ecclesiastical government mentioned in the 
Scriptures is disclosed by them either completely, or 
partially. If they have completely disclosed this sys- 
tem, then we shall find it all in the sacred volume, and 
cannot need to search for it elsewhere. If they have 
disclosed it partially, then a partial disclosure was suffi- 
cient ; and this part is all that possesses, or can possess, 
any authority to bind the consciences of men. What- 
ever additions are made to it, and however wisely or 
necessarily they are made by men, they cannot pretend 
to the least authority or obligation. It is in vain to say, 
that in this case the church would be left at loose ends, 
and unprotected against disorder andschism. The answer 
to this objection is obvious and complete. The church 
is left as Infinite Wisdom chose to leave it. Should we 
grant, contrary to truth and decency, that the situation in 
which it is left is not the best; still the evil is without 
remedy ; for we cannot add to the words of God. 

Let us now inquire what ecclesiastical officers are 
mentioned in the Scriptures, as instituted by God. 



The largest and most particular account given of this 
subject in the Scriptures, is in Eph. iv. 11;' And he 
gave some apostles, and some prophets, and some evan- 
gelists, and some pastors and teachers.' Here we find 
at least four sorts of officers in the church ; four classes 
of men, who are empowered each to do some things 
in the church, which they, and they only, had a right 
to do. 

The office of apostles is acknowledged on all hands 
long since to have terminated. 

Of prophets, it is only necessary to observe, that 
their office must terminate, of course, when inspiration 
terminates. 

Evangelists, the third class here mentioned, are uni- 
versally acknowledged to have been extraordinary offi- 
cers, and to have ceased in a very early period of the 
church ; unless the word be supposed to denote merely 
a minister without a cure. 

There remain then only ' pastors and teachers.' From 
the phraseology here used, it appears to me evident, 
that they were not two distinct orders of men, but one, 
destined to feed and teach the church. 

The language is not, as in the preceding clauses, 
' some pastors,' and ' some teachers,' but ' some pastors 
and teachers,' that is, some, who were both pastors and 
teachers. To ' teach ' the church is to feed it with the 
bread of life. 

Some Christian churches have supposed, that teach- 
ers were men who, holding the pastoral office, were 
particularly to be employed in teaching candidates for 
the ministry whatever was necessary to qualify them 
for this office. Others have believed that they were 
destined to the employment of teaching and defending 
evangelical truth generally, without taking upon them- 
selves the care of particular churches. As all these, so 
far as I know, consider both kinds of officers as of the 
same rank, and as invested with exactly the same 
powers, it will be unnecessary at the present time to 
examine this opinion. 

We are come then to one class of permanent ecclesi- 
astical officers, mentioned in this text ; viz. that which 
is known by the word ' pastors.' 

The apostle is here recounting those officers which 
Christ gave to the church, when he ascended to heaven ; 
and it must, I think, be admitted, that he mentions all 
those which Christ gave to the church directly, or in 
his own person. All other ecclesiastical officers con- 
stituted in the Scriptures, were therefore constituted 
afterward by the apostles. Of these 1 know of but one 
class mentioned in the Scriptures, viz., deacons. In 
Acts vi. seven men are said to have been chosen to 
this office, and set apart by prayer, and the laying on 
of hands. 

The only debate concerning this subject respects the 
class, or classes of officers, denoted by the word ' pas- 
tors.' In my own opinion, this word includes a single 
class only, spoken of elsewhere in the Scriptures under 
the names elders, bishops, ministers, teachers, and some 
others. This opinion I shall endeavour to support by 
the following arguments, derived from the word of God. 
Of these I allege, 

1. The text. 

The text is addressed directly to the pastors of the 
Christian church, under the name elders; derived, as 
is that of pastor also, from the Old Testament. In the 
customary language of the Jews, the word elders de» 



780 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skh. ex. 



noted the rulers and counsellors of that nation ; as some 
corresponding word has often denoted, either generally 
or particularly, the rulers and counsellors of other na- 
tions. Thus among the Romans senator, and among 
ourselves senator, denoted an officer similar to the Jew- 
ish elder. Human wisdom is chiefly the result of ex- 
perience ; and experience is the result of years. Na- 
tions therefore, peculiarly when unenlightened by sci- 
ence, have committed the direction of public affairs and 
public counsels almost exclusively to the aged. The 
name, in this appropriate sense, was naturally transfer- 
red to those who were to counsel and direct the church 
especially by the apostles, as being Jews, and writing 
originally for their own countrymen. These elders are 
exhorted to * feed,' that is, to teach, edify, and rule the 
flock of God. That the Greek word, Troificema, a de- 
rivative of which is here translated ' feed,' signifies to 
rule, in the most extensive manner, can be doubted by 
no man at all conversant with the Greek language, 
either in the Classics, or the New Testament. They are 
also directed to ' take the oversight of it,' or in more 
exact language, ' to oversee it ' (they had already taken 
the oversight of it) ' willingly ;' not of constraint, nor 
for the sake of gain. The Greek word, rendered ' tak- 
ing the oversight,' is nriiix.o7?ovvTiz, exactly rendered 
' overseeing,' or exercising the office of an overseer, or 
bishop. 

Elders, therefore, were to exercise the office of a 
bishop, or overseer ; and of course were invested with 
that office. To this the only reply is, that elder is a 
generic term, including both bishops and ordinary 
elders, or ministers. This will be considered farther 
on. At present, I observe, that these directions are 
given to elders absolutely, and as elders merely ; and 
to all elders therefore, without distinction. 1 know 
not by what warrant we can suppose, that St Peter, 
writing with the Spirit of inspiration, has written so 
loosely, as to express that in the most absolute manner, 
which was intended in a very limited sense ; so limited, 
as to exclude nineteen-twentieths of all those who are 
apparently included in his direction : while, at the same 
time, he has given no notice, eilher before or after, of 
this design. What in such a case must be the construc- 
tion of this passage by the elders, to whom it was writ- 
ten ; and what their subsequent conduct, in obedience 
to it? If it be supposed by us, who have the whole 
Bible before us, that this strange construction ought to 
be given to it, would it be possible for these elders, who 
had no other writing of this apostle, and few of them, 
probably, any other writings of the New Testament, to 
understand tiiat what is here obviously made the duty 
of every elder, was really the duty of one only, out of 
many ? 

2. I allege Acts xx. 17, 28 : ' And from Miletus he 
sent to Ephesus, and called the elders of the church.' 
A part of the directions which he gave to these elders 
is recited thus; 'Take heed, therefore, to yourselves, 
and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost 
hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, 
which he hath purchased with his own blood.' 

On these two verses, thus connected, I remark, 

(1.) That in Ephesus there were several elders of the 
church. 

(2.) That all these elders were bishops. 

The word, rendered in the English translation, over- 
seers, is in the original tinuKaxw;, the only word, in 



the New Testament, which is rendered bishop. The 
word bishop is synonymous with overseer. 

(3.) That the Holy Ghost constituted, or made, these 
several elders, bishops. The original word is iSno, j| 
constituted. 

(4.) That in Ephesus all the elders of the church were 
bishops. These were plainly all the elders of that 
church ; as is evident from the phraseology. The words 
are, ' And from. Miletus he sent to Ephesus, and called 
the elders of the church.' 

(5.) That, therefore, there was no one bishop, of su- 
perior authority ; or holding an office or character whicfl 
distinguished him from other bishops in that city. 

(6.) That Timothy could not be, although he is exten- 
sively supposed to have been, the sole bishop, or diocesan, 
of the church in that city ; because other men were 
bishops in that church. 

The elders, to whom St Peter wrote in the text, were 
all who dwelt in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia 
Proper, and Bithynia ; provinces, constituting more 
than two-thirds of that great country, called the Lesser 
Asia ; at that time full of churches and Christians. 
All the elders of all these churches he exhorts to exer- 
cise the office of a bishop in the church. 

All the elders in Ephesus, the chief city in the same 
country, St Paul declares to have been ' constituted 
bishops by the Holy Ghost.' Both apostles speak the 
same language to the same persons ; language, which 
has obviously but one meaning. 

These passages in the most explicit manner teach us, 
that elders, universally, and bishops, are the same per- 
sons ; destined to exactly the same purposes, and in- 
vested with exactly the same powers. 

3. I allege Phil. i. ' Paul and Timotheus, servants of 
Jesus Christ, to all the saints in Christ Jesus, who are 
in Philippi, with the bishops and deacons.' 

Concerning this passage, I observe, 

(1.) That there is no mention made of elders in this 
church, by name. 

1 The saints, with the bishops and deacons,' are ex- 
pressly mentioned. If there were elders in this chinch 
who were distinct from the bishops,, the omission of 
them is inexplicable. If elders be allowed to have 
been officers, inferior to bishops, they were unquestion- 
ably superior to deacons ; and it is incredible, that this 
letter should not have been addressed to them also, 
when it was addressed to ' the deacons.' The impor- 
tant interest and office which they held in this church, 
rendered it highly proper that the contents of the letter 
should be addressed personally to them ; more so, cer- 
tainly, than that it should be addressed to the deacons. 
Had it been addressed to bishops, elders, and deacons, 
it would have been thought, by an advocate for prela- 
tical episcopacy, absolutely decisive in favour of three 
orders of ecclesiastical officers. As it now stands, and 
as it is uncontradicted by any other passage of Scrip- 
ture, I think it is equally decisive that there were but 
two. 

(2.) It is certain, that in the Philippian church there 
were several bishops ; and therefore, whatever was the 
case with other churches in this respect, there was not at, 
Philippi a single bishop, presiding over a number of sub- 
ordinate ministers. But there is no reason to conclude, 
that the Philippian church was, in this respect, differ- 
ently constituted from other churches. 

4. I allege the fact, that no mention is made of 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH WHO ARE MINISTERS. 



781 



bishops, by way of address (except the text just quoted 
from Philippians, i. ]), or direction, or salutation. 

The word S7ri<7x.owog (bishop or overseer) occurs in 
the New Testament five times. Once it is applied to 
Christ; viz. 1 Pet. ii. 25 ; and four times denotes offi- 
cers in the church. The word iittax-aivn is once used 
i to denote the office of a bishop ; viz. 1 Tim. iii. 1 ; in 
• two instances to denote visitation ; Luke xix. 44, and 
: 1 Pet. ii. 12 ; and once is quoted from Psal. cix. 8, to 
denote, by way of accommodation, the employment of 
Judas as an apostle. lE.7rtox.07rea, to oversee, or exercise 
the office of a bishop, is used once, with that meaning, 
namely, in the text , and once, Heb. xii. 15, where it>is 
translated, with exact propriety, 'looking diligently.' 
In all the addresses of their several letters by the 
! apostles to the several churches, there is not, except in 
that just mentioned, a single allusion to bishops, as a 
peculiar order of men. In the numerous salutations, 
with which the epistles are concluded, and in the several 
i directions given to the churches, there is not the least 
mention made, nor the least hint given concerning this 
class of officers. 

Had such a class existed, to whom the government 
of churches and subordinate ministers was chiefly or 
wholly committed, is it credible, that no mention should 
be made of them, in the numerous directions given for 
the government of the church ? There are several 
proper cases of discipline mentioned in the Epistle to 
the Corinthians ; particularly, the case of the man who 
had his father's wife. St Paul directs the whole church 
of Corinth, ' when gathered together in the name of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, and his Spirit, with the power 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, to deliver this person to 
Satan, for the destruction of the flesh ;' 1 Cor. vi. 1, 4, 
5 ; that is, to excommunicate him. The church did 
excommunicate him. Of this fact St Paul gives us an 
account, 2 Cor. ii. 5, 6, where he says, ' Sufficient to 
such a man is this punishment, which was inflicted of 
many ;' i/7ro lav ■a-Mionau, ' by the majority, or the 
chief part of the members.' Had there been a bishop, 
intrusted with the government of the church at Corinth 
(and if not at Corinth, where could we expect to find 
such bishops?) is it credible, that this important act of 
church government should not have been assigned to 
him ; and afterward recited as having been executed 
by him, or at least under his authority ? Is it credible, 
that in all the mention which is made of government in 
the church, there should nowhere be any mention made 
of bishops, as particularly concerned in this subject? 
What is said in the epistles to Timothy and Titus, and 
may be thought inconsistent with this remark, I shall 
consider hereafter. 

In all the salutations also, directed universally to all 
the saints, and to many humble individuals by name, 
there is no mention made of bishops. Yet several of 
the epistles are addressed to churches, in cities of great 
eminence where bishops must, if anywhere, have re- 
sided. The passage in Heb. xiii. 24, ' Salute them 
who have the rule over you,' I shall examine in another 
place. 

5. I allege also the commission originally given to mi- 
nisters of the gospel. 

This is found at length in Matt, xxviii. 19, 20 : 'Go 
ye, disciple all nations ; baptizing them into the name 
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; 
teaching them to observe ali things whatsoever I have 



commanded you. And. lo ! I am with you always, un- 
to the end of the world. Amen.' 

This commission is plainly given to all ministers, be- 
cause it is given without discrimination, and because it 
is given to them unto the end of the world. It is their 
only commission, and conveys the only authority under 
which they act as ministers. The authority which it 
conveys is also the same to all. Unless then this com- 
mission is qualified elsewhere, there can be no distinc- 
tion among ministers. Those to whom precisely the 
6ame authority is given by the same commission, it is 
hardly necessary to observe, sustain exactly the same 
office. 

6. I allege, as proof of the same doctrine, the fact, 
that the same duties are assigned to all ministers of the 
gospel. 

The duties assigned to ministers of the gospel are, 
public and private prayer in the church ; preaching the 
gospel ; administering baptism, and the Lord's Supper ; 
ruling ; and ordaining other ministers. All these are 
assigned to elders universally, in as plain language as 
any which is used about these subjects. With regard 
to the three first of these duties, this will not be ques- 
tioned. The whole debate respects the two last. I 
shall, therefore, consider these particularly. 

Concerning ruling the church, we have the following 
passages : 

' A bishop must be one that ruleth well his own 
house, having his children in subjection with all gra- 
vity. For if a man know not how to rule his own house, 
how shall he take care of the church of God,' 1 Tim. 
iii. 2, 4, 5. 

' Let the elders who rule well be counted worthy of 
double honour ; especially they who labour in the word 
and doctrine,' 1 Tim. v. 17. 

In the first of these passages, a bishop is required to 
rule well. In the second it is required, that the elders 
who rule well should be accounted worthy of double 
honour. So far as these two passages are concerned, it 
will not be questioned, that ruling is assigned as expli- 
citly to elders, as to bishops ; nor that the elder is 
equally entitled with the bishop to the employment of 
ruling. But this is the only passage in the New Testa- 
ment, in which ruling is expressly assigned to a 
bishop ; unless the word, rendered bishop, should be 
supposed to contain such an assignment. 

The character of Timothy and Titus, as bishops, will 
be hereafter considered. 

In Rom. xii. 8, it is said, ' He that ruleth,' is required 
to do this duty ' with diligence.' This passage plainly 
lies out of the debate. 

In Heb. xiii. 7, the apostle says, ' Remember them 
who have the rule over you, who have spoken to you 
the word of life.' — < Obey them that have the rule over 
you, and submit yourselves ; for they watch for your 
souls, as they that must give account,' verse 17. — ' Sa- 
lute all them that have the rule over you, and all the 
saints. They of Italy salute you.' 

Here we find the rule over the church, or churches, 
to whom this epistle was directed, committed to many 
hands ; ' Them that have the rule over you ;' and ' all 
them that have the rule over you.' If this epistle was 
sent to a single church, or to the churches of a single 
city (Jerusalem for instance) ; then in that church, or 
in the churches of that city, there were several persons 
who had the rule over these churches. That it was thus 



782 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. ci. 



sent, is both reasonable, in the nature of the case, be- 
cause otherwise there would be nobody to receive, to 
keep, or to testify to, a part of the canon of Scripture ; 
and because, in the last quoted verse, they of Italy are 
said to salute the persons to whom it was written. Of 
course, these rulers cannot have been bishops of exten- 
sive dioceses : but ordinary ministers of the church. 

In accordance with this opinion, the most judicious 
divines have supposed this epistle to have been directed 
to the Hebrews in Palestine, and particularly those in 
Jerusalem. 

The rulers spoken of in the 7th verse have been sup- 
posed to be dead at the time when the epistle was writ- 
ten ; the latter end of the year 63. St James the Less, 
often called the Bishop of Jerusalem, died probably 
about one year before this time. He was the only per- 
son who with any pretence can be supposed to have 
ruled them as a bishop. Plainly, James, the brother 
of John, and Stephen, the proto-martyr, were not, as 
Theodoret supposes, at all concerned in ruling this 
church. If the other James had been their bishop, it is 
not easy to conceive how, in such a passage, there should 
be no hint concerning his ruling over them ; and how 
St Paul, if their government had not been committed to 
a considerable number of persons, should have written 
as he has done in this verse. 

In the two last of these verses, the rulers mentioned 
were still living ; and, from the language used, existed 
in considerable numbers. At the same time, no bishop 
is mentioned, or alluded to, in any manner of distinc- 
tion whatever. Ecclesiastical government, therefore, 
was not, at the time when this epistle was written, in 
the hands of a diocesan bishop at Jerusalem. To say 
the least, such a fact receives no countenance from the 
Epistle to the Hebrews. These are the only passages 
in which ruling, and the character of rulers in the 
church, are directly mentioned in the Scriptures. I 
presume it is plain from these passages, that ruling is at 
least as directly and as extensively ascribed to elders, 
as to bishops ; and that, so far as these texts are con- 
cerned, it belongs to the former as extensively as to the 
latter. 

But preaching is everywhere in the Scriptures ex- 
hibited as an employment superior to that of ruling. In 
the passage quoted from 1 Tim. v. 17, this truth is de- 
cisively exhibited: 'Let the elders who rule well, be 
accounted worthy of double honour (that is, of high 
honour) ; especially they who labour in the word and 
doctrine.' Here St Paul directs that preaching elders 
should be accounted worthy of more honour than ruling 
elders. As the rulers are here supposed to ' rule well ' 
(that is, to do their duty faithfully,) it is clear, that 
the superior honour given to those who preach, is 
given only on account of the superiority of their em- 
ployment. 

Preaching was the first business on which the apos- 
tles, and afterward the seventy, were sent. It was, also, 
the first active business of Christ himself; as he has told 
us in Luke iv. 18, quoted from Isaiah lxi. 1 : 'The 
Spirit of the Lord is upon me ; because he hath anoint- 
ed me to preach the gospel to the poor.' 

Of the apostles it is said, Mark iii. 14, ' And he or- 
dained twelve, that they should be with him, and that 
he might send them forth to preach.' When they went 
out on their first mission, Christ said to them, ' Co to 
the lost sheep of the house of Israel ; and as ye go, 



preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand,* 
Matt. x. 6, 7. 

To the seventy he said, ' Into whatsoever city ye enter, 
heal the sick that are therein ; and say unto thein, The 
kingdom of Cod is come nigh unto you,' Luke x. 8, 9. 

' Christ,' saith St Paul, ' sent me not to baptize, but to 
preach the gospel.' 

Again : ' I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ : 
for it is the power of God unto salvation,' Rom. i. 16. 

Again : ' When it pleased God, who separated me 
from my mother's womb, and called me by his grace, 
to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him 
among the heathen,' Cal. i. 15. 

According to this scheme, the Scriptures are full of 
commands, exhortations, discussions, descriptions, and 
other exhibitions, concerning preaching the gospel, as 
the great duty of ministers. In all these it is presented 
as the most important business of a minister ; compared 
with which, every other is of a very subordinate na- 
ture. Ruling, on the contrary, is mentioned but six 
times in the New Testament ; and there without a hint 
of its possessing any peculiar consequence. If elders, 
therefore, had been distinguished from bishops by in- 
feriority of power, as rulers, they would still hold a 
higher and more important employment, as decided by 
the Scriptures. If there are different classes of minis- 
ters, the preacher is certainly made in the New Testa- 
ment superior to the ruler. Yet ruling is the peculiar 
employment professedly assigned to the supposed higher 
class of ministers. (Jan this scheme consist with what 
we have just now heard from the Scriptures? 

The subject of ordaining ministers is mentioned nine 
times : four in the phraseology of ' laying on hands ;' 
and five in other, varying terms. 

' And he ' (that is, Christ) ' ordained twelve, that 
they should be with him,' Mark iii. 14. The Greek 
word here is s^or/iai, constituted. ' Wherefore of these 
men,' says St Peter, ' must one be ordained to be a 
witness with us of his resurrection,' Acts i. 21, 22. The 
Greek word is here ysvsaSat, become. 

' And when they ' (the apostles) ' had ordained them 
elders in every church,' Acts xiv. 23. Here the Greek 
word is, #£/£0T0i;>7er«i/T£j, originally signifying to stretch 
out the hand ; then to elect with uplifted hands ; and 
afterward to appoint, to constitute to an office. ' Where- 
unto,' says St Paul, ' I am ordained a preacher, and an 
apostle,' 1 Tim. ii. 7. The Greek word here is tTtSw, 
I was appointed. 

' For this cause left I thee in Crete ; that thou 
shouldest set in order the things that are wanting, and 
ordain elders in every city.' Here the Greek word is 
x.a.ra.arrta-/ig, constitute. It is doubtful whether ordain- 
ing, in the ecclesiastical sense, is intended in either of 
these passages, except the third ; Acts xiv. 23 : and 
even this will admit of serious debate. 

In the last, to wit, Tit. i. 5, the power of ordaining 
has been supposed to be attributed to a bishop. The 
justice of this supposition must be determined by an- 
swers to two questions. The first is, Whether zona.- 
oTYiariz signifies ordination in the appropriate sense ; or 
to constitute elders, already ordained, ministers of par- 
ticular churches f or, in other words, to appoint them 
their particular places of administration. 

The second is, Whether Titus was a bishop in the 
prelatical sense? This subject will be examined in its 
proper place. 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH WHO ARE MINISTERS. 



783 



The four remaining instances are mentioned in the I 
appropriate language of ' laying on hands ;' imrtSiiftt I 
££<£«?, phraseology which usually denotes ecclesiastical : 
ordination in the proper sense. They are the following: 
' Whom,' that is, the seven deacons first chosen, ' they 
set before the apostles ; and when they had prayed, 
they laid hands on them,' Acts vi. 6. ' And when they,' 
that is, the apostles, ' had fasted and prayed, and laid 
hands on them,' viz., Paul and Barnabas, ' they sent 
them away,' Acts xiii. 3. 

' Lay hands suddenly on no man,' 1 Tim. i. 22. 
' Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given 
thee by prophecy, and the laying on of the hands of 
the presbytery,' or body of elders. 

In all these instances, ordination, in the appropriate 
sense, is undoubtedly intended. As the apostles laid , 
hands on those to whom they communicated the mira- | 
culous gift of the Holy Ghost, the same phraseology is 
used twice with reference to this subject, Acts viii. 17, 
19, both but one instance ; and 1 Tim. i. 6. It is also 
used to denote the laying on of the hands of him who 
offered a sin-offering, Heb. vi. 2. 

Of the four instances in which this phraseology de- 
notes ecclesiastical ordination, it is, in two, attributed to 
the apostles generally. In the third, Timothy is com- 
manded to ' lay hands suddenly on no man.' That is, 
not hastily to ordain, or be concerned in ordaining, any 
man, lest he should prove an unsuitable person for the 
ministry. In the fourth, the ordination of Timothy is 
attributed to the whole body of presbyters or elders, 
who united in his ordination. Of these instances, the 
only ones of this nature in the Bible, it is perfectly 



plain, that there is but one in which ordination can 
possibly be ascribed in any construction to persons who 
were bishops in the modern sense : viz., the passage in 
which Timothy is commanded to lay hands suddenly 
on no man. Here the' ascription depends wholly on 
the fact, that Timothy was such a bishop, and bishop of 
Ephesus ; a fact which, it is presumed, cannot be estab- 
lished. Leaving this, however, for the present, I ob- 
serve, that, were it to be granted, still, as Timothy's own 
ordination is directly ascribed to the presbytery only, 
the Scriptures attribute ordination at least as evidently, 
and as extensively, to presbyters as to bishops. 

Of this power, also, as well as that of ruling, it is to 
be observed, when compared with preaching, very little 
stress is laid on it in the Scriptures. It is mentioned 
but nine times, even if we adopt the utmost latitude or 
construction ; and in all these, except two, is mentioned 
incidentally. In one of these two, St Paul commands 
Timothy to lay hands suddenly on no man, 1 Tim. vi. 
16. In the other, he mentions that he had left Titus 
in Crete, to ordain elders in every city. Preaching 
the gospel, on the contrary, is, throughout the New 
Testament, and often in the Old, exhibited as the great 
duty of a Christian minister; as his chief, most useful, 
and most honourable destination. From this state of 
the subject, the conclusion is therefore warrantably 
drawn, that, in the view of the Scriptures, ordaining 
is an employment wholly inferior in its nature and im- 
portance. Of course, the powers claimed by the bishop 
as peculiar to his. office, are inferior to those confessedly 
attributed to the elder, and can, in no scriptural sense, 
become means of raising the former above the latter. 



SERMON CLI. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.— EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH. 

—MINISTERS OF THE GOSPEL.— WHO ARE MINISTERS. 



The eldsrs which are among you I exhort, who am also an elder, and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, and 
a partaker of the glory that shall be revealed. Feed the flock of God, which is among you; taking the 
oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly ; not for filthy lucre, but of a ready mind : neither as being 
lords over God's heritage, but being ensamples to the flock 1 Peter v. 1 3. 



In the preceding Discourse I mentioned it, as being in 
my own opinion the doctrine of the Scriptures, that 
there are but two kinds of permanent officers in the 
church of Christ. 

In support of this doctrine I alleged the following 
things: 
- (1.) The text. 

(2.) Acts xx. 17,28. 

(3.) Philippians i. 1. 

(4.) The fact, that, except in this passage, no men- 
tion is made of bishops by way of address, direction, or 
salutation. 

(5.) The commission originally given to ministers of 
the gospel. 



(6.) The fact, that the same duties are assigned to 
all such ministers. 

I shall now proceed to support the same doctrine by 
exhibiting at some length the manner in which minis- 
ters are spoken of in the gospel. This very genera 
head, which I could not conveniently make less gene- 
ral, I shall illustrate from the following sources : — 

1. The address of Christ to his apostles, Mark x 
42, 45, with the parallel passage : 

' Ye know, that they who are accounted to rule over 
the Gentiles, exercise lordship over them, and their 
great ones exercise authority over them ; but it shall 
not be so among you. For whosoever will be great 
among you, shall be your minister ; and whosoever will 



784 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. cm. 



be the ehiefest, shall be servant of all. For the 
Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to 
minister.' 

The apostles, Tames and John, as we are informed 
in the context, had solicited Christ, that they might be 
exalted to peculiar distinction and authority in his 
kingdom. The other apostles were offended at this 
scheme of ambition on the part of their companions, as 
being themselves desirous of the same elevation. To 
repress every such feeling in them all, Christ utters the 
words which have been quoted. These words certainly 
discouraged all wishes for peculiar authority in the 
minds of the apostles, as ministers of Christ ; and in- 
formed them, that the proper destination of the ambi- 
tious among them was the place of a servant, or minis- 
ter, to the rest. In other words, Christ required them 
to be, and to feel themselves to be, equals ; and forbade 
them to assume any authority over each other. The 
conduct which Christ required of them must, it would 
seem, be the proper conduct of all succeeding minis- 
ters. An absolute equality is plainly here commanded, 
so far as the apostles were concerned. It ought to be 
shown, that the case is not directly and entirely appli- 
cable to their followers in the sacred office. Let us 
suppose that Christ had given the converse directions. 
Let us suppose that he had directed James and Peter 
to be rulers over their brethren. Would not this fact 
have been pleaded, as decisive authority for the same 
distinction among succeeding ministers? The mere 
shadow of such a distinction in favour, of Peter, easily 
shown to have no substance, has actually been relied on 
by the church of Rome, as a solid foundation of the 
high pre-eminence assumed by the bishop of that city 
over all other ministers of the gospel. 

Correspondent with this address, and pointing to the 
same object, is the instruction given by Christ in Matt. 
xxiii. 6 — 12 ; while observing the conduct of the 
Scribes and Pharisees. Concerning these men, our 
Saviour observes, ' They love greetings in the markets, 
and to be called of men, Rabbi, Rabbi. But (he adds) 
be ye not called Rabbi ; for one is your Master, even 
Christ. And call no man father upon the earth ; for 
one is your Father, who is in heaven. Neither be ye 
called masters; for one is your Master, even Christ. 
But he that is greatest among you, shall be your ser- 
vant : and whosoever shall exalt himself, shall be 
abased; and whosoever shall humble himself, shall be 
exalted.' 

The Scribes and Pharisees loved and sought external 
distinctions, uppermost rooms, chief seats in the syna- 
gogues, greetings in the markets, and titles of honour. 
Against this spirit, and its consequences, Christ here 
warns his apostles. As their only final security against 
the disposition, he forbids the distinctions and titles, to 
the acquisition of which its efforts were peculiarly di- 
rected. Succeeding ministers are certainly no less in- 
terested in being secured against this temptation, 
danger, and sin, than the apostles were ; and what were 
the means of their safety must be equally necessary and 
equally useful to their followers. Had the assumption 
of these titles and distinctions been enjoined upon the 
apostles ; the injunction would have been pleaded by 
succeeding ministers, as an ample warrant to them- 
selves for assuming the same titles, and aiming at the 
same distinctions. To the apostles they were prohibit- 
ed. Why, according to the same mode of inference, 



they are not prohibited to succeeding ministers, I con- 
fess myself unable to explain. 

2. The fact that, wherever the officers of the church 
are mentioned together, no more than two classes are 
ever mentioned. 

In the former Discourse I made several observations 
concerning the address of the Epistle to the Philippi- 
ans, which, as specified in chap. i. 1 , is to all the ' saints 
that are in Philippi, with the bishops and deacons.' It 
will be unnecessary to add anything here to what was 
then observed concerning this passage. 

In 1 Tim. iii. St Paul instructs him at large in the 
qualifications of ecclesiastical officers ; and discusses 
this subject in form, and more extensively than we find 
done in any other part of the Scriptures. But even 
here we find no other officers mentioned, beside the 
s7nax.o7ro; ; bishop, or overseer ; and the iixnoi/og , dea- 
con. Is it not strange, if there had been an interme- 
diate officer, distinguished both from the bishop and 
the deacon, and known by the title of elder, that there 
should be here no mention of such an officer? The 
character and duties of an elder are on all hands 
acknowledged to be more important than those of a 
deacon. Yet these are particularly pointed out, while of 
those not a hint is given. It is farther to be remarked, 
that the office and duties of an elder, as distinguished 
from a bishop, are nowhere exhibited to us in the New 
Testament. The text certainly is not such an exhibi- 
tion. The elders here mentioned were plainly all such 
as of right, and by divine authority, exercised the office 
of a bishop. For this silence on a subject confessedly of 
serious importance to the church, it is believed no rea- 
son can be given. 

When certain men came down from Judea to Antioch, 
and distressed the church in that city by teaching, that 
' the Gentiles ought to be circumcised,' in order to their 
salvation ; Paul and Barnabas, with certain others, ' were 
sent up to Jerusalem unto the apostles and elders about 
this question. And when they were come to Jerusalem, 
they were received of the church, and of the apostles 
and elders. And they declared all things which God 
had done with them. And the apostles and elders came 
together, for to consider of this matter.' After the de- 
liberation was ended, we are told, that ' it pleased the 
apostles and elders, with the whole church, to send 
chosen men of their own company to Antioch, with 
Paul and Barnabas. They wrote letters by them after 
this manner: the apostles, elders, and brethren, send 
greeting unto the brethren who are of the Gentiles, in 
Antioch, and Syria, and Cilicia.' See Acts xv. parti- 
cularly verses 3, 4, C, 22, 23. 

Concerning this interesting recital I observe, 

(1.) That the church of Antioch sent their messen- 
gers to Jerusalem- to obtain a decision concerning a ques- 
tion incomparably more important than any other which 
agitated the Christian world, during the first century. 

(2.) Under the immediate instruction of Paul and 
Barnabas, it is impossible that this church should not 
have known the proper tribunal to which their messen- 
gers were to be sent, for the purpose of obtaining this 
decision. 

(3.) They actually sent them to the apostles and 
elders at Jerusalem. 

(4.) When these messengers were come to Jerusalem, 
they were received of the whole church, and of the 
apostles, and elders. 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH-WHO ARE MINISTERS. 



785 



v 5.) All the observations made on this occasion were 
addressed to the body just specified. The messengers 
propounded their communications to this body. Peter 
and James began their speeches on this occasion with, 
' Men and brethren.' 

(6.) This body sent chosen men of their own com- 
pany, authoritatively, with Paul and Barnabas ; viz. 
' Judas and Silas, chief men among the brethren.' 

(7.) The letters carried by these messengers to An- 
tioch were written in the name of this body, after this 
manner : ' The apostles, and elders, and brethren, send 
greeting unto the brethren and disciples who are in 
Antioch,' &c. 

(8.) This body decided the question submitted to 
them ; and the Holy Ghost approved of their decision. 
Their language is ; ' Forasmuch as we have heard, that 
certain, who went out from us, have troubled you with 
words,' &c. ; ' saying, Ye must be circumcised, and keep 
the law ; to whom we gave no such command. It seemed 
good unto us, being assembled with one accord, to send 
chosen men unto you. We have sent therefore Judas 
and Silas,' &c. ' For it seemed good to the Holy 
Ghost, and to us, to lay upon you no greater burden 
than these necessary things ; that ye abstain from meats 
offered to idols,' &c. The slightest attention will con- 
vince any man that the authoritative determination of 
the great question concerning circumcision was accom- 
plished, with the approbation of the Holy Ghost, by the 
apostles, elders, and brethren : — not by the apostles ; — 
not by the elders ; — but by both ; — not by the brethren ; 
— but by the united voice of the whole body. This, the 
language already recited irresistibly declares. 

(9.) There was no bishop in this assembly ; that is, 
in the prelatical sense. James, whatever was the fact 
afterward, was not now such a bishop. The letter does 
not go in his name, nor with any authority whatever 
attributed to him, except as an apostle, and as a mem- 
ber of that deliberative body ; and in neither character 
any farther, than that he had one voice in the decision 
of the assembly. As no such bishop or bishops are 
mentioned in any part of the transaction, it is impos- 
sible that any person possessed of modern episcopal 
authority should have been present at this meeting. 

(10.) This church had at this time existed fifteen or 
sixteen years ; and for about twelve was the only Chris- 
tian church in the world. One would suppose it must 
have been established in the proper Christian order. 
There were elders in it : and, as the number of Chris- 
tian Jews here amounted to many thousands, it is highly 
probable that these elders were numerous. The church 
was also immediately under the eye of the apostles. If 
prelatical bishops were a part of the Christian economy, 
I am unable to conjecture why a bishop was not esta- 
blished before this time in Jerusalem. There were also 
no such bishops in the church at Antioch ; nor in those 
of Syria and Cilicia. The brethren of the church at 
Antioch sent the messengers. The letter was addressed 
to the brethren of the church at Antioch, Syria, and 
Cilicia. Thus I think it clear, that there was not a 
single such bishop in the Christian church at this 
period. 

3. Bishops are very little spoken of in the Scriptures. 

There are but seven passages in the Scriptures where 

bishops are mentioned : the text; Acts xx. 28; Phil. 

i. 1 ; I Tim. iii. 1,2; Tit. i. 7 ; 1 Pet. ii. 25. All these 

have been repeatedly mentioned, except the last, which 



is thus written : ' For ye were as sheep going astray ; 
but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of 
your souls :' that is, to Christ. 

In no one of these passages is there the least mention 
of any distinction between the bishop and the elder, in 
character, power, authority, duty, or office. On the 
contrary, the fact, that there were several bishops in 
Philippi and Ephesus, is a complete proof that there 
was no prelatical bishop in either of those cities. They 
plainly were both under the government of a number 
of co-ordinate ministers, holding the same office. There 
is no reason to believe that other churches were consti- 
tuted in a different manner. 

4. I illustrate the same truth from the manner in 
which ministers are spoken of in Tit. i. 5 — 7. ' For 
this cause left I thee in Crete, that thou shouldest set 
in order the things that are wanting, and ordain elders 
in every city, as I had appointed thee. If any be blame- 
less, the husband of one wife, having faithful children, 
not accused of riot, or unruly. For a bishop must be 
blameless as the steward of God.' The reason here given 
by St Paul, why Titus should ordain (or constitute) 
elders in every city, who should be blameless, is, that 
' a bishop must be blameless.' 

If a bishop was the same person with an elder, the 
application and pertinence of this reason will be 
obvious ; but if they were different persons, it seems 
difficult to conjecture why it should have been assigned. 
The word, elder, appears to me to be the proper and 
peculiar title of the officer ; and the word, bishop, to be 
merely descriptive of one, and that a subordinate one, 
of his employments : viz., overseeing the affairs of the 
church : preaching being evidently the supreme em- 
ployment of a Christian minister. This title, as was 
formerly observed, was derived from the Jewish eco- 
nomy ; and was therefore naturally, and in a sense ne- 
cessarily, adopted by Jews. Accordingly, it is applied 
no less than nineteen times in the New Testament to 
ministers of the church, and most clearly as their usual 
and appropriate title : In this view of the subject the 
passage may be paraphrased in the following manner : 
' I left thee in Crete, to ordain, or constitute, elders of 
the church in every city. These officers must be 
blameless : for men, whose duty and business it is to 
oversee others, must themselves be blameless, as ex- 
amples.' 

But if bishop and elder denote different officers, the 
passage must be paraphrased in this manner : ' I left 
thee in Crete, to constitute elders in every city. These 
officers must be blameless: for a bishop, a man, an 
officer, to whom is committed the superintendence of 
elders, ought to be blameless.' 

I think this argument cannot be attributed to St 
Paul. 

Should it be said, that bishops are themselves elders, 
as well as bishops ; and that the apostle has referred to 
this fact in the reason which is here given : I answer, 
that this supposition does not remove the difficulty. 
The reason given by the apostle does not depend at all 
for its force and pertinence on either the title or the 
office, whether supposed to be mentioned, or alluded 
to. Its whole force is derived from the employment of 
the elder ; and lies in this — that a man who has the 
oversight of others, ought himself to be blameless, be- 
cause he ought to be an example to those whom he 
oversees ; and, I presume also, because he ought not to 
5 o 



786 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. rat. 



give occasion to any for blaming the ministry of the 
gospel ; just as St Paul directs the Corinthian elders 
to give no offence in anything, that the ministry might 
not be blamed. Had iirwxoTra;, in the text under 
consideration, been rendered as in Acts xx. 28, and 
as I think it ought plainly to have been rendered here, 
overseer, the soundness of the apostle's reason would 
have appeared so clearly, as to have prevented most of 
the debates which the text has occasioned. 

With these, which appear to me the only defensible 
views of this text, I consider it as furnishing immov- 
able evidence, that a bishop and an elder are the same 
officer. 

I have now mentioned every passage in the Scrip- 
tures which I remember, where bishops are even 
glanced at, or the existence of such an order of mi- 
nisters, as distinguished from elders, is directly coun- 
tenanced, even in the opinion of its advocates. If the 
distinction between bishops and elders can be found in 
the language of Scripture, it is found here. But here 
no distinction of this nature can be found. 

Accordingly, a multitude of Episcopalians, both 
bishops and others, readily acknowledge that this dis- 
tinction is not capable of proof from the Scriptures. 
The following specimens of this acknowledgment will 
suffice for the present purpose : In a celebrated work, 
called '.The Institution of a Christian Man,' approved 
expressly by archbishop Cranmer, bishops Jewell, 
Willet, and Stillingfleet, and the main body of the 
English clergy, together with the king and parliament, 
is this declaration : ' In the New Testament there is no 
mention of any other degrees, but of deacons or mi- 
nisters, and of presbyters or bishops.' 

The celebrated Hooker, in his Ecclesiastical Polity, 
says, ' The necessity of polity and regimen in all 
churches may be believed, without holding any one cer- 
tain form to be necessary in them all. And the gene- 
ral principles are such as do not particularly describe 
any one ; but sundry forms of discipline may be equally 
consistent with the general axioms of Scripture.' To 
this declaration agree bishop Stillingfleet, Dr Edwards, 
and others. Dr Reynolds, professor of Divinity in 
Oxford, declares, that ' all who had laboured for five 
hundred years before his time taught, that all pastors, 
whether entitled bishops, or priests, have equal power 
and authority by God's word ;' and this he declares to 
be the common judgment of the reformed churches of 
Switzerland, Savoy, France, Germany, Hungary, Po- 
land, the Netherlands, Scotland, and England. Dr 
Holland, King's Professor of Divinity at Oxford, says, 
that ' to affirm the office of bishop to be different from 
that of presbyter, and superior to it, is most false ; con- 
trary to Scripture, to the fathers, to the doctrines of 
the Church of England, yea, to the very schoolmen 
themselves.' 

Bishop Burnet says, ' I acknowledge bishop and 
presbyter to be one and the same office.' 

An act of parliament, passed in the reign of Henry 
VIII., has the following words: 'Archbishops, bishops, 
archdeacons, and all other ecclesiastical officers, have 
no manner of Jurisdiction ecclesiastical, but by, under, 
and from, his royal majesty.' Accordingly, bishop 
Burnet says, ' The king gave bishops their power to 
ordain or deprive ministers ; to exercise ecclesiastical 
jurisdiction ; and perform all other parts of the epis- 
copal function.' 



To these testimonies, which might be easily swelled 
to a volume, I shall add only two of modern times. 

Archdeacon Paley says, ' It cannot be proved that 
any form of church government was laid down in the 
Christian Scriptures, with a view of fixing a constitu- 
tion for succeeding ages.' 

The editors of the Christian Observer, in their num- 
ber for March, 1804, say, that 'Episcopalians found 
not the merits of their cause upon any express injunc- 
tion or delineation of ecclesiastical government in the 
Scriptures, for there is none.' 

Thus I think it may be fairly concluded, that the 
Scriptures have established but two classes of officers in 
the Christian church ; viz., pastors and deacons. 

Having thus examined the scriptural account of this 
subject, I shall conclude the discourse with a brief in- 
vestigation of the testimony given concerning it by the 
fathers of the church. As I suppose this testimony to 
be the chief ground of reliance on the part of those 
who contend for diocesan bishops, it will be of some 
importance to examine it on the present occasion. 

Concerning this subject I make the following obser- 
vations : 

1. No testimony from the fathers can give divine 
authority to any institution whatever. 

The fathers are merely human witnesses, and are to 
be regarded with no more confidence than other human 
witnesses, of equal credibility. ' All things necessary 
to life and godliness, are given to us in the Scriptures.' 
The testimony of the fathers can, therefore, add nothing 
to what is contained in them — can set aside nothing — 
can change nothing. 

2. The testimony of the fathers is far from deserving 
the credit which is sometimes given to it. For, 

(1.) Those who have testified concerning this sub- 
ject, have given erroneous testimony concerning other 
things. 

Irenasus testifies that Linus was made bishop of 
Rome by Paul and Peter ; and after him, Anacletus : 
and after him, Clement. 

Tertullian testifies, that Clement was the first bishop 
of Rome after Peter. 

Eusebius declares that Linus was the first bishop of 
Rome after the martyrdom of Paul and Peter. Again : 
that Peter was the first bishop of Antioch. Again : that 
Euodius was the first bishop of Antioch. 

Jerome declares, that Peter sat at Rome twenty-five 
years, until the last year of Nero. And again, that 
Ignatius was the third bishop of Antioch after the 
apostle Peter. 

Damascus, bishop of Rome, asserts, that Peter came 
to Rome in the beginning of Nero's reign ; and sat 
there twenty-five years. Nero reigned but fourteen 
years; and, according to the united testimony of anti- 
quity, put Peter to death. 

Origen says, that he had read in the works of a mar- 
tyr, that Ignatius was the second bishop of Antioch af- 
ter Peter. 

Epiphanius declares, that both Paul and Peter were 
bishops of Rome. 

These instances prove, that the fathers, however sin- 
cere, and however satisfactory their testimony concern- 
ing facts which passed under their own eyes, yet re- 
ceived traditionary accounts loosely ; and both believed 
and recorded much of what took place before their time 
[ without truth or evidence. 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH.— WHO ARE MINISTERS. 



787 



(2.) The works of several of the fathers have been in- 
terpolated, corrupted, and partially lost. 

Concerning the Epistles of Ignatius, which are pe- 
culiarly appealed to in this controversy, Mosheim ob- 
serves, that he esteems ' the authenticity of the Epistle 
to Polycarp to be extremely dubious ;' and declares, 
* the question concerning all his epistles to labour un- 
der much obscurity, and to be embarrassed with many 
difficulties.' Where there is so much uncertainty, a 
safe reliance cannot be placed for the decision of any 
point, not otherwise supported. 

(3.) The testimony of the fathers does not prove the 
distinction contended for. 

Even the testimony of Ignatius, were it admitted 
without a doubt, is alleged in vain for this purpose. 
The bishop, of whom he speaks, is the pastor of a single 
church ; the preacher, as well as ruler, of that church ; 
a man who performed all the duties of an ordinary 
minister. He exhorts Polycarp to preach ; to see that 
the widows are not neglected ; to know all his parish- 
ioners, even the men and maid servants ; and to inspect 
at least every marriage. In his Epistle to the church 
of Magnesia, he speaks also of their bishops, in the 
plural number. 

Clement of Rome says, ' The apostles knowing, by 
Jesus Christ, that contentions would arise about the 
name, or on the account, of the episcopate, or oversight 
of the church, constituted bishops and deacons :' the 
very language of St Paul in his Epistle to the Philip- 
pians. He also uses the names presbyter and bishop, to 
denote the same officer. 

Jerome says, that ' a presbyter is the same as a bishop; 
and that, originally, the churches were governed by the 
joint council of the presbyters.' 

Again : ' Let the bishops know, that they are greater 
than presbyters, rather by custom, than by the real ap- 
pointment of the Lord.' 

And again : ' Among the ancients, presbyters and 
bishops were the same.' 

Polycarp, in his Epistle to the Philippians, says, 
c Wherefore, you must be subject to the presbyters and 
deacons.' 

And again : ' Let the presbyters be full of piety, 
merciful to all, bringing back them that wander,' 
&c. In the view of Polycarp, therefore, the presby- 
ters at Philippi did, and were bound to, govern that 
church. 

Tertullian, reciting the ordinances of public worship, 
and the government of the church, says, ' In all these 
things, certain approved elders preside.' 

Irenaeus, addressing the heretics of that age, says, 
' We challenge them to show that tradition, which was 
transmitted from the apostles by a succession of pres- 
byters.' And again : ' It behoves us to hearken to those 
who are presbyters in the church: who, as we have 
shown, have their succession from the apostles; who, 
together with the succession of the episcopate, have re- 
ceived the certain gifts of the truth.' 

Bishop Stillingfleet, remarking upon this passage, 
says, ' What strange confusion must this raise in any 
one's mind, who seeks for a succession of episcopal 
power over presbyters from the apostles, by the testi- 
mony of Irenaeus, when he so plainly attributes both 
the succession to the presbyters and the episcopacy too, 
«rf which he speaks.' 

Firmilian, bishop of Cassarea, says, ' that in elders is 



vested the power of baptizing, imposition of hands, and 
ordinations.' 

Hilary says, ' The presbyters were, at first, called 
bishops.' 

Theodoret says, ' Of old they called the same men 
both bishops and presbyters.' 

Finally : Jerome says, that ' the presbyters of Alex- 
andria ' ordained their bishop for more than two hun- 
dred years, from the first planting of that church.' 

To these testimonies I shall subjoin a single modern 
one, that of Mosheim ; who says, that ' in the first cen- 
tury the rulers of the church were called either presby- 
ters or bishops, which two titles are in the New Testa- 
ment undoubtedly applied to the same order of men.' 

From these testimonies it is, if I mistake not, clear, 
that the principal doctrine maintained in this and the 
preceding Discourse, is the doctrine of the Scriptures 
concerning the subject in debate. 

Another argument alleged in favour of the distinc- 
tion against which I contend, is derived from the cha- 
racter and commission of Timothy and Titus, as exhi- 
bited in the Epistles addressed to them by St Paul. 

It is said, that ' Timothy was bishop of Ephesus, and 
Titus of Crete ; and that, as such, Paul directed them 
to ordain elders, or presbyters, in the churches at Ephe- 
sus, and in Crete.' 

To this assertion, I answer, in the first place, it can- 
not be proved, that Timothy was bishop of Ephesus, or 
Titus bishop of Crete, in any sense, much less in the 
diocesan sense. 

The Scriptures say this in no place, and in no man- 
ner whatever. Dr Whitby ; who was a zealous advocate 
for episcopacy, declares, that he ' can find nothing in 
any writer of the first three centuries concerning the 
episcopate of Timothy and Titus, nor any intimation 
that they bore that name.' Indeed he gives up this 
whole argument in form. 

(2.) It is certain, that Timothy was an evangelist ; 
and, therefore, not a diocesan bishop, until after the 
second Epistle was written ; because Paul directs him 
to ' do the work of an evangelist,' in the fourth chapter 
of that Epistle ;* and directs him to come to him at 
Rome.f An evangelist, as you know, was an itinerant 
minister, and could not be a diocesan bishop, whose 
business it is to rule, and therefore to abide in his own 
diocese. 

Besides, there were other bishops in Ephesus, when 
the first Epistle to Timothy was written ; viz. those 
whoin Paul Bent for to Miletus. 

The truth unquestionably is, that Paul left him at 
Ephesus with extraordinary authority, as an inspired 
and eminent preacher, to charge some to ' teach no 
other doctrine than that which he had been taught ; nor 
to give heed to fables, and endless genealogies.' When 
this business, and other things naturally connected with 
it, were finished, he returned to St Paul again. What 
is true of Timothy is equally true of Titus. He also 
resided in Crete but a short time, before he returned 
to Paul at Nicopolis ; and was not, so far as appears, 
ever settled in Crete at all ; certainly not at the time 
specified in the epistle. And, except from the epistle, 
there is nothing known about the subject. 

(3.) Were we to admit, that Timothy and Titus were 
bishops, and settled at Ephesus and Crete, it cannot ba 



2 Tim. iv. 5. 



+ 2 Tim. iv. 9. 



788 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cm. 



shown, that they had any other authority than that 
which all ministers possess, except, what was derived 
from this commission of St Paul, their superior, wisdom 
and piety, and their inspiration. Until this can be 
shown, the debate concerning this subject can answer 
Tio purpose, in the present case. But it cannot be 
shown. 

Another argument for episcopacy is derived from the 
second and third chapters of the Apocalypse. Here the 
seven epistles of Christ to the seven churches of Asia 
are directed, each to ' the angel of the church,' specified 
in the epistle. Now it is said, that ' the angel ' denotes 
one minister superior to the rest in authority. Among 
these epistles, the first is directed to f the angel of the 
church at Ephesus.' Hence it is argued, that there 
was one minister in the church at Ephesus, and, there- 
fore, in the other churches, who was superior to the 
rest, or, in appropriate language, a bishop. To this I 
answer, 

(I.) That, granting everything which can with any 
pretence be pleaded, the foundation of this argument 
is too unsolid, and uncertain, to support any conclusion. 

(2.) The word angel, is often used in the Apocalypse 
to denote many. In these epistles it seems evidently 
to be thus used ; because in the four first of them the 
singular pronoun thou, is changed into the plural you ; 
while the same person is still addressed. Thus Christ 
says to the angel of the church in Thyatira, * But unto 
you I say (Tfitu h ~hsya) ; and unto the rest in Thya- 
tira.' This being allowed, and it certainly cannot be 
denied, the argument falls to the grounded atfj wit: 

(3.) Should it be acknowledged, that there was but 
one minister in each of these churches at the close of 
the first century (the time specified), it will be nothing 
to the present purpose. 

It is certain, that there were several bishops in 
Ephesus at the time when Paul had this church imme- 
diately under his direction. These were all constituted 
bishops by the Holy Ghost. This, therefore, was cer- 
tainly an establishment of God. If, then, the church at 
Ephesus, either voluntarily, or from some species of 
necessity, had changed this institution, it had changed 
a divine institution : a fact which cannot possibly affect 
the present question. ,_ arfj gj lyqsog eriT .1 

(4.) The senior minister in each of these churches 
may have been the person addressed in these letters. 

It has also been pleaded in behalf of episcopacy, that 
' there has been an uninterrupted succession of bishops 
from the apostles to the present time ; and that, as the 
apostles received their power from Christ, so the first 
bishops received theirs from the apostles; and so every 
succession of bishops received theirs from those who 
preceded them. In this manner (it is alleged) the 
powers, as well as the officers, have their only proper, 
legitimate existence, at the present time.'intqa 

If this argument were now first to be alleged, the 
author of it would be considered as sporting with his 
antagonist : for, „ jon si S ,xixd 

(1.) This succession is only supposed, and cannot be 
proved. 

(2.) Irenaeus declares, that the succession, and to- 
gether with it the episcopate also^ had, down to his day 
(the latter part of the second century), descended through 
a series of presbyters, not of bishops. According to 
the testimony of this father, the best witness concerning 
the point in question, the powers now existing in minis- 



ters of the church, are merely presbyterian, not epis- 
copal . 

(3.) Both bishops and presbyters must now trace the 
succession, if traced at all, through the church of Rome. 
There were in this church, at one time, four pontiffs, 
who all denounced each other as usurpers. , 

It would be a difficult point to determine through 
which of these men the powers in question descended to 
us, That any powers, of a divine nature, passed through 
such impure hands, will be slowly admitted by a man of 
piety, 

(4.) All that can be pleaded on this subject, can be 
pleaded by presbyters, equally with bishops. 

There is yet another argument, which has been often 
alleged in favour of episcopacy : it is this ; that ' the 
Jewish church contained a high priest, ordinary priests, 
and Leyites ; and was a, type of the Christian church. 
The Christian church, therefore (it is concluded), ought 
to have three orders of officers; viz. bishops, priests, 
deacons.' As the New Testament does not give us a 
single hint of this nature, it certainly must be trifling 
to waste the time of my audience in refuting a mere 
conjecture. I shall only observe, therefore, that the 
Christian church, without the aid of bishops, is possess- 
ed of the three orders contended for. Christ is the 
great high priest of our profession ; his ministers corre- 
spond to the ordinary priests ; and the deacons to the 
Levites. 

Prom all these considerations it is clearly decided to 
my apprehension, that diocesan bishops, are not of 
scriptural, but of human origin, introduced either casu- 
ally, or from considerations of a prudential nature only. 
Christ has established pastors in his church; the church 
itself has constituted its bishops ; and this to a great 
extent, has been acknowledged by the bishops them- 
selves. '?rf erfsJ c 

Such, clearly, appears to me to be the truth concern- 
ing this so much debated question. Still I have no 
disposition to contend with those Christians who are 
attached to episcopacy, and who think they find any 
peculiar advantages in that form of ecclesiastical admin- 
istration. Nor can I willingly adopt the severe asper- 
sions sometimes thrown upon it by individual Presby- 
terians. I cannot but remember, and remember with 
emotions of gratitude and respect, the very great and 
beneficial exertions, made by the English church in the 
cause of Christianity, and made in many instances by 
the dignitaries of that church. Butler, Berkeley, Jewel, 
Beveridge, Bedell, 5 artd ; Wilson, were bishops. Cranmer, 
Leighton, and Usher, were archbishops. Cranmer, 
Latimer, and Ridley, were martyrs. 

In that church also J-eal religion has at times flour- 
ished to a great" and very desirable extent Like other 
churches, it has had its bright and dark days ; but it has 
undoubtedly sent multitudes of its members to heaven; 
and at the present time is fast rising in the gradations 
of piety. 

While, therefore, I claim the common right of judging 
for myself concerning the subject of this Discourse, I 
freely yield the same right to others. Nor can I take any 
satisfaction in thinking hardly of them, because they do 
not adopt my opinions, although, as I think, founded 
on the Scriptures, concerning ecclesiastical government, 



THE END, NATURE, AND SUBJECTS OF PREACHING. 



189 



SERMON CLII. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.. 

SUBJECTS OF PREACHING. 



-THE END, NATURE, AND 



Go ye, therefore, teach all nations. — Matt, xxviii. 19. 



II 



In the two last Discourses I attempted to show, that 
there are but two classes of permanent officers in the 
Christian church, designated in the Scriptures. One 
of these classes, I observed, is spoken of under the 
names, elders, pastors, bishops, teachers, &c. ; and the 
other under that of deacons. To the former belongs that 
which is appropriately called the ministry of the gospel. 
The next subject of consideration is, obviously, the 
duties of this class of officers. These I have heretofore 
mentioned as being, especially, public and private 
prayer in the church, preaching the gospel, administer- 
ing baptism and the Lord's Supper, ruling, and ordain- 
ing other ministers. These are, however, far from 
being the only duties of ministers. There are many 
others which belong to them as ministers ; and many 
more, as men. 

As ministers, they are bound, peculiarly, to be ex- 
amples to ' believers in word, in conversation, in cha- 
rity, in spirit, in faith, in purity :' 1 Tim. iv. 12: ' to 
visit, comfort, instruct, and pray with, the sick and dis- 
tressed ;' James v. 14, &c. : ' to study, or meditate, dili- 
gently on the things of the gospel, and give themselves 
wholly to them, that their profiting may appear to all ;' 
1 Tim. iv. 15: 'to take heed unto themselves, and 
unto their doctrine; and to continue in these things, 
that in so doing they may both save themselves, and 
those that hear them ;' verse 16 : ' to be apt to teach; 
to be given to hospitality ; to rule well their own houses ; 
to exhibit such good behaviour, as to be well reported 
of them that are without;' 1 Tim. iii. 2, 4, 7 : and to 
' contend earnestly for the faith, once delivered to the 
saints, as being set for the defence of the gospel ;' Jude 
3 ; Phil. i. 17. All these, and all other, ministerial 
duties may be found most forcibly enjoined in the 
Scriptures, especially in the epistles of St Paul to 
Timothy and Titus. 

As a man, a minister is bound to he an eminent ex- 
ample of all the Christian virtues. ladeU gioJ 

Among the official duties of a minister, preaching is 
undoubtedly of far higher importance than any other. 
This, therefore, merits a particular discussion in a 
System of Theology, ^nc Jrisiid eli bad eed Ji .tsdotudo 

Such a discussion I shall now attempt, under the fol- 
lowing heads : 

I. The end, >1te'v ^° 

II. The nature^rjinmr-y edt raisfa I <9iofera9n*i .alirfW 

III. The subjects, 9 rf) gaimaonos Ifo^in ioI 

IV. The manner, of preaching. 

I. 1 shall briefly examine the end of preaching. 

The end of preaching is, to persuade men to become 
virtuous ; or, in other words, to persuade them with the 
heart to believe and obey the gospel. Cordial obedi- 
ence to the gospel is virtue, in every possible form, and 
in every instance, on the part of those who are ac- 



quainted with the gospel. The end is always of more 
importance than the means ; since it is the only purpose 
for which the means exist. The end, therefore, ought 
ever to direct the nature and employment of the means. 
The means must be such, and whenever they are chosen 
by wisdom and goodness, will invariably be. such, as 
are suited to the promotion of the end. Whenever 
they are diverted from this direction, they become use- 
less ; and are therefore the mere result and evidence 
of folly. 

The end of preaching is the noblest of all ends ; the 
production of immortal holiness and happiness in the 
souls of men. In this, God has taught us, that he is 
more especially glorified, and more peculiarly pleased, 
than with any thing else which takes place in the present 
world. For this end he gave the gospel, and instituted 
the ministry. For this end he sent his Son to live, and 
die, and rise again ; and his Spirit to renew, and 
sanctify the heart, to support and conduct the soul in 
the way to heaven. 

U. The nature of preaching may be thus summarily 
defined : that it is the chief mean of accomplishing this 
glorious end. 

As a mean to this end, and in this view only, is 
preaching an object of peculiar importance. Its true 
and essential nature is, that it is the chief instrument 
of salvation. To this consideration should every direc- 
tion concerning it be pointed, and every mode of ex- 
amining it be confined. 

That preaching is thus distinguished above all other 
ministerial duties I shall now attempt to prove. 

1. The gospel is the great instrument of salvation. 

' The law of the Lord,' by which, in Rom. ix. 18, St 
Paul teaches us, the gospel is especially to be under- 
stood, ' is perfect,' says the psalmist, ' converting the 
soul. The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise 
the simple. The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoic- 
ing the heart. The fear of the Lord is pure, enlight- 
ening the eyes,' Psal. xix. ' Quicken thou me,' that is, 
make me spiritually alive, says the same divine writer, 
l - according to thy word. This is my comfort in my 
affliction : for thy word hath quickened me :' that is, 
made me spiritually alive. ' The entrance of thy word 
giveth light : it giveth understanding to the simple.' 
Here light and understanding denote holiness, Psal. 
cxix. 25, 50, 130. 'Is not my word like as a fire, saith 
the Lord, and like a hammer, that breaketh the rock in 
pieces? 5 Jer. xxiii. 29. In describing the effects of 
the new covenant, or the gospel, on the Israelites in the 
latter days, as effectuating their conversion and salva- 
tion, God says, ' I will put my law in their inward parts, 
and write it in their hearts.' This phraseology, I need 
not observe, is descriptive of their sanctification : Jer. 
xxxi. 33. 



<90 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[S»m. clo. 



' Biessed are they that hear the word of God, and 
keep it,' says our Saviour, Luke xi. 28. 

In Acts ii. 14; viii. 14; xi. I, and various other 
places, ' receiving the word of God,' is mentioned 
ns equivalent to becoming the subjects of holiness. 
' For I am not ashamed,' says St Paul, ' of the gospel 
of Christ : for it is the power of God unto salvation, 
to every one that believeth.' No declaration can be 
more ample, comprehensive, or complete than this. The 
gospel is not only ' the power of God unto salvation,' 
but is this power 'to every one that believeth,' Rom. i. 
16. 'So, then, faith cometh by hearing, and hearing 
by the word of God,' Rom. x. 1 4. ' In whom ye also' 
trusted, after that ye heard the word of truth, the gos- 
pel of your salvation,' Eph. i. 13. ' The word of God,' 
says St Paul, ' is quick' ( or living ) ' and powerful, and 
sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the 
dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and of the 
joints and marrow ; and is a discerner of the thoughts 
and intents of the heart,' Heb. iv. 12. 'Of his own 
will begat he us with the word of truth,' James i. 18. 
' Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of in- 
corruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abid- 
eth for ever. ' 1 Pet. i. 23. 

I have quoted this numerous train of passages from 
so many different books in the Scriptures, to show that 
this is their universal language. 

The doctrine, as you have seen, is expressed in many 
forms, and in the most decisive manner. It would be 
easy to swell this list of quotations to an enormous size : 
but I shall only add to it the following words of Christ : 
' The truth shall make you free,' John viii. 32 ; and, 
' Sanctify them through thy truth : thy word is truth,' 
John xvii. 17. This is a part of the intercessory prayer 
of Christ, and has certainly been fulfilled. 

2. The great mean by which the gospel becomes in- 
strumental to salvation, is preaching. 

Of this truth the proof is complete in the words of 
St Paul, Rom. xi. 13, 14, 17, ' For whosoever shall call 
on the name of the Lord, shall be saved. How, then, 
shall they call on him, in whom they have not believed ? 
and how shall they believe in him, of whom they have 
not heard ? and how shall they hear, without a preach- 
er ? So, then, faith cometh by hearing, and hearing 
by the word of God.' In these words, the invocation 
of Christ is exhibited as the ground of salvation ; faith, 
of that invocation ; hearing, of that faith ; and a preach- 
er as the indispensable mean of that hearing. From 
this position it is certain that preaching is the great 
mean of salvation ; that is, the gospel preached by its 
ministers. It ought to be remembered, that these 
things are not said of any thing else, particularly 
of any other ministerial duty. Neither ruling, or- 
daining, or administering the sacraments of baptism 
and the Lord's supper, can claim any such efficacy 
from any scriptural declarations. On these two last 
subjects, however, I shall dwell more particularly here- 
after. 

3. The manner in which preaching is generally 
spoken of exhibits its superiority to other ministerial 
duties. 

Christ mentions preaching as his own great commis- 
sion from the Father : ' The Spirit of the Lord is upon 
me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel 
to the poor,' Isa. lxi. 1 ; Luke viii. 14. And accord- 
ingly he alleges the fact, that the poor had the gospel 



preached to them, as a proof that he was the Messiah, 
Matt. xi. 5. 

The text shows, that it was the great commission 
given by Christ to the apostles, and other ministers, 
immediately before his ascension. ' Go ye, teach all 
nations' (or make disciples of them by teaching), ' bap- 
tizing them,' &c. ; ' teaching them to observe all things 
whatsoever I have commanded you.' Here they were 
to make disciples of mankind first ; and then to baptize 
them, and thus to seal their discipleship. 

St Paul mentions it as the great commission of Christ 
to him. '-Rise, and stand upon thy feet : for I have 
appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a 
minister, and a witness both of these things which thou 
hast seen, and of those things in the which I will ap- 
pear unto thee — the Gentiles, unto whom I now send 
thee ; to open their eyes,' Acts xxvi. 16, 17. In the 
following verse he informs us that Christ, referring to 
the same subject, said to Ananias, ' Go thy way ; for he 
is a chosen vessel unto me, to bear my name to the 
Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel.' Again, 
Rom. i. 1, ' Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to 
be an apostle, separated unto the gospel of God ;' that 
is, to the preaching of the gospel. 

Again : ' But when it pleased God, who separated 
me from my mother's womb, and called me by his 
grace, to reveal his Son unto me, that I might preach 
him among the heathen.' 

Preaching is also commanded by St Paul to the el- 
ders of Ephesus ; and by St Peter to those of the coun- 
tries mentioned in his first Epistle, universally, as their 
chief duty. 

Its importance is in the strongest language placed 
above baptism by St Paul, 1 Cor. i. 14 — 17. ' I thank 
God, that I baptized none of you, but Crispus and 
Gaiusj lest any should say, that I baptized in my own 
name. And I baptized, also, the household of Stepha- 
nas. Besides, I know not whether I baptized any 
other ; for Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach 
the gospel.' 

It is decisively preferred to ruling, in 1 Tim. v. 17, 
' Let the elders, who rule well, be accounted worthy of 
double honour ; especially those who labour in the 
word and doctrine.' 

It is also generally preferred to every other ministe- 
rial duty, by the vast attention paid to it in the Scrip- 
tures ; being mentioned in about one hundred and forty 
instances, in express language, almost all of them in 
the New Testament ; by the variety of modes in which 
it is forcibly described, enjoined, and honoured ; by 
the comparatively small attention given in the Scrip- 
tures to the other ministerial duties, which are little 
spoken of, and rarely enjoined ; and by the supreme 
efficacy which it is exhibited as possessing in promot- 
ing salvation. 

4. All the other means of grace have neither effica- 
cy nor value, except as they display or impress divine 
truth. 

The agency of preaching is in this work altogether 
supreme ; and that of other evangelical administrations 
merely subsidiary ; this, without them, would be power- 
ful and effectual. They, without this, would hardly 
have influence or meaning. Baptism, and the Lord's 
supper, for example, are founded on divine truth, and 
are manifestations of that truth, which possess great 
power, and most useful efficacy. But to their efficacy 



THE END, NATURE, AND SUBJECTS OP PREACHING. 



791 



cr their use, the knowledge of the truth preached is 
indispensable. Still more so are ruling and ordaining of 
no use, except as they are subsidiary to preaching. 
Even prayer itself, the prime duty of worship to man, 
as a solitary creature, would have neither meaning nor 
use, antecedently to the knowledge of the truth which 
is communicated by preaching. 

Reading the Scriptures is undoubtedly of more im- 
portance to mankind than anything else, beside preach- 
ing. The reason is obvious. The truth of God is 
more extensively learned in this manner, than it can 
be by all the other ministerial offices ; and this truth 
makes men wise to salvation. 

5. The experience of all Christian ages has fur- 
nished ample proof of this position. 

By the preaching of this gospel were all the first 
converts made by Christ and his apostles ; and by the 
same preaching have all succeeding converts been made 
in every age and country. ' 1 have begotten you,' 
says St Paul to the Corinthians, ' through the gospel.' 
' Who were born,' says St Peter, ' not of corruptible 
seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God.' ' Of 
his own will,' says St James, ' begat he us with the 
word of truth.' Religion has in this respect been so 
nearly co-extensive with preaching, that where preach- 
ing has not been, there has, with scarcely a solitary ex- 
ception, been no religion ; and wherever preaching has 
existed for any length of time, religion has almost in- 
variably existed also. 

But it has been, and may be again, observed, that, 
' All these things were true in ancient times, when 
Bibles were in few hands, and few persons were able to 
read. In such times men were in a sense entirely de- 
pendent upon preaching for their knowledge of the 
gospel. But now* most persons can read, and can easily 
obtain Bibles. Preaching, therefore, is now of less im- 
portance, and less necessary to salvation ; because man- 
kind can now come to the knowledge of the truth with- 
out this aid.' 

That the gospel, if read, believed, and obeyed, will 
make men wise unto salvation, can never be seri- 
ously questioned. I will go farther. The reading of 
the Scriptures is, in my apprehension, after preaching, 
the chief mean of salvation. This truth, however, is 
objected in the present case with very little pertinence 
or success. For, 

(1.) A great part of mankind are even now unable 
to read. A considerable number of such persons can be 
found even in the most enlightened countries ; and in 
the Christian world at large not a small majority are in 
this unhappy situation. To all these, preaching is, be- 
yond debate, equally necessary, as to those who lived in 
the first ages of the church. 

(2.) Of those who can read, multitudes read the 
Scriptures, either not at all, or very little. To these, 
also, preaching is absolutely necessary. 

(3.) Of those who actually read the Scriptures, mul- 
titudes are very imperfectly able to understand most of 
what they read. The necessity of preaching is very 
great to these also. 

(4.) To those who both read and, in a good degree, 
understand the Scriptures, preaching is far more inter- 
esting and impressive than reading. The day especially 
devoted to preaching is the most solemn of all days ; 
the place, of all places ; the occasion, of all occasions. 
This solemnity is so associated with the preaching of 



the gospel, that the mind naturally considers this ordi- 
nance as furnished with all the importance of these 
affecting things. Besides, the fact, that so many per- 
sons are assembled together to worship God, involved 
in the same guilt and danger, subjects of the same ne- 
cessities, and obligated to the same duties, awakens in 
them a powerful sympathy, and gives to preaching a 
singular importance. We feel, because others around 
us feel ; and instinctively reciprocate the views and 
emotions which rise in their minds. 

(5.) God has promised his blessing peculiarly to the 
preaching of the gospel. 

A blessing is never connected with any human effort 
by any law of nature ; and cannot be expected from 
the mere external performance of any duty whatever. 
It is given, when given at all, as an answer to prayer, 
and is annexed only to obedience. But we are not war- 
ranted to pray for a blessing upon any conduct which 
is not in obedience to a divine institution. In the present 
case, God has expressly taught us the nature of his in- 
stitution. ' Faith,' says St Paul ' cometh by hearing," 
and hearing by the word of God. How shall they be- 
lieve in him, of whom they have not heard ? and how 
shall they hear without a preacher?' To depart from 
the duty so plainly enjoined in this passage, is to set 
God at nought, and squander, with the most wanton pro- 
fusion, eternal life. Instead of obtaining a blessing, 
therefore, on the neglect or violation of this duty, we 
ought to expect those terrible evils, denounced, Heb. x. 
25 — 31, against those who ' forsake the assembling of 
themselves together.' No denunciations ought more to 
alarm us: for they involve judicial blindness here, and 
eminent perdition hereafter. 

(6.) Accordingly, preaching is now, and ever has 
been, the great means of promoting salvation. 

I have already observed, that where preaching does 
not exist, religion is almost never found. I now ob- 
serve, farther, that where persons are not present at the 
preaching of the gospel, they scarcely ever become re- 
ligious. Such, also, is the fact where, although present, 
they are inattentive and regardless. For proof of these 
things, look at yourselves, and those around you. On 
the contrary, religion regularly revives and flourishes 
wherever the preaching of the gospel is numerously and 
solemnly attended. 

' The pulpit,' says the great Christian poet, 

' Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand, 
The most important and effectual guard, 
Support, and ornament of virtue's cause.' 

From the infancy of the church, to the present hour, 
preaching has more aroused and engaged the attention 
of mankind, than everything else which was not mira- 
culous. If you are at a loss concerning this truth, you 
will easily satisfy yourselves, by searching the history 
of practical and experimental religion. Far more 
knowledge, and far deeper impressions of religious sub- 
jects have been gained by mankind from this source, 
than from all other human labours whatever. Nor was 
any other method ever devised in the present world, so 
cheap, so convenient, or so effectual, for the purpose 
of diffusing instruction or reformation. 

III. I shall now consider the subject of preaching. 

All these are included under one general head ; viz., 
the gospel. On this great truth I found the following 
observations : — 

1. As the gospel includes all the subjects of preach- 



792 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. clii. 



ing, the preacher Is bound to exhibit nothing as a part 
of the Christian system, but what is contained in the 
gospel. 

The gospel contains whatever it expresses, and what- 
ever it implies ; but it contains nothing more. Nothing 
more, then, can be lawfully inculcated by the preacher, 
as a part of the gospel. 

In examining the express declarations of Scripture, 
he is bound to give them that sense which the words 
obviously convey, the current of the context demands, 
and the circumstances in which they were uttered, point 
out. Beyond this he cannot go, without ' adding to the 
words of God,' and exposing himself to be ' reproved 
by him, and found a liar.' This sense he cannot change 
at all, for one which he conceives will better suit and 
support any part or the whole of a pre-conceived system ; 
a doctrine of his own philosophy, or a tenet of the church, 
sect, or party to which he belongs. 

Neither can he lawfully conceal, or slur over any 
thing which, in his view, the words really contain. 
Falsehood, is as easily propagated by the concealment 
of truth, as by the utterance of deceit. 

With respect to implications, supposed to be con- 
tained in scriptural expressions, the preacher is bound 
to see that they are certainly contained. This, usually, 
may be clearly seen, wherever the inference is imme- 
diate ; or when the chain of reasoning which conducts 
to it is short, and the links are few and obvious. But 
wherever the inference is doubtful, or the reasoning 
through which it is derived, long and obscure (two 
qualities which, with respect to this subject, are very 
generally associated ), the preacher is forbidden to make 
use of it as a part of the word of God, or to exhibit it 
as being in any sense contained in the Scriptures. 

Of inferences from scriptural declarations, I observe, 
universally, that there is usually some, and often great 
danger attending them. A man employed in support- 
ing a darling point will, when hardly pushed, very na- 
turally feel that, as he undoubtedly must be right in his 
own system, so the Scriptures must somewhere declare 
that which he at the time wishes to teach. With these 
views, he will naturally hunt for the passages which 
come nearest to the doctrine in question ; and will as 
naturally believe that the meaning which he wishes to 
assign to them, is their true meaning. Hence he will 
attribute to them the implication which he wishes to 
find. The whole of this process is wrong from the be- 
ginning. Every man, particularly every minister, is 
bound to take up the Bible with a desire and an inten- 
tion not to find it supporting his own doctrines, but to 
learn merely what it actually declares ; and to conform 
both his opinions and wishes to its declarations. In this 
way he may humbly hope to discover the truth ; in the 
other he maybe almostassured that he will be leftin error. 
It is a hard thing for man to believe the Scriptures, 
and not an easy one for a preacher. Generally he may 
believe the great doctrines contained in them, and per- 
haps with no great difficulty. But when particular 
passages appear to thwart his own opinions, he will ever 
be in danger of bending them into a conformity to those 
opinions. His whole soul, on the contrary, ought to 
be yielded to the dictates of the Scriptures, and humbly 
to receive whatever God hath spoken. However easy 
this may seem, it will, unless I am deceived, be found 
a matter of no small difficulty, even by a man solemnly 
resolved to carry the design into practice. 



Inferences, distantly drawn, are always to be sus- 
pected. Our reasonings, whenever they are compli- 
cated, are, even in mathematical cases, exposed to error. 
A long process in arithmetic, or algebra, or geometry, 
frequently needs to be reviewed over and over, in order 
to leave us entirely satisfied that our reasonings are 
sound. Yet here we have certain standards .of truth ; 
such as words in most cases cannot become. How 
much more doubtful are those processes in which cer- 
tainty is at the best rarely attainable. But all the un- 
certainty which attends the reasonings employed to sus- 
tain inferences distantly drawn, attends, of course, the 
inferences themselves. On such inferences, therefore, 
reliance cannot safely be placed. 

On these grounds I protest wholly against a mode of 
forming sermons which is said to have gained some re- 
putation in this country : viz. discoursing on the doc- 
trines, or precepts, of the text in the morning, and in 
the afternoon constituting another discourse of infe- 
rences, professedly derived from them. 

It is unsafe for any man customarily to derive two 
discourses from a single text. At times it may be done 
with advantage ; but it cannot be customarily done 
even by men of the first talents, unless they would sac- 
rifice the profit of their hearers. Much more will it 
transcend the power of the great body of preachers. 
Should they utter nothing but truth, a thing scarcely to 
be hoped ; they will not fail either to be weak, and on 
this account unprofitable, or to make their discourses 
disgusting by numerous and very tedious repetitions. 

This, however, is not the worst effect of the practice. 
If, contrary to all probability, they should be entirely 
successful, and speak nothing but truth and good sense ; 
their sermons in the afternoon would always be liable 
to this radical evil ; that the truth which they contain, 
being merely a collection of inferences, and not ex- 
pressly declared in the Scriptures, nor clearly under- 
stood by the hearers, would be questioned, doubted, and 
soon denied. The character of the preacher, in the 
mean time, would dwindle from that of an evangelical 
minister, into that of a merely ingenious man. His 
sermons, also, instead of convincing and reforming his 
hearers, would only amuse and entertain them. Even 
near and obvious inferences have less weight than di- 
rect scriptural declarations ; while distant ones have 
scarcely any weight at all. 

But why should sermons be written in this manner? 

Certainly the Scriptures are sufficiently copious, and 

sufficiently various, to furnish the preacher with all ne- 

] cessary materials, without forcing him to form them of 

| his own deductions. Why should the plain declarations 

of God be exchanged for the doubtful inferences of 

man ? Is it because God has not directly disclosed the 

proper subjects of preaching ? This will not be said. 

I trust it will not be believed. I confess myself, there- 

! fore, at a loss for the reason, unless it is to be found in 

the restless desire of exhibiting something which is new. 

2. As the gospel is to be preached, so it is all to be 
preached. 

In the strict sense, I acknowledge, this is not prac- 
ticable. The Bible is a world ; and is enriched with a 
variety and abundance suited to a world. The life of 
an antediluvian preacher would furnish an opportunity 
of exhausting but a little part of its stores. But the 
capital doctrines and precepts may all be insisted on by 
every preacher during a ministry of no uncommon 



) 



THE END, NATURE, AND SUBJECTS OF PREACHING. 



793 



length. It is here intended, that all these should be 
brought into the desk freely, fully, without partiality, 
without reluctance. It is also intended, that no doc- 
trine, and no precept, and no fact, shall be omitted by 
the preacher on account of any disrelish with which it 
may be regarded by his mind, or, as he may apprehend, 
by the minds of his hearers. ' All Scripture,' says St 
Paul to Timothy, ' is given by inspiration of God ; and 
J6 profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and 
for instruction in righteousness ; that the man of God 
may ba perfect, thoroughly furnished to every good 
work.' — ' I charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus 
Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his 
appearing, and his kingdom, preach the word: be in- 
stant in season ; out of season ; reprove, rebuke, ex- 
hort, with all long-suffering and doctrine. ' Here St 
Paul charges Timothy, ' before God and the Lord 
Jesus Christ, to preach the word;' that is, the whole 
word ; as will be evident from the connexion between 
this charge and the reasons, on which it is founded, 
given in the verses immediately preceding. These 
reasons are of the highest possible import. ' All Scrip- 
ture,' says St Paul, i is given by inspiration of God.' 
All is, therefore, exactly true, supremely wise, and ab- 
solutely right ; and is invested with divine authority, 
requiring the minister to preach it, and the congrega- 
tion to hear. ' All Scripture,' he adds, ' is ' also ' pro- 
fitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for 
instruction in righteousness.' The end of all is, ' that 
the man of God may become perfect, and thoroughly 
furnished to every good work.' With these reasons 
before him, who can doubt, that all Scripture is to be 
preached ? 

There have been, there probably still are, many 
preachers, by whom this plain rule of duty has been 
not a little disregarded ; that is, if their practice may 
be allowed to interpret their sentiments. 

Some preachers insist only, or almost only, on those 
which are called the moral duties of mankind ; viz. 
those duties, which immediately respect ourselves, and 
our fellow men, such as justice, temperance, truth, kind- 
ness, candour, alms-giving, and others of the like nature. 

Others discuss only, or chiefly, the duties of piety ; 
or those which immediately respect God. 

Some preachers deliver little or nothing from the 
desk, except that which is fitted to alarm and terrify 
their hearers. 

Others dwell continually and only upon those parts 
of the gospel which are calculated to soothe and com- 
fort. 

Some shun everything which is unpopular, and utter 
only 'smooth things;' such as they expect to be re- 
lished by their hearers; and satisfy themselves with the 
belief, that their congregations will receive nothing 
else, and that therefore nothing else will be useful to 
them. Yet St Paul declared to the elders of Ephesus, 
that he had ' not shunned to declare to them all the 
counsel of God :' and God said to Ezekiel, ' Go, and 
speak unto the children of thy people ; and tell them, 
Tims saith the Lord God ; whether they will hear, or 
whether they will forbear.' 

Others appear pleased to excite, and form their dis- 
courses in such a manner as to excite, a hostility to 
truth, even beyond that which is natural to man. Yet 
it is recorded of him who is styled in the Scriptures ' the 
Preacher,' that he ' sought to find out acceptable words.' 



Some preachers who dwell upon the law, exnibit it 
not only as the rule of our duty, but as the ground of 
our justification. 

Others leave the law chiefly or wholly out of their 
discourses, even as a rule of obedience. 

To all these, and other similar modes of preaching, 
equally contrary to reason and revelation, -I oppose, 
both as a refutation and a censure, the charge of St 
Paul to Timothy, cited above, and the solemn reasons 
by which it is enforced. Man cannot call in question 
the importance or the usefulness, any more than the 
truth, of the word of God. Whatever he has been 
pleased to reveal is useful to mankind, and is to be 
received by them with reverential and grateful acknow- 
ledgments. It is to be believed, it is to be obeyed, it is 
to be employed to accomplish the very ends for which 
it was revealed. 

' All Scripture,' says St Paul, ' is profitable.' Let 
me subjoin, that we cannot tell with any certainty what 
particular doctrine, precept, or fact, will be most pro- 
fitable, that is, on a given occasion. Often, very often, 
ministers have found those discourses most useful to 
their hearers, from which they had scarcely cherished 
any hopes. 

3. A preacher is bound to give to each subject that 
degree of place and importance which is given to it by 
the Scriptures. 

This rule, 1 am aware, can only be followed gene- 
rally. In a case, so imperfectly definite, exactness of 
conformity is evidently unattainable, and, happily for 
us, unnecessary. But a general conformity to it is 
sufficiently easy, and obviously our duty. 

On some subjects the Scriptures dwell abundantly ; 
exhibiting them always as primary parts of the system 
of truth and duty which they contain. Others they 
plainly present to us as comparatively of little impor- 
tance. ' Judgment, mercy, and faith,' are ' weightier 
matters of the law :' while, compared with these, ' tith- 
ing mint, anise, and cummin,' is of little consequence. 
When it is said, ' Except ye repent, ye shall all perish.* 

— '■ Without faith it is impossible to please God.' 

' Without holiness no man shall see the Lord:' — it is 
impossible for us not to perceive that faith, repentance, 
and holiness, are of supreme importance to man. But 
the observance, or non-observance, of one day above 
another (I refer not here to the sabbath), modes of 
worship, and many other things of a similar nature, are 
plainly of very inferior consequence. The manner in 
which these subjects are respectively exhibited in the 
Scriptures, furnishes ample proof that these observa- 
tions are just. 

The Scriptures themselves are a perfect pattern ol 
the time, care, and pains which the preacher is to be- 
stow on the respective subjects of his discourses, in all 
ordinary circumstances. That on which they lay thp 
greatest stress is most to engross his attention, and his 
sermons. That on which they lay the least stress, is 
least to be dwelt upon by him. 

I say this is to be done in ordinary circumstances. 
But there are peculiar occasions, frequently occurring, 
which demand his peculiar attention. His hearers 
may be especially addicted to some particular sins, or 
in especial danger from particular errors ; or may 
peculiarly need to be taught certain truths, or urged to 
certain acts of. duty. These will then require his pecu- 
liar efforts ; and for such efforts, in such cases, he will 
5 H 



794 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Shr. cliii. 



find an ample warrant in the Scriptures. Timothy and 
Titus were expressly commanded to inculcate particular 
things in a peculiar degree, because they were peculiarly 
necessary. Ministers are directed to ' contend earnestly 
for the faith once delivered to the saints;' and are said 
to be ' set for the defence of the gospel.' They are, 
therefore, required to defend those parts of it most fre- 
quently, as well as most strenuously, which are most 
questioned ; and to oppose with the greatest vigour 
those errors from which their hearers are in the great- 
est danger. In this manner Christ preached ; in this 
manner preached the prophets, and the apostles ; stead- 
ily directing their discourses to the occasions which 
gave them birth. This is, indeed, the plain dictate of 
common sense ; and, with these warrants, will be cer- 
tainly as well as safely followed by every wise and 
faithful minister. 

The Bible is written in a manner perfectly fitted to 
produce the best effects on the moral state of man. 
The preacher, who follows closely this divine example, 
may therefore rationally hope to produce the best moral 
effects on his hearers. On the contrary, he who wan- 
ders from it, ought, while he censures himself deeply 



for his disrespect to this perfect pattern, to believe that 
he shall find little consolation in the fruits of his preach- 
ing. In vain will* he plead that, in his view, some other 
mode will be better suited to the wants of his hearers. 
In vain will he think himself ' wise above that which 
is written.' In vain will he plead the nature and in- 
fluence of any doctrines, or precepts, as viewed by his 
own judgment. God, who knew the nature of all pre- 
cepts and doctrines, has written such of them in the 
Scriptures, and in such a manner, as his own wisdom 
determined to be best for man. Unless the preacher 
therefore thinks himself wiser than God, he must per- 
ceive his opinion to be wholly out of place, unfounded, 
and unhappy. 

' To the law, and to the testimony, if they speak not 
according to this word, it is because there is no light 
in them.' This sentence is equally applicable to the 
parts, as to the whole of this word ; and precisely just 
with respect to their importance and influence, as well 
as to their truth. In both respects the scriptural exhi- 
bition is perfect. He who copies it, and he only, will 
do the most good in his power. 



SERMON CL1I1. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE MANNER OF 

PREACHING. 



Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations Matt, xxviii. 19. 



From these words I proposed in the preceding Dis- 
course to examine, 

I. The end, 

II. The nature, 

III. The subjects, 

IV. The manner, of preaching. 

The three first of these heads I discussed at that time; 
and shall now go on to consider, 

IV. The manner, of preaching. 

It is not enough that sermons contain the truth, im- 
portant and indispensable as this is. A sermon may 
contain evangelical truth, and that only ; and yet may 
exhibit it in such a manner as to prevent a great part 
of its proper efficacy. Nor does the evil always stop 
here. Instances have existed in the world, and that 
not very unfrequently, in which preachers have uttered 
nothing but what was strictly evangelical, and yet have 
only amused, wearied, or disgusted sober, patient, and 
candid hearers. The manner, therefore, in which truth 
is preached, may possess an importance which it would 
be difficult to estimate. 

The views which I have formed of this subject may 
be exhibited under the following heads : — 

1. The gospel ought ever to be preached plainly; so as 
to be clearly and easily understood by those who hear. 

St Paul, in 1 Cor. xiv. 19, says, ' I would rather 



speak five words with my understanding, that with my 
voice I might teach others also, than ten thousand words 
in an unknown tongue.' From the conclusion of this 
passage, and the general tenor of his reasoning in this 
chapter, it is evident, that to speak with the understand- 
ing, denotes to speak that which would be understood, 
not by himself only, but by those who heard him. This, 
he informs us, was of more value in his estimation than 
the supernatural power of speaking with tongues, how- 
ever coveted, and however splendid an endowment. 

With St Paul's opinion common sense exactly har- 
monizes. To teach is to communicate knowledge. But 
the teacher who is not understood, communicates no- 
thing. 

Plainness of preaching involves perspicuity and pre- 
cision of language ; and, indeed, purity and propriety 
also. Our words ought to be English, and to be used 
as they are customarily used. They ought also to ex- 
press that, and that only, which we intend, and to ex- 
press it clearly. All this, as you know, is necessary to 
writing and speaking well, generally. Peculiarly is it 
necessary when we address popular assemblies, a great 
part of whom are accustomed to plain language only ; 
and supremely, when we utter the doctrines and pre- 
cepts of the gospel, infinitely important as the means 
of eternal life. 



THE MEANS OF GRACE— THE MANNER OF PREACHING. 



795 



Our phraseology ought carefully to be cleared of all 
ambiguities, the effect of which is only to perplex those 
who hear. If these are admitted into sermons through 
carelessness, the preacher is inexcusable : if through 
doubt in his mind, he is bound to say nothing concern- 
ing the subject of his doubts, unless when compelled to 
acknowledge them to his audience. 

Technical or scientifical language is also to be ex- 
cluded from popular sermons. This may sometimes 
serve to show the learning of the preacher ; but will pre- 
vent his sermons from being useful to his audience. 

A still greater trespass against plainness of speech, 
and much more common in the desk, is committed in 
what is called metaphysical preaching. The science of 
metaphysics, as you well know, is that which is em- 
ployed about the nature of things. As this subject is 
peculiarly abstruse, and demands nice and difficult dis- 
quisition, all discussions which are nice and difficult are 
familiarly termed metaphysical. Most young preachers 
are fond of metaphysical subjects, and, be the subject 
almost what it may, of the metaphysical mode of dis- 
cussion. Nor are young preachers alone in these re- 
spects. 

All preaching of this nature is, however, chiefly use- 
less, and commonly mischievous. No ordinary con- 
gregation ever understood, to any valuable purpose, 
metaphysical subjects; and no congregation, it is be- 
lieved, was ever much edified by a metaphysical man- 
ner of discussion. Whenever distinctions become sub- 
tile and nice, they cease to be made by the common 
mind ; and, however clear the preacher's views may be, 
they will never in this case become the views of his 
audience. After attempting for a while to follow him in 
his ingenious career, and finding themselves unable, 
they will give up the attempt in despair and disgust. 

Happily, the duty of the preacher, and the interest 
of his congregation, do not demand this mode of preach- 
ing. Few theological subjects ordinarily require dis- 
cussions of this nature : and none of them, unless on 
rare and peculiar occasions, require them in the desk. 
The obvious investigations of common sense are incom- 
parably better fitted to popular audiences. Common 
sense, the most valuable faculty (if I may call it such) 
of man, finds all its premises either in revelation or in 
facts : adopts arguments only of the a posteriori kind ; 
extends its reasonings through a few steps only ; de- 
rives its illustrations from familiar sources ; discrimi- 
nates only where there is a real difference ; and admits 
conclusions only where it can see their connexion with 
(the premises. At theoretical philosophy it laughs. 
'Theoretical divinity it detests. To this faculty the 
Scriptures are almost universally addressed. The sub- 
jects which they contain are, to a considerable extent, 
metaphysical; and often so abstruse as to defy human 
investigation. Yet they are almost always treated in 
the obvious manner of common sense. Even St Paul, 
one of the most profound of all reasoners, never appears 
to choose abstruse discussion, when the subject will al- 
low of any other ; and returns with apparent pleasure 
to a plainer mode of discourse, as soon as the nature of 
the case will permit. Our Saviour treats every subject 
in the direct manner of common sense, although he of- 
ten discourses concerning things of the most profound 
nature. 

There is another evil in the metaphysical mode of 
disquisition, which ought in most instances to discour- 



age us from attempting it. It is this : the preacher 
himself is apt to be bewildered by the abstruse nature 
of his subject, and by the tenuous, subtile manner of 
his reasoning ; and is often very far from possessing 
clear views of either. Men devoted to literary inquiries 
are frequently ambitious of metaphysical fame. Ab- 
struse reasonings, curious speculations, especially when 
they are their own, and still more discoveries made in 
this profound science by themselves, when they are sup- 
posed to be new, are regarded by them with peculiar 
favouritism and fondness. Attempts of this nature are 
therefore made by multitudes, both philosophers and 
divines. But of all those which have been made, few, 
very few, have been successful. Almost all have at the 
best been only ingenious amusements ; and far the 
greatest part have fallen short even of this character. 
Whatever applause or credit they have gained has usu- 
ally been momentary. Of utility almost all have been 
totally destitute, and have accordingly soon vanished 
from the attention of mankind. Aquinas and Duns- 
Scotus, men scarcely inferior to any metaphysicians, 
and once more celebrated than any writer of the present 
day, are now known almost solely by their names. How 
evident is it, therefore, that men possessed only of the 
common talents, such as those of almost all men, and, 
still more, men of moderate information, were never 
designed by God to be useful as metaphysicians. Gen- 
erally, therefore, clergymen cannot be wisely employed 
in often uttering discussions of this nature from the 
desk. 

At the same time, every subject of preaching ought, 
so far as the purpose in view requires, to be thoroughly 
discussed. Subjects indeed which are plain, and doc- 
trines which are acknowledged, demand often very 
little discussion. If they are exhibited with clear ar- 
rangement, and with brief and distinct evidence, nothing 
more will usually be necessary. At times it will be 
proper to mark the connexion between the subject in 
hand, and others intimately related to it, that their 
harmony may be understood. But whenever doctrines 
are less clear or more disputed, greater pains will al- 
ways be necessary to exhibit their evidence, and evince 
their truth. If the preacher has formed clear and com- 
prehensive views of them himself, he cannot be at a loss 
for useful modes of presenting them to others. That 
view of them which is most satisfactory to himself will 
almost always best satisfy others. Diligent study, pre- 
cision of thought, and habitual clearness of arrangement, 
will regularly qualify him for this part of his business. 

2. The gospel ought to be preached variously. 

By this I intend, that both the manner and especially 
the subjects of preaching should be diversified. 

The foundation of preaching in this manner is laid 
in the nature of man, and in the nature of divine truth. 
The love of variety is one of the elementary principles 
of human nature ; and seems to have been implanted 
in the heart, that we might be always and irresistibly 
allured to the study and the relish of the infinitely 
various works of God. These are formed with unceas- 
ing variety, that they might display the boundless di- 
versity of his wisdom and goodness. That man may 
understand them, it is absolutely necessary that he study 
them; and to the study of them, the love of their nature 
and appearance is indispensable. Hence this principle 
in the human constitution ; a principle never to be for- 
gotten by a preacher. 



796 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clih. 



Divine truth, which is an account of the works and 
character of God, is possessed, as it necessarily must be, 
of a corresponding variety. All the parts of which this 
truth is composed are declared to be ' profitable for 
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction 
in righteousness.' The profit of the whole is made up 
of that which is furnished by the several parts ; and, to 
be either communicated or gained, must be derived 
from them all. All, therefore, should, so far as may 
be, find their proper place in the successive discourse of 
the preacher. 

Besides, a great part of the beauty, excellence, and 
usefulness of evangelical doctrines and precepts results 
from their mutual relations, seen only by comparing 
them with each other. Faith, justification, and holiness, 
for example, have an import, a beauty, a distinction, 
arising from their connexion with each other, which we 
should in vain attempt to find by a separate investiga- 
tion. But unless all these, and many other doctrines 
are exhibited by the preacher, this connexion can never 
be learned by his hearers. 

Of this variety of preaching, in both respects, the 
Scriptures are an abundant example. In them we find 
an immense diversity of truths, communicated in a de- 
lightful diversity of manner. Here we are furnished 
with profound reasonings : short, prudential, moral, and 
religious maxims ; plain and pithy precepts ; orations 
in form ; poetry of every species, and every high de- 
gree of excellence ; familiar letters ; private journals ; 
history, both general and biographical ; together with 
most other approved modes of communication. At the 
same time, each writer has adopted his own peculiar 
manner, both in prose and poetry ; and thus, while 
furnishing a strong presumption that the writings are 
genuine, has added not a little to the beauty of the 
sacred volume. By these various methods of communi- 
cation, the understanding is addressed with the highest 
advantage, the imagination is powerfully allured, and 
the feelings of the heart are irresistibly engrossed. 
Hence the bible is more bought, and more read than 
any other book. Hence also man is summoned with 
peculiar success to the great business of repentance and 
reformation. The wisdom and goodness of God, mani- 
fested in this interesting structure of the sacred volume, 
can never be sufficiently admired. 

By this happy method of communicating divine truth, 
the Scriptures are rendered also the most comprehen- 
sive of all writings. They are, indeed, pre-eminently 
comprehensive by their conciseness. In addition to 
this, they possess that character in a far higher degree 
by means of their perpetually diversified manner of 
communication. From this source the same truths are 
presented to us in lights unceasingly new, and with 
connexions surprising the mind on every successive 
page. Hence, by an examination and comparison of 
different passages, new truths, not directly declared, 
are unfolded with absolute clearness, and indubitable 
certainty. The number of these truths is incompre- 
hensible. 

This extraordinary variety of manner cannot, I 
acknowledge, be adopted by a preacher. Still it autho- 
rises, and in my view requires him to diversify his dis- 
courses in every mode which is warranted by correct 
taste, so far as it shall be in his power. Preaching is, 
in its nature, an address to a popular assembly, and 
can, therefore, admit of no other varieties of manner 



than those which are applicable to such an address. 
But even these may be considerably numerous. Such 
an address, from the examples of the apostles, and suc- 
ceeding ministers, may be warrantably distributed under 
two great heads ; preaching , in the proper sense, and 
commenting. The former of these is naturally the most 
interesting ; the latter, perhaps, the most instructive. 
In the course of it many doctrines may be illustrated, 
and many parts of Scripture explained and enforced, 
which the preacher can never even introduce into ser- 
mons. Difficulties also which may perplex the common 
mind, may, in this manner, be removed, seeming dis- 
cordances reconciled, connexions and other relations 
illustrated, and harmony displayed, more advanta- 
geously than in any other manner. On all these 
accounts it will engage as well as improve ; and, as a 
part of every course of preaching, will render the 
whole course more interesting than perhaps it could be 
otherwise. 

In both modes the preacher will increase that variety 
of communication which will be both useful and plea- 
sant, by adopting, invariably, his own characteristical 
manner. Every man is formed to think, speak, and 
write in a manner peculiar to himself. This, being 
contrived by the Divine wisdom, is naturally fitted to 
be both agreeable and useful : and ought always to be 
retained. It may, it ought to be improved so far as our 
circumstances will allow; but it cannot be safely ex- 
changed for that of any other individual ; nor, without 
serious disadvantage, for a general mode, established 
by common consent. It is the tendency of all criticism 
to form rules so narrow as to limit the natural, proper, 
and pleasing excursions of the human mind. Men 
oftener write with vigour and success when they forget, 
disregard, or are ignorant of the encumbrance of these 
rules, than when they are timorously governed by them. 
I do not deny that, as they are now adopted by enlight- 
ened men, they are generally just, and will serve well 
for the purposes of enabling us to judge of what is 
already written, and to avoid blemishes and absurdities 
in writing. But they never can teach, and very fre- 
quently prevent, that excellence in writing, of which we 
are capable. To avoid this evil, and to make the most 
of his powers, every preacher, after possessing himself 
of the general manner, should, with so much conformity 
to it as to save himself from just censure, adopt his own 
manner, improved as much as may be, but never relin- 
quished nor destroyed. This will enable him to differ 
usefully and pleasingly only from other preachers, and 
will give to his discourses most of that novelty of which 
sermons are now susceptible. At the same time he will 
always appear in it with more advantage than in any 
other; and will add extensively to that diversity ot 
communication which I have urged in both these kinds 
of discourse. Should any person apprehend that the 
general mode in use must be exactly followed ; I answer, 
that very different modes have been acceptable and use- 
ful in other ages, and other countries, and that human 
nature furnishes no satisfactory proof that they may not 
be useful again. 

As to variety of subjects, the preacher can never be 
at a loss, and must be inexcusable, if he does not avail 
himself of this advantage. The Bible is a world, and 
all that it contains is proffered to his use. Every- 
thing which it contains is also ' profitable for instruc- 
tion.' 






THE MEANS OF GRACE THE MANNER OF PREACHING. 



797 



It will be in vain for a preacher to allege, that in his 
view some subjects are sufficiently important to claim 
the whole attention both of himself and his hearers. 
As I remarked in the preceding discourse, the compara- 
tive importance of doctrines is- settled by the Scriptures 
themselves. Them he is bound to follow. Should he 
then determine that it is proper for him to preach only 
on alarming themes, that sinners may be compelled to 
lay hold on eternal life ; or should he judge that they 
are only to be allured by the mercy of God, the love of 
the Redeemer, and the benevolent offers of life made in 
the gospel, he judges erroneously. The proof is, God 
has thought otherwise. Should he choose to dwell only 
on the duties immediately owed to God, or on those 
which immediately respect men, he seriously mistakes 
his proper business ; for God has required and incul- 
cated both. If, in a word, he selects any favourite sub- 
ject, or class of subjects, he does what the Scriptures 
nowhere justify, and abundantly condemn. 

In the mean time, let every preacher who frequently 
handles one, or customarily handles a few subjects in 
his sermons, and, as will always be the fact, handles them 
substantially in one manner, remember that this mono- 
tony will soon become wearisome to his hearers, and in 
a great measure rob him of the power of doing them 
good. What he says may be true ; it may be pleasing ; 
it may be edifying: but reiteration will soon render it 
disgusting and useless. For this fault nothing will 
atone. Common sense is against him. Human nature 
is against him. The Scriptures are against him. In 
vain, therefore, will he search for an excuse. 

3. The gospel ought to be preached boldlv. 

He who brings a message from God, ought never to 
be afraid of man. He ought to remember the authority, 
the commands, and the presence, of his Master ; and 
his own duty and accountableness. He ought to remem- 
ber that, if he deliver his message faithfully, he will be 
accepted ; if not, he will be condemned. Nor ought he 
any more to forget that, in the former case, he will in 
all probability promote the salvation of his flock, and in 
the latter conduct them only to destruction. 

To faithfulness, boldness is indispensable. ' The fear 
of man' always ' bringeth a snare.' Equally dangerous 
is it to ' love the praise of men.' Independence of both 
is absolutely necessary to integrity. No specimens of 
pungent, intrepid address to the consciences of men, or 
of undaunted reproof for their sins, are more vivid and 
| glowing than those of our Saviour to the Jews, and espe- 
cially to the pharisees. Of Paul it is very frequently 
recorded, that ' he spake boldly in the name of the Lord 
Jesus.' He also directs the Ephesians to ' pray always 
with all prayer, that he might speak boldly as he ought 
to speak.' Similar things are recorded of Barnabas and 
Apollos. The discourses of Paul, Peter, and Stephen, 
recorded in the Acts, are also illustrious specimens of 
this noble and upright independence of character. What 
preacher will hesitate to obey such authority, and to fol- 
low such examples ? 

With his duty will ever be combined his immediate 
interest. In so solemn a case as this, peace and self- 
approbation can never be possessed by him who does 
not, without reserve or palliation, without fear or flat- 
tery, declare ' the truth, as it is in Jesus.' At the same 
time, he will sink in the estimation of his flock. Every 
discerning man, nay, every man of common sense, will 
soon suspect both his integrity and his piety ; and will 



regard him as a time-server, unfaithful to God, and in- 
terested only for himself. A minister labouring under 
these imputations will neither be trusted nor respected. 
Even those who love the ' smooth things ' which he ut- 
ters, will despise him for uttering them. 

The bold, independent, honest preacher will, on the 
contrary, be naturally and highly esteemed by his peo- 
ple ; even by those who smart under the censures which 
he directs against their sins, and tremble at the alarm 
which he sounds in their ears concerning their future 
destiny. At the same time he will enjoy the consolation 
of knowing that he has faithfully laboured to discharge 
his duty, to promote the glory of his Maker, and the 
salvation of his flock, and to keep himself ' clear from 
the blood of all men.' On a dying bed he will be able 
to say, and find unspeakable hope in saying, with St 
Paul, ' I have not shunned to declare the whole coun- 
sel of God, and have kept back nothing which was pro- 
fitable to my people.' 

4. The gospel ought to be preached solemnly. 

All things, pertaining to divine truth, are eminently 
solemn. Such are its author, and its end ; the manner 
in which it is communicated, the miracles with which it 
was ushered into .the world, the Redeemer by whom it 
was disclosed, and the wonderful expense by which it 
came to mankind. Of the same nature are the subjects 
about which it is employed. Nothing ever appeared to 
the human mind of such import as the character and 
actions of God, the excellences of the Redeemer, the 
amazing work of redemption, the depravity and con- 
demnation of men, the glorious exercise of mercy to 
our race, the renovation of the soul, the importance of 
life and death, of judgment and eternity, of heaven and 
hell. 

In these things is involved our all. How then can a 
preacher commissioned by God to declare them to his 
fellow men, fail to realize their immense importance 
and amazing solemnity ? How can he fail of declaring 
them with a corresponding solemnity to his flock ? 

■ He that negotiates between God and n:an, 

As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 

Of judgment and of mercy, should beware 

Of lightness in his speech. ' lis pitiful 

To court a grin, when you should woo a soul j 

To break a jest, when pity would inspire 

Pathetic exhortation ; and t' address 

The skittish fancv with facetious tales, 

When sent with God's commission to the heart.' 

If the nature of these subjects be duly considered, if 
their importance be duly felt, it will be impossible for 
the preacher to fail of exhibiting them to his hearers with 
the deepest solemnity. Lightness of manner is always 
generated by lightness of mind. He who adopts it in the 
desk, has forgotten that his discourse is professedly de- 
rived from the Bible, employed about God, and directed 
to eternity. 

A trespass against this manner of preaching, not un- 
frequent, and highly reprehensible, is a mode some- 
times termed theatrical. It may be thus described. 
The preacher, if we may be allowed to judge from the 
result, sits down to write as finished a composition, and 
enters the desk to speak it as gracefully as he can His 
commanding object is to please, to excite admiration, 
and to gain applause. His proper business is forgotten. 
This is to awaken, convince, and save his flock. He 
has carved out for himself a new employment, of which 
the Scriptures know nothing. This is to exhibit him- 
self to advantage. Instead, therefore, of the plain, bold, 



798 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbr. cun. 



and solemn address, with which divine truth is instinc- 
tively preached, the audience is amused with a combina- 
tion of brilliant images, and pathetic effusions, intended 
merely to excite admiration. To increase this effect, 
they are presented to the audience with such efforts of 
utterance and gesture, as are usually exhibited on the 
stage. In truth, the desk is here changed for the time 
into a stage, and the preacher, laying aside his own 
character, puts on that of an actor. Like other actors, 
he intends merely to please those who hear him. Their 
souls and their salvation, his own character, duty, and 
final account he has forgotten. He has forgotten his 
Bible ; he has forgotten his God. ■ - 

The most solemn, the best sermons may be, they 
usually are marked with strong images, bold figurative 
language, and affecting addresses to the heart. The 
whole energy of the mind is poured out in them by the 
preacher. But in such sermons all these things are 
adventitious. They grow spontaneously out of the so- 
lemn and most affecting nature of the subject, the 
preacher's deep sense of its vast importance, and his 
earnest desire that his audience may feel it, as it is felt 
by himself. Here the subject is the only thing which is 
prominent. The preacher is in a great measure forgot- 
ten, both by himself and his hearers. In the mode which 
I have reprehended, the preacher is the only conspicu- 
ous figure; while the diminutive subject is faintly 
sketched, and scarcely seen in the back ground of the 
picture. 

5. The gospel ought to be preached earnestly. 

Everything which is felt by the mind to be deeply 
interesting either to its own welfare, or to that of its 
fellow men, is by the mere prompting of nature ex- 
pressed with earnestness, both in writing and speaking. 
So universally true, and so obvious is this, that he who 
does not thus express himself in this manner is never 
supposed to be interested at all. Accordingly, men 
who wish to persuade others that they feel when they 
do not, are obliged to counterfeit this mode of nature, 
that they may thus be believed to feel. Hence all the 
assumed fervour of demagogues, separatical preachers, 
and others of a corresponding character. 

From this fact it is abundantly evident, that he who 
would persuade others that he is interested in the sub- 
jects on which he descants, must originally feel them ; 
and must also express his views of them in the native 
language of feeling. To a preacher these rules are im- 
portant in a degree which it will be difficult to estimate. 
The observance of them is necessary to convince his 
hearers that he is an honest man. The truths of the 
gospel are of such moment, as to render it impossible 
for him who cordially believes them, to avoid being 
deeply interested ; and, if thus interested, very difficult 
to fail of discovering that interest, by the earnestness of 
thought and utterance in which it is naturally expressed. 
But a preacher of the gospel, unless he prove the fact 
to be otherwise, is originally supposed to be deeply in- 
terested in its truths, and is regularly considered as 
professing by his very office cordially to believe them. 
If, then, he brings them forth to his congregation in a 
combination of cold sentiments, lifeless phraseology, and 
languid elocution, it will not be easy for them to be 
satisfied that he feels what he professes to feel, or be- 
lieves what he professes to believe. 

Should he, however, escape the imputation, and by 
a life of exemplary piety and beneficence prove himself 



to be a good man (a case which, I acknowledge, has 
frequently existed), his preaching will, to a great ex- 
tent, be still unhappy. If, from the force of phlegmatic 
constitution, or a habit of moving heavily in the con- 
cerns of life, he should have derived a dull, drawling 
mode of thinking, writing, and speaking, he will spread 
a similar languor over his hearers. And lull their moral 
powers, if not their natural ones, to sleep. They may 
believe him to be sincere, but they will never feel as if 
he were in earnest. From such preaching, no energy 
of affection, no solemn concern, no active fears, no 
lively hopes, no vigorous resolutions, no strenuous ef- 
forts about the salvation of the soul, can be ordinarily 
derived, and certainly can never rationally be expected. 
He, on the contrary, who exhibits the doctrines and 
precepts of the gospel in an earnest, fervid manner, 
will instinctively be regarded as being really in earnest. 
Religion from his mouth will appear as a concern of 
high moment : a subject in which every man is deeply 
interested, about which he is obliged to employ the most 
solemn thoughts, and the most efficacious exertions. 
All who attend on his ministry will go to inquire, to 
listen, to feel, to act, and to be fervently employed in 
practising their duty, and obtaining their salvation. 

Let no young preacher think himself excused for a 
moment in neglecting to acquire such a manner of 
preaching. Every preacher is bound to use all the 
means in his power for the purpose of rousing the at- 
tention, and engaging the affection of his flock to these 
mighty objects. Much more, at the same time, is in 
his power than he will easily believe. A too modest 
distrust of their own talents in this respect, is perhaps 
the chief reason why the eloquence of the desk is in so 
many instances less earnest, less animated, than a good 
man would always wish. All men will acknowledge 
this to be unhappy ; often, there is reason to fear, it in 
criminal also. For he who has not laboured as much 
as is in his power to preach well in this respect, has 
certainly not laboured to preach as well as he can. 

Young men have a peculiar interest in this subject. 
A preacher who is unanimated in youth, will be heavy 
in middle life, and torpid in old age. 

1 know of no class of preachers so prone to be defec- 
tive in this particular, as those who are sometimes called 
moral preachers. By these I intend such as inculcate, 
not the morality of the gospel, but such a course of ex- 
ternal conduct, as merely secures a fair reputation, and 
renders the state of society agreeable ; in other words, 
the morality of Zeno and Seneca. It is impossible 
that he who recommends this morality, and stops here, 
should be in earnest himself, or appear in earnest to 
others. 

6. The gospel ought to be preached affectionately. 
No employment awakens, and calls into action all 
the generous emotions of the mind more than that of 
the preacher. He comes to his fellow men with a mes- 
sage infinitely more interesting, and more useful than 
any other. He is sent on an errand more expressive 
of tenderness and good-will. He comes to disclose the 
boundless mercy of God to mankind, as manifested in 
the condescension, life, and death of the Redeemer : in 
the forgiveness of sin, and the renovation of the soul ; 
in its safe conveyance through the dangers of this 
world, and its final admission into heaven. This mes- 
sage he brings to his fellow men, guilty and ruined in 
themselves, exposed to infinite danger, and hopelesi 



THE MEANS OF GRACE THE MANNER OF PREACHING. 



799 



suffering. What subjects can be equally affecting? 
W hat employment can equally awaken all the tender- 
ness of virtue ? 

An affectionate manner is in itself amiable and en- 
gaging. Men naturally love those who appear benevo- 
lent and tender-hearted ; and, most of all, require and 
love this character in a minister of the gospel. This 
character or its opposite can hardly fail to appear in 

1 his discourses. There are so many things in the sub- 
jects of his preaching which naturally call forth tender- 
ness and affection, that, if he possess this disposition, it 
cannot fail to appear in his sentiments, in his language, 
and in his manner of utterance. Wherever it appears, 
it will be acknowledged and loved ; and the words of a 

1 beloved preacher will always come to his flock with a 

i peculiar power of persuasion. ' 

There is one class of scriptural subjects, about which 

I I wish especially to warn those of my audience who 
may one day become preachers of the gospel. This 
class involves all those which respect the anger of God 
against sin, and his denunciations against sinners ; par- 
ticularly the final judgment and retribution, and the 
future sufferings of the impenitent. It is no unfrequent 
thing to hear these subjects discussed in that strong 

' language, and that vehement utterance, with which an 

' impassionate speaker labours to express his own indig- 

! nation, and to rouse that of his audience against atro- 
cious crimes, or invading enemies. Vehemence is not 
the manner of address which is suited to subjects of 
this nature. The preacher ought to remember, that in 
disclosing the doom of the impenitent, he is perhaps 
pronouncing his own. How few, even of the best of 
men, are assured of their safety ! Were this objection 
removed, how foreign, how unfitted ( to say the least ) 
is it to subjects so awful ! I have heard sermons of this 
description. The emotions excited in my own mind, 

i and abundantly expressed to me by others, were, I con- 
fess, a mixture of horror and disgust; feelings from 
which good can hardly be expected in a case of this 
nature. I wish these subjects ever to be handled 
plainly and without disguise. Such a mode is equally 
essential to the integrity of the preacher, and the use- 
fulness of his discourses. But I wish them to be always 
handled also with such a mixture of solemnity and af- 
fection, as shall wholly exclude vehemence on the one 
hand, and strongly exhibit tenderness on the other. 
The words of the preacher should be those of a guilty 
man to guilty men ; of a dying man to dying men ; of 
a man who humbly hopes that he has found pardon for 
himself, and is most affectionately anxious that his 
hearers may find the same blessing also. 

There are two other subjects, which I think are often 
improperly handled in a different manner ; a manner 
which without much violence, may be styled too affec- 
tionate ; viz. the love and the sufferings of Christ. These, 
many preachers labour to describe with as much strength 
and tenderness as possible. In their efforts to be pe- 
culiarly pathetic, they often exhibit such images, and 
adopt such expressions as have ever appeared to me un- 
suited to the nature and dignity of the theme. The love 
of Christ was wonderful in its degree. But it was at- 
tended with a glory and sublimity which repel all 
familiar views, all diminutive representations; and de- 
mand thoughts of the highest reverence, and language 
of the highest elevation. All those epithets which are ap- 
plied with the utmost propriety and force to human ten- 



derness, and the soft affections of our race, are here, in 
my view, wholly misplaced. Even the epithet dear 
when applied to the Saviour, although sanctioned in 
many hymns, some of them written by persons of great 
respectability, has ever appeared to me too familiar, 
too colloquial, too diminutive, to be applied to this ex- 
alted Person ; so that I never either hear or read it 
without pain. At the same time, many of the strong, 
impassioned exclamations which are often employed in 
endeavouring to make deep impressions concerning the 
sufferings of the Saviour, produce, I acknowledge, on 
my own mind the contrary effects. The death of Christ 
ought never to be lamented in such language as may \ 
very properly exhibit our feelings for the intense suf- 
ferings of a beloved child, or a darling friend. How 
differently has even St Paul, who, among the writers of 
the New Testament, and David, among those of the Old, 
have expressed the strongest emotions concerning this 
affecting subject, exhibited each his own views ! Al- 
though they are intense, they are yet always dignified, 
and very often sublime. 

7. The gospel ought to be preached acceptably. 

It is a common opinion, that all the censures thrown 
out against what is said by an orthodox preacher, arise 
either from his want of talents, from some prejudice 
against the man, or from the hatred of the human 
heart to the truth which he utters. Either of these 
attributes, particularly the last, may serve as a conve- 
nient shelter for the preacher's faults, but is not a 
fair account of the fact. That the heart is naturally 
opposed to divine truth, and that those who declare it 
honestly are for this reason often censured, I have not 
a doubt. But the preacher not unfrequently occasions 
the censure by his own fault ; and ought never to shun 
the blame which he has merited. 

Solomon has taught us, that ' a word fitly spoken is 
like apples (or citrons) of gold in a net-work of sil- 
ver :' a beautiful object beautifully exhibited, and 
therefore making an impression remarkably delightful. 
Of Solomon, also styled, ' the preacher,' by the Spirit 
of God, it is recorded, that he ' sought to find out accept- 
able words :' and that while writing a part of the scrip- 
tural canon. Who, with these considerations before 
him, can doubt that this is universally the duty of such 
as preach the gospel ? 

But there are men who in the desk appear to choose 
the character and attitudes of polemics. This character 
is sometimes rendered necessary, and is then defensible ; 
but, when taken up of choice merely, is always disa- 
greeable and disadvantageous. 

There are others who, when particular terms or 
phrases have become odious, by being used and marked 
in the progress of a vehement dispute, adopt them still, 
either from choice or neglfgence ; and thus warn their 
hearers beforehand to dislike whatever they are pre- 
pared to say. 

A third class select phraseology calculated to persuade 
an audience, that they hold unheard of and unwarrant- 
able opinions ; when, if they would use customary lan- 
guage only, their tenets would be found to differ in no- 
thing from those which are commonly received. In this 
manner the preacher alarms his hearers, not concerning 
their sin and danger, but concerning his own heresy ; 
and occasions an opposition literally causeless and 
useless. 

Some attack from the desk such as have personally 



800 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. CUV. 



offended them, and thus make it a rostrum of satire 
and revenge, instead of a pulpit, where the tidings of 
salvation are to be published. 

To preach acceptably demands all the characteristics, 
already insisted on in this Discourse : plainness, va- 
riety, boldness, solemnity, earnestness, and affection. 
It also demands something more. It requires that the 
preacher should avoid all such irregularities ; that he 
should be cautious of pushing his sentiments to rank 
extremes ; that he should wantonly give no offence to 
any man ; that he should select, as far as he can, ac- 
ceptable words ; and that he should appear wholly en- 
gaged in promoting the salvation of his flock. His 
discourses ought to be the result of solid thought, care- 



ful study, and complete conviction of the truth and im- 
portance of Christianity. 

Finally, they ought to appear fraught with piety tc 
God, and integrity to men. 

In this manner the gospel, unless I mistake, was ori- 
ginally preached. In this manner it will I think be 
preached by every minister, who unites the ' wisdom of 
the serpent with the innocence of the dove.' In this 
manner, particularly, it will be preached by him who, 
comprehending thoroughly the nature of his office, and 
feeling the necessity of discharging the duties of it 
faithfully, designs in the end to give a joyful account of 
his stewardship to God. 



SERMON CL1V. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.— EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.—VARIOUS DUTIES OF 

MINISTERS. 



And sent Timothy, our brother, and minister of God, and our fellow-labourer in the gospel of Christ, to establish 
you, and to comfort you concerning your faith 1 Thess. iii. 2. 



Having examined at length the great duty of preach- 
ing the gospel in the two preceding Discourses, I shall 
now proceed to a summary consideration of other mi- 
nisterial duties. 

In the text, Timothy is said to be sent to the Thes- 
salonians, to establish them, and to comfort them con- 
cerning their faith.' What was here the business of 
Timothy, is the proper business of every minister of 
the gospel. From the text, therefore, I derive this 
doctrine : 

That every minister of the gospel is appointed for 
the establishment of Christians. This truth will not 
be questioned. I shall, therefore, enter immediately 
upon a consideration of the principal remaining me- 
thods, in which the duties specified in the text are to 
be performed. 

I. Every minister is bound to give himself diligently 
to study. 

This duty is abundantly enjoined in the Scriptures. 
' Meditate,' says St Paul to Timothy, ' upon these 
things. Give thyself wholly to them : that thy profiting 
may appear unto all.' ' A bishop,' he farther says, 
' must be apt to teach.' Plainly, therefore, he must 
learn the things which he is to teach. He must not be 
' a novice ; lest, being lifted up with pride, he fall into 
the condemnation of the devil.' That these precepts 
require of every minister the diligent study of the Scrip- 
tures, will not, I suppose be disputed. This, however, 
is far from being all that is required. Every minister 
is bound to enable himself to study the Scriptures with 
success. Unless this is done, the thing directly com- 
manded can never be done to any valuable purpose. A 
child may study them with great diligence throughout 
his childhood, and an ignorant man throughout his life, 
and yet both be novices in the end. ' A novice,' here, 
denotes a new convert to the faith ; and by Chrysostom 



is said to mean one newly instructed, or one who has 
been instructed but a little time. The original word 
denotes a plant lately set out, or planted. Its real im- 
port is a person who knows little about what he pre- 
tends to teach. Timothy, at the writing of this epistle, 
was about thirty-two years of age ; had been long, 
* even from a child,' acquainted with the Holy Scrip- 
tures; had been a convert about twelve or thirteen 
years ; had been continually instructed in the gospel 
by St Paul ; and had enjoyed the benefit of his wisdom, 
learning, and inspiration throughout this period. Be- 
sides, he appears to have possessed superior talents, a 
good education, and supernatural endowments in a high 
degree. Still, all these directions Paul judged to be 
necessary for him. For he expressly cautions him not 
to let any man despise his youth. How much more 
are the same directions necessary to a youth, who is 
only preparing himself for the ministry of the gospel. 

To every man who would well understand any com- 
plicated subject, comprehensive views, clear discern- 
ment, and the art of arranging his thoughts with skill 
and perspicuity, are indispensable. These attainments 
are the result only of long-continued study, habits of 
exact discrimination, and extensive practice in the art 
of methodizing his thoughts. 

To a minister all this is peculiarly necessary. His 
prime business is to teach, and he must therefore have 
learned. An ignorant teacher is a contradiction in 
terms. 

The prime object of study to a minister is the Bible. 
In order to understand this sacred book, it is necessary 
not only to study it intensely and abundantly, but to 
become acquainted also with the languages in which it 
was written. The importance of this knowledge is 
completely seen in the fact, that the Scriptures are ul- 
timately what they were as they came from the hands 



VARIOUS DUTIES OF MINISTERS. 



801 



of the writers ; not as they came from the hands of the 
translators. 

Another requisite is an acquaintance with ecclesiasti- 
cal history. This will teach him the sins and virtues, 
the errors and sound doctrines, the prosperous and the 
adverse circumstances, which have existed in the church 
in its various ages; together with the causes by which 
they have been produced. Generally, he will derive 
from this source the same advantages, in the ecclesias- 
tical sense, which the statesman derives, in a political 
sense, from civil history. He will learn what the 
church has been, why it has thus been, and how, in 
many respects, it may be rendered better and happier. 

Another requisite to the same end, is acquaintance 
with wise and learned commentaries on the Scriptures. 
The authors of these must, in many instances, have un- 
derstood this sacred book better than himself. By a 
prudent recurrence to their explications, he will be en- 
abled to gain a knowledge of it, which otherwise would 
be impracticable. 

The science of ethics is only a branch of theology. 

Logic is indispensable to make him a sound reason- 
er ; and rhetoric, to teach him how to write and how 
to speak with skill and success. 

The knowledge of history and geography is indis- 
pensable to all men who would make contemplation, or 
instruction, any serious part of their business. 

The book of man is to every minister a necess- 
ary object of investigation, that he may know to what 
beings he preaches ; how to preach to them in an 
interesting and useful manner ; and how to under- 
stand, explain, and impress a multitude of scriptural 
passages. 

' Generally, all that knowledge which will enlarge and 
invigorate his mind, will so far as he can attain it, con- 
tribute to render him a more able and judicious preach- 
er, and his discourses more instructive, interesting, and 
edifying to his hearers. 

A considerable number of persons professing to be- 
lieve the Bible, are found in this and other countries, 
generally persons remarkably ignorant, who have pro- 
nounced learning, or, as they have termed it, book- 
learning, to be a disqualification for the ministerial of- 
fice. Ignorant as they are, they have still understand- 
ing enough to perceive that ignorance itself cannot fur- 
nish a man for the business of teaching. They have 
accordingly provided a substitute for learning, which 
in a preacher they could not otherwise avoid acknow- 
ledging to be indispensable. The substitute is this : 
Their preachers, as they profess to believe, are supplied 
directly from heaven with supernatural light and power ; 
so as to enable them clearly to understand, and profit- 
ably to expound, the word of God. They farther de- 
clare, that men destitute of these endowments, cannot 
even understand his word; that the real'and only pro- 
fitable sense of the Scriptures is mystical, and not at all 
discerned by common eyes ; that to understand it at all, 
the supernatural endowments which they claim are ab- 
solutely necessary ; and that learning, therefore, is of 
no use to this end. This is the substance of their doc- 
trine, although expressed by them, as everything else 
concerning religion is expressed by ignorant and en- 
thusiastic men, with much uncertainty and confusion. 

This scheme deserves a sober examination on two 
accounts only. One is, that it is seriously adopted by 
ks votaries. The other is, that these are considerably 

5 i 



numerous. For these reasons I shall animadvert upon 
it in the following' observations : — 

1. The Scriptures give us no reason to conclude that 
inspiration would continue after the apostolic age. 

The endowment challenged by these men appears to 
be that kind and degree of inspiration, which was for- 
merly given to those whose business it was to interpret 
unknown tongues. I do not mean that they directly 
challenge this character in express terms ; but this is 
what they mean if they mean anything. The Scrip- 
tures they declare to be written in language which, as 
to its true and useful meaning, is unknown to man- 
kind at large. They, as they profess, are endowed by 
heaven with a power of interpreting it to others. But 
the Scriptures give us no reason to believe that any 
such inspiration exists. The burden of proof plainly 
lies upon them ; and, if they fail of furnishing it, their 
pretensions stand for nothing. 

2. If they are actually thus inspired, their inspiration 
can be of no use to mankind. 

The language which they use in interpreting the 
Scriptures is the plain, common language of men. The 
Scriptures are written in this very language, chosen 
with incomparably more skill and success, than that 
which is used by these preachers. The most important 
things in the Bible are written in the plainest possible 
manner. If mankind cannot understand the terms 
here used, the terms which they employ must be still 
more unintelligible ; their labours, therefore, must be 
absolutely useless. 

So far as the language of the Scriptures is attended 
with any difficulty, and demands any skill in interpret- 
ing it, the efforts of these men are worse than nothing. 
The only power by which any language can be correct- 
ly explained to those who speak it, is critical skill in 
that language. But this, these men have not begun to 
possess. When, therefore, they comment, they merely 
blunder. What they attempt to explain, they only per- 
plex. As they do not understand the language them- 
selves, it is impossible that they should make it under- 
stood by others. 

3. They give no proof that they are thus inspired. 

The apostles prove their inspiration in three unob- 
jectionable ways. They wrought miracles, uttered un-. 
rivalled wisdom, and exhibited throughout their lives 
unrivalled virtue. These men furnish neither of these 
proofs. They do not pretend to work miracles ; they 
are always weak, ignorant, and foolish ; and though 
sometimes it is to be hoped men of piety, are never 
distinguished by any remarkable excellence ; but fall 
below most other pious men, through the influence of 
characteristical pride, prejudice, enthusiasm, censori- ] 
ousness, and bigotry. 

As, therefore, they furnish no proof that they possess 
this power, mankind are under no obligation to believe 
their pretensions. Neither the apostles, nor even Christ 
himself, claimed the least faith in their mission, nor the 
least obedience to their precepts, until they had proved 
themselves sent from God, and inspired, with the know- 
ledge of his will, by the unanswerable evidence of mi- 
racles. Nor can it be supposed, that God would require 
us to believe any man to be inspired, or sent with a 
commission from himself, unless he furnished clear, un- 
questionable proof of his inspiration. If we were to 
admit the contrary position, and were required to be- 
lieve men to be inspired, because they asserted them- 



802 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sun. cliv. 



selves to be inspired, there is no error which we should 
not be obliged to receive, and scarcely any crime which 
we should not be called upon to commit. No men have 
been more erroneous, few men have been more wicked, 
than such as have claimed inspiration. Such were Ju- 
das, Gaulonites, Theudas, and Barchoc'hab ; and' such 
have been many in succeeding ages. But the preachers 
in question furnish no evidence of their own inspiration 
whatever. 

4. They are not thus inspired. 

From what has been observed under the last head, it 
is evident that, if they were inspired, their inspiration 
could be of no possible use to any but themselves ; be- 
cause, as they give no proof of it, none can warrantably 
believe it. But it is contradictory to the whole history 
of God's providence, that men should be inspired for 
their own benefit merely. No fact of this kind is re- 
corded in the Scriptures; nor can it be admitted by 
common sense. 

But the men themselves furnish ample proof that they 
are not inspired. They are ignorant of the propriety 
and meaning of language,. and use it falsely, absurdly, 
and in violation of the plainest rules of grammar. They 
reason weakly, erroneously, and inconclusively ; lay 
down false premises, and draw false conclusions. Their 
sentiments are regularly vulgar ; often gross, and not 
unfrequently indecent. It is impossible that the author 
of all wisdom should be the author of folly, inspire ab- 
surdity, and disclose his own pleasure in the lame con- 
ceptions of ignorance, in the mistakes of mental imbe- 
cility, and in the disgusting sentiments of indecent vul- 
garism. Ignorant men he may undoubtedly inspire ; 
but their inspiration makes them cease to be ignorant 
men ; enlarges their views, ennobles their sentiments, 
and adorns all their communications with pre-eminent 
propriety and dignity. The writings of Peter and John 
have communicated wisdom, elevation, and refinement, 
to the ablest men of all succeeding ages. Nothing was 
ever more unlike their writings, than the crude effu- 
sions of the preachers in question. Besides, the doc- 
trines which they teach are contradictory to each other. 
The language of Scripture they frequently misunder- 
stand and misinterpret ; supposing that which is simple 
to be figurative, and that which is figurative to be sim- 
ple ; and thus making the Scriptures speak not only 
what they never meant, but what it is impossible that 
they should mean ; viz. gross absurdity. Were an in- 
telligent man to attribute these things to the Spirit of 
God, he would, in my view, be guilty of blasphemy. 
These preachers are shielded from this charge only by 
their ignorance. 

The priests and the prophets of the Jewish church 
were almost all educated men. Whenever they were 
not, and often when they were, they were inspired. 
' The priest's lips,' s.iys God in Malachi, ' should keep 
knowledge ; and they should seek the law at his mouth ; 
for he is the messenger of the Lord of Hosts.' If the 
priests were to ' keep knowledge,' they must have pre- 
viously obtained it. Such, plainly, ought to be the 
conduct of every messenger of tlie Lord of Hosts. The 
apostles were educated for a series of years by the best 
of all teachers, the Saviour of mankind, and were then 
inspired. In this manner were ministers anciently pre- 
pared for the business of instructing mankind. 

Thus, the pretence on. which these men act is un- 
founded, false, and vain. 



The basis on which it is erected is, I presume, the 
following text : ' The natural man receiveth not the 
things of the Spirit of God : for they are foolishness 
unto him ; neither can he know them, because they are 
spiritually discerned.' But of this text, and of others 
like it, they totally mistake the meaning. Spiritual 
discernment is that view of divine truth which is expe- 
rienced by those who love it. Such persons, by this 
discernment, perceive the excellence and beauty of that 
truth, but are not .enabled by it to understand in any 
other respect the meaning of a single passage at all bet- 
ter than they would have understood it without this dis- 
cernment. It does not at all enlarge the understanding, 
communicate knowledge of language, nor enable the 
mind to discern the proper sense of that language. 
Every sanctified child has spiritual discernment. Still 
he is a child ; extremely limited in his understanding, 
ignorant of the meaning of words, and incapable of in- 
terpreting Scriptural passages. These preachers are 
only larger children. St Paul has forcibly described 
their character in Heb. v. 12, &c. : ' For when for the 
time ye ought to be teachers ;' or, as rendered by Dr 
Macknight, ' For though you ought to have been teach- 
ers, on account of the time ' (that is, have lived so long 
under the gospel, that ye ought to have known enough 
of it to teach others), ' ye have need that one teach you 
again which be the first principles of the oracles of 
God;' and are become such, as have need 'of milk, 
and not of strong meat.' ' For every one that useth 
milk, is unskilful in the word of righteousness ; for he 
is a babe. But strong meat belongeth to them that are 
of full age, even those who by reason of use have their 
senses exercised to discern both good and evil.' How 
different is this character from that of 'the scribe, in- 
structed unto the kingdom of heaven, who is like unto 
a householder, that bringeth forth out of his treasure 
tilings new and old !' 

II. Every minister is to conduct both the common and 
peculiar ordinances of divine worship. 

The cftmmon ordinances of this worship he is to regu- 
late according to the Scriptures ; and administer them 
to all who are present : and no other person is to inter- 
fere with his administrations. The peculiar ordinances 
he alone is also to administer : the Lord's supper, as the 
apostles did, to professing Christians only : baptism to 
professing Christians offering themselves to him, unex- 
ceptionably, as candidates for admission into the church ; 
and to the infant children of professing Christians. 

The rules by which he is to conduct the mode of 
administration are, so far as they are applicable, those 
which have been given concerning preaching. The 
administration is to be marked with dignity, solemnity, 
explicitness, and affection ; so that everything may be 
distinctly understood, and deeply felt. In the prayers 
accompanying these administrations, and, when the 
occasion permits, in suitable expositions of the great 
things which they teach, he may advantageously unfold 
just conceptions of the nature and import of the ordi- 
nance administered ; and powerfully impress them on 
the minds of those who are present- Still more parti- 
cularly should he explain and impress them in his ser- 
mons to the utmost pf his power. If they are not thus 
explained, they will become in the view of his flock, 
mere symbols, without meaning or use. If they are not 
thus impressed, they will be in danger of being profan- 
ed and disregarded. 



VARIOUS DUTIES OF MINISTERS. 



803 



III. Every minuter is to preside over and direct the 
discipline of the church. 

A minister is by his office a ruler in the church, and 
the ruler in his own church. In this character he is 
bound to 'rule well;' and in thus ruling, is to * be 
accounted worthy of double honour.' He is required to 
' take the oversight thereof, not as lording it over God's 
heritage, but as an ensample to the flock ; not by con- 
straint, but willingly ; not for filthy lucre, but as of a 
ready mind.' 

All government is intended for the benefit of the 
governed. In that which Christ has established for the 
benefit of his church, this equitable principle is conspi- 
cuous in every part of the system. A strong, uniform, 
controlling sense of this truth will of itself direct to 
almost all that conduct in ecclesiastical government 
which is evangelical, and prevent almost all that which 
is wrong. The minister is bound to feel, in this case, 
nothing but the honour of his Master, and the good of 
his flock. All favouritism and prejudice, all cunning 
and worldly policy, all selfish schemes and by-ends, are 
by the - Scriptures shut out of the institution. As in 
preaching, so in ruling, he is required £ not to walk in 
guile, craftiness, or hypocrisy ; to renounce the hidden 
things of dishonesty; and to commend himself to every 
man's conscience in the sight of God. ' 

Passion also is never to be indulged in the perform- 
ance of this duty. ' A bishop must not be soon angry,' 
says St Paul, ' nor self-willed; but blameless, and patient.' 
— ' The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gen- 
tle unto all men ; in meekness instructing those that 
oppose themselves.'' 

While he is bound ' to rebuke them that sin, before 
all ; that others also may fear ;' he is to ' prefer no man 
before another ; and to do nothing by partiality.' In 
the discipline which respects other ministers, he is 
bound ' not to receive a railing accusation, but before 
(that is, on the testimony of) two or three witnesses:' 
and all ' those elders, who rule well,' he, together with 
their people, is to ' account worthy of double honour.' 

The peculiar directions given in Scripture concerning 
ecclesiastical discipline, I propose to consider hereafter. 
At the present time it will be sufficient to observe, that 
he is to do nothing, to omit nothing, and, 60 far as is 
in his power, to suffer nothing to be done, or omitted, 
which is not directly authorised in the word of God. 

IV. He is also to unite with his brethren in ordaining 
other ministers. 

Ordaining is the consecration of a minister by the 
laying on of the hands of the presbytery and by prayer. 
At the same time, a charge, containing a series of solemn 
injunctions, and similar to that which St Paul gave to 
Timothy, is to be delivered to the person ordained by the 
united authority of those who act in' the ordination. 
This charge is to enjoin all the great duties of his office, 
and the manner in which they are to be performed. 
The right hand of fellowship is to be given to him also, 
as it was to Paul and Barnabas by the apostles at Jeru- 
salem, assuring him of the cordial friendship, commu- 
nion, and cc-operation of his Christian brethren, both 
in the ministry and in the churches. 

Concerning all these things, since they are perfectly 
understood and uniformly practised with great decency 
throughout this country, it will be unnecessary to make 
any particular remarks. I shall, therefore, only add, 
that there are in the Epistles to Timothy and Titus, so 



many injunctions on the people concerning their duty, 
as in my opinion to warrant, and in a sense demand, 
that a charge, enjoining it upon them, should become a 
part of these solemnities. 

The chief difficulty connected with the business of 
ordination will almost always be found in selecting the 
proper persons to be ordained. The character given of 
these persons, particularly in the above mentioned 
Epistles, and generally throughout the New Testament, 
is the authoritative, the perfect, and the only directory 
concerning this subject. This character is even to be 
regarded as indispensable, and invariably to be demand- 
ed. Unless it be found substantially in a candidate for 
ordination, he is of course to be rejected. 

Particularly he is, in the evangelical sense, to be a 
good man ; of a fair Christian profession, of an unblam- 
able Christian life, holden in esteem by the church, well 
reported of by others, of a competent capacity and at- 
tainments, and marked with that prudence which our 
Saviour required of his apostles. His doctrines are to 
be evangelical and uncorrupt, and his public exhibitions . 
edifying and approved. All these characteristics those 
who ordain are bound to see amply attested. Indeed, 
unless he possess them, he cannot in ray opinion be 
warrantably licensed to preach the gospel. 

Among the things indispensably necessary in the 
character of such a candidate, and yet not unfrequently 
less insisted on than this ministerial duty demands, is 
the prudence or discretion just mentioned. A man may 
be a good man, and yet be indiscreet: but he can hard- 
ly be a useful man. An indiscreet or imprudent minis- 
ter will rarely do good at all, and will certainly do 
much harm. A -minister is an object of inspection to all 
eyes, and regarded as responsible to all men. Every 
impropriety, even such as would be unnoticed in other 
men of fair characters, will be seen, marked, and re- 
membered in him as a serious defect, and will produce 
serious mischief. The minister who would avoid this 
mischief must, like the wife of Caesar, not be suspected 
by persons of moderation and candour. 

It was a memorable observation of a late venerable 
minister, of ■ Massachusetts, a man distinguished for 
wisdom and excellence, and of more than sixty years' 
standing in the sacred office, that among all the ministers 
at whose dismission he had been present, and who were 
dismissed for some fault in themselves, neither heresy 
nor immorality had occasioned the dismission of more 
than one out of twenty ; while imprudence had been the 
cause of this calamity to the remaining nineteen. Of 
the truth of this observation there cannot be a doubt. 
He who considers the uneasiness, contentions, and 
other mischiefs accompanying this event, will deeply feel 
the importance of preventing the chief cause of these 
evils. But this can be effectually done only by refus- 
ing to admit imprudent men into the ministry. 

It is remarkable, that the first direction given by 
Christ to the apostles, after he had commissioned them 
to go out and preach among the people of Judea, en- 
joined upon them discretion. ' Be ye wise as serpents, 
and harmless as doves.' The first article also in St 
Paul's two recitals to Timothy and Titus of the duties of 
a bishop is, ' A bishop must be blameless.' Discretion 
is the source of a blameless life. No excellence of 
heart attained by man will ensure this character. On 
the other hand, prudent men are sometimes, even when 
destitute of religion, more unblamable in their deport- 



804 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. ci.iv. 



merit than some real Christians. Prudence and im- 
prudence affect everything in a man's life, especially 
in a minister's life; and therefore give it a predomi- 
nating colour. Prudence is the great preventive of all 
thoughtless, rash, and dangerous conduct. Impru- 
dence, on the contrary, betrays a man into every head- 
long measure, and lays up abundant materials for sore 
mortification and repentance, producing multiplied evils 
which must be regretted, but can never be repaired. 
When, therefore, St Paul requires Timothy to ' lay 
hands suddenly on no man,' in order to avoid becoming 
' a partaker in other men's sins,' and to ' keep himself 
pure ;' he is justly understood as cautioning Timothy 
against introducing imprudent as well as irreligious 
persons into the ministry. It is impossible that such 
persons should have ' a good report of those who are 
without,' or for any length of time, of those who are 
within. Nor is their misconduct a series of mere de- 
fects only, but of real faults also. The fact, that we 
will not take effectual care to avoid doing mischief, 
especially in so important a concern, is itself a gross 
fault. Of the same nature are all those minor trans- 
gressions which proceed from this negligence. Such 
persons can never be proper candidates for ordination, 
nor even for a license to preach the gospel. 

That -every candidate should be a man of piety, needs 
no proof; nor that he should be qualified by his capa- 
city and attainments to perform usefully all the duties 
of the ministerial office. Both characters are abun- 
dantly required in the Scriptures ; and every minister, 
when called to the business of ordaining, has his whole 
duty with respect to both summed up in that remark- 
able injunction of St Paul : ' The things which thou 
hast heard of me, commit thou unto faithful men, who 
shall be able to teach others also.' 

V. Evert/ minister is to instruct and edify Itis flock 
in private, as well as in public. 

Preaching is intended to be adapted to the common 
wants and circumstances of a congregation. But there 
are multitudes of cases in which individuals need pecu- 
liar counsel, exhortation, and reproof. These, ser- 
mons will not always furnish. Private advice must 
often be given to the person who alone is concerned. 
The subjects of this instruction are almost endlessly 
diversified ; involving whatever is peculiar to sinners, 
and to saints. In every important case of this nature, 
those who are concerned are required to apply to their 
minister for spiritual direction and assistance, and this 
assistance he is required to furnish. For this purpose 
he is bound, as far and as speedily as may be, to. obtain 
the necessary qualifications. In interviews of this na- 
ture he will find opportunities of doing good, which 
are not presented in the course of his public duties. 
The individuals who are under his charge he will there 
meet in the character of a beloved and most necessary 
friend. The difficulties under which they severally 
labour he will hear described exactly by themselves. 
Of course, he will learn exactly what is necessary or 
useful to the person who is concerned ; the views, whe- 
ther just or erroneous, which he entertains ; the proper 
means of removing his prejudices, doubts, fears, and 
sorrows ; the kind of consolation, instruction, and sup- 
port to be administered; and generally the peculiar 
means of doing him peculiar good. Whatever the 
minister says also will at such a time be realized by 
the individual, as directed to himself, and not to 



another ; as reaching his own peculiar case, and meet- 
ing the very difficulties under which he labours ; will 
have all the lively and impressive, the engaging and 
endearing nature of conversation ; and will therefore 
be peculiarly listened to, felt, and remembered. The 
minister will be especially beloved, and therefore pecu- 
liarly obeyed. 

Occasions for the performance of this duty are nu- 
merous, and daily occurring, A house of sorrow, and 
a sick bed, furnish opportunities for doing good of this 
nature, which are eminently advantageous ; as does 
also every season of peculiar religious anxiety. Gene- 
rally, whenever a minister is with his parishioners, he 
should follow a rule given by a wise and good man to 
a young preacher who was his pupil, ' Wherever you 
are, remember on every proper occasion to drop a word 
for God.' 

The administration of I'eproof is one of the most 
difficult duties of a minister. For all transgressions 
which are private, and for many which are not, re- 
proof should be private. ' Go and tell thy brother his 
fault between him and thee alone,' is a rule of supreme 
wisdom, applicable to very many cases beside that 
which is directly specified, and scarcely capable of being 
too much regarded by ministers of the gospel. Nor in 
any case, except where necessity requires it, should the 
facts be disclosed afterward. To reprove successfully 
is an attainment highly important, and far less com- 
mon than could be wished. The great secret lies in 
seeking the happiest opportunities; in exhibiting the 
gentleness, meekness, and forbearance of the gospel ; and 
in evincing a desire of nothing but of doing real good to 
him who is reproved. Pride, petulance, and passion, 
airs of superiority, resentment, or indifference, stinging 
expressions, and even 'those which are blunt or «:old > 
are here wholly misplaced, and will awaken no emo- 
tions but those of anger and contempt. Even the 
psalmist could say, 'Let the righteous smite me kindly, 
and reprove me : let not their precious oil break my 
head.' At the same time, every minister should re- 
member that to reprove privately, as well as publicly, 
is an indispensable part of his duty ; and that ' as an 
ear-ring of gold, and an ornament of fine gold, so is a 
wise reprover upon an obedient ear.' 

All the parts of this duty are to be regulated by the 
same principles which have been mentioned as the 
directories of preaching. These every minister is 
bound therefore faithfully to observe. For the same 
end he ought also; to converse with the books in which,, 
and the persons by whom, cases of conscience are most 
judiciously explained, and the true and false evidences 
of piety most distinctly stated. In addition to this, 
he ought to read, in the most careful manner, the book 
of man. to examine the human character with the most 
critical observation, and to learn, as far as may be, its 
interesting varieties. A familiar correspondence with 
his own congregation will extensively furnish him with 
this valuable knowledge. 

The greatest danger, with regard to the several divi- 
sions of this duty is, that from sloth, or reluctance of 
some other kind, he will be induced to perform it de- 
fectively. That he may avoid this evil he ought to begin 
it at the commencement of his ministry ; and, as soon as 
possible, to make it an immovable habit. In this man- 
ner, and perhaps in no other, it will be effectually done. 

VI. Every minister is bound to enforce all the doc- 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH.—DEACONS. 



805 



trines and duties of religion upon his congregation, by 
an edifying and blameless example. 

' Be thou an example of the believers,' said St Paul 
to Timothy, ' in word, in conversation, in charity, in 
spirit, in faith, in purity.' 

On this subject, highly important as it is, I need not 
dwell : for both the truth and importance of the precept 
will be acknowledged by all men. The greatest diffi- 
culty which a good man will meet in obeying it, will be 
found, not in doing good things, but in avoiding bad 
ones. For this end he is required to watch himself, and 
to remember that he is watched by all men ; especially 
that he is watched by God. He ought diligently to 
make it his settled plan, to consider all his conduct 
before it is adopted \ to. compare his designs of every 
kind with the scriptural precepts; and, wherever any 
action is not absolutely enjoined or forbidden, to weigh 
well even its remote consequences. He is bound to 
recollect continually, that he is appointed and required 
to be an example to the flock ; that every false step 
whicli he takes will be an occasion of stumbling to 
others, a grief to Christians, a dishonour to his office, a 
violation of his duty, and an occasion which will be 
taken by the enemies of Christ to blaspheme. In a 
word, he ought ever to keep in mind, that if he adorns 
the doctrine of the gospel, he will glorify God, and 
prove the means of good to the church, and to his own 
soul. If, on the contrary, he disgraces that doctrine, let 
him remember that he will dishonour God, injure the 
church, wrong his own soul, destroy the efficacy of his 
preaching, and, instead of promoting, probably prevent 
the salvation of his fellow men ! 

REMARKS. 

- 

1. From these observations we learn, that the minis- 
terial office is of great utility to mankind. 

Of course, he who holds it, ought with extreme cau- 
tion to avoid everything by which it may be either dis- 
graced, or in any other manner prevented from its pro- 
per efficacy to accomplish its illustrious ends. At the 
same time, all others are bound to regard it with 

to 



> 'Oiqs'i earn 
»J ete o eJir.q sriJ 

or 



respect. The hatred and contempt, therefore, the 
obloquy and ridicule, with which this office has been so 
often loaded , are unmerited and misplaced ; and ought to 
cover their authors with shame, confusion, and remorse. 

2. These observations prove, that it is also an office 
attended with great difficulties, and demanding for the 
faithful and efficacious discharge of it, many important 
qualifications and many laborious efforts. 

Hence it ought never to be assumed without solemn 
consideration, a thorough examination of the difficulties 
, which it involves, the self-denial with which it must be at- 
tended, and a fixed determination to discharge its duties 
faithfully, and to sustain its difficulties with unshaken 
fortitude. Hence, also, every minister is bound to seek 
assistance from God in daily prayer. God only can 
enable him to discharge his duty faithfully, comfortably, 
or usefully ; and he will thus enable him, if his aid be 
sought aright. 

In the same manner, his people are bound to ask for 
hiin the same blessings. Thus Paul directs the churches 
to whom he wrote to ' pray ' for him ' without ceasing,' 
that he might be a good, useful, and faithful minister of 
Christ. 

A young man who thinks of devoting himself to this 
solemn employment in such a manner as he ought to 
think, will naturally ask, f Who is sufficient for these 
things ?' The answer to this interesting inquiry is 
given by St Paul : ' We have this treasure in earthen 
vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of- God, 
and not of us.' All these difficulties have ever existed, 
and usually in greater degrees than in this country ; and 
they have all been successfully encountered by faithful 
men, even when possessed of moderate talents. Such 
men, in very great numbers, have been eminently suc- 
cessful ministers of righteousness. Every person 
solemnly devoting himself to this office, may for his 
consolation be assured, that the grace of God will be 
glorified in his weakness, and will be sufficient for him 
in every difficulty. Let him also remember, that ' when 
the Chief Shepherd shall appear, he shall receive a 
crown of glory, that fadeth not away.' 



ON ci/ 



jijft 810^9 1 

THE MEANS OF GRACE — EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.— jOFFICERS OF THE 

CHURCH.—DEACONS. 



I oioibitf 

oni aril ni ,bG9i ol jri 















And in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplied, there arose a murmuring of the Grecians 
against the Hebrews, because their widows were neglected in the daily ministration. Then the twelve called 
the multitude of the disciples unto them, and said, It is not reason that we should leave the word of God, and 
serve tables. Wherefore, brethren, look you out among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost 
and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business. But we will give ourselves continually to prayer, and 
to the ministry of the word. And the saying pleased the whole multitude, and they chose Stephen, a man full 
■ of faith and of the Holy Ghost, and Philip, and Prochorus, and Nicanor, and Timon, and Parmenas, and 
Nicolas, a proselyte of Antioch, whom they set before the apostles ; and when they had prayed, they laid their 
hands on them -Acts vi. 1—6. 



This passage of Scripture is the history of the transac- I church ; and is in my view the only instance in which 
tion in which deacons were instituted in the Christian | their origin is mentioned. Dr Mosheim, indeed, and 



806 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clv. 



several other respectable writers, suppose that deacons 
existed before this time, and are spoken of by Christ, 
Luke xxii. 26, in the following passage : ' But ye shall 
not be so : but he that is greatest among- you, let him 
be as the younger ; and he that is chief, as he that doth 
serve.' Here the word for ' younger ' is i/suTtQo;, and 
for i he that doth serve,' lia.Kouav. The latter word he 
supposes to -be unanswerably explanatory of the former, 
and to denote here appropriately the office of a deacon 
in the Christian church. Me/£kiK, also, the Greek word 
for ' greatest,' he considers as denoting a ruler, or 
presbyter ; because it is explained by viyovfavog, ' chief,' 
and contrasted to Oiaaovuv. 

In conformity to this interpretation, he supposes 
'that the young men who carried Ananias and Sapphira 
to their burial, were deacons in the proper sense. In 
support, and, as he thinks, in absolute confirmation of 
this opinion, he observes, that St Peter says, ' And 
likewise ye younger, submit yourselves to the elder.' 
Here the words used are viun^ot and •3-jot/3ut£jo/ : the 
latter meaning, as he apprehends, the elders of the 
church, and the former the deacons. To all this he 
adds, that this sense of the word i/san^oi might be con- 
firmed by numberless citations from Greek and Roman 
writers,. and a variety of authors sacred and profane. 

From these considerations Dr Mpsheim concludes 
that there were deacons in the church antecedently to 
the transaction recorded in the text, f These,' he ob- 
serves, ' were elected from among the Jews who were 
born, in Palestine,' and were suspected by the foreign 
Jews of partiality in distributing the offerings which 
were made for the support of the poor. Hence was 
derived in his view, 'the murmuring of the Grecian 
(or Hellenistic) Jews against the Hebrews,' mentioned 
in the text. To remedy this disorder seven other 
deacons were chosen by order of the apostles ; of 
whom, he supposes, six are by their names determined to 
have been foreigners, and the other was a proselyte from 
Antioch. 

This account must be allowed to be both ingenious 
and plausible : I cannot, however, think it just, for the 
following reasons : — 

1. It seems to me incredible, that Christ should have 
formed an order of officers in his church, by his own 
immediate appointment, and yet that no writer of the 
New Testament should have furnished us any account, 
nor even any hint, concerning this fact. , onfi 

The passage quoted from St Luke is,, to say the most, 
not an account, but a mere recognition, of the fact. 
At the same time, the words, in their customary accepr 
tation, are capable of a belter, as well as a more obvious 
meaning than that annexed to them by Dr Mosheim. 
His interprelation of the text is, ' He that performs 
the office of a presbyter, or an elder, among you, let him, 
not think himself superior to the ministers, or deacons.' 
The amount of this interpretation is no other, than 
that Christ requires the presbyter not to think himself, 
as an officer of the church, superior to a deacon. But 
this certainly cannot be just. The superiority of the 
former to the latter, both in station and authority, is 
everywhere disclosed in the Scriptures. The presby- 
ter, therefore, cannot but know this, and plainly ought 
to,think it, because it is true. If Dr Mosheim intends, 
that the elders should feel that humble disposition only 
which the words evidently indicate, I answer, that 
humility is unquestionably the great thing here incul- 



cated by the Saviour. But this is much more naturally 
and forcibly inculcated, if we take the words in their • 
common acceptation, than by supposing them to denote 
these officers. The general phraseology, ' greatest,' 
and ' chief,' the ' younger,' and ' he that servetli,' indi- 
cates to every man the spirit and deportment enjoined 
by Christ, as perfectly as they can be indicated. When 
we are told, that the greatest is bound to feel and act 
as a youth or child ought to feel and act; and that lie 
who is chief, ought to behave with the modesty and 
^humility of him whose business it is to serve, humilitv 
is certainly inculcated with as much explicitness and 
force as language admits. Christ accordingly adopted 
this very manner of instruction, concerning the same 
subject on other occasions. In Mark ix. 34, we are 
informed of ' a dispute,' which the disciples had among 
themselves, ' who should be greatest.' Christ, to re- 
prove this foolish ambition, ' called the twelve, and 
said unto them, If any man desire to be first, the 
same shall be last of all, and servant of all. And he 
took a child, and set him in the midst of them; and 
when lie had taken him into his arms ; he said unto 
tbem, Whosoever shall receive one of such children in 
my name, receiveth me.' 

At the same time, humility is enjoined by an allu- 
sion not only obvious and familiar, but applicable also 
to all men, and therefore much more extensively in- 
structive to those who should either hear or read the 
precept. 

2. The followers of Christ were not at this time suf- 
ficiently numerous to be organized in the manner here 
supposed. 

The number of Christ's followers was at this time 
very small. A great part of these also followed him 
occasionally only, and seem to have been at other times 
at their own proper places of habitation, pursuing their 
customary business. In these scattered and changing 
circumstances we can scarcely conceive that Christians 
can have been so organized into a body, as to consti- 
tute a church with its proper officers. The first men- 
tion made of elders in the Christian church, even at 
Jerusalem, I mean as distinguished from the apostles, 
is in Acts xi. 30, about eleven or twelve years after the 
ascension. Until this time, there is not a hint in the 
New Testament, that any other men exercised autho- 
rity in the Christian church, beside inspired men, as 
such, and ithe seven deacons, although the office of 
elder was constituted by Christ in the general commis- 
sion given to ministers. 

3. In the act of choosing the deacons, recorded in the 
text, there is not the least allusion to any pre-existing 
officers cf that title or character. 

On, the contrary, the spirit of the passage appears to 
forbid, this construction. The murmuring of the Gre- 
cian Jews against the Hebrews is not specified as 
directed against the Hebrew deacons, but against the 
Hebrews* or the body of Hebrew believers. If it Was 
really directed against the Hebrew deacons, the record 
as it now stands cannot be true. 

To remove the cause of this murmuring, the apostles 
summoned the church together, and addressed them, 
as in the text : ' It is not reason, that we should leave 
the word of God, and serve tables.' If the business of 
serving tables had been already committed to deacons, 
as the proper and known officers, to transact this busi- 
ness, could the apostles suppose the church would ex* 



OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH DEACONS. 



807 



pect them to undertake it? Would not the Grecian 
Jens have complained of the Hebrew deacons in form, 
and required that others of a more satisfactory character 
should be appointed ? The apostles would then, I think, 
have called the faulty deacons to an account, and cen- 
sured them for their misconduct. After this, they 
would either have rejected them from office, or added 
to them others, or required of them a more faultless fu- 
ture behaviour. But they would not have supposed 
that the church could expect them to perform this duty, 
contrary to a known institution of Christ. 

Again : They direct the church to choose seven men 
of specified qualifications, whom they might appoint over 
this business. If the appointment was now made for 
the first time, this language was natural ; but, if Christ 
had already instituted the office, would scarcely have 
been used. The apostles, I believe, nowhere speak of 
any institution of Christ under the style of an appoint- 
ment of their own. On the contrary, they always ap- 
peal to his authority, where he had expressly exercised 
it ; and it is, I think, to be believed that the evangelists 
have recorded every such appointment. 
. The apostles farther say, ' But we will give ourselves 
to prayer, and the ministry of the word.' This lan- 
guage seems plainly to be that of persons who were ex- 
pected in some measure to desist from prayer and the 
ministry of the word, in order to perform other neces- 
sary business ; but cannot have been any answer to 
persons soliciting them to appoint an additional num- 
ber of deacons in the church. On the contrary, it is 
the proper language of men who considered themselves, 
and were considered by those around them, as the sole 
officers of the church at that time. In consequence of 
this fact, their brethren naturally thought that every 
office was to be executed by them, or by others under 
their direction. The subject was, I think, left to them 
indefinitely; that they might resolve on such measures 
as they should choose to have pursued. In this view 
of the subject, the observations made by the apostles, 
seem natural and proper ; but according to the scheme 
of Dr Mosheim are scarcely capable of a satisfactory 
explanation. 

4. If this passage does not contain the original ap- 
pointment of deacons, there is no allusion to it in the 
New Testament. 

Is this credible? The appointment and the office 
are of divine authority, and therefore are required to 
be upheld by the church. Yet the church is nowhere 
informed when, or where, or how, this office was insti- 
tuted. We are not, I acknowledge, warranted to de- 
t^mine in what manner Christ would direct the records 
of his mission and pleasure to be written. But we are, 
I believe, authorized to say, that the case here proposed 
would be singular, and without any parallel in the 
Scriptures. 






The argument of Dr Mosheim is made up of these 
two parts : First, That the word ueori^o; is used in the 
Scriptures as equivalent to litaxovos : and, secondly, that 
all bodies of men must have their officers. To the for- 
mer of these I reply, that although this use of the term 
viom^a; should be conceded, as in the passage alleged 
from St Peter perhaps it ought, yet it is I think evi- 
dent, that this use of the word in the New Testament is 
very rare. I know of no other instance in which this 
interpretation of it can be even plausibly supported. 
It is, therefore, urged with little success for the purpose 



in view. To the latter, my answer is, that although all 
bodies of men must have their officers, such bodies must 
be formed and established in some numbers, and must 
have a known and stable existence, before those officers 
can be needed ; and that the church had barely arrived 
at this state, when the deacons mentioned in the text 
were appointed. 

I have felt myself obliged to consider this opinion of 
Dr Mosheim and others, on account of its connexion 
with the history of the subject. If the text contains 
the original institution of this office, the history of it is 
one thing ; if not, it became quite another; and, from 
this supposed diversity, men, considerable for their 
numbers and respectability, have been inclined to de- 
rive inferences very differently affecting the office, and 
its duties. 

Assuming the account which has been given of this 
subject as just, I proceed to observe, that the whole 
history of the transaction is the following: — 

When the disciples, in the infancy of the church, saw 
some of their number poor and suffering, others neces- 
sarily devoted to the public service, and both standing 
in absolute need of support from the community, they 
determined with one voice to sell each man his posses- 
sions, and to throw the whole into a common stock. 
From this stock all the members were to derive their 
sustenance. A considerable number of the disciples 
were Grecian, or as they are more usually styled Hel- 
lenistic Jews. The widows belonging to this part of 
the fraternity were, or were thought to be, neglected in 
the ^supplies which were daily administered. These 
brethren brought their complaint to the apostles. The 
apostles seem plainly to have considered it as well- 
founded ; for they directed the remedy mentioned in 
the text ; viz. that the church should choose seven men 
of unquestionable qualifications to superintend this 
business. They accordingly chose the persons whose 
names are here recited, and, to satisfy the complaining 
brethren, selected most of them from among the fo- 
reign Jews. The men chosen were approved by the 
apostles, and regularly ordained to their office. Im- 
mediately after this event, St Luke observes, ' the word 
of God increased ; and the number of disciples in Je- 
rusalem multiplied greatly.' God, therefore, approved 
the measure, and annexed to it his blessing. 

From this history, cleared as I hope of embarrass- 
ments, and connected with other passages of Scripture 
relating to the subject, I propose to examine. 

I. The manner in which deacons were introduced into 
office. 

II. The character wfeich they are to sustain. 

III. The purposes for which they are appointed. 

I. I -shall inquire into the manner in which deacons 
mire introduced into office. 

Concerning this 1 observe, 

1. That they were chosen to it by a vote of the 
church. 

• Wherefore, brethren,' said the apostles, ' look ye 
out among you seven men of good report, full of the 
Holy Ghost, and of wisdom, whom we may appoint 
over this business. And the saying pleased the whole 
multitude,' says the historian ; ' and they chose Ste- 
phen, a man full of faith, and of the Holy Ghost, and 
Philip, and Prochorus, and Nicanor, and Timon, and 
Parmenas, and Nicholas, a proselyte of Antiooli, whom 
they set before the apostles.' 



808 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxvii. 



This selection was directed by the apostles. It is,t 
therefore, a pattern for all churches in the same con- 
cern. Every deacon ought, therefore, to be chosen 
by the suffrage of the church. 

2. Deacons are to be ordained by the imposition of 
hands, and by prayer. 

When the brethren had set these men before the 
apostles St Luke informs us, ' they prayed, and laid 
their hands upon them.' 

This also is an authoritative example of the manner 
in which deacons are to be introduced into every church. 

It is the example of inspired men ; and was, therefore, 
the pleasure of the Spirit of God. There is no hint 
in the New Testament, nor even in the ecclesiastical 
history, that they were ever introduced in any other 
manner. At the same time there is no precept revok- 
ing or altering the authority or influence of this exam- 
ple. It stands, therefore, in full force ; and requires 
that all persons chosen by the church to this office should 
be consecrated to the duties of it in the same manner. 

It is to be observed farther, that if any such altera- 
tion had existed in periods subsequent to the apostolic 
age, it would have been totally destitute of any autho- 
rity to us. This mode of consecration has, in fact, been 
disused in New England to a considerable extent. For 
this, however, there seems to have been no reason of 
any value. So far as I have been able to gain infor- 
mation concerning the subject, the disuse was originated 
at first, and has been gradually extended, by mere in- 
attention ; nor is it capable, so far as I know, of any 
defence. 

II. The character which deacons ought to sustain, as 
exhibited in the Scriptures, particularly in the text, and 
in the third chapter of the first Epistle to Timothy, is 
made up of the following particulars ; 

1. They should be grave. 

' Likewise,' says St Paul to Timothy, ' must the dea- 
cons be grave :' atfmovg, men of dignified gravity. 

2. They must be sincere ' Not double-tongued.' 

3. Temperate. — ' Not given to much wine.' 

4. Free from avarice ' Not greedy of filthy lucre.' 

5. Acquainted with the doctrines of the gospel 

' Holding the mystery of the faith,' that is, the gospel. 

6. Honestly attached to the doctrines of the gospel. — 
' Holding the mystery of the faith in (or with) a pure 
conscience.' 

7. Of a fair Christian reputation ' Brethren, look 

ye out among you seven men of honest report :' fix^rv- 
Qovfievovs, ' well reported of,' or having an unblemished 
character: 'being found blameless;' xpiyx-Xriroi oi/tej, 
being unaccused, or irreproachable. 

8. They ought to be proved antecedently to their in- 
troduction into office ' And let these also first be 

proved.' 

An ancient, perhaps the original, mode of proof was 
this : The name of the candidate was published in a 
Christian assembly, that if those who belonged to it had 
any thing to object to his character, they might have an 
opportunity of declaring it to the church. But as no 
mode is prescribed by the apostle, and as the end of the 
trial is a thorough knowledge of the candidate's char- 
acter, whatever will accomplish this end in a satisfac- 
tory manner is undoubtedly sufficient. The accom- 
plishment of the end is, however, always to be insisted 
on. 

9. They are required to be husbands of one wife. 



In an age when polygamy was so common, this di- 
rection was important. 

10. They ought to be such as rule well their own fa- 
milies ' Ruling their children and their own houses 

well.' 

III. The purposes, for which this office was esta- 
blished are the following : 

1. They were, 1 apprehend, intended in various re- 
spects to be assistants to ministers. 

I have given this as an opinion ; and am well aware 
that it has been, and probably will hereafter be, dis- 
puted. My reasons for it, are the following : — 

(1.) I derive it from the directions given by St Paul 
concerning the character of the officer. 

It must have struck every person who has read at- 
tentively the character of deacons, insisted on by St 
Paul, that it strongly resembles that of a bisbop, or 
minister, presented to us in the same chapter, and also 
in the first of the Epistle to Titus, so as in most parti- 
culars to be the same. All that which is required in the 
character of a deacon is, together with some important 
additions, also required in that of a bishop. So far as 
the character in both cases is the same, it is fairly pre- 
sumed to be necessary to the same ends. 

Particularly, I see no reason why deacons should be 
required to be such ' as hold the mystery of the faith,' 
a direction given concerning bishops, Tit. i. 9, unless 
this qualification was to be employed in some manner 
and deg'ree for the same ends. In a bishop this quali- 
fication is required that he may be able, by sound doc- 
trine both to exhort, and to convince gainsayers." 
There is undoubtedly no warrant given to deacons in 
the Scriptures to preach. But there are a multitude of 
religious instructions of very great importance, which 
are to be given to many persons, and on many occa- 
sions; and which are still remote from preaching. Of 
these the most formal is that class of instructions which 
are appropriately styled catechetical. Another class is 
made up of the teaching immediately given in private 
religious assemblies. Another still may be sufficiently 
described by the word occasional. In all these it would 
seem that deacons might with great propriety act ; and, 
unless they were to act in these, or some other similar 
modes, it seems difficult to explain why they should be 
required to possess skill and soundness in the gospel ; 
or how the church should know that they sustain this 
character. 

(2.) I argue the same thing from the nature of their 
office. 

Men of such a character, as deacons are required to 
possess, and acting continually as ecclesiastical officers, 
cannot fail of obtaining a considerable influence in the 
church. Influence is one of the principal means of do- 
ing good in the present world. This influence can be 
exerted in no manner which is more natural, or of bet- 
ter efficacy, than that which has been mentioned. 

(3.) I argue the same thing from ecclesiastical his- 
tory. 

Ancient ecclesiastical writers style deacons ' ministers 
of the mysteries of Christ, of the episcopate, and of the 
church.' They attended the presbyters in the sacra- 
mental service, received the offerings of the people, 
and presented them to the presbyter ; and in some 
churches read the gospel both before and after the com- 
munion service; and in some cases administered bap- 
tism. In all these, and in a variety of other services 






OFFICERS OF THE CHURCH DEACONS. 



809 



which they performed, they evidently sustained the 
character of assistants to the minister. It is immaterial 
to the present purpose whether these were the most pro- 
per services for deacons to perform ; the general char- 
acter of assistants being the only thing, at which I here 
aim. This being admitted, the nature of the case may 
sufficiently explain the kind of assistance from time to 
time to be furnished. It may not, however, be impro- 
perly observed, that there are many occasions, some in 
public, and more in private religious assemblies, on 
which deacons. may profitably, as well as becomingly, 
act as'assistants to the minister, by praying with those 
who are assembled, especially when he is absent or in- 
firm. They may greatly aid him also by learning, and 
communicating to him, as they did in ancient times, the 
state of his congregation ; particularly their errors, 
dangers, wants, and distresses. 

2. Deacons, in the absence of the minister and of 
ruling elders, where such offices exist, are by their of- 
fice moderators of the church. 

3. It is their proper business to distribute the sacra- 
mental elements to the communicants. 

This they have done in all ages of the church. 
Anciently they not only distributed the elements to the 
communicants present, but carried them also to those 
who were absent. 

4. The great duty of this office is the distribution of 
the alms of the church to its suffering members. 

The Scriptures abound in directions to Christians to 
provide liberally for the relief of their fellow Chris- 
tians ; although most of these directions have been un- 
fortunately misunderstood to enjoin only the distribu- 
tion of common charity. This mistake one would 
suppose, would be easily rectified by a single passage. 
'As we have opportunity,' says St Paul, 'let us do 
good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the 
household of faith,' Gal. vi. 10. To the same purpose 
we have a more particular direction, given in 1 Cor. 
xvi. 1,2. ' Now concerning the collection for the 
saints, as I have given order to the churches of Galatia, 
even so do ye. Upon the first day of the week let 
every one of you lay by him in store, as Cod hath 
prospered him.' 

Of this injunction I remark, 

(1.) That it appears to have been a general direc- 
tion ; so far, at least, as the contribution for the poor 
saints at Jerusalem was concerned. The apostle, with 
.espect to this contribution, had before given the same 
order to the churches of Galatia ; and the churches of 
Macedonia and Achaia had embarked in the same de- 
sign, as we are informed, Rom. xv. 26. The same 
thing seems to have been finally adopted, as a matter 
of system, by the apostles Peter, James, and John, in 
conjunction with St Paul, when he was at Jerusalem 
the second time after his conversion. 'They would,' 
said St Paul, ' that we should remember the poor; the 
same which I was always forward to do.' 

But if we had no other directions concerning this 
subject in the sacred volume, the history contained in 
the text would be amply sufficient. The very purpose 
for which the office was instituted in the Christian 
church was the distribution of its alms ; an employment 
highly honourable and evangelical. That this employ- 
ment was to be universal in the church, and that its 
poor members were always to receive the benefit of it, 
it clearly taught in the fifth chapter of the first Epistle 



to Timothy, by the directions given concerning the re- 
ception of widows into the number of the poor supported 
by the church. 

This duty of deacons is also enjoined in Rom. xii. 8, 
■ He that giveth,' {(UTot-lihou;, distribirteth,) ' let him do 
it with simplicity,' that is, with disinterestedness and 
impartiality ; or, perhaps, as in the margin, liberally ; 
* and he that showeth mercy,' that is, relieves the sick, 
the afflicted, the widow, and the fatherless, ' let him do 
it with cheerfulness.' The business of distributing and 
of showing mercy was especially the business of this 
office. Private bounty was to be given to the necessi- 
tous by the authors of it at their own pleasure : but the 
bounty of the church was to flow through its deacons, 
as its own proper almoners. 

The primitive Christians obeyed the injunctions re- 
quiring this duty in a manner becoming their profession. 
They received their fellow Christians, when travelling, 
into their houses, and made them welcome to such ac- 
commodations as their circumstances permitted. They 
continually made feasts of charity, to which every Chris- 
tian present was of course invited ; raised weekly con- 
tributions, and- conveyed them to their necessitous 
brethren by officers, whose especial business it was to 
see that all were impartially and effectually relieved. 
With a similar care and benevolence they administered 
relief to sufferers in every other situation. 

This conduct, being a novelty in the world, and no 
less honourable than beneficial, strongly attracted the 
attention of the heathen, and extorted from them this 
high proverbial commendation : ' See, how these Chris- 
tians love one another!' The emperor Julian, an apos- 
tate from Christianity, and therefore a bitter enemy to 
it, acknowledges the fact in terms extremely honoura- 
ble to the cause which he so earnestly laboured to de- 
stroy. 

' If,' said he, ' Hellenism,' that is, the religion of the 
heathen, ' does not prosper according to our wish, it is 
the fault of those who profess it. Why do we not look 
to that which has been the principal cause of the aug- 
mentation of impiety ' (that is, the Christian religion) : 
' humanity to strangers, care in burying the dead, and 
that sanctity of life, of which they make such a show ? 
It is a shame that, when the impious Galileans ' (that 
is, Christians), ' relieve not only their own people, but 
ours also, our poor should be neglected by us.' 

Again he says : ' It having so happened, as I sup- 
pose, that the poor were neglected by our priests, the 
impious Galileans, observing this, have addicted them- 
selves to this kind of humanity ; and by the show of 
such good offices have recommended the worst of 
things;' that is, the Christian religion. ' For begin- 
ning with their love feasts, and the ministry of tables, 
as they call it (for not only the name, but the thing is 
common among them), they have drawn away the faith- 
ful to impiety :' that is, heathens to Christianity. 

We have here the strongest evidence, that the an- 
cient Christians, down to the days of Julian, maintained 
the charity of the gospel to their poor and suffering 
brethren, and to strangers also : and that this charity 
was distributed in conformity to the account in the 
text ; the ministry of tables being mentioned by him as 
one of the principal channels through which it flowed. 
It is plain, also, that in the view of this emperor, this 
charity was a primary reason why Christianity prevailed 
in the world. For he exhibits his full conviction, that 

5 K 



810 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Shr. clvi. 



it was impossible to spread heathenism by any other 
means than a strenuous imitation of this excellent char- 
acter. The justness of these opinions is in my view 
unquestionable. 

This duty is no less incumbent on Christians at the 
present time. Nor would the advantages arising from 
the practice of it be less important or conspicuous. In 
all churches there ought to exist a regular system of 
contribution, designed solely to provide relief for their 
poor and suffering members. In every church a .cha- 
ritable fund ought to be begun, and continually supplied 
by continual collections. Of this fund the deacons 
ought to be the standing almoners, as being by the aui 
thority of God designated to this office. 

It may here be objected, and not unnaturally, that 
the state has by law made provision for the relief of all 
poor persons ; that all members of churches contribute 
to this charity, in common with others ; and that their 
suffering members take their share of the bounty. My 
answer to this objection is the following : — 

(I.) That the poor, both of the church and commu- 
nity at large, have exactly the same right to the property 
supplied by this tax, which the contributors have to the 
remainder of their own possessions. 

The law alone creates every man's right to what he 
calls his estate. To the great mass of the property 
denoted by this word he has by nature no right at all. 
But the same law gives exactly the same right to the 
poor, of receiving whatever is taxed upon others for 
supplying their necessities. The payment of this tax 
therefore is in no sense an act of charity, but the mere 
payment of a debt, by which, together with other acts 
of the like nature, each man holds a right to his estate. 

(2.) The charity in question was immediately insti- 
tuted and required by God, and is independent of all 
human institutions. 

No conformity to any regulation, no obedience to 
any law of man, can go a step towards excusing us 
from obeying a law of God. 

(3.) The provision in question is not made by human 
laws. 

The intention of furnishing this fund is not to relieve 
the absolute necessities of poor Christians ; these being 
customarily supplied by the operation of law. The ob- 
ject here in view is to provide for their comfort. No- 
tiiing can be more contrary to the spirit of Christianity, 
than that one part of the members of a church should 



abound in the conveniences and luxuries of life, and 
another be stinted to its mere necessaries. Every one 
ought plainly to share in blessings superior to these. 
This provision ought to extend to all those enjoyments 
which are generally denominated decencies and coin- 
forts. Without the possession of these, in some good 
degree, life, so far as its external accommodations are 
concerned, can hardly be said to be desirable. 

I am well aware, that the unhappy neglect of this 
great duty by many of our own churches will be urged 
and felt as a defence of the contrary doctrine. It is 
hardly necessary to observe, that no negligence can 
justify a farther neglect of our duty. Nehemiah and 
his companions, when ' they found it written in the law, 
that the children of Israel should dwell in booths,' at 
the feast of the tabernacles, ' went forth, and made 
themselves booths, every one of them,' although their 
nation had failed of performing this duty, as this excel- 
lent man declares, ' from the days of Joshua the son of 
Nun.' 

I am also aware, that, ' the love of money, the root ' of 
so much.' evil ' in other cases, is the root of great evil in 
this, and will, even in the minds of some good men, 
create not a little opposition to this duty. Until such 
men learn to love this world less, and God and their 
fellow Christians more, objections springing from this 
source will undoubtedly have their influence. 

My audience is chiefly composed of those who are 
young, and therefore neither devoted to avarice, nor 
deeply affected by the too customary negligence of this 
duty. Before them, therefore, I feel a peculiar satis- 
faction in bringing up to view this benevolent and di- 
vine institution. On their minds the arguments which 
have been urged will, I trust, have their proper weight. 
To quicken his just views of this subject, let every one 
present remember, that even the emperor Julian has 
said ; f I do not believe any man is the poorer for what 
he gives to the necessitous. I, who have often relieved 
the poor, have been rewarded by the gods many-fold ; 
although wealth is a thing on which I was never much 
intent.' Above all things, let every one remember, that 
Christ, alleging the beneficence of Christians as a 
ground of their endless happiness in the world above, 
closes his infinitely momentous address to them with 
this remarkable declaration : ' Inasmuch as ye have done 
it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done 
it unto me.' 



SERMON CLVI. 



THE MEANS OP GRACE — EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE ORDINANCES OF THE 

CHURCH BAPTISM — ITS REALITY AND INTENTION. 



Go ye, therefore, teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 

Ghost Matt, xxviii. 19. 

In seven Discourses preceding this I have considered | is formed ; the officers appointed in the Scriptures to 
the institution of the church ; the members of which it | superintend its affairs ; and the principal duties which 



BAPTISM— ITS REALITY AND INTENTION. 



811 



they are appointed to perform. The next subject in a 
System of Theology is the ordinances which belong 
peculiarly to this body of men, and which they are re- 
quired to celebrate. 

Of these, the first in order is Baptism ; as being that 
by which the members of the church are, according to 
Christ's appointment, introduced into this body. 

In the text, Christ directs his apostles to go forth into 
the world, and ' teach,' or make disciples of, ' all na- 
tions, and to baptize them in (or into) the name of the 
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' This 
then is a duty which the apostles were required to per- 
form towards all nations, so far as they made them dis- 
ciples of Christ. 

The text, therefore, presents the subject of baptism to 
us, as an ordinance to be administered by the pastors of 
the church to its several members, in consequence of 
their discipleship. What was the duty of the apostles 
in this case, is equally the duty of all succeeding 
ministers. Of course, it is the duty of every person 
who wishes and is qualified to become a member of the 
church, to receive the ordinance of baptism. 

In my examination of this subject, I shall consider, 

I. The reality, 
. II. The intention, 

III. The proper subjects of this ordinance ; and, 

IV. The manner in which it should be administered. 
I. / shall make some observations concerning the 

reality of baptism. 

To persons at all acquainted with ecclesiastical history 
it is well known, that several classes of men have de- 
nied baptism, in the proper sense, to be a divine institu- 
tion. Some of these persons have supported their 
opinion from Heb. ix. 10 ; ' Which stood only in meats, 
and drinks, and divers washings, and carnal ordinances, 
imposed on them until the time of reformation.' The 
word here rendered ' washings,' is in the Greek Bax- 
rur/zoi;, baptisms. In this passage they have, without 
any warrant, supposed the baptism of the gospel to be 
included. The apostle in this passage refers only to 
the Jewish worship, as is evident from the preceding 
part of the chapter, particularly from the ninth verse. 
That evangelical baptism was in use, as an institution 
of Christ, when this epistle was written, is abundantly 
manifest from the following chapter, verses 19 — 22, 
particularly from the two last of these verses: ' Having 
a high priest,' says the apostle, ' over the house of God, 
let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of 
faith ; having our hearts sprinkled from an evil con- 
science, and our bodies washed with pure water ;' or, in 
other words, being baptized. 

The same persons endeavour to support their opin- 
ion also from 1 Pet. iii. 21 ; ' The like figure where- 
unto, even baptism, doth also now save us (not the 
putting away of the filth of the flesh, but the answer 
of a good conscience towards God) by the resurrection 
of Christ.' But the objectors are not less unhappy in 
their construction of this passage, than of that mentioned 
above. The true as well as obvious meaning in this 
passage is the following : ' Baptism, the antitype of the 
water of the deluge, doth now save us by the resurrec- 
tion of Christ ; not indeed the cleansing of the filth of 
the flesh, but that which is signified by it, the answer of 
a good conscience towards God.' This passage is a 
direct recognition of the existence of baptism as an in- 
stitution in the Christian church ; and therefore, instead 



of being a support, is a refutation of the scheme in 
question. 

Persons who deny the doctrine of the Trinity, or the 
satisfaction of Christ, are in a sense constrained to deny 
baptism also, in order to preserve consistency in their 
opinions. The command to ' baptize in (or into) the 
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
Ghost,' is a plain unanswerable exhibition of the doc- 
trine of the Trinity. The cleansing with water also is 
too unequivocal a symbol of our spiritual purification 
by the blood of Christ, to suffer any rational denial or 
doubt. It seems, therefore, scarcely possible for those 
who deny either the Trinity or the Atonement, to admit 
the institution of baptism, without a plain contradiction 
in their principles. 

Others still have removed both baptism and the 
Lord's supper, by the aid of spiritual or mystical con- 
struction. These persons appear to build their scheme 
especially on the answer of John the Baptist to the 
Pharisees and Sadducees, who came to his baptism : i, 
indeed, baptize you with water unto repentance ; but 
he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes 
I am not worthy to bear. He will baptize you with the 
Holy Ghost, and with fire.' From this passage chiefly 
the doctrine has been drawn, that baptism with water 
was not intended to be, nor actually made, by Christ an 
institution of the gospel. It is hardly necessary to re- 
mark, that this interpretation of the Baptist's words is 
wholly erroneous ; and that they have no connexion 
with the doctrine to which they are here applied. 

The proof on which this institution rests, as a perpe- 
tual ordinance of Christ in his church, is so entire and 
so obvious, that every doubt concerning it is more pro- 
perly an object of surprise, than of serious opposition. 
In the text, Christ commands his apostles, and all his. 
succeeding ministers, to baptize those whom they should 
make disciples. In obedience to this command, the 
apostles accordingly baptized all those who were made 
disciples by them. Those who followed them in the 
ministry, followed them also in this practice. In tin's 
manner the institution has been continued in the church, 
with the exception of a few dissentients, to the present 
time. ' Except a man be born of water, and of the 
Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.' To 
be born of water, is to be baptized. To be born of the 
Spirit, is to be regenerated. ' The kingdom of God,' 
is a phrase used in the gospel in a twofold sense ; and 
denotes his visible, and his invisible kingdom ; or the 
collection of apparent, and the collection of real saints. 
The indispensable condition of entering the former, or 
visible kingdom, is here made by our Saviour, baptism. 
The indispensable qualification for admission into the 
invisible kingdom is regeneration, the great act of the 
Spirit of God, which constitutes men real saints. Bap- 
tism, therefore, is here made by Christ a condition ab- 
solutely necessary to our authorized entrance into his 
visible church.. 

II. / shall now inquire into the intention of this or- 
dinance. 

Washing with water is the most natural and universal 
mode of cleansing from external impurities ; and is 
therefore the most obvious and proper symbol of inter- 
nal, or spiritual purification. Baptism denotes gene- 
rally this purification ; and particularly is intended to 
present to us the cleansing of the soul by the blood of 
Christ ; and still more particularly by the effusion cf 



812 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sbr. clvi. 



the Divine Spirit To this interpretation of it we are 
directed by the prophet Isaiah, in the forty-fourth chap- 
ter of his prophecy ; ' I will pour water upon him that 
is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground : I will pour 
my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine 
offspring.' The same explanation is given of it also 
by God, in the prophet Ezekiel, chap, xxxvi. 25 — 27, 
' Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye 

shall be clean And I will put my Spirit within you, 

and cause you to walk in my statutes.' As both these 
passages refer lo the evangelical dispensation, there 
can be no reasonable doubt that the application here 
made of them is just; or that baptism especially signi- 
fies the affusion of the Spirit of God upon the soul. 

It is, however, to be very carefully remarked here, 
that, although baptism is a symbol of this affusion and 
of the regeneration which is its consequence, yet bap- 
tism neither insures, nor proves regeneration. The 
church of Rome has long taught, that regeneration is 
inseparably connected with this ordinance; and that 
the ordinance is absolutely necessary, at least in all or- 
dinary circumstances, to the existence of regeneration. 
From that church this scheme has spread, with some 
variations, through several Protestant churches. I 
know not that it is in my power to express, in precise 
language, the different views entertained in the Chris- 
tian world concerning this subject. 

Often, if I mistake not, these views are given to us 
in phraseology which is indefinite, and sometimes per- 
haps designedly mysterious. A distinction, unknown 
to the Scriptures, is sometimes made between regenera- 
tion and renovation. Baptism is sometimes said to be 
the cause, or the inseparable attendant, of regeneration, 
and not of renovation. What the word regeneration 
thus used intends, I confess myself unable to determine. 
So far as I have been able to find, the regeneration of 
the Scriptures is but one thing ; and denotes invaria- 
bly that change of character, or the cause of that change, 
by which sinners become holy. Christ has taught us, 
that to be born again, is to be born of the Spirit of 
God. ' Except a man be born again, he cannot see the 
kingdom of God. Except a man be born of water, 
and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of 
God.' These two declarations, every person will see, 
are exactly parallel. To be f, born again,' in the first 
of them, is precisely the same thing, as to be ' born of 
water, and of the Spirit,' in the last. To be ' born of 
water,' as here intended, is, in my view, to be baptised ; 
and is as absolutely necessary to our lawful admission 
into the visible kingdom of God ; as to be born of tiie 
Spirit, is to our admission into his invisible kingdom. 
That to be born of water, and of the Spirit, is the same 
thing with being born again, must be admitted by every 
one who is willing that our Saviour should speak good 
sense, since he obviously mentions in this whole dis- 
course but one birth ; which he introduces to Nieo- 
demus under the phraseology of being born again. 
What connexion water, here in my view standing for 
baptism, has with this subject, I shall farther explain 
hereafter. 

With these things premised, I shall now proceed to 
consider the question, Whether baptism insures, or 
proves, regeneration. 

The arguments in favour of the affirmative answer to 
t>iis question are principally, if not wholly, derived from 
the following passages of Scripture : — 



1. Mark xvi. 16, ' He that believeth, and is bap- 
tized, shall be saved ; but he that believeth not, shall be 
damned.' 

Of this passage it is only necessary to observe, that 
the concluding clause refutes the supposition which the 
introductory one is employed to support. Here Christ 
declares, that he who believeth net, whether baptized 
or not, shall be damned. This could not be true, it 
baptism and regeneration were thus connected. 

2. The same doctrine is argued from the passage 
quoted above : ' Except a man be born of water, and of 
the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.' 

The account given of the subject in this text, is ex- 
actly the same with that contained in the preceding 
passage. To be baptized, is to be born of water. To 
be a believer, is to be born of the Spirit. He who be- 
lieveth, whether baptized or not, shall be saved : he that 
is born of the Spirit, whether born of water or not, shall 
enter into the invisible kingdom of God. In exact ac- 
cordance with this construction of the passage, our Sa- 
viour, in every other part of his discourse with Nico- 
demus, insists only on being born of the Spirit, as the 
great qualification for acceptance with God. 

It is, however, to be observed here, that he who, un- 
derstanding the nature and authority of this institution, 
refuses to be baptized, will never enter either the visi- 
ble or invisible kingdom of God. As he refuses to be- 
come a member of the visible, he will certainly be shut 
out of the invisible kingdom. Considered with refer- 
ence to a case of this nature, the passage may be justly 
construed in the literal manner. For he who persists 
in this act of rebellion against the authority of Christ, 
will never belong to his kingdom. 

3. This doctrine is also argued from Titus iii. 5 : 
' According to his mercy he saved us by the washing ol 
regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.' 

Whether the words translated 'the washing of rege- 
neration,' denote baptism or not, according to the opi- 
nions of different commentators, is, in my view, imma- 
terial to the present question. If baptism is denoted by 
these words, it is called ' the washing of regeneration,' 
because it is symbolical of that change in the heart ; 
and because Christ has established it, as such a symbol, 
in his visible church. Beyond this, nothing can be 
pleaded from this passage in favour of the doctrine. 

There is yet another text, to wit, Eph. v. 26, of an 
import similar to that last quoted, which may be urged 
with somewhat less plausibility, as favouring the same 
scheme. It is this, ' As Christ also loved the church, 
and gave himself for it, that he might sanctify and 
cleanse it with the washing of water by the word.' To 
this the same answer is obviously to be given with that 
which has been already given to the passage last quoted. 

These are the only texts within my knowledge which 
can be seriously alleged in favour of this doctrine. I 
shall now, therefore, proceed to show that the doctrine 
is erroneous, by the following considerations : — 

1. It contradicts the general tenor of the Scriptures 
relative to this subject. 

(1.) Adults are in the Scriptures required to believe, 
antecedently to their baptism. 

In the text, the apostles are directed to make disci- 
ples of all nations, and then to baptize them. That 
they understood their commission in this manner is un- 
answerably evident from their own declarations. ' Re- 
pent, therefor'), ' said St Peter to the Jews, ' and bo 



BAPTISM ITS REALITY AND INTENTION. 



813 



baptized, every one of you, in the name of the Lord ] certain than that, if baptism insures or proves regene- 
Jesus.' When the eunuch said to Philip, ' See, here is \ ration, Paul, who so ardently desired the salvation of 



water ; what doth hinder me to be baptized ?' Philip 
replied, ' If thou believest with all thine heart, thou 
mayest.' Lydia was baptized after the Lord had 
' opened her heart.' The jailor was baptized in conse- 
quence of his faith. So was Paul. So were Cornelius 
and his household. From these facts and declarations 
it is evident, beyond controversy, that adults were bap- 
tized by the apostles, after they had become, or were 
supposed to have become, disciples of Christ : or, in. 
other words, after they were either really or apparent- 
ly, regenerated. 

(2.) The Scriptures teach us that the gospel, or the 
truth of God, is the great instrument of regeneration. 

' The truth shall make you free,' saith our Saviour, 
John viii. 32. ' Sanctify them through thy truth : thy 
word is truth,' John xvii. 17. Of his own will begat 
he us with the word of truth,' says St James; James i. 
1 8. ' Being born again,' says St Peter, ' not of cor- 
ruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God,' 
1 Pet. i. 23. ' The gospel,' says St Paul, ' is the power 
of God unto salvation, to every one that believeth,' 
Bom. i. 16. Again : ' It pleased God by the foolishness 
of preaching to save them that believe,' 1 Cor. i. 21. 
Again : ' In Christ Jesus have I begotten you through 
the gospel,' 1 Cor. iv. 15. 

(3.) The Scriptures expressly declare, that baptism 
is not the great instrument of regeneration. 

This is directly declared by St Peter, in a passage 
already quoted for another purpose in this Discourse, 
from the third chapter of his First Epistle, verse 21, 
' The like figure whereunto even baptism doth now 
save us ; not the putting away of the filth of the flesh, 
but the answer of a good conscience towards God.' In 
this passage St Peter teaches, that the ' putting away of 
the filth of the flesh,' is not, and that ' the answer of a 
good conscience ' is the means of our salvation. In 
other words, baptism is not, but the virtuous character 
which is the effect of regeneration, is the means of eter- 
nal life to mankind. This character, I have already 
shown, is so far from being the consequence of baptism, 
thal;"every adult candidate for this ordinance is required 
to possess it, before he can be lawfully baptized accord- 
ing to the Scriptures. 

In perfect accordance with this declaration of St Pe- 
ter, St Paul declares, ' Circumcision is nothing, and 
uncircumcision is nothing ; but keeping the command- 
ments of God.' To Jews, of whom there was a consi- 
derable number in the Corinthian church, circumcision 
was a ' seal of the righteousness of faith ;' just in the 
6ame manner as baptism now is to Christians. It had 
also all the influence towards regeneration which bap- 
tism now possesses. But, had it insured or proved re- 
generation with respect to the Jews who were in the 
church at Corinth, the apostle would not, when writing to 
them, have declared it to be ' nothing.' For, in this case, 
it would to them have been the means of that holiness, 
in the exercise of which they would have ' kept the com- 
mandments of God.' What is true of circumcision in 
this respect is, I apprehend, precisely true of baptism also. 
But this point is placed beyond all reasonable de- 
bate by the following declarations of St Paul ; 1 Cor. 
i. 14. 17, ' I thank God, that I baptized none of you, 
but Crispus and Gaius. For Christ sent me not to 
b;iptize, but to preach the gospel.' Nothing is more 



mankind, and wished to become as extensively as possi- 
ble the instrument of their salvation, could not thank 
God that he baptized none of the .Corinthians but 
Gaius, Crispus, and the household of Stephanas. To 
him it would, comparatively, have been a matter of 
indifference whether they accused him of baptizing in 
his own name, or not. Of what consequence could the 
clamour, the disputes, or the divisions be, which might 
arise about this subject, compared with the salvation oh 
the one hand, and on the other, with the perdition of the 
Corinthians ? Instead of thanking God in this man- 
ner, he would have baptized every Corinthian who 
would have permitted him ; and, like a Romish mis- 
sionary, have compelled crowds and hosts to the streams 
and rivers in the neighbourhood, that they might re- 
ceive this ordinance at his hands. With still less pro- 
priety could he say, if baptism were the means of re- 
generation, especially if it insured or proved it, that 
Christ sent him not to baptize, but to preach the gos- 
pel.' Christ, as he himself hath told us, sent Paul to 
the Gentiles, and to the Corinthians as well as other 
Gentiles, ' to turn them from darkness to light, and 
from the power of Satan unto God,' Acts xxvi. 17, 18. 
In other words Christ sent Paul to the Gentiles, to 
accomplish their regeneration. But if baptism be the 
means of regeneration, or be accompanied by it, then 
Christ actually sent him to baptize, in direct contradic- 
tion to the passage just now quoted. From both these 
passages it is clearly evident, that baptism neither in- 
sures nor proves regeneration. 

2. This doctrine is contradicted by experience. 
Such persons as have been baptized, in modes and 
by ministers altogether unexceptionable, in the view 
of such as hold this scheme, have by their fruits, the 
great scriptural touchstone, proved themselves to be 
unregenerated. Simon Magus, Hymeneus, Philetus, 
Phygellus, and Hermogenes, were all, probably, bap- 
tized by inspired ministers. By ministers possessing 
authority equally unexceptionable, were baptized those 
gross transgressors in the seven churches of Asia, so 
severely reproved by Christ in the second and third 
chapters of the Apocalypse. It will not be pretended 
that these men were regenerated. 

Equally conclusive to the same point is the experi- 
ence of every succeeding age in the Christian church. 
Nothing is more certain, than that a multitude of those 
who have been baptized by such as the abettors of this 
scheme will acknowledge to be authorized ministers, 
have in every Christian age and country, been guilty 
of such continual and gross sins, as have proved beyond 
a doubt that, instead of being regenerated, they were 
' in the gall of bitterness, and the bond of iniquity.' 
Great numbers of such are found in every class of 
nominal Christians under heaven. Nothing can more 
perfectly demonstrate that baptism is not accompanied 
by regeneration. 

It will probably be here replied, that regeneration 
may be actually conveyed to the souls of the baptized, 
and yet its influence be lost by their future apostasy ; 
or, what is often called, falling from grace ; either be- 
cause they are not confirmed ; or for some other reason. 
To this I answer, 

(I.) That no such apostasy is known in the Scrip- 
tures. This position, if I' mistake not, has been proved 



8J4 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY! 



[Ser. clvx. 



in a former Discourse concerning' the perseverance of such 
as are regenerated. ' He that heareth my word,' said our 
Saviour to the Jews, John v. 24, ' and believeth on him 
that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall notcome into 
condemnation ; but is (has) passed from death unto life.' 

(2.) The Scriptures nowhere teach the doctrine or 
duty of confirmation, as necessary to the continuance 
of mankind in holiness ; nor as an ordinance of the 
Chx-Jslian church in any sense. 

(3.) Multitudes of baptized persons give the most 
unquestionable evidence from their baptism, or, if in- 
fants, from their first possession of moral agency, that 
they are sinners only. 

(4.) Immediately after their confirmation, they con- 
tinue to exhibit the same sinful character, and exhibit 
it through life. 

Tints in every point of view, the doctrine, that bap- 
tism is regeneration, that it ensures, or proves, that it 
is attended or followed by it, either regularly or com- 
monly, is erroneous, unfounded, and unscriptural. So 
far is this from being the doctrine of the Scriptures, 
that, according to them, adults can never offer them- 
selves for baptism, unless already regenerated, f The 
answer of a good conscience,' spoken of by St Peter, 
cannot be given by him who is not regenerated. 

In the ancient periods of the church, as we are in- 
formed by Tertullian, the minister asked the candidate 
for baptism, 'Dost thou renounce Satan? Dost thou 
believe in Christ?' The candidate answered, 'I re- 
nounce — I believe.' This Tertullian calls ' sponsionem 
salutis /' ' An engagement of Salvation ;' and says, that 
' the soul is consecrated, not by washing, but by an- 
swering.' To this practice St Peter is supposed to refer 
in the text repeatedly quoted on this subject. But it is 
evident, that no person, who is unregenerated, can de- 
clare with truth that he renounces Satan, and believes in 
Christ. Thus no such personcan give this answer of agood 
conscience, or lawfully receive the ordinance of baptism. 

The case of infants will be more particularly con- 
sidered hereafter. It will be sufficient, to observe at 
the present time, that although God has required be- 
lieving parents, to dedicate their children to him in 
baptism, he has nowhere promised that they shall be 
regenerated either in or by the administration of this 
ordinance. Accordingly, a great multitude of the cir- 
cumcised children of the Israelites, and of the baptized 
children of Christians in every age and church, have 
plainly lived and died unregenerated. It may here 
be added, that very high evidence is necessary to con- 
vince a sober man, thai God has in this manner placed 
the salvation of mankind in the hands, and under the 
control of their fellow men. To me it appears evident, 
that the clergy of the Romish church taught this doc- 
trine supremely, if not solely, to extend their own 
domination, and to place mankind at their feet. He 
whose agency becomes indispensable to the salvation 
of others, he who can confer salvation on others, will, 
so far as this power is admitted, bring them universally 
under subjection to his pleasure. No man in his senses 
will question the decisions of him who can give or re- 
fuse salvation. Is it credible that such stupendous 
power should be placed in human hands? 

But, although baptism neither insures nor proves the 
regeneration of the person who receives this ordinance, it 
is still an intitution of high importance to the Christian 
church; and that in a great variety of respects. Particularly, 



I. It is a solemn, visible exhibition of these two great 
scriptural doctrines — the expiation of sin, and the 

CLEANSING OF THE SOUL BY THE BLOOD OF CHRIST ; AND 
ITS RENOVATION BY 'THE SPIRIT OF GOD. 

When these doctrines have been learned and under- 
stood by the reading or preaching of the gospel, so that 
the mind has become well acquainted with their nature 
and importance, it is prepared to discern the real im- 
port of this ordinance. In this situation, the ordinance 
of baptism becomes, in a high degree, subsidiary to the 
preaching of the gospel. It now teaches the same inesti- 
mable truths which were before taught by the preacher, 
and teaches them with a force peculiar and pre-eminent. 

It is a truth known to all men, that the objects of 
our senses make an impression on our minds far more 
striking, influential, and enduring, than those of the 
understanding. When these objects are made symbo- 
lical, and are thus employed to declare evangelical 
truths, especially when the symbols are near and obvi- 
ous, and therefore disclose the truths in a clear and 
indubitable manner, the truths actually disclosed are 
invested with all the force of sensible impressions. 
When an adult is the subject of baptism, the great 
truths which I have specified are brought home to his 
heart with supreme efficacy, and he is enabled, at least 
in ordinary circumstances, to feel the glory and excel- 
lence of forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying love, in 
a degree, and with a benefit, which no words can ac- 
complish. What is true of an adult in these circum- 
stances, is true, probably, in a still more affecting and 
profitable manner, of parents dedicating their children 
to God in this solemn ordinance. Perhaps there is not 
in the world a sight more interesting than that of an 
infant, offered up by believing parents to God in bap- 
tism. The helpless circumstances of the child ; the 
peculiar tenderness of the relation existing between it 
and the parents ; the strong expression of their faith in 
God, in giving up their beloved offspring to him, de- 
voting it to his service, and engaging to train it up for 
his glory ; the exhibition of their reliance on the blood 
of Christ, and the agency of the Spirit of truth, to 
cleanse it from its original pollution ; the affecting 
manifestation of the divine mercy and goodness,, in 
permitting us thus to offer up our children to God ; 
united with the solemnities of the day, the place, and 
the occasion ; form a combination of facts, and doc- 
trines, and duties, scarcely paralleled in the present 
world. On the minds of the parents, particularly, the 
impressions made cannot fail, unless through very 
gross stupidity, or gross wickedness, of powerfully per- 
suading them to the duties involved in this dedication. 
Of the same nature are the impressions which will very 
naturally be made on those who are present at the ad- 
ministration. Persons heretofore dedicated to God in 
baptism, will naturally feel anew their own baptismal 
obligations ; while those who have dedicated them, will 
realize also the privileges to which they and their 
offspring have been admitted ; the engagements which 
they have made ; and the duties which, in a peculiar 
manner, they are required to perform. 

In all these points of view, the ordinance of baptism 
is of high importance to the Christian church, and 
fitted to impress the great truths of the gospel upon the 
mind in the happiest manner. It is here to be remem- 
bered, that, as religious education is constituted in the 
Christian church a primary mean of salvation, so the 



BAPTISM ITS REALITY AND INTENTION. 



815 



ordinance of baptism is invested with a peculiar impor- 
tance, from the intimate and acknowledged connexion 
between the act of devoting a child to God in this 
manner, and the duty of educating him for the service 
of his Maker, and the attainment of eternal life. No 
two religious employments are, in this country at least, 
and probably in most others throughout Christendom, 
more universally understood to be inseparably con- 
nected, than the act of giving up a child to God, and 
the duty of educating him for his service. The most 
solemn sense of the obligations which we are under to 
train up our children to God, is probably derived from 
the administration of this ordinance. 

2. When children die in infancy, and are scripturally 
dedicated to God in baptism, there is much and very 
consoling reason furnished, to believe that they are ac- 
cepted beyond the grave. 

We are taught in the Scriptures, that ' praise is per- 
fected out of the mouths of babes and sucklings.' It is 
perhaps improper to say, that praise is perfected on this 
side of heaven: When little children were brought to 
our Saviour, he said, ' Suffer the little children to 
come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven.' This seems to be a plain decla- 
ration, that children are admitted to this kingdom, and 
constitute not a small part of the persons of whom it is 
composed. ' The promise,' said St Peter to the Jews, 
' is to you, and to your children.' If this promise is 
extended in any sense to those who die in infancy, and 
conveys to them any blessings, they must be found be- 
yond the grave. 

There is, I think, reason to hope well concerning 
other children, dying in infancy. But there is cer- 
tainly peculiar reason for Christian parents to enter- 
tain strong consolation with respect to their offspring ; 
whom God has not only permitted, but required them 
to offer to him in this ordinance, pointing so exten- 
sively and so significantly to their purification. 

3. Those who are baptized in infancy are placed un- 
der the guardianship and discipline of the Christian 
church. 

The manner in which this discipline is to be con- 
ducted will be the subject of a future discussion. It 
will be sufficient to observe at the present time, that 
children to whom this ordinance has been dispensed, 
are by these means doubly assured of the certain and 
inestimable benefits of religious education, and are en- 
titled, in a peculiar manner, to the counsel, the reproof, 
the conversation, the example, and the prayers of 
Christians. 

The importance of these blessings every Christian 
will understand. Nor can those who believe the decla- 
ration, that ' he who walketh with wise men shall be 
wise,' fail to acknowledge them as blessings of inesti- 
mable value. 

4. Baptism is also the public sign by which the dis- 
ciples of Christ are known to each other, and to the 
world. 

All societies need indispensably some mark of dis- 
tinction ; some mode in which the respective members 
shall be known to each other ; so that each individual 
shall feel that he himself is required, and that he is in- 
vested with a plain right to require others to perforin 
the several duties incumbent on him and them, as 
members of the fraternity. This sign ought always to 
be publicly known, definite, unequivocal, solemn, sig- 



nificant, safe from being counterfeited, always the same, 
acknowledged by all the members of the body, and 
therefore established by authority which cannot be dis- 
puted. The power of such a sign to unite the members 
of such a body in affection to each other, in a common 
interest, and in corresponding pursuits, is incalculably 
great. A mere name often forms a party in politics 
and in religion ; and engages those who often have 
very imperfect conceptions, if they conceive at all, of 
the party purposes for which they are embarked, in a 
harmony with each other, and in a course of zeal and 
violence against their fellow men, wonderful both in 
degree and continuance, and productive of effects, 
usually great, and often dreadful. Here the sign is the 
seal of God, set by his own authority upon those who 
in this world are visibly his children. It has all the 
properties mentioned above ; and is possessed of more 
efficacy than can be easily comprehended, and incom- 
parably more than is usually mistrusted, to keep Chris- 
tians united, alive, and active, in the great duties of 
religion, and in the great interest of the church of God. 
5. Baptism, as a symbol, holds out in a very forcible 
manner to those who have been instructed in the Chris- 
tian religion, a great part of those doctrines and duties 
which are purely Christian ; or which belong to Chris- 
tians, as such. 

Of this number, particularly, are the doctrines of re- 
generation, justification by the righteousness of Christ, 
adoption, sanctification, the gratitude, complacency, and 
obedience to God, the faith in'Christ, the hope of sal- 
vation by him, and that love to the brethren, by which 
all are known to be his disciples ; which together form 
so great a part of Christian doctrines, and the Christian 
character. The doctrine of adoption, particularly, is 
presented to us in this ordinance with peculiar clearness 
and force. Concerning this subject, however, I have 
had occasion heretofore to make all the observations 
which I thought necessary. 

With all these doctrines is intimately connected that 
of the depravity of our nature. A serious observer is, 
perhaps, hardly ever a witness of the administration of 
this ordinance, without strongly realizing the existence 
of that moral pollution which is symbolically washed 
away by baptism. The baptism of infants particularly 
exhibits this subject in the strongest light. Here we 
see, that our race, in the view of their Creator, indis- 
pensably need the cleansing which is accomplished by 
the blood of Christ, and the renewing power of the 
Holy Ghost, antecedently to their possible commission 
of sin by voluntary acts. The original corruption is, 
therefore, taught by this ordinance in language which 
cannot be misconstrued, and is impressed upon us with 
singular force by its solemn and significant symbols. 

Many other doctrines, duties, and blessings, are evi- 
dently and impressively presented to us in the adminis- 
tration of baptism. But to expatiate upon these, and 
even to point them out, is the business of a treatise, and 
not of a single sermon. 

6. The ordinance of baptism, as a memorial of the 
death of Christ, exhibits powerful and immovable evi- 
dence of that great fact to the Christian church, through- 
out all the successive periods of its existence. 

As I shall have occasion to resume this subject, when 
I come to discourse upon the Lord's Supper, I shall dt_- 
fer mv observations upon it for the present ; and shall 
conclude this Discourse with two — 



816 



SYSTEM OP THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. clvii. 



1 . It is not a little to be regretted, that this ordinance 
is so rarely made a theme of discussion in the desk. 

It is not unusual for a minister of the gospel to de- 
vote twenty-four sermons annually to the consideration 
of the Lord's Supper ; twelve delivered at what in this 
country is commonly styled the sacramental lecture, and 
twelve more on the several sabbaths consecrated to the 
administration of this sacrament. On baptism, at the 
same time, ministers rarely preach. Perhaps it is no 
unreasonable supposition, that the subjects of this Dis- 
course are now for the first time brought out in the 
desk to the consideration of a great part of this au- 
dience. Why such a difference is made between two 
institutions of Christ, invested with the same authority, 
solemnity, and influence, I am unable to determine. 
But whatever may be the ground of this distinction, I 
am satisfied that it cannot be a good one. There is but 
too much reason to believe that not only the persons, 
particularly the children who have been baptized, but 
the parents also, are in many instances lamentably igno- 
rant of the nature of this institution, the truths which 
it declares, the duties which it involves, and the privi- 
leges which it confers. Were these things made more 
frequently subjects of preaching, were they clearly il- 
lustrated and solemnly enforced, there is the best reason 
to believe that it would become a far richer and more 
extensive blessing to mankind. 

2. Persons baptized ia-their infancy are here solemnly 
reminded of their own peculiar duties, and severely re- 
proved for their negligence in performing them. 

How many persons are now in this house who have 
been dedicated to God by baptism in their infancy, and 
who yet never thought of a single privilege, realized a 



single obligation, nor performed a single duty, created 
by this ordinance ! It is perhaps questionable, whether 
some of them are not now ignorant whether they have 
been baptized or not. How melancholy are these facts ! 
How full are they of shame and sin ! How produciive 
ought they to be of remorse, contrition, and amend- 
ment ! God has called you, my young friends, into his 
visible kingdom in the morning of life. He has pub- 
licly sealed you as his children, and planted you in the 
nursery of his church. Remember that this interesting 
event sprang not from chance, ' nor from the will of the 
flesh, nor from the will of man, but from God.' He 
gave your parents the disposition and the right to offer 
you up to him, and to consecrate you to his service. 
He has publicly acknowledged his particular relation to 
you, and given you this illustrious token of his kind- 
ness and mercy. Think then, I beseech you, of the 
guilt of disregarding or neglecting this testimony of his 
mercy to you. All men are bound voluntarily to be- 
come his, and to consecrate themselves to his service. 
To this duty you are under peculiar obligations. By 
openly acknowledging you as his children, he has, if I 
may be allowed the expression, laid claim to you in a 
manner which, while it demands of you the most intense 
gratitude, requires of you also to assume the character 
which he has thus externally conferred, and with all the 
heart to devote yourselves in the covenant of grace to 
his service and glory. All men under the gospel are 
immovably bound to the performance of this duty. 
But the obligations incumbent on you are peculiar and 
pre-eminent. Let me request you to ponder this- sub- 
ject with deep and solemn concern ; and to inquire with 
all earnestness of mind, whether you are not in immi- 
nent danger of sharing the doom of Capernaum, Cho- 
razin, and Bethsaida. 



SERMON CLVII. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.—THE OBJECTIONS AGAINST 

INFANT BAPTISM ANSWERED. 



Go ye, therefore, teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 

Ghost. — Matt, xxviii. 19. 



In the preceding Discourse I considered at some length 
the reality and intention of the ordinance of baptism. 
According to the scheme then proposed, I shall now 
proceed to inquire, Who are the proper subjects of bap- 
tism ? 

In answer to tlm inquiry, I observe, 

I. That all those, who believe in Christ, and publicly 
profess their faith in him, are proper subjects of bap- 
tism. 

That such a profession may be made with under- 
standing, the person who makes it must be of sufficient 
age and sufficient capacity to know the great doctrines 
and duties of the gospel ; and must already have be- 
come acquainted with them. He must also understand, 
that it is the religion of the heart which is professed, 



and not merely a speculative belief of the truths and 
precepts contained in the Scriptures. Without such 
knowledge no man can act in this solemn case with 
propriety, decency, or meaning. Nor do 1 know that 
the absolute necessity of such knowledge has ever been 
questioned. A public declaration of our cordial be- 
lief in the doctrines and precepts of the gospel, what 
is usually called in this country a profession of faith, 
is the ground on which, indispensably, adults are admit- 
ted to baptism. 

In addition to this, what is equally necessary to such 
admission, the candidate also enters publicly into cove- 
nant with God, avouching Jehovah, the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost, to be his God ; giving himself up 
to the Father, through the Son, and by the Holy Ghost, 



OBJECTIONS AGAINST INFANT BAPTISM ANSWERED, 



817 



hs his child find servant; and engaging that, ' denying 
ungodliness and worldly lusts, he will live soberly, 
righteously, and godly in the world.' This engage- 
ment is substantially, what Tertullian calls ' sponsio 
salutis' — the engagement of salvation — made univer- 
sally by adults who were baptized in his time. 

One would think it hardly necessary to observe con- 
cerning this engagement, that it ought to be made with 
sincerity ; or that the candidate ought to mean all that 
which is ordinarily intended by the terms of the pro- 
fession : or, in other words, that it ought to be made 
with the heart, and not merely with the lips. 

2. The infant children of believers are also scriptural 
subjects of baptism. 

This doctrine, as you well know, has been extensive- 
ly disputed, and denied ; so extensively, that those who 
have -contended against it have been formed into a dis- 
tinct sect, existing in considerable numbers throughout 
most Christian countries. These persons, originally 
styled Anabaptists, and Antipfedobaptists, have claim- 
ed to themselves improperly the title of Baptists; indi- 
cating, that they only baptized, or were baptized, in a 
manner agreeable to the scriptural directions on this 
subject. While therefore I cheerfully acknowledge 
the distinguished piety and respectability of a consider- 
able number of men in this class of Christians, particu- 
larly in Great Britain, I protest against their assump- 
tion of this name, so far as it is intended to indicate 
that others do not baptize, and are not baptized, agree- 
ably to the principles of the gospel. I acknowledge 
freely their right to their own principles. But their 
right to conclude, or to assert, that the point in debate 
between us and them is settled in their favour, I nei- 
ther admit nor believe. The name Anabaptist, ori- 
ginally given to them because they re-baptized those 
who had received baptism in infancy, is an appellation 
in every view less objectionable. 

In discussing this subject, I shall state, and answer, 
the objections commonly made against it; and then at- 
tempt to support it by direct arguments. 

1. It is objected by the opposers of this doctrine, that 
it is not enjoined by any express command, nor war- 
ranted by any express declaration in the Scriptures. 

How far this objection is founded in truth, I shall 
consider hereafter. At present it will be sufficient to 
observe, that there are many duties incumbent on us, 
which are neither expressly commanded, nor expressly 
declared in the Scriptures. The principle on which 
the objection is founded, when expressed generally, is 
this : ' Nothing is our duty, which is not thus com- 
manded, or declared, in the Scriptures.' According to 
Litis principle, women are under no obligation to ce- 
lebrate the Lord's Supper ; parents to pray with their 
children or families, or to teach them to read ; nor any 
of mankind to celebrate the Christian sabbath ; nor 
rulers to provide the means of defending the country 
which they govern, or to punish a twentieth part of 
those crimes which, if left unpunished, would ruin any 
country. The extent to which this principle, fairly 
pursued, would conduct us, would, I think, astonish 
even those by whom it is urged. 

It is impossible for the Scriptures, if they would be 
of any serious use to mankind, to specify all the parti- 
cular doctrines and duties necessary to be believed and 
practised. The volumes in which such a specification, 
however succinct, must be made, would be too nume- 



rous even to be read, much more to be understood and 
remembered. The scheme of instruction adopted by 
the Scriptures is that of stating the objects of our faith, 
and the rules of our duty, in a manner which, taken 
together, may be styled general ; although I acknow- 
ledge it is in many instances to a considerable degree 
particular. These it illustrates by examples, and fre- 
quently by comments on those examples. Both the in- 
structions and examples also are intended to be still 
farther illustrated by a comparison of passages. Com- 
mon sense candidly employed may easily, with these 
advantages, discover all those precepts which direct the 
faith and practice of mankind in ordinary cases. Those 
which in their nature are more involved are left to the 
investigation of superior intelligence, and laborious 
study. 

Such a code of instruction every man of thought will 
perceive must lay a foundation for a great multitude of 
inferences. Of these, some will be distant and doubt- 
ful ; others, variously probabl;; and others still, near 
and certain. Those which are included in the last of 
these classes, are ever to be received as being actually 
contained in the Scriptures, and as directing our faith 
and practice with divine authority. Every scriptural 
writer, by attaching this authority to his own infer- 
ences, teaches us this doctrine ; and enforces upon us 
the duty of yielding obedience to inferences clearly and 
certainly drawn from truths and precepts expressed in 
the sacred canon. I will only add, that wherever our 
duty demands either the designed omission or the adop- 
tion of any given practice, we are obliged, wherever 
we cannot obtain certain evidence, to govern ourselves 
by the superior probability. 

If, then, the duty of baptizing infants can be certain- 
ly inferred, or inferred with a probability superior to 
that which is supposed to justify the omission of it, the 
Scriptures require that infants should be baptized. 

2. It is objected, that there is no certain example of 
infant baptism in the Scriptures. 

To this I answer, that there is no instance in which 
it is declared in so many terms, that infants were bap- 
tized. But there are instances in which, according to 
every rule of rational construction, this fact is plainly 
involved. Lydia, and ' her house,' and the ' household 
of Stephanas,' were baptized. He, who has examined 
the meaning of the words house and household, in the 
Scriptures, cannot fail to perceive, that in their primary 
meaning they denote children, and sometimes more re- 
mote descendants. Thus, St Paul said to the jailor, in 
answer to his question, ' What must I do to be saved ?' 
— ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved, and thy house.' There is no reason to think 
that Paul knew what family the jailor had. On the 
contrary, he appears merely to have uttered the same 
doctrine which had before been announced to the Jews 
by St Peter : ' The promise is to you, and to your chil- 
dren ;' and to have used the word ' house,' necessarily 
from this ignorance, in the manner in which it was cus- 
tomarily used by his countrymen. Of this manner we 
have many examples in the Old Testament. ' Come 
thou and all thy house, into the ark,' said God to 
Noah, Gen. vii. 1. We, know that the house of Noah 
consisted of his wife and children. < Let thy house be 
like the house of Pharez,' said the elders of Bethlehem 
to Boaz, Ruth iv. 12. In this passage the meaning is 
precisely limited to children. 'I rent the kingdom 
5 i. 



818 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



(Ser, ci.vii. 



away from the house of Davit! ,'_' I will bring evil 
upon the house of Jeroboam,' — ' I will take away the 
remnant of the house of Jeroboam,' — ' The Lord shall 
raise him up a king', who shall cut off the house of Je- 
roboam,' 1 Kings viii. 10 — 14 ' I will make thy house 

like the house of Jeroboam, and like the house of 
Baasha the son of Ahijah,' 1 Kings xvi. 3 ; and xxi. 
22. In all these passages, and in others almost innu- 
merable, the children only are meant. Thus, the house 
of Israel, the house of Judah, the house of Joseph, are 
phrases exactly synonymous with the children of Israel, 
the children of Judah, and the children of Joseph. In 
this manner, then, Paul unquestionably used the term 
in the passage already quoted. Accordingly, it is sub- 
joined, ' He was baptized, and all his, straightway.' 

In the same manner is the phrase used by St Peter, 
in reciting the directions of the angel to Cornelius : 
' Send men to Joppa, and call for Simon, whose sur- 
name is Peter, who shall tell thee words, whereby thou 
and all thy house shall be saved,' Acts xi. 13, 14. 

When, therefore, we find the houses of these several 
persons baptized, we know that the language custom- 
arily, and therefore in the several cases certainly, means 
the children of those who are mentioned. When St 
Paul said to the jailor, ' Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house,' he in- 
tended, either that the children of the jailor should be 
saved, or his servants, or both. I am willing to leave 
it to my opponents to choose that side of either alter- 
native which they prefer : for they themselves will be 
compelled to admit that the children are at least in- 
cluded. 

From the manner in which the baptizing of these 
families is mentioned, it appears strongly probable, that 
to baptize men and their households, was the standing 
practice of the apostles : for there is nothing which in- 
dicates that they practised differently in these instances 
from what was common in others. And St Paul de- 
clares to the jailor, that in consequence of his own faith, 
he and all his house should be saved. Should this, 
however, be contested, there is strong reason to believe 
that in some or other of these families, and not impro- 
bably in all, there were children too young to be bap- 
tized on their own profession of faith. 

3. It is objected, that children cannot be the subjects 
of faith ; and that faith is a necessary qualification for 
baptism. 

I know not how far this objection is urged : but it is 
certainly not founded in truth. John the Baptist was 
filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother's 
womb ; and was unquestionably a subject of faith in 
such a manner, that, had he died in infancy, he would 
certainly have been received to heaven. What was true 
of him, can be true of any other infant. The objection, 
therefore, is founded in error. 

4. It is objected, also, that infants cannot make a pro- 
fession of faith ; and that such a profession is a neces- 
sary qualification for baptism. 

That infants are unable to make a profession of faith, 
is obvious ; but that such a profession is a necessary 
qualification for baptism, in all instances, cannot be 
proved. ' Cornelius, and they that were with him,' 
made no such profession. No profession was demanded 
by St Peter ; nor were any questions asked concerning 
the subject. They indeed gave evidence, and God fur- 
nished evidence for them, that they were true disciples 



of Christ. ' The Holy Ghost fell on them ; and they 
spake with tongues, and magnified God.' These facts, 
and not a profession of faith, are alleged by St Peter as 
the reason why he baptized them. Acts xi. 15 — 17. 

This conduct of Peter, which was directed by the 
Holy Ghost, is clearly expressive of the' pleasure of 
God concerning this subject ; and proves beyond de- 
bate, that a profession is not always necessary, nor al- 
ways required, as a qualification for baptism. The ob- 
jection, therefore, is not founded in truth. 

A profession is required as evidence of the faith and 
piety of the candidate. Whenever, therefore, such evi- 
dence is complete without it, the profession, so far as 
this end is concerned, is of no use. In ordinary cases, 
a profession is indispensable to an adult, as a proof of 
his fitness for the reception of this sacrament ; and, at 
the present time, is indispensable in all cases where 
adults are concerned ; because, as I have shown in a 
former Discourse, it is required in the Scriptures ; and 
because it furnishes important evidence of their charac- 
ter as proper candidates for baptism. But if God has 
exhibited a part of mankind as proper candidates for 
this ordinance by an institution of his own, and has not 
required a profession of them, the use of a profession, 
and the right of demanding it, so far as they are con- 
cerned, is taken away ; their fitness for baptism being 
completely proved in another manner. 

It is, however, true, that infants are baptized in con- 
sequence of a profession of faith ; but it is the profes- 
sion of their parents, not their own. 

5. It is farther objected, that persons baptized in in- 
fancy prove that they were improper candidates for this 
ordinance, by the future degeneracy of their conduct. 

The real amount of this objection is, that no persons 
can be proper subjects of baptism to the human eye, 
who, after their reception of this sacrament, prove them- 
selves to be unrenewed. 

This objection fails, because it proves too much. It 
proves not only that adults, who are candidates for this 
ordinance, are often improper subjects of it ; but that 
the rules given in the Scriptures for our direction con- 
cerning this subject, are insufficient and useless. If we 
are required to baptize none but those who are regene- 
rated, it is absolutely necessary that we should know 
whether the candidates for this sacrament are regene- 
rated, or not. But this no scriptural rule enables us 
to know, even in a single instance. All scriptural rules, 
therefore, concerning this subject, are, on this ground, 
destitute of any use to us, since we can never lawfully 
baptize. The apostles themselves certainly did not al- 
ways know : for they baptized Hymeneus, Philetus, and 
others, who afterward proved themselves to be sinners. 
According to this objection, therefore, the apostles act- 
ed with plain impropriety. 

Should it be granted, then, as it must be, that minis- 
ters act lawfully and scripturally in baptizing some per- 
sons, who afterwards plainly appear to be unregene- 
rated ; the objection fails, and is given up ; since the 
objector concedes the very point for which he contends; 
to wit, that regeneration is indispensable in the candi- 
date, in order that he may be lawfully baptized. The 
truth obviously is, this objection is founded in gross 
error. 

The rules given by God alone render baptism lawful 
in any case. No qualifications in any person render 
him a proper candidate for baptism, in any other sense 



OBJECTIONS AGAINST INFANT BAPTISM ANSWERED. 



819 



than as they place him within these rules. Without 
these rules, regeneration would not render his baptism 
lawful. With them we are to accord in every case; 
and are to ask no questions concerning anything ex- 
cept what they require. 

6. It is objected, farther, that all baptized persons are, 
by that class of Christians to whom I have attached 
myself, considered as members of the Christian church ; 
yet those who are baptized in infancy are not treated as 
if they possessed this character. Particularly, they are 
not admitted to the sacramental supper, nor made objects 
of ecclesiastical discipline. 

As this objection has, in my own view, a more seri- 
ous import than any other which has been alleged, it 
deserves a particular consideration. 

(1.) I acknowledge without hesitation, that the con- 
duct of those with whom I am in immediate communion, 
.and, so far as I know them, their opinions also with re- 
gard to this subject, are in a greater or less degree 
erroneous, and indefensible. 

Many of the churches of this country, and many of 
its ministers also, appear to me to have judged and 
acted with less accuracy, with less of scheme and com- 
prehensiveness, concerning this subject, than concern- 
ing most others. I certainly do not intend to injure 
either churches or ministers by this remark, and per- 
suade myself that I do not. A considerable number of 
ministers have expressed to me their own dissatisfaction 
with both the views and the practice of both themselves 
and their fellow Christians, with respect to persons bap- 
tized in infancy. I am equally dissatisfied with my 
own former views and practice respecting this subject ; 
and readily admit, that a part of what is contained in 
this objection is justly chargeable on many churches 
and many ministers who hold the doctrine of infant 
baptism. But it lies only against the errors of men who 
adopt this doctrine, and not against the doctrine itself. 

That infants should be baptized, and then be left by 
ministers and churches in a situation undistinguishable 
from that of other children, appears to me irreconcil- 
able with any scriptural views of the nature and im- 
portance of this sacrament. 

(2.) If baptized infants are members of the Christian 
church, I think we are bound to determine and declare 
the nature and extent of their membership, as it exists 
in our view. 

That they are members of the Christian church,- if 
lawfully baptized, I fully believe. All persons are 
baptized not in, but into the name of the Father, and of 
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost : that is, they are in 
this ordinance publicly and solemnly introduced into 
the family, and entitled in a peculiar manner, to the 
name, of God. Accordingly they are called godly 
Christians, spiritual sons and daughters of God, and 
children of God, throughout the Scriptures. That this 
is the true construction of the passage just quoted is, I 
think, obvious from the Greek phraseology, ti; to ai/op-a, 
the proper English of which is, ' into the name.' Ac- 
cordingly it is customarily rendered in this manner by 
the translators of our Bible, in those passages where the 
same subject is mentioned. Thus, Rom. vi. 34, St 
Paul asks, ' Know ye not, that so many of us as 
were baptized into Jesus Christ, were baptized into 
]iis death ? Therefore Ave are buried with him by 
baptism into death.' 1 Cor. xii. 13, 'For by one 
Spirit we are all baptized into one body.' Gal. iii. 



27, * As many of you as have been baptized into 
Christ, have put on Christ.' In all these instances the 
phraseology is the same with that first quoted; and, 
from analogy, teaches us, that it ought there also to have 
been rendered in the same manner : into being the ori- 
ginal and proper meaning of the preposition ; and in, 
being a meaning so uncommon as heretofore to have 
been resolved into a Hebraism. Several of these pas- 
sages also directly declare that those who are baptized, 
are baptized into Christ ; that is, into the church, or 
body of Christ. At the same time, there is no other 
account given of this subject. Nor is there anything in 
the ordinance of baptism which in any manner indicates 
that adults, when baptized, are members of the church, 
and that baptized infants are not members. 

To these observations it is to be added, that there is 
but one passage in which ' in the name of Christ,' is 
joined with the verb, ' baptize ;' viz. Acts ii. 38, where 
the preposition is ski. It is also to be observed, that 
the preposition ei; is never used in any other case, 
where any thing is done, or said to be done, in the 
name of Christ : denoting that it is done by his authority. 
I conclude, therefore, that all those persons who have 
been baptized, are members of the Christian church. 

Still, no persons, in my view, become members of 
the Christian church by the ordinance of baptism, in 
the sense most commonly intended by those who use 
this phraseology. 

To make my own apprehensions concerning this 
subject clear to those who hear me, it will be useful to 
consider some of the meanings annexed to the word 
clturch. This word denotes, 

[1.] The invisible kingdom of Christ in this world; 
consisting of all those who are sanctified. 

[2.] The visible kingdom of Christ in this world ; 
consisting of all those who have publicly professed the 
Christian religion, and, in my own view, of their bap- 
tized offspring, who have not arrived at adult age. 

[3.] It denotes, also, any body of Christians who 
hold the same doctrines, and are united in the same 
worship and discipline. Thus we speak of the church 
of England, of Scotland, or of Holland, of the Lu- 
theran, Greek, and Romish churches. 

[4.] It denotes, also, any body of- Christians who 
worship together in the same place, under the care of 
the same minister. 

From this account of the different meanings of the 
word church, it is evident that, when persons baptized 
in infancy are said to be members of the church, the 
word cannot be used in all these senses. Such a per- 
son is not, of course, a member of the Romish church, 
the church of England, the Presbyterian church, the 
Lutheran church, or the church of Holland. 

Again : A person baptized in the church of Eng- 
land, and communing with that church, is not of course 
a member of the church of Scotland, or of the Presby- 
terian church in America. 

Once more : A person baptized in one of the churches 
of this State, and acknowledged as a member in re- 
gular standing, is not, of course, a member of another 
of these churches. He could claim no right to vote, or 
to perform any other act of membership, on the ground 
of his admission into some other church. 

Finally : A person baptized in the house in which 
one of our churches customarily worships, and by its 
own minister, is not of course a member of that church. 



820 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clvii. 



A presbyterian from Scotland may, in adult age, be 
conscientiously baptized by a minister of one of our 
churches ; and yet having no intention of becoming a 
communicant in that church, may never become a 
member of it ; or, in other words, never acquire a right 
to perform any act of membership. 

From these remarks, it is perfectly plain, that some- 
thing beside baptism, nay, that something beside mak- 
ing a profession of religion, is necessary to constitute 
any person a member of a particular church, or of a 
body of Christians worshipping together in one place, 
under the care of one minister, and acting together in 
ecclesiastical business. 

The same doctrine may be also illustrated in an- 
other manner. 

Persons are not unfrequently dismissed from parti- 
cular churches, in good standing, and with full recom- 
mendations of their Christian character. These persons 
are certainly not members of any particular church, or 
churches, until they are severally united to other 
churches in form. It is plain, that they can act nowhere 
as members of the church of Christ, except in what is 
called occasional communion. 

Farther : A minister by his ordination is constituted 
not a minister of a particular church, but of the church 
of Christ at large ; and is acknowledged as such by all 
who consider his ordination as valid. Accordingly, he 
performs all the common duties of the ministry, wher- 
ever he is called to perform them, particularly in vacant 
churches, with the same propriety and authority as in 
the church immediately under his care. He becomes 
the minister of a particular church, solely by the fact, 
that it is committed to him in charge by the proper ec- 
clesiastical authority. In accordance with this view of 
the subject, he is removed from the superintendence of 
one church, and placed over another, by the same au- 
thority, as often as it is judged proper. But his ordi- 
nation is never performed a second time, although the 
charge which conveys to him the superintendence of a 
particular church may be repeated several times during 
the course of his ministry. According to this scheme 
also, individual ministers are not unfrequently ordained 
as evangelists, and have no particular churches commit- 
ted to their care. 

From all these facts it is evident, that a person may 
be a member of the church of Christ at large, and not 
a member of a particular church. A minister is a 
member of the church of Christ at large ; but is never, 
in the proper sense, a member of a particular church.- 
Peculiarly is this evident, when he is dismissed in good 
standing ; for then his only relation to the church here- 
tofore under his superintendence has ceased. Ail evan- 
gelist, also, that is, a minister ordained at large, and 
having no particular church committed to his care, is a 
minister in the church general ; and is acknowledged 
as such by all those who acknowledge the validity of 
his ordination. He is not in any sense the minister of 
a particular church ; nor in any sense a member of 
such a church. 

When an adult offers himself for baptism, he profes- 
ses his faith, and enters into covenant with God ; or 
makes a profession of piety. He then receives baptism, 
as a seal, on the part of God, of his own covenant with 
the man, and of his acceptance of him into his family. 
As this seal is voluntarily received by the man, it be- 
comes also his own seal of his own covenant with God ; 



a solemn and final acknowledgment of his enrolmeirt 
in the same family. He is now therefore a member of 
the church, and may lawfully commune at Christ's 
table, wherever his fellow Christians will receive him. 

The eunuch who was baptized by Philip, was in all 
respects in this situation. He made a profession of 
religion, and was baptized by an authorized minister. 
He was therefore a member of the Christian church ; 
but he was a member of the church general only, and 
not of any particular church. He could not have acted 
as a member of such a church in any ecclesiastical mea- 
sure , nor voted in the regulations of worship, commun- 
ion, ov discipline. 

This I conceive to be exactly the situation of persons 
baptized in infancy. They are members of the church 
of Christ ; that is, of the church general. They are 
members in the same sense in which the eunuch was a 
member ; in which those dismissed in good standing, 
and not yet united to other churches, are membens ; in 
which men lawfully ordained are ministers of the 
church ; in which adults, after their profession and 
baptism, are members, antecedently to their union with 
particular churches. What then, it will be asked, con- 
stitutes persons members of particular churches ? The 
answer is at hand : It is a covenant mutually made by 
Christians to worship God together, in the same man- 
ner, and in accordance with the same principles ; and 
to unite together in the same fellowship, and the same 
discipline. None, beside those who have entered into 
this covenant, can act in any church as an ecclesiastical 
body ; nor take any part in its ecclesiastical proceed- 
ings. This covenant, and this alone, binds them toge- 
ther as a church. None of the persons mentioned above 
are, at the time supposed, parties to such a covenant; 
aud therefore none of them are members of a particular 
church. The ministers cease to be members of parti- 
cular churches, by their ordination, which makes them 
officers in the church at large. The dismissed members 
whom I have ^specified have ceased to be members of 
particular churches, by the dissolution of the covenant 
which made them such, mutually agreed to by them- 
selves and their brethren, with whom they were thus 
in covenant. 

It will here, perhaps, be asked again, Is not every 
particular church a branch of the church general ? I 
answer, It is, because all its members, lawfully intro- 
duced in the manner specified above, are members of 
the church general. In this respect, and in this only, 
bit such a branch. But this fact in no way affects its 
character or situation as a particular church : an eccle- 
siastical body, possessing within itself the power of re- 
gulating its own worship, communion, and discipline. 
In this power in any given church, no person can law- 
fully share, except those who have become parties to 
the mutual covenant which has constituted it a church. 

Baptism renders any person capable of membership 
in a particular church, if he is disposed, and otherwise 
prepared to unite himself to it. But neither this, nor 
his profession of religion, will constitute him such a 
member. This can be done in no other way but by 
means of that mutual covenant between him and the 
church, which has been mentioned above. 

It will probably be farther observed, that in many 
cases a great multitude of churches have been united 
together, so as to constitute, in their view, one church, 
and to be thus styled in their customary language. 



DIRECT ARGUMENTS FOR INFANT BAPTISM. 



821 



Such, for example, are the churches of England and 
Scotland, and the Presbyterian church in America. 
What is the situation of baptized persons, particularly 
of baptized infants, in these churches ? The same, I 
answer, in my opinion, as in our own. Any number of 
churches may unite together in their worship, commun- 
ion, and discipline, and constitute themselves a single 
church. Of this church, however numerous, or how- 
ever small, every individual who belongs to it becomes 
a member, either by an explicit or an implicit engage- 
ment to unite with its several members in their peculiar 
worship, communion, and discipline. 

To those whom I am immediately opposing, the fol- 
lowing observations from Dr Gill, which have lately 
come to my knowledge, will undoubtedly have great 
weight. ' Baptism,' he observes, ' is not a church ordi- 
nance : I mean, it is not an ordinance administered in 
the church, but out of it, and in order to admission into 
it, and communion with it ; it is preparatory to it, and 
a qualification for it ; it does not make a person a 
member of a church, or admit hi in into a visible church. 
Persons must first be baptized, and then added to the 
church, as the three thousand converts were. A church 
has nothing to do with the baptism of any, but to be 
satisfied they are baptized, before they are admitted 
into communion with it.'* It will be easily seen, that 
these opinions of Dr Gill coincide with those which I 
have advanced, in every particular but one. He sup- 
poses baptized persons not to be members of the church 
in any sense. I consider them as members of the church 
general, but not of a particular church. 

The way is now prepared for an answer to the objec- 
tion which we are examining. Persons baptized in in- 
fancy, are baptized on the ground of that profession of 
religion which their parents have made, when they 

icluo 

jiSOffto 





* Gill's Body of Divinity, vol. iii. p. 3U. 



themselves became members of particular churches. 
This I shall have occasion to show hereafter. At pre- 
sent I shall take it for granted. Whenever they them- 
selves make the same profession of religion, they become 
entitled to communion at the sacramental table in any 
church" which acknowledges their baptism and their 
profession to be scriptural. This communion is that 
which is customarily called occasional communion ; 
such as a member of one church enjoys with another of 
the same communion. Whenever they enter into a 
church-covenant, and engage to adopt the worship, fel- 
lowship, and discipline agreed upon by a particular 
church, they then, and not till then, become members 
of a particular church. I have heretofore shown, that 
a profession of religion was necessary to constitute us 
members of the church of Christ. It has been here 
shown, and I hope satisfactorily, that what may be called 
a church-covenant is indispensable to constitute us 
members of particular churches. 

If these things be admitted, the situation of persons 
baptized in their infancy becomes sufficiently plain, 
with regard to their communion at the sacramental ta- 
ble. Those particularly whom I am opposing cannot, 
so far as they admit the opinions of Dr Gill, object any 
longer to the baptism of infants on this score. 

With respect to the discipline of persons baptized in 
infancy, my own views are these. It is chiefly com- 
mitted to their parents and guardians ; and is supremely 
administered in religious education, involving instruc- 
tion, habituation, and government; duties respecting 
the persons baptized, which are of no small importance, 
and are incumbent also on the church, and on its indi- 
vidual members. But the consideration of this subject 
I shall resume, when I come to the examination of 
Christian discipline. 

-ibio i 






SERMON CLVIII. 

ieri Iliw jl 

THE MEANS OF GRACE EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE DIRECT ARGUMENTS FOR 

INFANT BAPTISM. ' . 

^jqg lennam aril nt b&aul 

Lffiansg doiuA-j esii ,i9v9n u < 

• i)fi) aiifi JiiS rioiifiid c Aom it ti\ .ri oimio 

ifrisq -fi 3G noiJfiulis 10 iatMir,A-i ; boo;g ni h 

Go ye, therefore, teach all nations, baptizing them intlie name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 

uoj t qiih-ion nm Ghost. — Matt, xxviii. 19. 

navrg far, ni rewoq »iriJ o 



In the preceding Discourse I considered the principal 
objections of the Antipsedobaplists to the doctrine un- 
der consideration, so far as I recollected them. I shall 
now proceed to offer some direct arguments, to prove 
that infants are proper subjects of baptism. 

I. Infants were circumcised in the church under the 
Abrahamic dispensation : circumcision was the same 
ordinance with baptism : therefore infants are to be 
baptized. 

The covenant made with Abraham was that which is 
made with the church, under the Christian dispensation. 
To Abraham God said, Gen. xvii. 7, 'I will establish 
my covenant between me and thee, and thy seed after 



thee in their generations, for an everlasting covenant ; 
to be a God unto thee, and to thy seed after thee.' In 
Lev. xxvi. 3, 12, it is said, ' If you walk in my statutes, 
and keep my commandments, and do them, then will I 
walk among you, and be your God, and ye shall be my 
people.' In conformity to this language, Moses de- 
clares to the Israelites, Deut. xxvi. 17, after they had 
entered into a solemn, public, national covenant with 
God, ■ Thou hast avouched the Lord this day to be thy 
God ; and the Lord hath avouched thee this day to be 
his people.' 

In conformity to this covenant, God styled himself 
' the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God 



822 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clviii. 



of Jacob ;' and afterward, ' the God of Israel ;' ' Jeho- 
vah, God of Israel ;' and ' the Holy One of Israel.' 
Moses and the prophets, addressing the Israelites, call 
hirn perpetually ' your God ;' and, when addressing the 
nation as one, ' thy God.' But nothing is more evi- 
dent, than that God could not be the God of Israel, or 
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in any sense in which 
he is not the God of all nations, and of all individuals, 
except by his own sovereign and gracious determina- 
tion, expressed in his covenant. Equally evident is it, 
that no inspired man would style hiin the God of this 
nation, or of these individuals, but by his appointment. 
It deserves to be remarked, that he is never styled the 
God of Ephraim, nor the God of Judah. The covenant 
was not made with either of these divisions of. Israel, 
separately considered, but with the whole nation. Nor 
is he ever styled the God of Moses, Joshua, Samuel, 
Solomon, Hezekiah, or Josiah ; the covenant having 
never been made, in form, with either of these persons. 
But he is styled ' the God of David,' witli whom he re- 
newed this covenant in a peculiar form. See 1 Kings 
vii. and I Ghvon. xvii. 

God is also called, as you well know, ' the God of 
Zion,' or of his church, for the same reason ; to wit, 
that his covenant is made with her. 

Now this is the very covenant which is made with the 
church under the Christian dispensation. Of this the 
evidence is unanswerable. St Paul, quoting in the 
eighth chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, from the 
thirty-first of Jeremiah, verse 31 — 34, says, ' For if that 
first covenant had been faultless,' to wit, the covenant 
made at Sinai, of which Moses was the mediator, ' then 
should no place have been found for the second ;' to 
wit, that of which the apostle here declares Christ to be 
the Mediator : ' For, finding fault with them, he saith, 
Behold the days come, saith the Lord, when I will make 
a new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the 
house of Judah : not according to the covenant that I 
made with their fathers, in the day when I took them 
by the hand, to lead them out of the land of Egypt ; 
because they continued not in my covenant, and I re- 
garded them not, saith the Lord. For this is the cove- 
nant that I will make with the house of Israel : after 
those days, saith the Lord, I will put my laws into their 
mind, and write them in their hearts : and I will be to 
them a God, and they shall be to me a people : and they 
shall not teach every man his neighbour, and every man 
his brother, saying, Know the Lord : for all shall know 
me, from the least to the greatest. For I will be merci- 
ful to their unrighteousness ; and their sins and their 
iniquities will I remember no more.' It will be observed, 
that the words of this covenant are the same with the 
words of that which was made with Abraham ; as, from 
time to time, publicly and solemnly repeated by the 
nation of Israel ; and the same in substance with those 
which God himself used in his original promulgation of 
the covenant to that patriarch : all that is involved in 
this covenant being expressed in this single, compre- 
hensive declaration, ' I will be vour God, and te 

SHALL BE MY PEOPLE.' 

As the prophet Jeremiah has informed us — as St 
Paul, quoting his declarations and commenting upon 
them has informed us — that this is the covenant made 
with the church under the Christian dispensation, we 
cannot, without doing violence to the plainest language 
of the Scriptures, hesitate concerning this truth. As 



God made this very covenant with Abraham ; as Moses, 
and all the inspired men who followed him in the nation 
of Israel, have declared these to be the very words of 
that covenant, it cannot, as I think, even with decency, 
be denied to be the same covenant. 

But in this covenant God expressly promised to be a 
God to Abraham, and to his seed. The proper import of 
these words is explained by God himself, when promul- 
ging the covenant to Abraham, Gen. xvii. 10 — 14, in a 
manner which seems to admit of but one construction, 
' This is my covenant, which ye shall keep between me 
and you, and thy seed after thee: every man-child 
among you shall be circumcised. And ye shall circum- 
cise the flesh of your foreskin ; and it shall be a token 
of the covenant betwixt me and you. And he that is 
eight days old shall be circumcised among you; every 
man-child in your generations; he that is born in the 
house, or bought with money of any stranger, which is 
not of thy seed. He that is. born in thy house, and he 
that is bought with thy money, must needs be circum- 
cised ; and my covenant shall be in your flesh, for an 
everlasting covenant. And the uncircumcised man- 
child, whose flesh of his foreskin is not circumcised, that 
soul shall be cut off from his people. He hath broken 
my covenant.' The covenant is here extended to in- 
fants, directly descended from the loins of Abraham ; 
to servants born in the house ; and to servants bought 
with money of any stranger. It is also declared to be a 
covenant extending to all succeeding generations of the 
descendants of Abraham. This, it is to be remembered, 
is the explanation which God himself has given us of 
the extent of this covenant. 

The manner, in which the covenant was, in this re- 
spect, understood by Moses, he has taught us in Detit. 
xxix. 9—1 5, f Ye stand this day, all of you, before the 
Lord your God ; your captains of your tribes, your 
elders, and your officers, with all the men of Israel, your 
little ones, your wives, and thy stranger that is in thy 
camp, from the hewer of thy wood unto the drawer of 
thy water : that thou shouldest enter into covenant with 
the Lord thy God, and into his oath, which the Lord 
thy God maketh with thee this day : that he may es- 
tablish thee to-day for a people unto himself, and that 
he may be unto thee a God ; as he hath said unto thee, 
and as he hath sworn unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to 
Isaac, and to Jacob. Neither with you only do I make 
this covenant, and this oath; but with him that standeth 
here with us this day before the Lord our God ; and 
also with him that is not here with us this day.' 

In this passage Moses informs us, in the first place, 
that ' all Israel,' not only ' the men,' but their ' little 
ones ' also, their ' wives, and the stranger who was in 
their camp, from the hewer of wood to the drawer of 
water,' were included in the covenant, made, or, in 
better terms, solemnly renewed, with God on that day. 

Secondly : That this covenant also was made between 
God, and the succeeding generations of this people. 
' Neither with you only ' (that is, with Israel then pre- 
sent) ' do I make this covenant ; but with him that stand- 
eth here with us this day before the Lord our God ; 

AND ALSO WITH HIM THAT IS NOT HERE WITH US THIS 
DAT.' 

Thirdly: That it was the same covenant formerly 
made by God with Abraham, and afterward renewed 
with Isaac and Jacob. It was the same in substance, 
— * that thou shouldest enter into covenant with the 



DIRECT ARGUMENTS FOR INFANT BAPTISM. 



823 



Lnvil tliy God, That he mat establish thee this 

DAT FOR A PEOPLE UNTO HIMSELF, AND THAT HE MAT BE 

unto thee a God.' It was the same in fact, — ' as lie 
hath said unto thee, and as he hath sworn unto thy 
fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.' 

From these passages it is evident, as I apprehend, 
beyond all reasonable debate, that the covenant made 
with Abraham was made first, with himself; secondly, 
with his household, generally ; thirdly, with his servants 
by name, whether born in his house or bought with 
money ; fourthly, with his infant children, afterwards 
limited particularly to the descendants of Isaac, and 
afterward, again, to the descendants of Jacob; fifthly, 
to these descendants as a people ; sixthly, to their little 
ones, or infants, in every generation ; seventhly, to their 
servants universally ; and eighthly, to the strangers who 
dwelt in their nation. 

To all these God covenanted that ' he would be their 
God, and that they should be his people.' 

I say this is evident beyond debate, because it is ex- 
pressed in so many words, and those as unambiguous 
as are found in any language. He who attempts to 
reason away the plain import of such explicit declara- 
tions, may amuse and deceive himself, and those who 
listen to him ; but lie must be a very unhappy com- 
mentator on the word of God. 

This covenant being then the only covenant of grace 
which God has ever made with mankind ; the terms, 
and therefore the extent, of it must ever continue the 
same, unless repealed, or otherwise altered, by its Au- 
thor. But this covenant was as really and expressly 
made with infants as with adults. If then God has not 
declared, in some manner or other, that he will no 
longer comprise infants within this covenant, it still 
comprises them. But he has made no such declaration 
in any manner whatever. Infants are therefore still 
comprised in this covenant. 

As the fact, that infants were universally circum- 
cised in the church during the continuance of the dis- 
pensation made to Abraham will not be contested, 1 
shall proceed to show, that circumcision was the same 
sacrament with baptism. Concerning this subject, I 
observe, 

1. That circumcision was appointed to be a token of 
the covenant, above explained, between God and his 
church. 

A token is a sign or proof of anything of which it 
is constituted a token. Here circumcision is made a 
token of the covenant of God upon the circumcised. 
'Ye shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskins,' said 
God to Abraham ; ' and it shall be a token of my cove- 
nant betwixt me and you.' ' It is,' says Pool, com- 
menting on this passage, ' a sign, evidence, and assu- 
rance, both of the blessing promised by that God who 
appointed this ordinance, and of man's obligation to 
the duties required.' 

In a different form of expression, but ultimately with 
the same reference, and substantially with the same 
meaning, it is called a ' seal of the righteousness of 
faith.' — f And he received the sign of circumcision, a 
seal of the righteousness of the faith, which he had, 
being yet uncircumcised.' A seal, as you well know, 
is an instrument used to make an impression upon wax, 
annexed to some writing, containing the pleasure, de- 
termination, or engagement, of him whose seal it is. 
The intention of annexing a seal to such a writing, is 



solemnly to make known, that the writing is his writ- 
ing, or the act his act ; and that it contains and com- 
municates his pleasure. Thus, bonds, deeds of gift, 
indentures, commissions, and other instruments, are 
sealed to authenticate the instrument itself, and to fur- 
nish an obligatory proof of the engagements of the 
sealer. 

In the present case it will be necessary, in order to 
understand the import of the seal in question, to exa- 
mine the nature of the transaction to which it is an- 
nexed. This transaction is the covenant which has 
been so often mentioned in these Discourses concern- 
ing baptism. A covenant between men consists univer- 
sally of two promises, or engagements; one made by 
each of the parties. The fulfilment of each of these 
promises is the condition, alternately, on which the 
performance of the other is engaged. Both promises 
are voluntarily made ; and neither party originally was 
under any obligation to the promise actually made. 

These observations, however, are only in a partial 
sense applicable to a covenant made between God and 
man, particularly to the covenant now under discussion. 
This covenant is a law, published by God, directing in 
an absolute manner, the conduct of men with respect 
to the subjects of the covenant ; and annexing penalties 
to their transgressions, and rewards to their obedience. 
Thus the man-child which was not circumcised on the 
eighth day, God says, ' shall be cut oft' from his people ; 
he hath broken my covenant.' Thus, also, in Lev. 
xxvi. he says, ' I will walk among you, and be your 
God, and ye shall be my people : but if ye will not 
hearken unto me, and will not do all these command- 
ments, but that ye break my covenant, I will also do 
this unto you ; I will even appoint over you terror, 
consumption, and the burning ague, that shall consume 
the eyes, and cause sorrow of heart.' In Deut. xxvi. 
Moses says to Israel, ' Thou hast avouched the Lord 
this day to be thy God, and to walk in his ways, and to 
keep his statutes and commandments, and his judg- 
ments, and to hearken unto his voice ; and the Lord 
hath avouched thee this day, to be his peculiar people, 
as he hath promised thee, and that thou shouldest keep 
all his commandments.' In the eighty-ninth Psalm, 
which contains a full and remarkable promulgation of 
the covenant of grace, or more properly, perhaps, of 
the covenant of redemption, speaking of Christ, God 
says, ' If his children forsake my law, and walk not in 
my judgments, then will I visit their transgressions with 
a rod, and their iniquity with stripes. Nevertheless 
my loving-kindness I will not utterly take from him, 
nor suffer my faithfulness to fail : my covenant will I 
not break, nor alter the thing that is gone out of my 
lips.' In Jer. xxxi, quoted Heb. viii. God says, ' This 
shall be the covenant that I will make with the house 
of Israel after those days, saith the Lord, I will put my 
law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts.' 
In Ezek. xxxvi. the same things are expressed in the 
following manner: 'Then will I sprinkle clean water 
upon you, and ye shall be clean ; a new heart also will 
I give you ; and I will put my Spirit within you ; and 
I will cause you to walk in my statutes; and ye shall 
keep my judgments, and do them.' The same things 
are also repeated in similar language, in the thirty- 
seventh chapter. From these passages, it is unanswer- 
ably evident, that this covenant, as well as every oilier 
made by God with mankind, is a law, requiring abso- 



824 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CLvnr. 



lutely their obedience ; annexing to it rewards ; and 
threatening disobedience with the merited penalties. 

Still, it is not merely a law ; it is also a covenant. 
In it God makes engagements to mankind, and those 
in the highest degree gracious. He engages, on the 
terms proposed, to be their God, and promises that 
they shall be his people. These engagements involve 
all that is meant by grace ; and admit of no additions. 
They may be branched out endlessly, into particular 
promises included under them ; but they involve all 
gracious promises whatever. The covenant made with 
Abraham, therefore, is not only a covenant of grace ; 
but includes all other gracious covenants which can be 
made with mankind : while it is also a law, absolutely 
obligatory upon all to whom it is proposed. 

In accordance with its character as a covenant, men 
are made parties to it. In accordance with its charac- 
ter as a law, they are required to become parties to it, 
and are punished for their refusal with the most dis- 
tressing evils. 

From these observations it will be seen, that a seal, 
when annexed to this covenant by God the Author of 
it, is a solemn sign and proof that this is his covenant, 
and contains the terms on which he has chosen to act 
towards those to whom he has published it, whom he 
has involved in it, and whom he has required to become 
parties to it. It is his seal, annexed authoritatively by 
himself. It is a seal also put upon mankind. It is, 
therefore, to be placed upon all those whom he has in- 
cluded in the covenant; so far as he has directed them 
to be thus sealed. Every one of these is a proper sub- 
ject of the seal. No question can be asked concerning 
the fitness of such persons to receive the seal ; because 
that point is already decided by himself, in the direc- 
tion which he has given to seal them. 

It has been often supposed, that the seal of this cove- 
nant was annexed to it by man ; to wit, by every be- 
liever, when, acknowledging the obligation under which 
he was placed, he took the covenant upon himself, in 
making a public profession of religion. Formerly this 
was my own opinion ; but, upon examining the several 
things which are said in the Scriptures concerning both 
the covenant and the seal, I have become convinced 
that it was a groundless opinion. My former appre- 
hensions were, as I believe those of others frequently 
have been, not a little influenced by the nature of 
covenants between men. In these, the parties antece- 
dently to the transaction, have no moral interest, and 
are under no obligation to make them. Their only 
obligation to perform that which they engage arises 
from the engagement itself. If, then, both parties do 
not engage, the covenant can have no existence. By 
both parties, also, it must be sealed ; and a seal set to 
it by one of them only stands for nothing. 

To the covenant under discussion these considera- 
tions are wholly inapplicable. It is proposed to us as 
a law ; and our obligations to conform to its terms, 
arise solely from the command of God ; and are bind- 
ing upon us absolutely, whether we consent to them or 
not. We are in no sense at liberty to consent, or not 
consent; but our compliance is required by divine 
authority. The seal of this covenant, therefore, is not 
set by us ; but by God upon us ; and that, whether we 
voluntarily comply with its terms or not ; and is set 
upon such person, as he has thought proper to direct. 

According to this exhibition of the subject, the ' cir- 



cumcision ' which is declared to be * a seal of the right- 
eousness of faith,' and ' the token,' or proof ' of the 
covenant ' of grace made with Abraham, was placed by 
the command of God upon him, and upon all the males 
in his household. Of these, some were infants, and 
some were servants. The consent either of Abraham, 
or of his family, was not asked. The compliance of 
some of them, to wit, such as were infants, was impos- 
sible. That of many others in his household was pro- 
bably never yielded, either knowingly, or voluntarily. 
Yet upon all these was the seal placed by the divine 
command, under a penalty for omitting it, no less than 
excision. In the same manner was it placed upon I lie 
whole nation of Israel, and upon all the strangers who 
were within their gates. 

To the existence of the opinion which I have rejected 
above, the fact, that circumcision is styled ' a seal of 
the righteousness of faith,' has probably not a little con- 
tributed. The righteousness of faith denotes two 
things. One is, thte faith itself, which is ' counted for 
righteousness.' The other is, the righteousness, in the 
proper sense, which springs from faith. In the former 
of these senses I consider the phrase as used in the 
passage so often alluded to. For it is said, that ' he 
receiveth this seal, that he might be the father of all 
them that believe, whether circumcised or uncircum- 
cised, that righteousness might be imputed (or counted) 
unto them also.' In other words, that their faith might 
be counted to them for righteousness, even as his was. 
If this explanation be admitted, circumcision is here 
styled ' the seal of the faith of Abraham ;' that is,, it 
was a seal put upon Abraham, as a believer, by the 
appointment of God. In the same manner was it put 
upon his infant offspring, upon his servants, upon all 
the people of Israel being infants, upon all the strangers 
who dwelt with them, and upon their infant offspring. 
In every one of these cases, it was a token, or proof, 
that the covenant of God was upon them, as in the 
case of Abraham and his family. The covenant was 
the same, and the seal was the same. The import of 
the seal was, therefore, the same to them all. But it is 
perfectly plain, that Abraham's family were not all be- 
lievers, in the evangelical sense, nor indeed in any 
sense, at the time when this seal was affixed to them ; 
for some of them were infants. It is equally plain, that 
the great body of his descendants were also not be- 
lievers when they were circumcised; they too being 
almost all infants. The conclusion is, therefore, irre- 
sistible, that circumcision was not, and could not be 
intended to be, a seal set by God upon the actual exist- 
ing evangelical faith of those who were circumcised; 
because a part of those who were first circumcised by 
the immediate command of God, and almost all those 
who were circumcised afterward, were at the time of 
their circumcision unpossessed and incapable of this 
faith. Neither was it intended to be a seal set by the 
person circumcised of his own faith ; for, in most in- 
stances, he did not possess this faith ; and in no in- 
stance set this seal. He merely received it from the 
hand of God as a religious rite, both ordained and 
affixed by him. 

Here it will reasonably be asked, What then is the 
import of circumcision ? I answer, It is what it was 
at first declared to be. God said to Abraham, ' Ye 
shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin ; and it shall 
be a token of the covenant betwixt me and you.' The 



DIRECT ARGUMENTS FOR INFANT BAPTISM. 



825 



covenant was a covenant of grace in these terms, ' I 
will be your God, aud ye shall be my people.' The 
conditions of it were on the part of man, that he should 
believe in God, especially in the Redeemer, with an 
evangelical faith ; and on the part of God, that this 
faith should be counted to the believer for righteousness. 
Of this covenant circumcision was originally the seal. 

To mankind this covenant is, as I remarked above, 
a law. All persons to whom it is published are re- 
quired thus to believe. The Israelites, and the strangers 
who dwelt with them, were expressly placed under it, 
and expressly required to receive circumcision as a 
token, seal, or proof, that the covenant of God was 
placed upon them by his authority ; as a proof, that he 
was the God of Israel, and they his people; as a proof 
also that they were required to believe in him, and that 
lie would count their faith to them for righteousness. 

In conformity to this view of the subject, they were 
required, as was observed in a former Discourse, pub- 
licly and universally to swear into his name ; that is, 
to make a profession of religion, or to covenant that 
they would be his people in the manner already speci- 
fied ; to wit, by faith in him. This they were univer- 
sally required to do, whenever they arrived at such an 
age as to be capable of doing it with the heart and the 
understanding, united. In this transaction, and not in 
circumcision, man may, in a remote and humble sense, 
be said to set his own seal to the covenant of grace. 

2. Circumcision was the initiatory seal of this cove- 
nant. 

By this I intend, that it was the public means of in- 
troducing the Israelites into covenant with God. 

3. Circumcision was a symbol of the internal cleans- 
ing of the heart, by the effusion of the Spirit of God. 
This is directly declared by St Paul ; ' Circumcision is 
that of the heart, in the Spirit, and not in the letter, 
whose praise is not of men, but of God.' 

4>. There were two sacraments in the ancient church, 
circumcision and the passover. There are two sacra- 
ments in the Christian church, baptism and the Lord's 
supper. The passover is the same sacrament with the 
Lord's supper. It follows, therefore, that baptism is the 
same sacrament with circumcision. 

This, independently of the preceding considerations, 
is, I acknowledge, a presumptive argument only. Con- 
nected with them, its force will not be easily avoided. 
But baptism was appointed equally with circumcision, 
to be a token of the covenant between God and his 
church ; a seal of the righteousness of faith. It is also 
the initiatory seal of this covenant. Finally : it is a 
symbol of the cleansing of the heart by the effusion of 
the Spirit of God. It is, therefore, under the present 
dispensation, the same thing with circumcision under 
the former. 

Hence the conclusion appears to me unavoidable, 
that as infants were circumcised under the former dis- 
pensation, they are to be baptized under the present. 

There are but two ways which I pan think of, in which 
this conclusion can be escaped, even with plausibility : 
by supposing either that the command to circumcise 
infants was, as to its spirit, repealed at the commence- 
ment of the Christian dispensation ; or that the Chris- 
tian church is not the same with the Abrahamic church. 
The former of these suppositions will not be alleged by 
AntipfedobaptisU ; for tiie latter they contend. On 
this subject I observe, 



(1.) That the covenant on which the church was 
founded under the Abrahamic dispensation, is the same 
with that on which it is founded under the Christian 
dispensation. This, I flatter myself, has been unan- 
swerably proved. 

(2.) St Paul asserts the church, under both these dis- 
pensations, to be one. 

' If,' he says, ' the root be holy, so are the branches 
And if some of the branches be broken off, and thou 
being a wild olive tree, wert graffed in among them, and 
with them partakest of the root and fatness of the olive 
tree ; boast not against the branches. But if thou 
boast, thou bearest not the root, but the root thee.' In 
this passage it is clear, that the church is considered as 
an olive tree, of which Abraham is the root, and the 
Jewish members the natural branches ; that some tff 
these branches were broken off; that the Gentile mem- 
bers were originally the branches of a wild olive, which 
being cut as scions, were grafted in among'the remain- 
ing natural branches ; that is, the existing Jewish mem- 
bers ; and that the Gentiles thus become (ov/Kotvoivot) 
joint partakers with them of the root and fatness of the 
olive tree. 

In no manner of which I can conceive, could St Paul 
have more decisively declared the unity of the church 
under these two dispensations. 

(3.) That the church under these dispensations is 
but one, is evident also from Eph. ii. 14 : ' For he is 
our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken 
down the middle wall of partition between us.' In this 
passage, Christ is said to have broken down the wall of 
partition between the Jews and the Gentiles, and, having 
become the peace of both, to have made both one, that 
is, one church. But the Jews were in his church be- 
fore. The Gentiles were therefore made one with the 
Jews, by being received into the same church. 

Thus it is evident, that the church under the Abra- 
hamic and Christian dispensations, is the same church. 
All the ordinances aud privileges, therefore, with which 
the church was originally constituted, remain the same, 
unless annulled or altered by that Divine authority from 
which they were derived. But it was one original ordi- 
nance of this church, that the infant children of professing 
believers were constituted members of it, and were ac- 
cordingly to receive the initiatory seal of the covenant. 
This ordinance has neither been annulled nor altered. 
The infant children of professing believers are there- 
fore now constituted members of the visible church, 
and are now to receive the initiatory seal of the cove- 
nant. 

I have dwelt thus particularly on this branch of the 
discussion, because I consider the point in debate as 
turning upon it; and because it has not always been 
Considered in a manner which appeared to me accor- 
dant, with either reason or Scripture. 

II. All the observations made on this subject in tlie 
New Testament, accord with the view of it which has 
here been given, and confirm the doctrine of infant bap- 
tism. 

Among such passages, the following deserve particu- 
lar attention: 1. Mark ix. 3G, ' And he took a child, 
and set him in the midst of them ; and when he had 
taken him in his arms, he said unto them, Whosoever 
shall receive one of such children in my name, receiv- 
eth me : and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth not 
me, but him that sent me.' 

5 M 



826 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cr.vni. 



The meaning- of the phrase, to ' receive a child in the 
name of Christ,' is explained by himself in the 41st 
verse of the context : ' Whosoever shall give you a cup 
of water in my name, because ye belong to Christ, 
verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward.' To 
receive such a child in the name of Christ, is to receive 
him because he belongs to Christ. Infants, therefore, 
such at least as he spake of, belong- to Christ; and in 
this character are to be received by his followers. But 
they can be received as belonging to Christ, in no other 
manner than that of receiving- them into his church. 

2. Matt. xix. 13 — 15, ' Then were there brought un- 
to him little children, that he should put his hands on 
them, and pray : and the disciples rebuked them. But 
Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not 
to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. 
And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence.' 
Mark adds, that ' he took them up in his arms, and 
blessed them*.' 

Of this passage I observe, (1.) That the parents who 
brought these children to Christ, were believing Jews, 
who wished for his blessing on their offspring. (2.) 
They were infants ; being called by Luke, Bgsip^ : 
Luke xviii. 15. (3.) The disciples rebuked the pa- 
rents. (4.) Christ reproved the disciples ; and directed 
them to ' suffer the infants to be brought to him.' (5.) 
He declared, that ' of such children the kingdom of 
God is composed.' (C). 'He took them in his arms, 
and blessed them.' The kingdom of God denotes either 
the church on earth, or the church in heaven. Whether 
one, or the other, or both, are here intended, is of little 
importance to the question in debate. It is, however, 
in the highest degree probable that the church on earth 
is intended ; as, very plainly, children can come to 
Christ in the present world, so as to constitute a part 
of his kingdom, in no other manner than by becoming 
members of the visible church. It is plain, also, that 
they cannot be forbidden by his ministers to come to 
him in any other manner, beside being excluded from 
the church. Christ blessed these children, after he had 
made this declaration. Those whom Christ has blessed, 
and whom he has directed .ministers to permit to come 
to him, ministers ought not to forbid to come to him in 
the only manner in which they can either forbid, or 
permit, this to be done. 

The interpretation which makes our Saviour say, 
■ Suffer little children to come unto me, because the 
kingdom of God is composed of Christians,' that is, of 
such as have a child-like spirit, sometimes alleged, is 
undeserving of a refutation. 

In accordance with the account which I have given 
of this passage, as well as with the whole scheme of this 
Discourse, the apostles preached, so far as we are in- 
formed of their preaching. They preached to a man 
and his house ; and their language was, ' Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, thou and 
thy house.' The angel who appeared to Cornelius, said 
to him, ' Send men to Joppa, and call for Simon, whose 
surname is Peter, who shall tell thee words, whereby 
thou, and all thy house, shall be saved' 

3. Acts ii. 38, 39, ' Then Peter said unto them, Re- 
pent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of 
Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins ; and ye shall re- 
ceive the gift of the Holy Ghost. For the promise is 
unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar 
off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.' 



The promise here referred to is plainly that which 
was made to Abraham — a promise to him and to his 
seed ; to wit, the very persons on whom God directed 
the seal of his covenant to be placed. These, we well 
know, were to a great extent infant children. As there 
is no other promise in the Scriptures made to the Is- 
raelites and their children, we know that this is the 
promise referred to by St Peter : and this declaration 
assures us, that it is extended to the church under the 
Christian dispensation. As there is no limitation of 
the promise here, nor in any other part of the New 
Testament, we have in this fact ample proof, that it is 
extended to Christians without any limitation. It may, 
I think, be safely concluded, that, if so great a change 
had been made in the conditions of the promise, St 
Peter would at this very time have advertised these 
Jews of such a change. We may at least be certain, 
that he, or some other apostle, would have announced 
this change somewhere. But no such annunciation ex- 
ists in the New Testament. The change, therefore, has 
not been made ; and children hold exactly the same 
relation to the church at the present time, which they 
held under the Abrahamic dispensation. 

4. 1 Cor. vii. 14: ' For the unbelieving husband is 
sanctified by the believing wife, and the unbelieving 
wife by the husband, else were your children unclean ; 
but now are they holy.' 

The word ' unclean,' in almost all instances in the 
Scriptures, denotes that which may not be offered to 
God, or may not come into his temple. Of this cha- 
racter were the heathen universally; and they were, 
therefore, customarily and proverbially denominated 
unclean by the Jews. The unbelievers here spoken of, 
were heathen ; and were therefore unclean. In this 
sense, the children born of two heathen parents are 
here pronounced to be unclean also ; as being in the 
proper sense heathen. To be holy, as here used, is the 
converse of being unclean.; and denotes that which 
may be offered to God. To be sanctified, as referring 
to the objects here mentioned, is to be separated for 
religious purposes ; ' consecrated to God ;' as were the 
first-born, and vessels of the temple ; or to be in a pro- 
per condition to appear before God. In this text it 
denotes that the unbelieving parent is so purified by 
means of his relation to the believing parent, that their 
mutual offspring are not unclean, but may be offered 
unto God. There is no other sense in which a Jew 
could have written this text, without some qualification 
of these words. The only appointed way in which chil- 
dren may be offered to God, is baptism. The children 
of believing parents are therefore to be offered to God 
in baptism. 

III. Infant baptism was uniformly practised by the 
early Christians. 

Justin Martyr, born near the close of the first cen- 
tury, observes, when speaking of those who were mem- 
bers of the church, that ' a part of these were sixty or 
seventy years old, who were made disciples to Christ 
from their infancy.' But there never was any other 
mode of making disciples from infancy, except baptism. 

Irenseus, born about the year 97, a disciple of Poly- 
carp, who was a disciple of John, says, * Christ came to 
save all persons, who by him are born again unto God ; 
infants and little ones, and children, and youths, and 
elder persons.' By being born again, Irenasus intends 
being baptized, as he himself elsewhere clearly shows. 



SUBJECTS AND MODE OF BAPTISM. 



827 



Clemens Alexandrinus, born about the middle of the 
second century, says, ' If any one be a fisherman ; let 
him think of an apostle, and the children taken out of 
the water.' Clement is here giving directions concern- 
ing images, to be engraven on seal rings. These en- 
gravings were sometimes indecent, and sometimes idol- 
atrous. Clement exhorts Christians to adopt such as 
are becoming and useful ; and particularly exhorts 
fishermen to choose the image of an apostle baptizing 
infants. This furnishes a decisive proof, that in Cle- 
ment's view the apostles baptized infants, and that this 
practice was, in his own time, the general practice of 
the Christian church. 

Tertullian, born about the same time with Irenasus, 
says, ' The delay of baptism is more useful, according 
to every person's condition and disposition, and even 
their age ; but especially with regard to little children.' 
The reason which he urges for this delay is, that ' their 
faith was not entire, or complete.' As Tertullian is 
here directly opposing the common opinion, it is obvi- 
ous, that little children were then commonly baptized. 
The reason why Tertullian proposed this delay, was, 
that he attributed to baptism an importance not given 
to it by the Scriptures. 

Origen, born about the year 1 84, and a man of more 
information than anyone of his time, says, ' Infants are 
baptized for the remission of sins.' And again : ' The 
church hath received the tradition from the apostles, 
that baptism ought to be administered to infants.' 

Cyprian, who was contemporary with Origen, says, 
that ' sixty-six bishops, being convened in a council at 
Carthage, having the question referred to them, Whe- 
ther infants might be baptized before they were eight 
days old ? decided unanimously, that no infant is to be 
prohibited from the benefit of baptism, although but 
just born.' 

Gregory Nazianzen, born in the early part of the 
fourth century, exhorts parents to offer their children 
to God in baptism. 

Saint Augustin, born in the middle of the fourth 
century, says, ' The whole church practises infant bap- 
tism : it was not instituted by councils, but was always 
in use.' He also says, that he ' did not remember ever 
to have read of any person, whether catholic or hei-etic, 
who maintained that baptism ought to be denied to in- 



fants. This,-" lie says, ' the church has always main- 
tained.' 

Pelagius, a contemporary with Augustin, declares 
that ' he had never heard even any impious heretic, 
who asserted that infants are not to be baptized.' Again 
he asks, ' Who can be so impious as to hinder the bap- 
tism of infants?' Pelagius is here a witness of high 
authority. He was born in Britain ; and travelled 
through France, Italy, Africa Proper, and Egypt, to 
Jerusalem. Had such a practice existed in his time, it 
seems impossible that he should not have heard of it. 
He was also an inquisitive and learned man ; and must 
therefore have been well informed concerning preced- 
ing periods. At the same time, the doctrine of infant 
baptism was objected against his own opinions by St 
Augustin, in such a manner, that Pelagius knew not 
how to answer the objection. Still these are his own 
assertions. 

A person who employed himself extensively in ex- 
amining this subject, gives the following result of all his 
inquiries : — 

' First : During the first four hundred years from 
the formation of the Christian church, Tertullian only 
urged the delay of baptism to infants, and that only in 
some cases ; and Gregory only delayed it, perhaps, to 
his own children. But neither any society of men, or 
any individual, denied the lawfulness of baptizing in- 
fants. 

' Secondly : In the next seven hundred years, there 
was not a society, nor an individual, who even pleaded 
for this delay; much less any who denied the right, or 
the duty of infant baptism. 

'Thirdly: In the year 1120, one sect of the Wal- 
denses declared against the baptism of infants ; because 
they supposed them incapable of salvation : but the 
main body of that people rejected the opinion as here- 
tical ; and the sect which held it soon came to nothing. 

' Fourthly : The next appearance of this opinion was 
in the year 1522.' 

Had the baptism of infants been ever discontinued 
by the church ; or had it been introduced in any age 
subsequent to that of the apostles, these things could 
not have been, nor could the history of them have been 
found. 



SERMON CL1X. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.—EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.— 
NO INFANTS BUT THE CHILDREN OF BELIEVERS PROPER SUBJECTS OF BAPTISM — 

MODE OF ADMINISTRATION. 



Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ, for the 
remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. For the promise is unto you, and to 
your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call. — Acts 
ii. 38, 39. 



Thb persons here addressed by St Peter, were a col- 
lection of Jews. Of course, they were persons on whom 
God had placed his covenant, and to whom he had 



affixed the seal of circumcision. They were persons 
who had regularly partaken of the Passover through 
life. They were not excommunicated persons. They 



823 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clix. 



were therefore still in the covenant. On this ground 
St Peter declares to them, that the promise was still to 
them, and to their children. 

Still they were gross sinners, and had imbrued their 
hands in the blood of the Redeemer. They had not, 
indeed, been employed in the external act of putting 
him to death : this was done by the Roman soldiery. 
But they had sought and procured his death with a 
disposition probably more malignant and abominable 
than that of his real murderers. Thus they were gross 
sinners, and were therefore called upon to ' repent.' 
They were also required to be ' baptized, every one of 
them, in the name of the Lord Jesus, for the remission 
of sins;' because baptism was now become the initia- 
tory seal of the covenant. As the promise was to them 
and to their children, according to the gracious decla- 
ration of God to Abraham, it follows, that they, being- 
baptized, and thus introduced into the covenant under 
the Christian dispensation, and made members of the 
church under that dispensation, their children also 
were placed under the same covenant, and were to be 
baptized according to the appointment of God. 

These persons, I say, were to be baptized. The 
question naturally arises, What is it to be baptized? 
It will be the design of this Discourse to show. 

I. That infant baptism is in the Scriptures confined 
to the children of professing Christians ; 

II. To show what baptism is, considered as an exter- 
nal religious rite. 

I. / shall attempt to show, that infant baptism is in 
the Scriptures confined to the children of professing 
Christians. 

This doctrine I derive, 

1. From the constitution of the Abrahamic church, 

AH the Israelites were circumcised. All of them, as 
was shown in a former Discourse, made a public pro- 
iession of religion, or entered publicly into covenant 
with God. They all also partook regularly of the 
Passover. Thus, the children of every Jew were the 
children of a professor of religion ; and, as such, re- 
ceived the initiatory seal of the covenant of grace. 

As the covenant under the Christian dispensation is, 
unless in some respect or other altered by the authority 
which first promulgated it, exactly the same as it was 
under the Abrahamic dispensation, and cannot be law- 
fully either widened or narrowed by man ; it follows, 
that children are now to be considered in exactly the 
same light as under the former dispensation, unless 
the Scriptures have evidently changed the state of 
their relations and privileges. But, in these respects, 
no such alteration can be pleaded ; for the scriptures 
evidently contain none. The church is not now con- 
fined to a single nation ; nor are the individuals of 
any one nation, as such, made members of the church. 
But the duty of professing the religion of the Scrip- 
tures, and the peculiar duties and privileges of those 
who have professed it, are now, in substance, exactly 
what they were under the dispensation made to Abra- 
ham. 

It is evident, therefore, that since no children, be- 
side the children of those who publicly professed the 
religion of the Scriptures, could lawfully receive the 
initiatory seal of the covenant under the Abrahamic 
dispensation, no children but such as these can lawfully 
receive this seal under the Christian dispensation ; un- 
less the covenant with respect to this subject can be 



shown to have been altered. But this, it is presumed, 
cannot be shown. 

2. The parents who are presented in Matt. xix. 13, 
14, as having ' brought their children to Christ, that he 
might bless them,' were processors of religion. 

As they were Jews, this will not be disputed. In ad- 
dition to this, they were evangelical believers. They 
brought their children to Christ, ' that he might "bless 
them ;' and therefore believed that he was able to give 
them an efficacious blessing. Of consequence, they 
believed that he was the Messiah. For as he declared 
himself to be the Messiah, if he was not, he was an 
impostor ; and therefore utterly unable to communi- 
cate any blessing. At this time of Christ's ministry, it 
is hardly possible that these parents should have been 
ignorant of this subject, since it was the great topic of 
inquiry and debate among their countrymen. Nor is it 
conceivable that they should have adopted this remark- 
able conduct, if they had not acknowledged him as the 
Messiah. 

It is to be observed, that Christ, when he opposes the 
conduct of his disciples, who would have hindered these 
children from being brought to him, says not, ' Suffer 
little children,' but, ' Suffer the little children to come 
unto me, and forbid them not. The words in all the 
three evangelists, who have recorded this story, are tos 
7? ail) int., the little children ; and cannot be pleaded as a 
warrant for bringing to Christ in baptism any other 
children, than such as are in the like circumstances 
with those mentioned in this passage. 

3. The text directly declares the same doctrine. 

' The promise,' says St Peter to the Jews, ' is to you, 
and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even 
as many as the Lord our God shall call.' Those, who 
were ' afar off) ' were Gentiles ; as St Paul has taught 
us, Eph. ii. 17 ; ' Christ came,' says the apostle, ' and 
preached peace to you who were afar oft] and to them 
that were nigh ;' that is, to the Ephesians, and other 
Gentiles, and to the Jews. ' The promise,' St Peter 
informs us, is to ' as many ' of these Gentiles, ' as the 
Lord our God shall call.' That it is to them in the 
same manner, and on the same terms, as to the Jews, is 
decisively concluded ; because neither St Peter, nor 
any other scriptural writer, specifies any difference. 
The ' scions of the wild ©live,' St Paul informs us, 
were grafted' on the good olive ; where they grew, and 
partook of the fatness of the root, in exactly the same 
manner as if they had been the natural branches. The 
terms, it is to be remembered, are the same ; and the 
promise conveys no more, as well as no less, to the 
Gentiles than to the Jews ; unless the alteration is de- 
clared. Such children then among the Gentiles, as are 
born of those who profess the religion of the Scrip- 
tures are included in the covenant, and are to be bap- 
tized. But the warrant extends to no others. 

4. The same doctrine is declared still more explicitly 
in 1 Cor. vii. 14. 

' For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the 
wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the hus- 
band; else were your children unclean, but now are 
they holy.' 

In this passage St Paul declares, that, if both parents 
are unbelievers, ' their children are unclean :' that is, 
may not be offered to God ; or, in other words, may 
not he baptized : there being no other mode of offer- 
ing children to God under the Christian dispensation. 



SUBJECTS AND MODE OF BAPTISM. 



829 



Thus the doctrine under discussion is, I think, clearly 
evident from the Scriptures. Accordingly, it has been 
adopted as the doctrine of almost all Protestant churches; 
and exists in the plainest language in almost every Pro- 
testant catechism, and confession of faith. 

This doctrine has, however, been opposed in two 
ways, and by considerable numbers of divines, and 
other Christians; and among- them, by many men of 
learning and piety. 

One class of those who have rejected this doctrine, 
have considered children as entitled to baptism in their 
own right ; and without any reference to the relation 
which they bear to their parents. These, I suppose, 
build their scheme on the fact, that the Jewish children 
were universally circumcised ; — on the direction given 
by Christ to ministers, to ' teach all nations, baptizing 
them,' &c. ; — on the declarations of Christ concerning 
little children ; — and, perhaps, on some other founda- 
tion of which 1 am ignorant. 

After what has been said concerning this subject in 
these Discourses, it seems to me wholly unnecessary to 
make any farther observations on the scheme in ques- 
tion. The views which I have formed of it, I have 
already expressed with sufficient minuteness. If what 
I have said is not satisfactory, I shall despair of giving 
satisfaction. 

The other class require parents to make a profession 
of religion before they will permit their children to be 
baptized ; but neither require, nor expect them to par- 
take of the Lord's supper. In this manner parents are 
taught, that there is a distinction between the qualifica- 
tions which in the view of the Scriptures are necessary 
to warrant us to offer up our children in baptism, and 
those which are necessary to make us lawfully commu- 
nicants at the table of Christ. This distinction ap- 
pears to me to be altogether unscriptural. In support 
of this observation I observe, 

(1.) That the scriptures have nowhere exhibited two 
such distinct sets of qualifications. 

If such a distinction be found in the Scriptures, it 
can be shown. Until it is shown, this position must be 
admitted. 

(2.) The tenor of the Christian covenant precludes 
every idea of such a distinction. 

In this covenant we avouch Jehovah to be our God, 
and ourselves to be his children. This is a full profes- 
sion of piety. That a profession of piety ought to be 
sincere, and to be made with the heart, will not be 
questioned. But, if the profession be sincere, it cannot 
be questioned that the professor has every possible right, 
and is under every possible obligation, to partake of 
the Lord's supper. If he believes the profession sin- 
cere ; he will certainly believe, that he has this right, 
and is under this obligation. If he believes that it is 
not sincere, he will certainly believe that he has made it 
hypocritically and wickedly ; for he cannot doubt that 
God ' requires truth in the inward parts.' If before he 
has made a profession, he doubts whether he shall make 
it with sincerity, he certainly cannot but know that ' he 
who doubteth is condemned ;' and that ' whatsoever is 
not of faith is sin ;' that is, as I understand St Paul, we 
nannot do that which we do not find to be, with a fair, 
rational probability, warranted in the Scriptures. That 
he who enters into covenant with God should possess 
: truth in the inward parts,' cannot be doubted. For 
' unto the wicked God faith, What hast thou to do, that 



thou shouldest take my covenant unto thy mouth ?' 
That real religion, or the religion of the heart, ought to 
be professed in a covenant with God, where the words 
always contain a profession of real religion, cannot be 
doubted by a man of common sobriety. No more can 
it be doubted, that he who is about to make this profes- 
sion ought first to be fairly persuaded, that he can, and 
shall make it sincerely. If it cannot be made sincerely, 
it is, I think, unanswerably evident that it ought not to 
be made at all. In what manner and on what grounds 
he who makes a profession which he either knows or 
believes to be false, can in consequence of that profes- 
sion, expect blessings for himself or his children, I 
confess myself unable to divine. 

Tenderness of conscience is, I am aware, usually 
pleaded for the practice against which I contend ; and is 
pleaded in the following manner. ' The person who 
wishes to make a profession of religion for the purpose 
of obtaining baptism for his children, feels that they 
ought not to be deprived of such a privilege through his 
negligence ; and is satisfied to enter into covenant with 
God, and to dedicate his children to him ; but cannot 
come to the sacramental table, because of the denuncia- 
tions contained in the Scriptures against an unworthy 
participation of that ordinance. To this tenderness of 
conscience,' it is added, ' Christian charity is bound to 
exercise a corresponding tenderness ; and to permit 
him who is the subject of it to make a profession with 
these views ; and, of course, to suffer him to absent 
himself from the table of Christ, until his scruples shall 
be removed.' This plea, as it seems to me, proceeds 
wholly on a series of errors; and those, I think, of a 
very unhappy nature. The tenderness of conscience 
here alleged, appears to me to be wholly mistaken. 
Tenderness of conscience, in the true and proper sense, 
always supposes that the person who is the subject of it 
is sincerely inclined to do his duty, wherever he knows 
what it is. Its only perplexities, therefore, arise from 
the uncertainty of its duty. . The person who did not 
know that it was lawful, and was not satisfied that it 
was unlawful, to eat things offered to idols, would feel 
himself deterred from eating these things by tenderness 
of conscience. A person who, with a belief that he 
was a Christian, has made a profession of religion, may 
afterward doubt whether he was really a Christian, and 
whether his profession was sincere ; and, of course, may 
entertain serious and distressing scruples concerning 
the lawfulness of his attendance upon the Lord's supper. 
To tenderness of conscience thus existing, and thus ex- 
ercised in the same manner on any other occasion, 
Christians are bound to give every charitable indul- 
gence. 

But the case in hand appears to me to be of a widely 
different nature. Here the original supposition, as de- 
clared by the candidate himself, is, that he is not in his 
own view a Christian. Of this he exhibits himself as 
being clearly satisfied : for he alleges it as a reason 
why he cannot come to the sacramental table. But he 
thinks, that, without being a Christian, he may offer up 
his children in baptism. 

This error is founded on the supposition, that there 
is one condition upon which men may lawfully dedicate 
their children to God in baptism, and another upon 
which they may lawfully come to the Lord's supper. 
This is a distinction wholly unknown to the Scriptures. 
The only condition on which both these things may be 



830 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clix. 



done is, that we first offer up ourselves to God in the 
covenant of grace. Until this is done, we can lawfully 
celebrate neither of these sacraments. When it is done, 
we can with exactly the same lawfulness celebrate them 
both. But the person concerned actually enters into 
tiiis covenant. In this transaction he is sincere, or he 
is not. In other words, he is a Christian, or he is not 
a Christian. If he is not, he cannot make this cove- 
nant with God in truth, and therefore cannot make it 
at all. If he is, as he engages to walk in all the com- 
mandments of God, he is not only entitled, but obliged 
by his own engagement, as well as by the divine com- 
mand, to celebrate the Lord's supper. 

Another error in this scheme is the supposition of 
the candidate, that he can dedicate his children to God, 
while he cannot dedicate himself. If his heart is right, 
that is, if he is religiously sincere in one of these cases, 
it will be so in the other, and the offering will in both 
cisss be accepted. If he be not thus sincere in the one 
case, he will not be sincere in the other, and the offer- 
ing will be accepted in neither. In vain will it be pre- 
tended, that a man loves his children better than him- 
self; or that he can perform an act of religious duty on 
their behalf, which he cannot perform on his own. 

Another error attending this scheme is the supposi- 
tion, that baptism is in its own nature a privilege. No- 
thing is a privilege, in the religious sense, but what 
God has made such : and he has made nothing such 
except in his own way, and on his own terms. Bap- 
tism is a privilege, when administered and received in 
the manner appointed by him, but in no other. When 
this ordinance is received in any other manner, it is 
plainly no obedience to any command of his, and there- 
fore has no promise, and, let me add, no encourage- 
ment to hope for a blessing. Blessings descend when 
God is pleased to give them. But he cannot be ex- 
pected to give them, unless when he is obeyed. 

(3.) Ibis scheme introduces disorder into the Chris- 
tian church. 

Some of the persons who hold tins scheme, consider 
those who make a profession without an intention to 
partake of the Lord's supper, as being members of the 
church ; yet, so far as I know, very few of them regard 
themselves as sustaining this character. Accordingly, 
few of them offer to vote in ecclesiastical proceedings. 
Others consider them, as they usually consider them- 
selves ; to wit, as not being members of the church. If 
they are not members of the church, it may be asked, 
but cannot be answered, Why do they act as church- 
members in offering their children in baptism? If 
they are members of the church, it may be asked in the 
same unanswerable manner, Why do they not act as 
church-members throughout ; particularly in celebrat- 
ing the Lord's supper? The Scriptures have confined 
infant baptism to the children of those who are mem- 
bers, and all these they have required to ' do all things, 
whatsoever Christ hath commanded.' But there is not' 
a more solemn command, there is not a command which 
addresses itself to the heart of a Christian in a more 
forcible and affecting manner, than ' This do in remem- 
brance of me.' Yet the persons in question not only 
live in a constant disobedience to this command, but 
when they assumed the covenant plainly declared that 
thev formed no design of performing this duty. Upon 
this plan they were received both by the minister and 
the church to whom they joined themselves. At the 



same time, although these persons disobey this com- 
mand through life, they are, so far as I know, never 
called in question concerning their disobedience by 
any church with which they have been united. In what 
manner this conduct can be supposed consistent with 
the duty of ministers to teach, and of churches to re- 
quire those who are of their communion to ' observe all 
things whatsoever Christ hath commanded,' I am un- 
able to explain. 

Several other things of minor importance, which I 
have not time to consider at present, are alleged in be- 
half of this practice. Indeed, had I ever so much time, 
they are of too little weight to demand any very serious 
attention. 

On the other hand, the evils resulting from it are, at 
least in my view, of serious importance. It introduces 
into the minds of those within, and those without, un- 
happy views concerning the importance of the cove- 
nant; concerning that profession of religion which we 
make when we enter into it ; and concerning the na- 
ture and tendency, the obligation and efficacy, of both 
baptism and the Lord's supper. All these, as they are 
presented to us in the gospel, are, even in the view of 
the church itself, lowered beneath the evangelical stan- 
dard ; while, in the apprehension of others, they are 
apt to be regarded as mere forms, and cease to be con- 
sidered as services of piety. The discipline of the 
church, at the same time, becomes unhinged. Negli- 
gence in one case begets negligence in another; and 
thus a general spirit of disregarding this duty takes 
possession of the church at large. In this state of things 
it is hardly possible that Christians should improve, or 
that sinners should feel any strong inducements to enrol 
themselves in their number. 

II. I shall now attempt to show what baptism is, con- 
sidered as an external religious rite ; or, in other words, 
in what manner baptism is to be administered. 

Concerning this subject, I observe, 

1. Those to whom this ordinance is to be administered, 
are to be baptized ' into the name of the Father, and of 
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' 

In other words, they are to be admitted into the visi- 
ble family of God in the world ; to have his covenant 
publicly established on them, by receiving this ordi- 
nance, its initiatory seal ; to be openly enrolled among 
his children ; and to take his name upon them as a 
godly seed. 

The reasons, why I suppose persons should be bap- 
tized ' into,' and not in ' the name of the Father, and 
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,' I have alleged in 
former Discourses. It will be unnecessary to repeat 
them here. 

2. They are to be baptized by a minister of the gospel. 
The proof of this position lies in the fact, that the 

commission to baptize was given to no other. No others, 
therefore, are warranted to perform this office. 

3. Baptism is to be administered with water only. 
This only is mentioned in the Scriptures. Nothing- 
else, therefore, can with propriety be used by us. 

4. This water may be administered indifferently, either 
by sprinkling, affusion, or immersion. 

On this subject the Christian world has, for a consi- 
derable length of time, been disturbed by the clashing 
opinions and laborious contests of men, arranged on 
the two sides of the question concerning baptism. It is 
remarkable, that those who have adopted the doctrine 



SUBJECTS AND MODE OF BAPTISM. 



831 



cf infant baptism, have very generally considered 
sprinkling-, or affusion, and tiiat those who have oppos- 
ed it have considered immersion, respectively, as the 
proper modes of administration. Why this has hap- 
pened I am unable to explain. The latter of these 
classes have founded their opinion, professedly, on the 
proper meaning of the word B«s-n(a, and its root 
BccnTa ; and on certain texts in which they think they 
find proofs that the proper mode of baptizing was im- 
mersion, or plunging'. 

Concerning the former of these subjects I observe, 

1. That the body of learned critics and lexicogra- 
phers declare, that the original meaning of both these 
words is to tinge, stain, dye, or colour ; and that, when 
it means immersion, it is only a secondary and occa- 
sional sense ; derived from the fact, that such things as 
are dyed, stained, or coloured, are often immersed for 
i his end. This interpretation of the words also they 
support by such a series of quotations, as seem un- 
answerably to evince that this was the original, classical 
meaning of these words. 

2. I have examined almost one hundred instances, in 
which the word Bonr-t^a, and its derivatives, are used 
in the New Testament, and four in the Septuagint: 
these, so far as I have observed, being- all the instances 
contained in both. By this examination it is to my 
apprehension evident, that the following things are 
true : — 

That the primary meaning of these terms is cleans- 
ing ; the effect, not the mode of washing : 

That the mode is usually referred to incidentally, 
wherever these words are mentioned : and that this is 
always the case, wherever the ordinance of baptism is 
mentioned, and a reference made at the same time to 
the mode of administration : 

That these words, although often capable of denoting 
any mode of washing, whether by affusion, sprinkling, 
or immersion (since cleansing was familiarly accom- 
plished by the Jews in all these ways): yet, in many 
instances, cannot without obvious impropriety be made 
to signify immersion : and in others cannot signify it 
at all. 

St Paul informs us, 1 Cor. x. 1,2,' Moreover, breth- 
ren, I would not that ye should be ignorant, how that 
all our fathei's were under the cloud, and all passed 
through the sea ; and were all baptized unto Moses in 
the cloud, and in the sea.' Happily for us, we have so 
particular an account of this transaction, as to be able 
to determine, absolutely, what St Paul intended by the 
baptism of the Israelites in this instance. 

In Exodus xiii. 21, 22, it is said, '■ And the Lord 
went before them,' that is, the children of Israel, ' by 
day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them in the way, and 
by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light, to go by 
day and night. He took not away the pillar of the 
cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night, from be- 
fore the people.' In the fourteenth chapter, 19th and 
20th verses, it is said, ' And the angel of God, which 
went before the (amp of Israel, removed, and went be- 
hind them; and the pillar of the cloud went from 
before their face, and stood behind them; and it came 
between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of 
Israel ; and it was a cloud of darkness to them, but it 
gave light by night to these, so that the one came not 
near the other, all the night. And Moses stretched out 
his hand over the sea, and the Lord caused the sea to 



go back, by a strong east wind, all that night, and made 
the sea dry land ; and the waters were divided ; and 
the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea, 
upon the dry ground ; and the waters were a wall unto 
them on their right hand, and on their left.' In these 
passages, we find among others the following facts de- 
clared • — 

(1.) That God, or the angel of God, went before the 
Israelites, from the commencement of their journey at 
Succoth, in a pillar of cloud by day, and in a pillar of 
fire by night, until they were overtaken by Pharaoh aid 
his army on the margin of the Red Sea, beside Fihaliiroth. 

(2.) That the angel of God, who hitherto had gone 
before the camp of Israel, removed, and went behind 
them, together with the pillar of the cloud ; and that 
this symbol of the Divine presence was a source of pe- 
culiar darkness to the Egyptians, and of peculiar light 
to the children of Israel ; so that the former came not 
near the latter all the night. 

(3.) That the waters of the Bed Sea were divided, so 
as to be a wall on the right hand, and on the left. 

(4.) That the children of Israel went into the midst 
of the sea upon dry ground. 

In the whole of this story it is evident there is no 
account whatever of that baptism of the Israelites men- 
tioned by St Paul in the passage quoted from 1 Cor. 
There is not even an allusion to this baptism, unless it 
is in the declaration, that ' the pillar of the cloud went 
from before the Israelites, and stood behind them.' By 
the waters of the Red Sea, they were not even sprinkled, 
much less immersed, but went, as Moses expressly in- 
forms us, between two walls of water upon the dry 
ground. Neither is there here any account that ' they 
were baptized in the cloud,' whatever this phraseology 
may mean. 

But what Moses has omitted, Asaph has particu- 
larly recorded in the seventy-seventh Psalm, in the 
following words : ' The waters saw thee, O bod ; the 
waters saw thee ; they were afraid ; the depths also 
were troubled; the clouds poured out water ; the skies 
sent out a sound. Thine arrows also went abroad; the 
voice of thy thunder was in the heaven ; the lightnings 
lightened the world ; the earth trembled and shook. 
Thy way was in the sea, and thy path in the great wa- 
ters ; and thy footsteps are not known. Thou leddest 
thy people like a flock, by the hand of Moses and 
Aaron.' In this account of the pnssage through the 
Red Sea, we have the baptism spoken of by St Paul 
expiessly mentioned ; together with several other facts, 
not recorded by the historian. ' The clouds poured 
forth water' upon them, or descended upon them in 
rain, while they were journeying through the sea. The 
marginal and literal translation is, ' The clouds were 
poured forth with waters.' There is reason to believe 
from this declaration, that when the cloud passed from 
the van of the Israelites to the rear, or when in the 
language of the psalmist, ' they were poured forth ' 
from before the Israelites to stand behind them, the rain 
may have descended from the cloud during this pas- 
sage. Whether this be admitted, or not, it is clear, 
that this is the only account of the baptism mentioned 
by St Paul which is contained in the Old Testament. 
And it is equally clear, that this baptism was a cleans- 
ing, accomplished by the sprinkling of rain, and cer- 
tainly not by immersion. The fancy of some of my 
antagonists, that the cloud, in some manner or other, 



833 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[San. cvx. 



embosomed the Israelites by resting upon them, and" 
thus enveloping them, as water envelopes a person im- 
mersed in it, would appear well I think in poetry ; but 
has an aspect scarcely serious enough to claim a place 
in a theological discussion. 

Here then is one instance in which this word denotes 
cleansing by sprinkling, and not by immersion. 

Another is found in Heb. ix. 10, ' Which stood only 
in meats, and drijiks, and divers washings,' oiatpoooi; 
fixTTiafiotg, diverse baptisms. The word S/«£ojo/, 
when united with a substantive in the same number, 
denotes regularly, that the things signified by the sub- 
stantive are different in their nature. Thus in the 
present case, the phrase, ' diverse baptisms,' denotes 
baptisms which were different in their nature from each 
other. Now, as the element with which all these wash- 
ings were accomplished was water, the difference lay, 
of course, only in the manner in which the washing 
was performed. Here then is another instance in 
which the word signifies something altogether different 
from immersion. 

Another example is found in Matt. iii. 1 1, where John 
the Baptist says concerning Christ, ' He shall baptize 
you with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' The bare 
rendering of this passage, * He shall immerge you in 
the Holy Ghost, and in fire,' is, one would think, a 
sufficient exposition of the impropriety of translating 
^cusn^a, by the word immerge, or plunge. Substitute 
cleanse for immerge, and the impropriety vanishes. 

But we are not left to conjecture concerning this 
subject. Both prophecy and history informs us of the 
manner in which this baptism was accomplished. The 
wophet Joel, chap. ii. 28, 29, says, ' It shall come to 
pass afterward, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all 
flesh ; and your sons and your daughters shall pro- 
phesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your 
young men shall see visions; and also upon the hand- 
maidens in those days will I pour out my Spirit.' Such 
is the language of the prophecy which St Peter de- 
clares to have been fulfilled on this occasion. 

The history is given us in the following words : 
' And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they 
were all with one accord, in one place ; and suddenly 
there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing, 
mighty wind ; and it filled all the house where they were 
sitting; and there appeared unto them cloven tongues, 
like as of fire; and it sat upon each of them ; and they 
were all filled with the Holy Ghost.' Here we are di- 
rectly told, that the baptism with the Holy Ghost and 
with fire was accomplished by the affusion of both on 
the disciples from heaven. To avoid the force of these 
direct declarations of the prophet and the historian, 
some of those with whom I am contending have, in the 
indulgence of an excursive imagination, gravely told 
us, that St Luke declares the Holy Ghost to have filled 
the house. Hence they conclude, that the disciples 
were enveloped, and, in a proper sense, immersed in 
the Holy Ghost. This is one among many specimens 
if the length to which even wise and good men are 
carried by favouritism for a darling point. Beside the 
metaphysical absurdity, and, as I think, indecency, of 
attributing j lace and extension in this manner to the 
Divine Spirit, these gentlemen do direct violence to the 
words of the evangelist. St Luke informs us, that 
' the sound filled the house.' The pronoun it, which 
precedes the verb filled, has, for its antecedent, sound ; 



the only substantive in the verse to which it can possi- 
bly refer. The words of the original are still more 
explicit, and are thus literally rendered : ' And sud- 
denly there came from heaven a sound, like that of a 
rushing mighty wind, and filled the whole house, where 
they were sitting.' Were there any room for a possi- 
ble doubt, that doubt is removed by the exposition of 
an inspired commentator. ' Therefore,' says the apos- 
tle Peter, verse 33, 'being by the right hand of God 
exalted, and having received of the Father the promise 
of the Holy Ghost, he (that is, Christ) hath shed forth 
this, which ye now see and hear.' The word translated 
' hath shed forth,' is i£tx. il > hath poured out : the same 
verb which St Peter uses to denote the same thing, in 
translating the passage from Joel. Here then is an- 
other instance in which the word (icnni^a does not 
mean, to immerse. 

I shall be excused, on account of the length of even 
the most concise comments of this nature, from pro- 
ceeding any farther. Suffice it to say, that there are 
many other instances in which it is in my own view 
incredible, that this verb, and its derivatives, should 
mean immersion ; and that, on the contrary, cleansing 
is directly indicated by them, in all cases, as their 
principal meaning. 

3. It is incredible, that the multitudes whom John 
baptized in the wilderness were immersed. 

Of these a very great multitude were women. These 
multitudes certainly came to hear John, without having 
prepared any proper dress in which to be baptized: 
for they could not even know that he would baptize 
them. It will not be mistrusted, that this promiscuous 
assembly were immersed naked. To have immersed 
them with their clothes on would have exposed them to 
certain disease and death. 

4. It is impossible that those whom Peter and his com- 
panions baptized on the day of Pentecost should have 
been immersed. 

All the difficulties which attended the baptism of 
John's followers, attended that of these people also ; 
and, probably in a still higher degree ; because they 
did not assemble to be baptized, nor even to hear the 
preaching of the apostles. They therefore certainly 
assembled in their own usual dress. At the same time, 
it seems almost a thing of course, that the apostles, who 
had just received a spiritual baptism, by the affusion of 
the Holy Ghost, and announced it to their hearers, 
should follow the mode in which this baptism was ad- 
ministered to them, in administering the baptism which 
was symbolical of it, to their hearers. 

But, independently of these considerations, the thing 
itself could not be done by the apostles, to the circum- 
stances and within the time specified, in the mode of 
immersion. St Luke informs us, that they who re- 
ceived the word of Peter were then baptized ; and that 
the same day there were added to them about three 
thousand souls. The only way in which these persons 
could be known to be added to the church, or could in 
fact be added to the church, was by their baptism. 
They were, therefore, baptized that day. But the 
apostles could not, in any supposable circumstances 
furnished by the city of Jerusalem, nor indeed in any 
circumstances whatever, baptize by immersion three 
thousand persons within the utmost part of that day 
which the story will allow us to consider as left for this 
purpose, after the other transactions mentioned in it 



SUBJECTS AND MODE OF BAPTISM. 



83a 



were ended. The least consideration of the time neces- 
sary for each administration will clearly show this im- 
possibility. I conclude therefore, without hesitation, 
that these persons were not immersed. 

5. The fact, that the affusion of the Holy Ghost is 
called baptism, is a direct proof that the affusion of 
water is in the view of the Scriptures baptism also. 

The only question with which we are here concerned, 
respects the mode merely. If then, the communication 
of the Holy Ghost, whether for the purpose of enduing 
with supernatural gifts, or of sanctifying the soul, re- 
gularly expressed in the Scriptures by the verbs tKx l0 >, 
£x.xva, and tx-xwa, to pour out, be in the same Scrip- 
lures styled baptism ; then the affusion of water in the 
ordinance symbolical of this spiritual baptism is, in the 
view of the Scriptures, baptism also. 

6. Christ has expressly taught us, that immersion is 
unessential to the administration of this ordinance. 

In John xiii. when Christ offered to wash the feet of 
Peter, he at first opposed it; but, afterwards consenting, 
requested that not only his feet, but his hands and his 
head might be washed also. Our Saviour replied, 
' He that is washed need not, save to wash his feet ; but 
is clean every whit.' The word here rendered, ' he that 
is washed,' is 6 'ki'hovy.svo;, generally denoting the wash- 
ing of the whole body, or bathing; and by respectable 
critics is supposed to have this meaning here. My rea- 
sons for differing from them are the following : — 

(1.) The words of Christ are a reply to those of Pe- 
ter, and intended to oppose the proposal made by him, 
that his Master should wash his hands and his head, as 
well as his feet. 

But the declaration, that a person bathed has no oc- 
casion to wash any part of his body, except his feet, 
contains no opposition to Peter's proposal, since Peter 
was not bathed, nor indeed any relation to it, so far 
as appears to me, except what is very distant and fanci- 
ful. 

(2.) Peter, upon this declaration of Christ, yields the 
point ; and consents to have his feet only washed, on 
ihe ground of this declaration. 

Had he understood his Master to intend by 'hihavpi- 
voj, a person who had been bathed ; he would natu- 
rally have replied, that this was not his own situation : 
at least, he could not have failed to think in this man- 
ner. 

(3.) The opinion of those who consider Christ as 
speaking here of a person bathed, is, if I mistake not, 
that he intends, by a figurative use of this term, a per- 
son regenerated, or sanctified. But in this sense, I 
cannot see that the declaration is true. Understood in 
this manner, Christ declares, that a person who is re- 
generated, is, with a small additional purification, per- 
fect. The Scriptures, on the contrary, exhibit mankind 
as very imperfect in their best estate. St Paul when 
he wrote the Epistle to the Romans, and was about fifty- 
six years of age, and of course far advanced in the 
Christian character, says, ' Oh ! wretched man that I 
am ! Who shall deliver me from the body of this 
death?' It can hardly be believed, I think, that in the 
view of Paul the additional purification, indicated by 
washing the feet, would have made him a perfect man. 

If Christ is supposed here to intend a literal bath- 
ing, the meaning is obvious enough, and undoubtedly 
contains a truth ; but the application of it to the case in 
hand seems difficult, if not impossible, to be conceived ; 



the situation of a person who had been bathed not being 
that of Peter. 

The meaning of the passage in my view is this : 
The washing of the disciples' feet was a symbolical 
washing. As Christ performed it, it exhibited, on the 
one hand, bis pre-eminent condescension, and, on the 
other, indicated the fact, that he was the author of their 
internal purification. This appears to me decisively 
proved by the declaration of Christ in answer to Peter, 
who at first, not understanding the design of the wash- 
ing, and thinking it very improper that his Master 
should perform it for him, said, ' Thou shalt never wash 
my feet.' Christ then answered him, ' If I wash thee 
not, thou hast no part witli me :' that is, ' Unless thou 
receivest the sanctification from me, of which this wash- 
ing is a symbol, thou art not my disciple.' Peler ap- 
pears to me plainly to have understood it in the same 
manner : for, being now acquainted with the real de- 
sign of Christ, he replied, ' Lord, not my feet only, but 
also my hands and my head:' Christ rejoined, ' Ke 
that is washed, needeth not, save to wash his feet ; but 
is clean every whit.' A symbolical washing is perfect, 
although applied only to the feet ; as perfect as if it 
were also applied to the hands and the head. If this con- 
struction be admitted, it must also be admitted that the 
declaration is general, and extends to every other sym- 
bolical washing, and therefo.-e to baptism, unless ex- 
cluded by some plain exception. 

7. 'Ihe same doctrine is taught by God, in the thirty- 
sixth chapter of the prophet Ezekiel. 

Here, speaking of the Israelites, he says, ' Then will 
I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean ; 
and I will put my Spirit within yon, and cause you to 
walk in my statutes.' Whether this is a direct predic- 
tion of the ordinance of baptism, as well as of the re- 
generation symbolically denoted by it, or not, is to the 
present purpose a matter of indifference. It cannot be 
denied, that it is symbolical language, in which God 
thought it proper to denote regeneration, by the affu- 
sion of the Spirit upon the soul. But if the language 
describing the act of sprinkling, was proper symbolical 
language to denote the act of regenerating, then the act 
itself of sprinkling is a proper symbolical act, unless 
God has made it improper by some plain declaration. 
The propriety of the act, as a symbol, is evidently the 
only source of propriety in using the language descrip- 
tive of the act, as a symbolical exhibition of that which 
it denotes ; to wit, regeneration. 

To these observations may be added, the unsuitable- 
ness of immersion, as an ordinance of public worship, 
to the circumstances of many nations in the world. 

In a nation whose manners are like ours, there is, 
to say the least, a degree of impropriety in this practice 
which is very unhappy. This, it will be easily seen, 
is a subject on which I cannot here expatiate. It 
will be sufficient to say, that whatever impressions 
may be made by this practice in countries where bath- 
ing is a standing custom, here they are of a very un- 
fortunate nature, and such as are directly opposed to 
every religious feeling. I speak from fact, and not from 
opinion ; and from tacts repeated through a century, 
and therefore operating, not by their novelty, but by 
their nature. 

At the same time, the health and the lives of those 
who are baptized are often injured and destroyed. 
Here also 1 speak from facts. Both these considerations 
• 5 N 



834 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. clx. 



form, I acknowledge, only a presumptive argument in 
the present case ; for God has an unquestionable right 
to require us to undergo this exposure, or any other, 
according to his good pleasure. But the presumption 
is a very strong one ; and to be admitted in its full force, 
unless the practice contended for is expressed with in- 
dubitable clearness. 

On the texts alleged by those with whom I am con- 
tending, as proofs of baptism by immersion, I shall make 
but a few observations ; because the Discourse has al- 
ready been long ; and particularly because they appear 
to me to furnish very little support to the side of the 
question in behalf of which they are alleged. It is said 
of our Saviour, that after he was baptized, ' he went up 
straightway from the water,' u,vi(iri octto tov via.ro;, ' he 
ascended from the water :' the word ai/xfictiva signify- 
ing to go or come up ; to ascend, in whatever manner. 
This passage appears to be descriptive soleiy of Christ's 
ascending the banks of Jordan, after he had received 
baptism. That this is not the meaning of the phrase, 
cannot be shown, nor rendered probable. The preposi- 
tion a-np is erroneously rendered, ' out of,' in our 
translation. Its proper meaning, as every Greek scholar 
knows, is from ; and an be ' out of,' only by accident : 
as in Matthew vii. 4, ' Let me pull out the mote out of 
thine eye.' Even here it would be much better render- 
ed, ' Let me take the mote from thine eye.' If Matthew 
intended to express Christ's rising out of the water, he 
has certainly used phraseology of a very peculiar nature. 

Another passage, often triumphantly alleged for the 
same purpose, is Acts viii. 38, 39, ' And they went down 
both into the water, both Philip and the eunuch ; and 
he baptized him. — And when they were come up out of 
the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip.' 
To the translation here no reasonable objection can be 
made. I will therefore not avail myself of what might, 
however, be justly alleged, to wit, that ti; may with 
equal propriety signify to, and ix.,from. Still I object 
to the construction of my antagonists, for these rea- 
sons : — 

(1.) That we as naturally say that they went into the 
water, of those who went in to the depth of the knees, 
or even of the ancles, as of those who have plunged 
themselves. 

(2.) The declarations here made, are made concern- 
ing the eunuch and Philip alike. Of both it is said, 
that ' they went down into the water ;' if we render the 
word u;, into. Of both also it is said, that ' when they 
were come up out of the water;' if we render the word 
iK, out of. Now let us see what will be the true import 



of the passage according to this mode of construing the 
words in question. ' And they went down both into the 
water, both Philip and the eunuch ;' that is, they were 
both plunged. ' And he baptized him ;' that is, Philip 
plunged the eunuch. ' And when they were come up 
out of the water,' that is, when they had both been 
plunged the second time, and risen up from their im- 
mersion, ' The Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip.' 
In other words, both were plunged twice, and the 
eunuch the third time. 

It is, I presume, unnecessary to comment on this 
version of the text under consideration. The only re- 
mark which I shall make upon it is, that the adoption 
of such a sense for the two words, a,va.fSa,iiia> and 
x.ciTa./Sciiutii, by some learned critics, in the face of this 
construction of this text, is not a little surprising. 

(3.) I conclude, as I think with certainty, that these 
words have no reference to the immersion of either ; 
but are barely descriptive of the fact, that they went 
down to, or into the water, in which, perhaps, they 
waded a little distance. 

Another text of the same nature is Romans vi. 4. 
' Therefore we are buried with him, by baptism, into 
death.' The word i buried ' is here supposed to denote 
immersion. In the next verse it is said, ' For if we are 
planted together in the likeness of his death.' My an- 
tagonists are bound to show, that this figurative ex- 
pression, which refers to the same thing, does not as 
strictly signify the mode in which baptism is received, 
as the word ' buried,' and, if it does, to point out the 
particular mode of administering baptism, denoted by 
the word planted. 

These are among the texts more frequently alleged 
by those with whom I am contending. I do not sup- 
pose that they are regarded as being of any great im- 
portance to the controversy. Their principal strength 
lies, as I conceive, in their own view, in what they sup- 
pose to be the original meaning of the words (Sot-mil^a 
and /SaiTTa, and these texts are pressed into the service, 
as auxiliaries. If, then, their principal support fails, 
as, if I mistake not, I have shown that it does, these 
texts will be alleged without success. The general con- 
clusion, therefore, appears to me to stand on solid 
ground ; to wit, that baptism is in the Scriptures insti- 
tuted as a symbol of the affusion of the Spirit of God 
upon the soul in regeneration, and the cleansing of its 
sins by the blood of Christ; and that the mode in 
which it is administered, is not in the Scriptures ex- 
hibited as a subject of serious importance, and is no- 
where declared to be immersion. 



SERMON CLX. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE.— THE LORDS SUPPER. 

ITS NATURE AND DESIGN THE QUALIFICATIONS OF COMMUNICANTS. 



And as they did eat, Jesus took bread, and blessed, and brake it, &c Mark xiv. 22 — 25. 

Having considered at length the nature, intention, and l administered ; I shall now proceed to examine the oth'-r 
subjects of baptism, and the manner in which it is to be | sacramental ordinance of the Christian church, tl.tj 



THE LORD'S SUPPER ITS NATURE AND DESIGN. 



835 



Lord's Supper. In the progress of this examination, 
1 propose to consider, 

I. The nature. 

II. The design, of this ordinance. 

III. The qualifications necessary for attendance 
upon it. 

IV. The disposition with which it is to be attended. 

V. The motives to this attendance. 

I. The nature of this ordinance may be generally 
described in the following manner : — 

It is a symbolical religious service, instituted by 
Christ as a commemoration of his death. The symbols 
are bread broken, and wine poured out, denoting the 
breaking of his body, and the effusion of his blood upon 
the cross. The bread is to be broken, and the wine 
poured out by a minister of the gospel only ; and by 
him both are to be distributed to every member of the 
church who is present. All these are to receive them 
both : the Romish doctrine, that the laity are to receive 
this ordinance in one kind, and only the clergy in both 
kinds, being merely a human invention uncountenanced 
by the Scriptures. Before the administration of each 
of these elements, a prayer is to be made, in which the 
blessing of God is to be implored upon the celebration 
of the ordinance, and thanks are to be given to him for 
his mercy and goodness, generally and particularly, as 
displayed in the interesting event which is commemo- 
rated. The whole service is to be concluded with sing- 
ing a psalm or hymn by the communicants. 

This solemnity has been commonly styled a sacrament, 
from the resemblance between the engagement made to 
Christ by the communicants, and the oath of the Ro- 
man soldiery, by which they pledged their fidelity to 
their general. This name, however, it bears in com- 
mon with the ordinance of baptism. 

It is also often called the eucharist ; tvy^oc^ioTia., 
probably from the use of the word ivx^gtmo'-;, ' hav- 
ing given thanks,' found in all the accounts of this in- 
stitution contained in the New Testament. 

But the most usual name which it bears among Chris- 
tians, is the Lord's supper, the original of which needs 
no explanation. 

The time at which this ordinance is to be celebrated, 
is of no material importance. It was instituted in the 
evening ; it is, however, celebrated most commonly at 
noon. This fact seems to have been determined by 
mere convenience ; and, as the Scriptures have laid no 
stress on the time of celebration, it has been deter- 
mined, I think, with entire propriety. I cannot but 
observe here, that as the time and manner of celebra- 
tion when this ordinance was instituted are distinctly 
exhibited, those who contend so strenuously for immer- 
sion, as essential to the ordinance of baptism, from the 
meaning of the word (ic&KTi^a, and the few hints, which 
they think they find in the language of the Scriptures, 
at the best doubtful, are bound, on their own princi- 
ples, to spread a table in the evening, to sit in a reclin- 
ing posture, and thus to celebrate this sacrament, on 
the evening preceding every Lord's day. All this 
ought also to be. done in a large upper room, contained 
in a private dwelling. It is presumed, no reason can 
be given why so much solicitude should be shown con- 
cerning tbe mode of administering baptism, and so 
little concerning the mode of administering the Lord's 
supper. 

This ordinance is customarily celebrated by a great 



part of the churches in New England, on the first sab- 
bath of every month. This seems to be as frequent as 
convenience will ordinarily allow. In the Presbyterian 
churches it is celebrated either twice or four times in a 
year ; an infrequency for which I am unable satisfac- 
torily to account. 

II. The design of the Lord , s supper may be summa- 
rily exhibited in the following manner : — 

It is intended, 

1. To represent the great sacrifice of Christ on the 
cross. 

The truth here declared is sufficiently evident from 
the breaking of the bread, and the pouring out of the 
wine ; and completely, from the words of Christ, ' This 
is my body which is broken for you,' 1 Cor. xi. 24 ; 
' And this is my blood of the new testament, which 
is shed for many,' Mark xiv. 24. Accordingly, all 
Christians, so far as I know, have admitted the position 
as true. 

In a former Discourse concerning baptism, I have 
remarked, what indeed is felt and acknowledged by all 
men, that sensible impressions are much more powerful 
than those which are made on the understanding. This 
truth is probably neither so fully nor so deeply realized 
in any religious ordinance, as in the Lord's supper. 
The breaking of the bread, and the pouring out of the 
wine, exhibit the sacrifice of Christ with a force, a live- 
liness of representation confessed by all Christians, at 
all times; and indeed by most others also; and unri- 
valled in its efficacy even by the Passover itself. All 
the parts of this service are perfectly simple, and are 
contemplated by the mind without the least distraction 
or labour. The symbols are exact and most lively por- 
traits of the affecting original ; and present to us the 
crucifixion and the sufferings of the great subject of it, 
as again undergone before our eyes. We are not barely 
taught ; we see, and hear, and of consequence feel, that 
' Christ our Passover was slain for us ;' and died on the 
cross, that we might live. 

As this event, more interesting to mankind than any 
other which has ever existed, is thus clearly presented 
to us in this ordinance ; so those doctrines of the Chris- 
tian system which are most intimately connected with 
it, are here exhibited with a corresponding clearness. 
Particularly, the atonement which this divine Person 
thus accomplished for mankind, is here seen in the 
strongest light. With similar certainty is that depraved 
character of man, which is here expiated, unfolded to 
our view : tbe impossibility of our justification by 
works of law ; our free justification by the grace of 
God through faith in the blood of Christ : and, gener- 
ally, the whole scheme of reconciling apostate man to 
his offended Creator. 

The guilt of sin, particularly, is exhibited to us in 
the strongest colours. This ordinance, by presenting 
to us in the most lively and affecting manner, the suf- 
ferings of the Redeemer, powerfully enforces on us a 
conviction that those sufferings were necessary. Every 
Christian will readily subscribe to the declarations of 
St Paul, ' If there had been a law given, which could 
have given life ; verily righteousness should have been 
by the law ; and if righteousness come (or be) by the 
law, then Christ is dead in vain.' Had such a law been 
possible and proper in the sight of God, it would, I 
think certainly have been published to mankind. Had 
' it been possible, this cup would have passed from 



836 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Seh. clx. 



Christ.' Could the great purpose of pardoning- sin and 
justifying sinners have been accomplished without the 
death of the Son of God, this event could never have 
found a place in the counsels of infinite wisdom and 
goodness. To accomplish this end, then, the infinite 
mind saw no proper way which was less expensive. 
How fearfully guilty are those, to expiate whose sins 
this glorious Person died on the cross ; to save whom 
this death was indispensable ! 

In this solemn ordinance these truths are in a sense 
visible. The guilt of sin is here ' written with a pen 
of iron, and with the point of a diamond.' Christ, in 
a sense, ascends the cross, is nailed to the accursed, 
tree, is pierced with the spear, and pours out his blood, 
to wash away the sins of men. Thus, in colours of life 
and death, we here behold the wonderful scene, in which 
was ' laid on him the iniquity of us all.' 

2. The Lord's supper is designed to be a standing 
proof of the mission of Christ, and of the truth of the 
gospel, which is an account of that mission. 

In the first of the Discourses concerning baptism, I 
made a similar observation concerning that ordinance, 
and remarked, that I should defer the particular con- 
sideration of it to a future time. The present is the 
occasion to which I then referred. I now therefore ob- 
serve generally, that baptism and the Lord's supper are, 
together with the Christian sabbath, standing proofs in 
the church of the mission of Christ, and the truth of 
his gospel ; and that the observations which in this view 
are applicable to one of these subjects, are substantially 
applicable to the others also. St Paul, after finishing 
his account of the institution of this ordinance, makes 
this remark, ' For as often as ye eat this bread, and 
drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he 
come.' That, which the Spirit of inspiration declares 
to be invariably done in the celebration of an ordinance, 
was undoubtedly included in the institution of that or- 
dinance. But the Spirit of inspiration here declares, 
that whenever Christians celebrate the Lord's supper, 
they show forth, or exhibit, the reality of his death, 
until the time of his second coming. To do this, 
then, was one design with which this ordinance was 
instituted. 

The manner in which the Lord's supper becomes, 
and operates as a proof of these things, may be seen in 
the following particulars : — 

(1.) It was instituted either at the time specified, or 
afterward. If it was instituted at the time specified, it 
was certainly instituted by Christ himself. His ene- 
mies certainly would not, and did not, institute a so 
lemn religious service, as a memorial of a Person whom 
they hated and despised. His friends would not dare 
to institute a religious service, unless it had been en- 
joined, or directly countenanced by himself; or, in 
other words, unless he himself had directed it. It was 
therefore instituted by himself. 

But if it was instituted by himself, it is unnecessary 
to observe, it was instituted before his death, and with a 
full expectation on his part that he should die in the 
manner predicted in the institution itself; viz. upon 
the cross. It was also instituted by a person, and in 
commemoration of the death of a person, assuming the 
character, and being believed by his followers right- 
fully to assume the character, attributed to Christ : a 
person who came into the world with a mission from 
God, to publish the way of salvation, and to give his 



life a ransom for many. It is impossible that men of that 
age and country should not know, whether the person 
who is declared to have instituted this ordinance, lived, 
and lived among those who were witnesses of the insti- 
tution. They could not but know whether the cha- 
racter which is declared of him was his true character, 
in the view of his followers; and whether he so lived, 
preached, and wrought miracles, suffered and died. 
His life, miracles, and preaching, and whole apparent 
character, were all public, and were therefore certainly 
known to his countrymen, particularly to the Pharisees 
and other leaders of the Jews, who with so much zeal, 
hatred, and envy, laboured incessantly, with a severe 
and prying scrutiny, to detect his baitings, if he had 
any. 

All these things also must have been known particu- 
larly to the apostles. They lived with him daily ; and 
saw every thing which he did, heard every thing which 
he said, and knew, so far as the nature of the case would 
allow, every thing which he was. 

Judas had access to him at all times, and knew the 
worst, as well as the best, of his character. He hrtted 
Christ, betrayed him to the Jewish leaders, and corre- 
sponded with them intimately. If Christ was an im- 
postor, he knew it; and, instead of hanging himself, 
under remorse of conscience for his treachery, would 
certainly have declared his Master's fraud to the world, 
and congratulated himself for having delivered man- 
kind from such a cheat. Particularly, he would have 
disclosed this to the Pharisees, and they to mankind. 

But the apostles themselves could never have com- 
memorated a person, whom they believed to be an im- 
postor, in an act of religious worship. Whether he 
was an impostor, or not, they certainly knew. In 
their long familiarity with him, they could not fail of 
understanding the nature of all his conduct. It was 
impossible that they should have thus commemorated a 
person whom they believed to be a cheat ; especially a 
person who left them no worldly benefits ; who was 
hated and despised by almost all their countrymen ; 
and to follow whom was productive of unceasing ob- 
loquy, contempt, and persecution. No human being 
ever commemorated one whom he believed to be an 
impostor, in this manner. 

The institution itself is a prophecy of the death of 
Christ, and of his death on the cross. He had also 
repeatedly prophesied the same event before, both to 
his apostles and to others. It was publicly known, as 
the Pharisees prove in their conversation with Pilate, 
Matt, xxvii. 62, &c. With equal publicity had he de- 
clared his resurrection on the third day, as is manifest 
in the same passage. If he did not thus die — if he 
did not thus rise — he was beyond all controversy 
proved to be an impostor, and would have been remem- 
bered only with execration. No person believed to be 
an impostor has ever been remembered otherwise. 

If this institution was introduced after the period 
specified, this fact is, in the first place, contrary to the 
united declarations of Ecclesiastical History. Second- 
ly : it is inexplicable : and, I think, plainly impossi- 
ble. 

If the Lord's supper was not introduced at the time 
specified, those to whom it was first proposed could not 
but certainly know that they had never heard of it be- 
fore. The Christians to whom it was first proposed 
must have been those at Jerusalem, or at some other 



THE LORD'S SUPPER:— ITS NATURE AND DESIGN. 



837 



plsce ; and the time of this proposal must have been 
either before, or after, the publication of the gospel. 

If the Christians to whom it was at first proposed 
were those at Jerusalem, they perfectly well knew the 
life and death of Christ ; and the evidences of his mis- 
sion, miracles, and character. If he had not lived, 
taught, wrought miracles, died, and risen again, in the 
manner declared, it is impossible that these persons 
should not have known the falsehood of these declara- 
tions. If they had not believed him to be the Messiah, 
they must have believed him to be an impostor ; and 
would never have commemorated him in a religious 
service. It is to be remembered, that these persons 
were all Jews, whose bigotry to their own religion, and 
hatred to Christianity, are proverbial and wonderful ; 
and who would no more willingly, to say the least, have 
commemorated Christ .as the Saviour of mankind, after 
than before his crucifixion, unless they had become 
completely convinced of his resurrection, and conse- 
quently of his Messiahship. The very proposal of such 
a commemoration they would have received only with 
indignation and horror. This certainly would have 
been the state of facts, if the institution had been 
attempted antecedently to the publication of St Mat- 
thew's gospel, written in Hebrew for the use of these 
very people. 

If this sacrament was introduced after this period, 
and (what is necessary to give even plausibility to the 
supposition) so long after, as to infer some obscurity, 
and oblivion of the events commemorated, the attempt 
would have been attended with two inseparable difficul- 
ties. The first is, St Matthew declares, that Christ him- 
self instituted this sacrament. Those to whom the pro- 
posal was now made for the first time must, of course, 
have seen that the apostles themselves had not obeyed 
the injunction of their Master, and therefore falsely 
professed to believe him to be the Messiah. The account 
given by Matthew must have contradicted any accounts 
which they could give, and clearly convicted them of 
gross and absolute disobedience to Christ, and in a 
capital point of Christian practice. With Matthew also 
agree the other evangelists. There must therefore have 
been an entire opposition between Matthew and the 
other evangelists on the one side, and those who at- 
tempted to form this new institution on the other. Such 
a schism must have been loo dangerous to have been 
ventured upon for the sake of any institution, in so 
early a period of the church, and would not improbably 
have terminated its existence. 

The second difficulty is, St Luke declares that the 
disciples began the celebration of this institution on the 
day of Pentecost, ten days only after Christ's ascension, 
or just about that time; and asserts, that they continued 
this practice daily, and weekly, without ceasing. See 
Acts ii. 42, 46 ; and Acts xx. 7. The last of these pas- 
sages asserts this to have been the practice of the 
apostles, on the first day of the week in the year 56, 
twenty-three years after the crucifixion. The Book of 
the Acts appears to have been finished in the year 64. 
The last declaration therefore assures us, that the cele- 
bration of the Lord's supper continued to be a weekly 
practice of Christians until that time. Thus we learn 
from St Luke, that Christians, as a body, regularly 
celebrated the Lord's supper, under the authority of 
the apostles, for twenty-seven years after the cruci- 
fixion. 



St Paul was converted about the year 37. He wrote 
the first Epistle to the Corinthians in the year 56. In 
this Epistle, chap. ix. 20, &c, he teaches us in the most 
decisive manner, that the Lord's supper was a standing 
ordinance in the church at Corinth, and, by necessary 
analogy, in every other part of the world. The same 
thing he indicates, also, in chap. x. 21. As St Paul 
was converted four years only after the crucifixion, and 
was at Jerusalem with the other apostles, three years 
afterward, it is impossible that he should not have 
known whether this ordinance was universally cele- 
brated, or not; and whether it had, or had not, been 
universally celebrated in the earliest moments of the 
apostolic church. St Paul is thus a decisive witness of 
the truth of St Luke's account. Of both these testimo- 
nies, it is farther to be observed, that they are given 
incidentally, without any design of establishing this 
fact, and for purposes of a totally different nature. They 
are therefore absolutely unexceptionable, and undesign- 
edly confirmatory of each other. 

It may here with propriety be added, that Justin 
Martyr, who flourished about the year 130, and was 
born about the close of the first century, says, ' All 
Christians, both of the city and the country, assemble 
on Sunday, because our Lord rose on that day ; and 
then we hear read the writings of the prophets and 
apostles ; then the person presiding makes a speech to 
the congregation, exhorting them to follow and perforin 
the things which they hear. After this, we all unite in 
prayer, and then celebrate the sacrament ; and such as 
are willing and able give alms.' Here the celebration 
of this ordinance is declared by an unexceptionable 
witness to be the regular practice of all Christians 
throughout the world, on every Lord's day. The uni- 
versality of this celebration at the period specified 
proves, beyond debate, that it was an original practice 
of all the apostles. 

With these testimonies of the evangelists, and St Paul 
before them, the primitive Christians would have cer- 
tainly seen, that the institution was declared in the four 
Gospels, particularly the three first, to have been insti- 
tuted by Christ antecedently to his death ; and accom- 
panied by a command, requiring a continual celebra- 
tion of it by all his followers. In the Acts, and the first 
Epistle to the Corinthians, it would be seen with equal 
certainty, that St Luke and St Paul declare the cele- 
bration to have corresponded exactly with this com- 
mand, and to have been thus regular and universal 
from the beginning. Had the apostles then, the only 
persons who had sufficient authority to introduce an 
ordinance of religious worship, proposed the institution 
of this sacrament as a new thing, at any distance of 
time after the crucifixion, they would have been seen 
directly to contradict their own assertions ; which de- 
clared it to be instituted by Christ before his death, 
and to have been celebrated regularly by themselves 
from that date. At the same time they must have 
attempted to impose another gross and impossible false- 
hood on their followers ; viz. that they themselves had 
also regularly united in this celebration. It is obvious 
that an attempt to establish this institution in such cir- 
cumstances would not only have been impracticable, but 
pre-eminently ridiculous ; and equally evident, that no 
man who seriously made such an attempt could, in a 
religious service, have any followers. 

Thus it is clear, that the Lord's supper was instituted 



838 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser 



by Christ himself, at the time, and in the circumstan- 
ces, specified ; that it is a standing, unanswerable proof 
of his mission, and of the Gospel which records it; 
and that Christians, whenever they celebrate this ordi- 
nance, actually ' show forth the Lord's death until he 
come.' 

3. The institution of this ordinance exhibits, in a 
strong light, the purity of Christ's character. 

This sacrament was instituted by him as a commemo- 
ration of his death ; and proves unanswerably, that he 
foresaw with certainty the time and the manner in 
which he should die. It proves, therefore, beyond 
debate, the following things : — 

(I.) That he was a prophet ; because he foresaw, and 
foretold, his death, and the time, and the manner, in 
which he was to die. 

(2.) That his death was voluntary ; because, with 
this foresight, he might easily have avoided it. 

(3.) That his death was intended to be an atonement 
for sin ; or, in other words, ' his body was broken, and 
his blood shed, for many.' 

(4.) That he died without a crime. 

No criminal, who can escape the death which rewards 
his crimes, ever yielded himself to such a death ; parti- 
cularly, to one so painful as that upon the cross. 

At the same time, no person ever introduced, no per- 
son can be supposed to introduce, among any of man- 
kind, much less among his friends and followers, a 
remembrance of himself as a malefactor, publicly con- 
victed of an infamous crime, and put to death by an 
infamous punishment. No man ever wished to have 
any tiling remembered concerning himself which was 
not creditable to his character. Much less would any 
man become the voluntary recorder of his own guilt, 
and the remembrancer of his own shame. But here, the 
death was in the highest degree infamous ; solicited by 
a whole nation, and its government ; awarded on the 
charge of a capital crime ; and attended with circum- 
stances of singular disgrace, as well as of unexampled 
suffering. The commemoration of it was instituted by 
the sufferer, from his own choice merely, with the full 
knowledge and direct declaration of all these facts ; and 
attended with such circumstances as to perpetuate the 
remembrance of them throughout every generation of 
his followers. He who can believe these things to have 
been done by an impostor, and to have been recorded 
and celebrated in a religious service by the followers of 
an impostor, can believe anything. 

4. The sacrament is intended to admonish Christians 
of the second coming of Christ. 

' For, as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this 
cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he come ;' that is, 
to the judgment. This passage is an explicit declara- 
tion of one of the purposes, accomplished by the cele- 
bration of the Lord's supper ; to wit, the exhibition .of 
his death, both to themselves and to mankind, until his 
second coming. This exhibition, therefore, was intend- 
ed solemnly to remind them of this great truth ; that 
the same Saviour, whose death they thus celebrate, who 
was once broken on the cross, and is now symbolically 
broken before their eyes, will finally appear as the 
Judge of the quick and the dead. 

No considerations can furnish Christians with higher 
consolation than this ; nor can consolation be furnished 
in a more proper or impressive manner. He whose 
love to them was ' stronger than death ' — who ' died for 



their offences, and rose again for their justification' — 
whose death is in a very affecting symbolical manner 
repeated before them at every celebration of this ordi- 
nance — here holds out to them this awful but delight- 
ful truth ; that he will one day be their Judge, as well 
as the Judge of the world. From a Judge, who ' loved 
the church, and gave himself for it,' what blessings may 
Christians not expect hereafter ! What blessings are 
they not here taught to expect ! The very ordinance 
which admonishes them that he is to be their Judge, 
brings all his love before their eyes. He ' is the same, 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever ;' and will entertain for 
them the same tenderness as when he hung upon the 
cross. He has promised, ' never to leave them nor 
forsake them ;' he has promised, that the contribution 
of ' two mites ' to his service, and the administration of 
' a cup of cold water to a disciple,' as such, shall be re- 
warded by him in the coming world. These promises, 
he here announces to them, he will one day come to 
perform ; and will bring with him the same love for 
them with which he went to his crucifixion. What truth 
can be more replenished with comfort ? How could 
this truth be declared in a more affecting manner ? 
Every Christian at the sacramental table, solemnly pon- 
dering his own sins, and the condemnation to which he 
is exposed by them, is naturally led to exclaim, ' Who 
is he that condemneth ?' and to answer, with hope and 
exultation, ' It is Christ that died.' 

5. The Lord's supper is intended to unite Christians 
in a known, public, and efficacious bond of union. 

In a former Discourse I have mentioned baptism as 
a sign, by which Christians are known to be the follow- 
ers of Christ ; and then mentioned also the importance 
of some public mark of distinction to every standing 
society of men. The observations which I then made 
concerning baptism, considered as such a sign, are with 
the same propriety applicable to the Lord's supper also. 
But there are some observations relative to this subject 
which are applicable to the Lord's supper only. In 
baptism, Christians appear as subjects of the ordinance 
but once in their lives ; and most of them, at this ap- 
pearance, being infants, are altogether passive. At the 
Lord's Supper, they are always voluntary, active par- 
takers ; and appear often in this character, throughout 
their whole Christian life. They appear at the table of 
Christ in a body, as members of him, the head. They 
appear as Christian friends and brethren, and are ' all 
members one of another.' They appear as open pro- 
fessors of his religion, as his followers, as attached to 
his cause, as interested in his death ; as expectants of 
his coming, as voluntary subjects of his government. 
They exhibit themselves as being united in ' one faith, 
one baptism,' one worship, one system of doctrines and 
duties, one scheme of communion and discipline, as 
having one common interest, one common pilgrimage, 
and one final home. All these things are exhibited 
and established by the Lord's supper. Where Chris- 
tians are faithful to themselves, this ordinance separates 
them, so far as is necessary for their edification, from 
the world ; and becomes the distinctive badge of their 
character as disciples of the Redeemer. 

6. This sacrament was intended to be a visible and 
affecting pledge of Christ's love to his followers. 

In the administration of this sacrament Christ is ex- 
hibited as dying on the cross, and as dying for them. 
When he took the bread at its institution, he said, 



THE LORD'S SUPPER:— ITS NATURE AND DESIGN. 



839 



' This is my body which is broken for you ;' and ' This 
is my blood, which is shed for many, for the remission 
of sins.' The benefits here communicated, are of a 
•value which is inestimable. They are benefits, com- 
municated to these very persons, at an expense unex- 
ampled in the universe ; and procured by a love which 
admits no parallel. All the sufferings of Christ were 
necessary to this end ; particularly, his sufferings on 
the cross, the consummation of them all. These suffer- 
ings, the bread broken and the wine poured out pre- 
sent to us, in the most lively and affecting images ; and 
thus set before our eyes, in the strongest manner, that 
unlimited and divine benevolence by which they were 
undergone. The language which these symbols speak 
is always the same. Throughout every age and every 
land they declare the same sufferings and the same love ; 
and are thus a monumental pledge of Christ's tender- 
ness to his children, to the end of the world. 

7. This sacrament was also designed to edify Chris- 
tians in the divine life. The edification of Christians 
is the increase of justness in their views, of purity and 
fervour in their affections, and of faithfulness in their 
conduct with respect to the objects of religion. To this 
increase, in all respects, the Lord's supper naturally 
and eminently contributes. 

To the justness of a Christian's views, it lends im- 
portant aid, by presenting in a very affecting manner 
the atonement of Christ, and all the doctrines connected 
with it, which were mentioned under the first head of 
this Discourse. All these, also, and their connexion 
with this great event, it presents to the mind in the most 
forcible manner, arresting and engrossing every inge- 
nuous affection. In this manner it leads us, except 
when under the dominion of a sensual, obdurate heart, 
to ponder all these subjects with deep attention, arid a 
strong sense of our own personal interest in them. In- 
stead of regarding them with loose, superficial, and 
transient inquiries, we make them objects of intense 
study, and most critical investigation. The ' love,' 
which ' rejoiceth in the truth,' is here excited to an 
elevation and fervour not easily derived from any other 
source, and diffuses all its candour and equity over 
every scrutiny. The Saviour, seen in the most amiable 
of all characters, and in the most wonderful manifesta- 
tion of that amiableness, is loved with peculiar ardour ; 
and the mind, feeling at once the duty and excellency 
of resembling him, naturally labours, under the influ- 
ence of the same disposition which was in him, to ' walk 
as he also walked ;' to ' purify itself,' in some measure, 
' as he is pure ;' and to wear an untarnished resem- 
blance of his beauty and glory. It remembers > it feels 
what he was, and the duty and desirableness of being 
like him. In this situation it naturally summons to its 
aid all the motives to obedience by which it ought to 
be influenced ; the loveliness of virtue, and the odious- 
ness of sin ; the threatenings on the one hand, and, on 
the other, the invitations and promises. In the full 
sight of these, it acquires new vigour, and fornw new 
resolutions ; enters upon its duty with alacrity, and 
pursues it with delight and perseverance. Thus it be- 
comes wiser and better ; more fitted to be a blessing 
here ; and more adorned with that beauty and loveli- 
ness which prepare it fcr a triumphant entrance into 
the everlasting kingdom of its Redeemer. 

III. The qualifications of tJds ordinance, I shall 
briefly consider in the following observations. 



1. It is an indispensable qualification for this ordi- 
nance, that the candidate for communion be a member 
of the visible church of Christ, in full standing. 

By this I intend, that he shall be such a member of 
the church, as 1 have formerly described ; to wit, that 
he should be a person of piety ; that he should have 
made a public profession of religion ; and that he 
should have been baptized. All these things, if we 
substitute circumcision for baptism, were required of 
every Israelite, in order to his acceptable participation 
of the passover, and to his being and continuing an 
acceptable member of the Abrahamic church. God 
formed the church, under the dispensation to Abraham, 
by natural descent from this patriarch ; or rather he 
formed the visible church by the ordinance of circum- 
cision, set, as a seal, according to his own appointment 
on all its members, constituted originally of all his 
descendants, limited afterward to those of Isaac/ and 
then to those of Jacob. Such of these, as did not re- 
ceive this seal, or, in other words, were not thus intro- 
duced into the visible church, he directed to be cut oft' 
from his people. Those who were thus introduced 
into the visible church, and did not partake of the 
passover, he commanded also to be punished with the 
same excision. All the Israelites he farther required 
to make a public profession of religion, by entering 
publicly into that solemn covenant with him, which has 
been so often recited in these Discourses concerning 
the church and its ordinances, and by ' avouching Je- 
hovah to be their God, and themselves to be his people.' 
This covenant they were, however, required to enter 
into with religious sincerity. In the fiftieth Psalm, it 
is written, ' Unto the wicked, God saith, What hast 
thou to do, to declare my statutes, or that thou shouldest 
take my covenant into thy mouth ?' In other words, 
' Thou hast no right, no permission from me, to take 
my covenant into thy mouth.' They were required to 
enter into covenant with God ; and were entitled in 
this manner to all the external privileges connected 
with this transaction. But they were required also to 
do this with a spirit of universal obedience. ' Thou 
hast avouched the Lord this day to be thy God,' says 
Moses to Israel, ' and to walk in his ways, and to keep 
his statutes, and commandments, and judgments, and 
to hearken unto his voice ; and the Lord hath avouched 
thee this day to be his peculiar people, as he hath pro- 
mised thee, and that thou shouldest keep all his com- 
mandments.' ' And thou shalt swear, The Lord liveth, 
in truth, in judgment, and in righteousness,' said God 
to Israel, Jer. iv 2. I have elsewhere shown, that to 
swear, considered as a duty of the people of Israel, is 
the same thing as to enter into covenant with God. 
These words, therefore, contained a command to the 
Israelites, to exercise truth and righteousness in this 
solemn transaction. 

Accordingly, this people are, in a great multitude of 
passages, severely reproved, threatened, and declared 
to be punished, because they violated this covenant. 
See Hos. viii. 1 ; and vi. 4 — 7 : Jer. xxxiv. 18 — 20 ; 
and xi. 2,3; and xxii. 8, 9; Ezek. xvii. 15 — 19; 
Mai. ii. 8, 9, &c. &c. 

That Christians in making this profession, which I 
have heretofore shown to be their duty also, are bound 
to act with sincerity, and to exhibit before the eye of 
God ' truth in the inward parts,' is so plain a case of 
duty, as hardly to admit of argument or evidence. 



840 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clx. 



When, let me ask, ought men to exhibit tltis truth, if 
they are not bound to exhibit it here. If the Israelites 
were severely censured, and dreadfully punishcdfor cove- 
nanting falsely, this conduct must be still more guilty 
on the part of those who enjoy the light of the gospel. 

Independently of the superior privileges enjoyed by 
the Christian, the only material difference between 
him and the Israelite lies chiefly in these two things : 
That the Christian is not, of course, a member of the 
church by natural descent, and that he is not punished 
with excision for not becoming the subject of the initia- 
tory, and for not attending upon the confirmatory sacra- 
ment. As the circumcised person was required to make 
a public profession of religion, so is the baptized ; and 
both are equally required to make this profession with 
sincerity and piety. The baptized person is also re- 
quired, not only as a rational being under the dispen- 
sation of the gospel, but also as a person who by his 
baptism is brought under new and additional obliga- 
tions to celebrate the sacramental supper, as soon as he 
becomes possessed of sufficient understanding to dis- 
cern its nature and use, and to celebrate it with decency; 
and, so soon as he shall have sufficient understanding 
to make a rational profession of religion, previously in- 
dispensable to his participation of this ordinance. This 
profession, as I have already observed, must spring 
from piety, and be made with evangelical faith and 
repentance. 

It will probably be here said by baptized persons 
generally, that they cannot make such a profession, be- 
cause they are destitute of faith, repentance, and piety. 
To this, I answer, that they are inexcusable for not pos- 
sessing this character. God requires it indispensably 
of all men ; and has laid them under peculiar obliga- 
tions to assume it, by bringing them into his visible 
church, through the administration of baptism. I know 
that they will allege here their inability to become pos- 
sessed of this character, as their excuse for being desti- 
tute of it; for not making a profession of religion, and 
consequently for not communing at the sacramental 
table. Let me exhort them to remember, that this in- 
ability is no other than the common, natural disinclina- 
tion of the human heart to do its duty ; the very sin 
with which they are charged in the Scriptures. Let ine 
exhort them to believe and to feel that God will not 
accept this sinful character, as an excuse for the omis- 
sion of this, or any other duty. 

At the same time they are bound to remember also, 
that this situation will in no degree justify them in 
making an insincere profession. This would be only 
substituting one sin for another: a sin, which in my 
view is of a still grosser nature. That which they are 
required to do is, not to cease from sin in one form, by 
perpetrating it in another ; but faithfully to perform 
their duty. They are bound to make a profession of 
religion ; to make it with the piety of the gospel ; and 
thus to become evangelical communicants at the table 
of Christ. 

It has been supposed, that, because the Jewish cir- 
cumcised children universally partook of the passover, 
therefore baptized children ought now universally to 
partake of the Lord's Supper. To this position I an- 
swer, that St Paul, as was observed in a former Dis- 
course, has directly forbidden believers to hold reli- 
gious communion with unbelievers ; and, by unavoida- 
ble consequence, has forbidden unbelievers to commune 



at the table of Christ. Unbelieving parents, also, he 
has declared, cannot offer their children in baptism ; 
and that, notwithstanding themselves have been bap- 
tized. Plainly, then, they cannot for the same reason 
offer themselves to God in the covenant of grace, nor 
appear as qualified communicants at the table of Christ. 
' Unto the wicked,' now, as well as anciently, that is, to 
all unbelievers, ' God saith, What hast thou to do, that 
thou shouldst take my covenant into thy mouth ?' 

As the moral character of man is, at the best, imper- 
fectly known by himself, and as evangelical assurance 
is no part of the character of a new convert, it is an 
indispensable qualification for communion in the church 
of Christ, particularly at the sacramental table, that the 
candidate possess a rational and preponderating per- 
suasion of his own sincere piety. 

In all cases, where certainty is unattainable, no rule 
exists for our direction, but the commanding probabil- 
ity.* The commanding probability ought, therefore, to 
control in this case, because certainty is evidently be- 
yond our reach. The soundness of this rule of our 
duty may be also illustrated in the following manner : 
We are absolutely required to offer ourselves up to God 
in the covenant of grace. We therefore know, cer- 
tainly, that this is our duty. In the case supposed, we 
do not know, that we shall make an insincere profes- 
sion, but are furnished, by this rational persuasion of 
our piety, with a commanding probability, that our pro- 
fession will be sincere, and acceptable to God. We 
know that we shall commit sin, if we neglect to make 
this profession ; but we do not know that we shall sin 
in making it. On the contrary, we are furnished with, 
a commanding probability that, if we make a profession 
of religion in this case, we shall not sin, but perform a 
service acceptable to God. To do this, in the case 
supposed, becomes then, if I mistake not, our unques- 
tionable duty. 

The apostles, I think, certainly acted in accordance 
with this doctrine. They address the members of the 
churches founded by them, as saints. But when they 
come to exhibit their character with reference to this 
subject they plainly exhibit that this saintship was im- 
perfectly known, either to themselves, or to those in 
whom it was supposed to reside. A few passages will 
make this position sufficiently clear. ' Examine your- 
selves,' says St Paul to the Corinthians, ' whether ye 
be in the faith.' This direction could not, I think, 
have been given to persons who were supposed by him 
who gave it to know themselves to be Christians. Of 
course, when they were admitted into the church of 
Christ, they were not admitted because they knew 
themselves to be Christians, but because they had a 
fair hope, or a preponderating, rational persuasion, 
that this was their character. But St Paul received 
these Christians into the church upon a plan which was 
accordant with their duty. Of course, it is accordant 
with our duty to become members of the church, when- 
ever such a persuasion becomes the standing view of 
our own minds. Of the same nature is the direction 
immediately following this ; ' Prove your ownselves.' 

The same is also implied in the succeeding question, 
' Know ye not your ownselves, how that Jesus Christ is 
formed in you, except ye be reprobates :' — cihoziftoi, 
unapproved. 

* See on this subject, tlie Seiinon on the Truth of God. 



LORD'S SUPPER:— DISPOSITIONS AND MOTIVES FOR. 



841 



Of the same nature is the direction given to the 
church, 1 Cor. xi. 28, ' But let a man examine himself; 
and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup.'' 
This direction is plainly given to professing Christians, 
to enable them to determine whether they are worthy 
communicants at the table of Christ. But no such ex- 
amination would be necessary for those to whom the 
apostle wrote, if, at their admission into the church, 
they knew themselves to be saints; for every saint is, 
essentially, a worthy communicant. 



By a rational, preponderating persuasion, I intend 
such a^ one as is the result of repeated, thorough, so- 
lemn self-examination, aided by a faithful resort to 
books which exhibit the genuine evidences of piety, 
and by the advice of wise and good men, particularly 
ministers of the gospel. He who does not in a case of 
this magnitude seek for all these, is regardless of his 
own well-being. 



SERMON CLXI. 

THE MEANS OF GRACE.— EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE LORD'S SUPPER 

DISPOSITION WITH WHICH IT IS TO BE ATTENDED; AND MOTIVES TO 

THE ATTENDANCE. 



And as they did eat, Jesus took bread and blessed, and brake it ; and gave to them, and said, Take, eat, this 
is my body. And he took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank of 
it. And he said unto them, This is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many. And when they 
had sung a hymn, they went out into the mount of Olives Mark xiv. 22 — 25. 



In the preceding Discourse I proposed to consider, 

I. The nature, 

II. The design of this ordinance. 

III. The qualifications necessary for attendance up- 
on it. 

IV. The disposition with winch it is to be attended. 

V. The motives to this attendance. 

The three first of these heads were considered in 
that Discourse. I shall now proceed, 

IV. To consider the dispositions with which this or- 
dinance is to be attended. 

By this I mean thnt state of mind with which a per- 
Bon generally qualified in the manner described under 
the preceding head, should celebrate this ordinance. 

This disposition is directly indicated by the injunc- 
tion, ' This do, in remembrance of me.' It will not be 
supposed, that Christ directed us merely to remember 
him on this occasion ; or to remember him with indif- 
ference, or distrust, or opposition, or disrespect. The 
very idea, both of enjoining and of voluntarily engag- 
ing in a commemoration, supposes that there is some- 
thing great or good in that which is commemorated. 
Whenever a person is formally and solemnly made an 
object of commemoration, it is of course implied, that 
the commemoration is an intentional honour to his cha- 
racter, and that those who thus honour him, regard him 
with sincere affection and respect. 

Such being plainly and pre-eminently the nature of 
this religious rite, we become deeply interested to in- 
quire, What are especially the constituents of that dis- 
position, which we ought to experience, while celebrat- 
ing this ordinance in remembrance of our Saviour? 

To this inquiry, I answer, 

1. We are to remember Christ in this ordinance with 

ADMIRATION. 

Everything pertaining to the character of this glo- 
rious Person is fitted to awaken this emotion of the 
iiidkI Beside the incomprehensible mysteries of his 



original character, his incarnation, his life, his death, 
his love for mankind, his propitiatory sacrifice of him- 
self, his resurrection, his exaltation, and his interces- 
sion, are all marvellous beyond measure; and are 
investigated by angels with astonishment and rapture. 
Hence his character is declared by the prophet Isaiah, 
and summed up by himself, when he appeared to 
Mannah and his wife, in that remarkable name, Won- 
derful. This singular character, containing in itself a 
combination of all that is great and good, is presented 
to us in the most affecting manner at the sacramental 
table, and demands of us the highest exercise of reli- 
gious admiration. This exercise of the Christian spirit 
is formed by the union of wonder, reverence, and de- 
light ; wonder, excited by the greatness of the things 
which are done, reverence for the exalted character dis- 
played in doing them, and delight in the manifestations 
which they contain of mercy and goodness, and in the 
benefits from them to the innumerable multitude of 
the first-born, At the sacramental table, the whole 
character of Christ is brought before our eyes. We 
behold him there in the act of ' giving his life a ransom 
for many.' Again his body is broken, again his blood 
is poured out, for the sins of men. His compassion for 
this ruined world is presented to us in living colours, 
We cannot fail to remember who it «as that thus ' loved 
us, and gave himself for us.' We cannot fail to 
remember, that he who was ' the brightness of the 
Father's glory, and upheld all things by the word of his 
power, by himself purged our sins ; and then sat down 
at the right hand of the Majesty on high.' We cannot 
but call to mind, that by him, whom we here follow to 
the cross, ' all things were created, that are in heaven, 
and that are in earth, visible and invisible ; whether 
they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or 
powers ; that all things were created by him, and for 
him ; that he is before all things ; and that by him all 
things consist ?' We cannot fail to recollect, that he is 
5 o 



64.3 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. clxi. 



now ' head over alt things unto the church ;' having ' a 
name above every name which is named in this world, 
or in the world to come ;' reigning in a kingdom, 
which is ' an everlasting kingdom ;' and ruling with 
' a dominion which shall know no end.' We cannot 
fail to realize, that the day is approaching, in which 
' he will come in the clouds of heaven, with power and 
great glory, with the voice of the archangel, and the 
trump of God ;' will summon the dead from their 
graves ; will sit on the throne of judgment, and pro- 
nounce the final doom of angels and of men : while 
from his face ' the heavens and the earth will flee away, 
and no place be found for them any more.' This is 
the wonderful Person, whose sacrifice of himself is sym- 
bolized on the altar of Christians ; whom we there 
behold, breeding, broken, dying, and -consigned to the 
grave. This condescension was exercised, this humi- 
liation was undergone, from ' the love wherewith he 
loved the church, and gave himself for it.' Who, that 
has any share of the heavenly spirit, can fail to exclaim, 
in unison with the heavenly host, ' Worthy is the 
Lamb, that was slain, to receive power and riches, and 
wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and 
blessing ; for He hath redeemed us to God by his blood, 
out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and na- 
tion, and hath made us kings and priests unto God, 
even his Father. To him be glory, and dominion, for 
ever and ever. Amen.' 

2. We are to remember Christ in this ordinance with 

GRATITUDE. 

That gratitude is to be exercised towards every bene- 
factor, is a doctrine readily acknowledged by all men. 
Hence, in every age, and in every land, where civili- 
zation has made even a moderate progress, testimonies 
of this emotion of the mind have been publicly given 
to those who were esteemed public benefactors. To 
heroes and statesmen ; to those who have founded 
beneficent institutions ; or otherwise enlarged the means 
of relief, or enjoyment ; nay, to such as have merely 
increased the reputation of a people by efforts of inge- 
nuity, to philosophers and poets, statues have been set 
up, pillars raised, magnificent sepulchral monuments 
erected, days set apart to their honour, and festivals 
instituted in commemoration of what they had done. 
Yet how few of them have been real benefactors to 
mankind ! How few of them have done that which a 
wise man can approve, or a good man be willing to 
imitate ! How few of them have been such as a person 
of sobriety would cheerfully acknowledge as his own 
sons ! How imperfectly do the best of tiiein resemble 
him ' who came to seek and to save that which was 
lost!' How dimly, how interruptedly does their bene- 
volence shine, in comparison with the effulgence of the 
Redeemer : a rushlight trembling and failing in the 
beams of the sun ! At the same time, the benevolence 
which they really possessed, he gave them. The bene- 
ficence which they wrought, he enabled them to accom- 
plish. But neither the things which they have spoken, 
done, or suffered, nor the motives which gave them 
birth, nor the consequences which they produced, are to 
be thought of, when placed at the side of those which 
are here presented to our view. All the writings of 
philosophers, poets, and orators are inestimably in- 
ferior in wisdom and efficacy to the single sermon of 
Christ on the mount. A great part of the efforts of 
statesmen, heroes, and patriots have been nuisances to 



the world, and merely means of raising them to dis- 
tinction and applause. .The best of these efforts have 
heen mingled with much folly and much sin, and have 
terminated only in little and temporary good. In all 
that Christ said, supreme wisdom shone ; in all that he 
did and suffered, supreme excellence. His efforts have 
accomplished the salvation of a world, and produced 
boundless good to unnumbered millions of rational 
beings. Disinterestedness immensely glorious illu- 
mined his whole life, and encircled him on the cross 
with intense and eternal splendour. Nothing so beau- 
tiful, so lovely, was ever before seen by the universe, 
or will be seen hereafter. With what emotions, with 
what praise, with what solemnities, ought he then to be 
commemorated by the race of Adam ! 

The solemnities with which he is pleased to be com- 
memorated, he himself has instituted in this ordinance ; 
simple, obvious, easily comprehensible by the humblest 
intelligence, coming directly to the heart with a power- 
ful and undiminishing impression. When we assemble 
to celebrate these solemnities, all the great things which 
I have specified are set in full view before our eyes. 
They are all exhibited, also, as done for us. Our souls 
were sinful, condemned, and lost, equally with those of 
others. We stood on the brink of perdition, and in- 
finitely needed the cleansing of the great Sacrifice. 
There was not an eye to pity, nor an arm to save. We 
did not even wish, much less did we ask, for deliver- 
ance. At that terrible period, unsolicited, undesired, 
unwelcomed, this immensely glorious Benefactor sta- 
tioned himself in the gap between us and ruin ; and vo- 
luntarily became the substitute for sinners. Then God 
said concerning the soul, ' Deliver it from going down 
to the pit ; for I have found a ransom.' The guilt of 
' our sins,' this Divine Person ' washed away in his own 
blood,' The impurity of our character,*' the root of 
bitterness,' by which we were 'defiled,' he destroyed for 
ever. The gates of hell, to all his sincere followers, he 
finally shut : the doors of heaven he opened with his 
own hand ; destroyed the sting of death, and the vic- 
tory of the grave ; and disclosed the path from that 
dark and desolate mansion to the world of immortal 
glory. From this desolate mansion he himself first 
trode that path ; and went before, to prepare a place 
for them in his Father's house. There, on ' a throne' 
of glory ' high and lifted up,' he intercedes for their 
protection from enemies, their deliverance from sin, 
and their perseverance in holiness unto the end. To 
them he calls from that happy world, with the unceas- 
ing voice of boundless mercy, * Come unto me, ail ye 
that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest.' There he watches all their ' goings, and pre- 
serves their feet from falling, their eyes from tears, and 
their souls from death.' There he marks all their weak- 
nesses, temptations, dangers, and enemies ; and says 
to each, ' Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther.' 
Thence he stretches out his arm, takes them by the 
hand, and leads them onward in the path of life. Their 
sighs he hears, their tears he numbers, their frail, feeble 
attempts to serve him, he records in the book of his 
remembrance. The ' bruised reed ' he suffers not to 
break, the flame that feebly trembles on 'the smoking 
flax,' he suffers not to expire. Over every enemy he 
enables them finally to triumph, and from every danger 
to escape. Through the valley of the shadow of death ' 
he conducts then! with safety and hope ; and supported 



LORD'S SUPPER:— DISPOSITIONS AND MOTIVES FOR. 



«43 



by ' his rod and staff,' brings them to the land of light 
and peace, which rises beyond it. There, purified from 
every stain, error, and imperfection, he admits them to 
his own ' presence, where is fulness of joy,' and sur- 
rounds them ' with pleasures for evermore.' 

To provide this train of blessings for them, both here 
and hereafter, he became man ; an humble, suffering, 
dying man ; agonized in the garden, expired on the 
cross, and descended into the grave. Had it been ' pos- 
sible ' that these blessings could be procured at less ex- 
pense, ' this cup ' would certainly have ' passed from 
him.' In this ordinance, then, we see the real means of 
all the good for which Christians hope in this world, 
and in that to come. Here they behold their suffering 
Saviour in the very act of purchasing for them eternal 
glory by his tears and blood. What Christian's heart 
will not distend, what Christian's bosom will not heave, 
with inexpressible emotions, in the full sight of this 
amazing object ! Who among them will not anticipate 
the exultation of heaven, and begin the new song on 
this side of the grave ! Who, with a mixture of grati- 
tude and transport, will not exclaim, 'Blessing, and glory, 
honour, and power, be unto him that sitteth on the 
throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever!' 

3. We are to appear at the table of Christ with the 
deepest humility. 

When we remember the things which Christ has 
done, we are bound to remember also the character of 
those for whom they were done. ' God «ommendeth his 
love to us, in that, while we were yet sinners, he gave 
his Son to die for us.' Christ commendeth his love to 
us, in that, while we were yet sinners, he gave himself 
to die for us. We are bound never to forget, that we 
are of the humblest .class of intelligent creatures ; born 
of the earth, and kindred to worms; of yesterday, com- 
paratively knowing nothing; our strength weakness, 
and our life a vapour. At the same time, we are sin- 
ners, apostates, rebels against the government of Jeho- 
vah ; condemned by his law, outcasts from his kingdom, 
and destined to an endless banishment from his pre- 
sence in the regions of woe. 

In this miserable situation of guilt and danger, he 
was pleased to publish to us the glad tidings of salvation 
by his beloved Son. But we turned a deaf ear, a hard 
heart, and a blind mind, to the benevolent proclama- 
tion. We said, when Christ appeared, ' This is the 
beir ; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance shall be 
ours.' We had before, with bold impiety, violated his 
law ; with a corresponding ingratitude we now abused 
his grace. In the mean time, we are of no importance 
to him. 'Of the stones' of the street, he could have 
' raised up' unto himself innumerable ' children,' all 
wiser and better than we ; perfectly obedient, excellent, 
and lovely ; instruments of his glory, and objects of his 
delight, throughout the ages of eternity. 

But notwithstanding our insignificance, notwithstand- 
ing our provocations, he still had mercy on us, and sent 
his holy and good Spirit, to enlighten our mind, renew 
our heartB, and purify our lives. He commissioned his 
apostles to preach the gospel, established his church, 
founded the ministry, appointed the ordinances of that 
worship which he was pleased to accept, and thus dis- 
closed to us the hopes and the means of salvation. All 
these things also he published and perpetuated in that vo- 
lume of truth and righteousness, which he has an- 
nounced to us as his own word. Through the glorious 



name of him who is broken before us in this ordinance, 
he has taught us, that our humble, faithful, religious 
services will, notwithstanding all their imperfections, be 
acceptable to him, and profitable to us. Thus lie 
exhibited to us infinite compassion, kindness, and for- 
bearance ; and all this through the death of his only be- 
gotten and dearly beloved Son. Nay, this glorious 
Person with unlimited condescension calls to us, 
surrounding his table, ' Behold, I stand at the door and 
knock. If any man will hear my voice, and open the 
door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and 
he with me.' 

Who are we, my brethren, and ' what is our father's 
house, that God has brought us hitherto? For his word's 
sake, and according to his own heart, has he done all 
these great things, to make his servants know them.' 
Who, that looks into himself, who that considers how 
little he is, how prone to error, how perverse, how un- 
believing, how obdurate, how worldly minded, how ex- 
ceedingly guilty, and therefore how odious in the sight 
of God, can fail to exclaim to his divine Redeemer, ' Be- 
hold, I am vile, what shall I answer thee? I will lay my 
hand upon my mouth. I have heard of thee by the 
hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee. Where- 
fore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.' 

From this lowly opinion of ourselves, irresistibly 
awakened by these considerations, naturally springs 
condescension and kindness to others. That pride, 
which here receives so deep a wound, is of all human 
passions, perhaps the most unfeeling, unjust, and abu- 
sive. From no source do the poor and powerless suffer 
more injuries, or injuries fitted to be felt more deeply ; 
nor is any human feeling more unbecoming the charac- 
ter of a man, nor more contrary to that of a Christian. 
But it seems scarcely possible that he who solemnly 
regards the condescension of Christ, so strikingly ma- 
nifested by this ordinance, should fail to experience 
the most abasing view of his own pride, and the most 
exalted views of the excellence of his Redeemer's con- 
descension. It will be difficult for him not to feel, that 
the distance between Christ and himself is infinite ; 
and that that between himself and his humblest neigh- 
bour is nothing. When therefore he beholds this divine 
Person stooping immeasurably, to regard with kindness 
a creature so insignificant and unworthy as himself, he 
cannot but realize both the beauty and the obligation of 
this glorious example ; and be compelled to imitate it 
in exhibiting kindness and condescension to others. 

4. We are bound on this occasion, also, to form vi- 
gorous RESOLUTIONS OF OBEDIENCE. 

We sit at the table of Christ, in the professed charac- 
ter of his disciples. In no situation do we so often, or 
so solemnly, profess ourselves to be of this character. 
But our Saviour says, ' If ye love me, keep my com- 
mandments.' And again, ' Ye are my friends, if ye do 
whatsoever I have commanded you.' This then is the 
great end of our profession ; the great criterion by 
which its sincerity is tried. Accordingly, St John 
says, ' Hereby we know that we know him, if we keep 
his commandments.' 

All obedience is to a great extent dependent for its 
existence, continuance, and vigour on the determina- 
tions, or, as they are commonly styled, the resolutions 
of him. who obeys. Such resolutions, are stations 
whence our obedience sets out ; guides, by which its 
course is directed, remembrancers, which warn us of 



844 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. (xxi. 



our sloth, wanderings, and bnckslidings ; and powerful 
excitements to diligence and faithfulness in our duty. 
A solemn resolution is, perhaps, always given up with 
reluctance. A resolution often renewed, and rendered 
habitual, is hardly given up at all. 

But the Lord's supper both requires and enables us 
to form resolutions of obedience to his commands, with 
a power which may, I think, be pronounced singular. 
The immeasurable beneficence of Christ is here pre- 
sented to our view by images of the most persuasive 
efficacy, making their appeals directly to the heart. 
When we behold him who was infinitely rich, for our 
sakes voluntarily becoming so poor, and so distressed. 
' that we through his poverty might become rich ' in all 
good, temporal and eternal ; we are forced to ask, 
' What shall we render to the Lord for all his bene- 
fits ?' The single word obedience involves the whole 
answer to this question ; and comes home to the heart 
recommended by all the love of Christ, by all the rea- 
sonableness of his commands, and by the divine and 
immortal rewards which he has promised to those that 
obey him. 

As our obedience is in this forcible manner enjoined, 
so we are equally required to form -those resolutions, 
whence it must spring. We here form them at the 
foot of the cross, by the side of our expiring Redeem- 
er, in the full prospect of his last agonies, and with the 
strongest conviction of the immeasurable love which 
induced him to undergo them. Here, therefore, our 
resolutions will be solemn, ardent, firm, and faithful. 
Of course they will be lasting and operative ; neither 
removed by the wiles of the tempter, nor broken down by 
tribulation and persecution, nor choked by the cares and 
seductions of the present world ; but producing fruit to 
the glory of our Lord, thirty, sixty, and a hundred fold. 

5. We are required to appear at the table of Christ 

With BROTHERLY LOVE. 

' One is your Master, even Christ,' said our Lord to 
his disciples, ' and all ye are brethren.' At this solemn 
scene, Christians appear in this interesting relation 
more frequently, more publicly, and more intimately 
than at any other. They sit around one table, unite in 
one covenant, commune in one worship, celebrate one 
crucified Saviour, and through him are by adoption 
the children of one common Father. Of course, they 
are members of the same family, pursue the same inter- 
est, walk together in the narrow way to eternal 
life, are bound to the same final home, and are heirs 
of the same delightful inheritance beyond the grave. 
What considerations can awaken a sense of the fra- 
ternal relation, or inspire the spirit of fraternal ten- 
derness, if these fail! 1o eaio" 

But this is not all. Christ has made brotherly love 
the immediate and great object of the new command- 
ment. ' A new commandment I give unto you, that ye 
love one another.' This he said immediately after he 
had ended the first celebration of the sacred supper. 
The precept, in itself glorious, derives a peculiar lustre 
from the time when it was given ; and, endeared to us 
from its own nature, is pre-eminently endeared by the 
occasion out of which it immediately sprang. Accord- 
ingly our Saviour, who chose this solemn, interesting 
period of his life as the proper season to publish it, 
seized the occasion also to enforce it upon his followers ; 
and subjoined, ' As I have loved you, that ye also love 
one another.' What Christian, in the full view of this 



argument, can fail to exercise the heavenly disposition 
required by this peculiarly divine precept ; especially 
when he has before his eyes, in these solemn symbols, 
the transcendent love of his Saviour to him, exhibited 
in colours of life ? 

But this is not all. The same glorious Person taught 
us, at the same time, that the exercise of brotherly love 
would be, through every age, the standing and decisive 
proof of our discipteship. ' Hereby,' he added, 'shall 
all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love 
one to another.' P'rom the conformity of our character 
to this precept, from our resemblance to his character, 
all men, however prejudiced, however hostile to Chris- 
tianity, would be compelled to perceive the sincerity of 
our profession, the reality of our religious character, 
and of course the reality of the religion which we pro- 
fess. Exactly accordant with this declaration of Christ 
has been the fact throughout every age of the church. 
The brotherly Jove of Christians, whenever it has ex- 
isted with vigour, and operated with activity, has been 
to the world the controlling proof of the reality and 
the heavenly origin of the Christian religion ; a proof, 
without which, it is to be feared, all the other argu- 
ments, although completely unanswerable, would have 
been insufficient to convince, and still more to per- 
suade, mankind. If, then, we love the cause of the 
Redeemer, and wish to uphold his religion in the world ; 
if we love the souls of men, and wish them to embrace 
the religion which came down from heaven ; if we love 
the immortal welfare of our fellow creatures, and wish 
them to become heirs of the happy world, where that 
welfare is consummated ; we shall feel ourselves, on this 
account also, compelled to cherish, and to exert, this 
angelic disposition. 

Even this is not all. Brotherly love is made in the 
Scriptures a decisive proof to ourselves, as well as to 
others, that we are the disciples of Christ. ' We know,' 
says St John, ' that we have passed from death unto 
life, because we love the brethren.' If, then, we desire 
peace of mind, a supporting hope of the divine favour, 
the delight which springs from a consciousness of for- 
given sin, and an animating foretaste of glory beyond 
the grave, we shall be powerfully quickened to fulfill 
this benevolent command of the Redeemer. 

AH these considerations are presented to us in the 
strongest manner by this divine ordinance. At the sa- 
cramental table, in the near prospect of his own death, 
at the very entrance upon those agonies by which the 
expiation of sin was-rcompleted, this delightful precept 
was given by the Redeemer. Here, therefore, at every 
season of- communion, our Lord may be justly consi- 
dered as renewing the precept to us, and as pointing 
to all the affecting considerations by which it is en- 
forced. At the head of his followers he now sits at 
every celebration of this ordinance, and, addressing 
them with infinite tenderness, says, f A new command- 
ment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I 
have loved you, that ye also love one another.' 

6. We are bound to appear at the table of Christ with 

a UNIVERSAL GOOD-WILL TO OUR FELLOW MEN. 

We are here presented with a most affecting exhibi- 
tion of the love of Christ to us, and to others. He 
loved us, while we were strangers to the covenant of 
promise, aliens from his church, enemies to his mission 
and character, ' without hope, and without God in the 
world.' He loved us with an eternal and unchangeable 



LORD'S SUPPER:— DISPOSITIONS AND MOTIVES FOR. 



845 



love ; a love springing only from the benevolence of his 
nature ; a love ' stronger than death,' and triumphing 
over the grave. He loved us ' not in word, neither in 
tongue, but in deed, and in truth ;' with an efficacious 
love, productive of the highest beneficence on his part, 
and of the richest hopes and blessings on ours. 

He has required, that the ' same mind be in us, which 
was also in him ;' and that we should ' walk even as he 
walked.' The love which he has exercised towards us, 
therefore, we are required to exercise towards our fel- 
low men universally, whether friends or enemies. This 
love, like his, is to be vigorous, intense, always opera- 
tive, perpetually productive of relief to the distressed, 
reformation to the sinful, improvement to the virtuous, 
instruction to the ignorant, and comfort to all with 
whom we are concerned. It is to be disinterested, ex- 
pansive, unceasing, and superior to bigotry, prejudice, 
resentment, and every other selfish consideration. For 
the exercise of both these last-mentioned affections, this 
ordinance furnishes an opportunity singularly happy. 
The example which it sets before us, the precepts which 
it irresistibly calls to our minds, and the powerful ap- 
peal which it makes to our hearts, in the aptness and 
energy of its symbols, awaken of course the best affec- 
tions, wherever they dwell, and open the hands with a 
divine instinct, wherever they have been trained to the 
glorious habit of doing good. Here, then, we are to 
exercise the spirit from which all beneficence springs. 
Here we are to commence the evangelical purpose of 
relieving distress, and promoting comfort ; to fix the 
controlling resolution, and to go forth to the divine 
employment of producing happiness, and effectuating 
reformation. Here, particularly, is to be begun and 
advanced the illustrious charity towards ' the household 
of faith,' so extensively urged in a former Discourse, 
and destined by the Redeemer to cheer the pilgrimage 
of his poor, humble, suffering followers, styled by him 
4 the least of his brethren,' by relieving their wants, 
multiplying their comforts, and brightening their path 
to heaven with hope and joy. 

V. Of the motives which should influence us to the 
celebration of the Lord's supper, I shall mention the 
following: — 

1. The command of Christ. 

The precept, ' This do in remembrance of me,' is 
possessed of divine authority ; Of the same authority 
with that which requires us to ' love the Lord our God, 
with all the heart.' The same disposition which would 
prompt us to obey God in any case, would induce us, 
therefore, to obey him in this. If we reverence our 
Creator at all — if we regard at all the character and 
mission of our Redeemer — we shall exhibit this spirit 
as uniformly, as faithfully, as cheerfully in our obedi- 
ence to this institution, as in that which we render to 
any other. In vain, I fear, shall we plead a disposition 
to obey God in anything, if we disobey him in this ; 
or that we remember the Redeemer with any evangeli- 
cal regard, if we are indisposed to remember him in an 
institution so solemn, so affecting, so endearing. 

2. The honour of Christ. 

Christ has required us to do this in remembrance of 
him. If, then, we celebrate this ordinance in obedi- 
ence to his command, we shall celebrate it in remem- 
brance of Christ, with a design to honour him in our 
hearts, and in the sight of others. When we call to 
mind who it is to whom we render this honour, what 



he has done, and what he has suffered, for our sakes ; 
what is the character of those for whom all this w.is 
done ; and what is the nature, the number, and the 
magnitude of those blessings which these sufferings 
have procured for his followers; we cannot fail to per- 
ceive, that not authority only, but benevolence also, 
benevolence operating in the most glorious manner, 
demands our obedience to this injunction of the Re- 
deemer. Every ingenuous feeling of man is here ad- 
dressed in the most forcible manner. The authority 
from which this precept proceeds is the highest. The 
beneficence which enforces it is unrivalled. Reverence 
for this authority, and gratitude for this beneficence, 
combine their obligatory power, to produce in mankind 
a faithful and cheerful obedience to this precept. If 
we are not obedient here, our ' neck ' must be ' an iron 
sinew.' If we are not grateful here, well may the Re- 
deemer exclaim, ' The ox knoweth his owner, and the 
ass his master's crib ; but Israel doth not know ; my 
people doth not consider.' 

To bring this subject home to your hearts, behold 
your Redeemer nailed to the cross. For whom was his 
body broken? For whom was his blood poured out? 
Who were the ' lost' beings, whom he came to ' seek 
and to save,' and for whom ' he gave his life a ransom ?' 
On whose account was he forsaken of his Father ? For 
whom did he give up the ghost, and descend to the 
grave ? Whose sins did he wash away ? For whom 
did he shut the gates of perdition, and open the door 
of endless life ? Those who now are before me are the 
immortal, guilty, ruined beings for whom all this was 
done. You are the very sinners whom he came to re- 
deem from the sins of this life, and the sorrows of that 
which is to come. To you he now proffers all the bless- 
ings of his mediation; the forgiveness of sin, the reno- 
vation of the soul, the hope, the peace, and the joy 
which flourish with undecaying beauty in a pious mind, 
the guidance, the support, and the consolations of his 
own Spirit ; and an interest in his everlasting love. You 
he wished, he labours, to constitute sons, and ' kings,' 
and priests to God our Father,' and holds out to your 
acceptance crowns of immortal glory. Reject him, and 
you are ' poor, and wretched, and miserable, and 
blind, and naked, and in want of all things.' Receive 
him, and ' all things are yours.' Let me now ask you, 
Are you reluctant to glorify this divine Benefactor? 
Are your hearts insensible to these obligations, and to 
the immeasurable love from which they have flowed ? 
Has sin palsied all your affections ? Has the icy hand 
of spiritual death frozen your moral powers, and 
changed you into moving images of the dead ? Does 
the voice of mercy sound here over a cemetery, and 
waste itself on the inhabitants of the grave? 

Let the hearts of Christians burn within them, while 
Christ meets them at his table, and converses with them 
on all the agonies of the cross, on all the wonders of 
redeeming love, and on all the glories of that happy 
world, to which he is ' gone before, to prepare a place 
for ' their final residence. Let them listen with trans- 
port, while he declares to them, ' if I go, and prepare 
a place for you; I will come again, and receive you 
unto myself; that where I am ye may be also;' and 
let them exclaim, ' Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus !' 

3. The benefits derived by the church from the cele- 
bration of this ordinance, present another powerful mo- 
tive to the performance of the duty in question. 



846 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. clxi. 



He who • loves the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity,' 
will love his church, the religion which it professes, and 
the ordinances by which that religion is upheld in the 
world. Among these ordinances, none has a more di- 
rect, a more happy influence upon the church than the 
Lord's supper. ■ In the preceding Discourse I have 
mentioned that it was one design of this institution to 
unite Christians in a known, public, and efficacious bond 
of union. Here, I then observed, they appear often, 
actively, publicly as one body, as professors of his re- 
ligion, as his followers and his friends. Here they ex- 
hibit themselves as united in one faith, as having one 
common interest, and as bound to one final, everlasting- 
home. 

Another design, as I observed at that time also, 
was to edify Christians in the divine life, by improving 
their views, their affections, and their conduct, with 
respect to the objects of religion. In both these re- 
spects, this ordinance is of incalculable importance to 
the church. 

At the table of Christ chiefly, after their baptism, 
Christians are seen, and see each other, as a public 
body, as mutual friends, and as followers of the Lamb. 
Here mutually they give and receive countenance and 
resolution, worship together as Christians only, rejoice 
together, weep together, and universally exercise the 
Christian graces, invigorated, refined, and exalted by 
the sympathy of the gospel. Here the social principle 
of the intelligent nature ascends to the highest pitch of 
dignity and excellence of which in this world it is ca- 
pable. Mind here refines, enlarges, and ennobles mind ; 
virtue purifies and elevates virtue ; and evangelical 
friendship not only finds and makes friends, but con- 
tinually renders them more and more worthy of the 
name. 

In the mean time, the church, as a body, is here most 
happily prepared for such events, as in the present world 
it is taught to expect by the word of God. Prosperity 
it is prepared to receive with moderation, gratitude, and 
praise. Adversity it is fitted to meet with patience and 
submission, with serenity and firmness. In every re- 
vival of religion it is enabled to exult with thanksgiv- 
ing ; over every decay of this divine influence to mourn 
and to pray, with sympathetic tenderness. Thus, for 
all its duties the church finds here a preparation indis- 
pensable to the best performance of them, and motives 
to fidelity in this performance, immense in their im- 
portance, and appealing directly to the best affections 
of the heart. 

He who loves the prosperity of the divine king- 
dom, who seeks to promote the strength and stability 
of the church, and who feels an evangelical desire to 
increase these invaluable blessings to his fellow Chris- 
tians, will find in these considerations a motive more 
than sufficient to the faithful performance of the duty 
in question. By the frequent celebration of the Lord's 
supper every communicant continually beholds the 
church a compact body, possessed of all the strength, 
firmness, and energy which result from the cordial 
union of many in a great and good design. Without 
this blessing Christians are feeble, because they are so- 
litary ; and are easily broken down, because they are 
destitute of mutual support, counsel, and sympathy. 
The benefits, which result to wise, or religious men, 
from walking with others, who are also wise, I have 
elsewhere displayed. Suffice it here to say, that these 



benefits are peculiarly found in communion at the table 
of Christ. 

4. Another powerful motive to the performance of 
this duty, will be found by every Christian in his own 
personal good. 

No exercises of the Christian life are ordinarily more 
pure, vigorous, and evangelical, than those which are 
experienced at the sacramental table. The sense which 
we here feel of our guilt, danger, and helplessness is 
apt to be vivid, and impressive in an unusual degree. 
Equally impressive are the views, which we form of 
forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying love. Here godly 
sorrow for sin is powerfully awakened. Here are 
strongly excited complacency in the divine character, 
admiration of the riches of divine grace, and gratitude 
for the glorious interference of Christ in becoming the 
propitiation of our sins. Here brotherly love is kindled 
into a flame, and benevolence, warm, generous, and ex- 
pansive, learns to "encircle the whole family of Adam. 
Here, more perhaps than anywhere else, Christians 
have ' the same mind, which was also in Christ,' and 
prepare themselves to ' walk as he walked.' Every 
evangelical affection here becomes vigorous and active, 
virtuous resolutions stable, and the purposes of the 
Christian life exalted. 

By the influence of these affections, the views of 
every good man concerning religious truth become 
gradually purified ; and his willingness to receive, en- 
tire, the humbling, painful, doctrines of the gospel, is 
insensibly increased. 

In the* prayers particularly, and thanksgivings, which 
are offered up on this occasion — prayers, rendered by 
the occasion itself peculiarly humble and sincere ; 
thanksgivings, by the same means, made ardent, unre- 
served, and elevated — the mind is prone to feel a 
sublimity of devotion, an evangelical refreshment, a 
heavenly rapture, not often, it is believed, found else- 
where. 

By all these means a Christian is furnished in the 
celebration of this ordinance, perhaps more frequently 
than in any other situation, with supporting evidence of 
his religious character. He finds here the lively, and 
therefore the distinguishable exercises of a good mind ; 
that disposition, particularly, to obey God, which is 
the soul of his religion, and without a conviction of 
which, all things else, commonly considered as evidences 
of piety, must stand for nothing; and with a rational 
conviction of which, all these things are chiefly unne- 
cessary. The existence of this disposition he also finds 
most happily evinced by its increasing strength ; the 
best, the indispensable evidence that it has begun to 
exist. Multitudes of good men obtain this invaluable 
blessing here who elsewhere look and sigh for it in vain. 
There is scarcely a greater discouragement to him who 
has entertained comfortable hopes of being a religious 
man, than the regular destitution of these blessings at 
the sacramental table. Graces and hopes, and comforts, 
which elsewhere decay, almost always revive here ; not, 
indeed, regularly, at every celebration of this ordinance; 
but at certain happy seasons, returning so often as at 
least to prevent the Christian from entire despondence, 
and usually so as to furnish him with a good degree of 
resolution in the course of his duty. 

How much such beings as we are, need all these 
benefits, it is hardly necessary to remark. Should any 
Christian who is present hesitate concerning this subject, 



LORD'S SUPPER -—DISPOSITIONS AND MOTIVES FOR. 



&47 



let me request him to remember the sorrows, doubts, 
and despondencies of the psalmist ; a man after God's 
own heart, a man inspired, a man often furnished with 
eminent tokens of the divine favour. Let him listen to 
the complaint of his fellow Christians ; and learn from 
their own mouths their lukewarmness, their sloth, their 
reluctance to their duty, their ' slowness of heart ' to be- 
lieve, and their general self-condemnation, together 
with the fears and doubts, and melancholy forebodings 
springing from these unhappy sources. Let him, fin- 
ally, remember how often himself has suffered when 
temptations arrested him, his resolutions became enfee- 
bled, apprehensions multiplied, hope gradually receded 
from his sight, faith lost its hold on the divine promises, 
and he appeared to himself as vibrating between earth 
and heaven, and as a settled inhabitant of neither. If, 
with these things in full view, he is at a loss concerning 
the importance of the blessings which I have recited, it 
will, I am afraid, be difficult, if not impossible, to ex- 
plain to him their inestimable value. 



From the observations which have been made in these 
Discourses, I deduce, 

1. The wisdom of this institution. 

The ends proposed in the institution of the Lord's 
supper by the Redeemer of mankind are certainly of a 
most benevolent and glorious nature, and peculiarly 
worthy of the all-perfect mind. They are the enlarge- 
ment and rectification of our views concerning the 
noblest of all subjects, the purification of our affections, 
and the amendment of our lives. The means by which 
these ends are accomplished, are equally efficacious and 
desirable. They are at the same time, simple, intelli- 
gible to the humblest capacity, in no respect burden- 
some, lying within the reach of all men, incapable of 
being misconstrued without violence, and therefore not 
easily susceptible of mystical or superstitious perversion. 
In their own proper, undisguised nature they appeal 
powerfully to the senses, the imagination, and the heart; 
and, at the same time enlighten in the happiest manner 
the understanding. Accordingly, Christians in all ages 
have regarded this sacrament with the highest venera- 
tion, have gone to the celebration with hope, attended 
it with delight, and left it with improvement in the 
evangelical character. God has been glorified by it in 
a peculiar manner. The numbers, virtues, and comforts 
of his children have been increased : and the religion 
of the cross has been enabled to triumph over the cal- 
lous, obdurate, heart. 

2. These observations strongly enforce the duty of 
preparing ourselves for every celebration of this ordin- 
ance. 

This duty, as every person may easily see, is power- 
fully urged by almost everything which has been said 
in these Discourses : By the solemnity of the command 
— by the nature and design of the institution — -by the 
nature of the disposition with which we are required to 
attend it — by the numerous and important benefits 
which it confers — and, peculiarly, by the glorious char- 
acter of the Saviour by whom it was enjoined. 

The only manner in which we can rationally hope to 
fulfill these duties, or share in these blessings, is the 
faithful celebration of the ordinance itself. To such a 
celebration it is ordinarily indispensable that we make 
ourselves ready for the performance of this duty. He 



who comes to the sacramental table with a thoughtless, 
indifferent, worldly spirit, may expect to go from it 
without profit, and without comfort. Nay, more ; as he 
comes with an unworthy disposition, he is bound to be- 
lieve that he will ' eat and drink judgment to himself.' 
The merely external performance of any duty neither 
promises nor conveys any blessing to the performer. 
The road to all blessings is obedience, and obedience 
always has its seat in the heart. 

The proper means of preparing ourselves for the 
Lord's supper, are solemn contemplations on the great 
subjects of it ; the attentive reading of the Scriptures, 
or other religious books, particularly those parts of them 
which are employed upon the sacrifice of the cross, and 
the love of the Redeemer ; self-examination ; and 
prayer. 'Let a man examine himself,' says St Paul, 
' and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup. 
For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth.and 
drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning the Lord's 
body :' that is, not distinguishing the true nature and 
design of this ordinance. The solemn contemplation, 
the diligent reading, which I have recommended, are 
indispensable means of this discernment, as self-exam- 
ination is to a knowledge of the views and disposition 
of our own mind. Prayer, though not the only, is be- 
yond a doubt the best mode of self-examination. In 
the awful presence of Jehovah, while employed in the 
confession of our sins, and supplication for his mercy, 
we cannot avoid feeling our own unworthiness, the 
reality, multitude, and aggravation of our sins, and the 
necessity of his grace to give us the victory over them ; 
a candour and an integrity of investigation, not easily 
attainable in any other situation. With these means, 
faithfully employed, we may humbly hope for just ap- 
prehensions concerning this solemn ordinance, evange- 
lical dispositions in our attendance upon it, and that 
blessing of God which will make it efficacious to our 
comfort, peace, and advancement in the divine life. 

When the glorious Person, whom God has ' set King 
upon his holy hill of Zion, conies in to see the guests 
at his table, how delightful will it be to each of us, my 
brethren, to be found by him clad in the robe of right- 
eousness, and thus prepared to receive him with the 
honour which is his due ! How delightful to be wel- 
comed by him to his table, and received with smiles of 
complacency ! How distressing, on the contrary, how 
dreadful, to appear before him ■ without a wedding- 
garment!' Who must not be speechless, when he sternly 
and awfully demands the cause of this unseemly and 
irreverent appearance ! Who must not be overwhelmed 
with anguish and dismay, to hear pronounced concern- 
ing himself the terrible sentence, ' Bind him hand and 
foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer dark- 
ness : there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth !' 



848 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cLXir. 



SERMON CLXII. 



, 



THE MEANS OP GRACE EXTRAORDINARY MEANS OF GRACE THE DISCIPLINE OF 

THE CHURCH. 



Moreover, if thy brother trespass against thee, go andtell him his fault, between thee andhimalone : if he shall 
hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, 
that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established. And if he shall neglect to hear 
them, tell it unto the church. But if he shall neglect to hear the church, let him be unto thee as an heathen 
man and a publican. — Matt, xviii. 15 — 18. 



In the six preceding Discourses I have considered at 
length two ordinances of the Christian church, com- 
monly styled sacraments; to wit, Baptism, and the 
Lord's Supper. I shall now proceed to the considera- 
tion of another, and the only remaining ordinance 
peculiar to that body ; to wit, Christian discipline. 
In examining this subject, I shall endeavour to point 

O'lt, 

I. The duties to be done, 

II. The manner in which, 

III. The ends for which, 

IV. The persons by whom they are to be done ; and, 

V. The motives to the performance. 

I. The particular duties, to be done in the course of 
Christian discipline, are, 

1. What may be called private remonstrance. 

' If thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and 
tell him iiis fault between thee and him alone; if he 
shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But if 
he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two 
more, that in ihe mouth of two or three witnesses every 
word may be established.' The ground of proceeding 
here, as stated by our Saviour, is an actual trespass of 
one member of the church against another. It is a 
trespass. Easy Se a.f*.a.r>TnoYi hi; ae 6 als'KCpog aov, ' If thy 
brother sin against thee.' If he commit a serious fault. 
The mere operations and evidences of those infirmities 
which are common to good men, as well as others, are 
no part of this ground, and furnish no warrant for the 
proceeding. Zealous persons are often ready to con- 
strue every such infirmity into a serious transgression, 
and to swell pence owed to themselves into the value of 
talents. In this manner they degrade religion into a 
spirit of captiousness ; and, as far as in them lies, em- 
ploy the authority of the church as an engine to gratify 
their own unreasonable passions, and to disturb the 
peace of their neighbours. The same things are also 
true of persons of a peculiarly exact and rigid charac- 
ter, who often demand, that their fellow Christians 
should walk by rules formed by themselves ; and ap- 
pear to feel as if themselves had been constituted de- 
finite judges concerning the Christian privileges of 
other men. 

It must be a fault actually committed. ' If thy bro- 
ther trespass against thee ;' that is, in reality. It must 
not be a mere object of suspicion, or belief. It is 
easy for us to injure a Christian brother by our unjust 
suspicion, more than he would have injured us, had he 



committed the very fault of which we suspect him. We 
are therefore to be assured of the fact, before we take 
any measures of a disciplinary nature. It will always 
be mischievous to others, as well as disgraceful and in- 
jurious to ourselves, to create faults for them by the 
indulgence of our own passions and prejudices, as well 
as to suppose them without ample proof. 

When such assurance and such proof have been ob- 
tained, the person against whom the ti - espass is com- 
mitted is here required to go and tell it to the offend- 
ing party in a manner absolutely private. No persons 
are to be witnesses of the interview. Here he is to 
explain, without communicating his design to any other 
person, his own views concerning the trespass, and the 
proper conduct to be adopted by way of reparation. 
He is bound to see that these views are conformed to 
the gospel ; and that both the temper and the language 
are such as the gospel requires ; meek, gentle, unoffen- 
ding, calculated not to irritate, or alienate, but to 
convince, persuade, and conciliate. No strife is per- 
nlitted by our Saviour to arise here ; no provocation, 
no unkindness. In this manner, it is ever to be re- 
membered, the offending brother will be gained, if 
gained at all. 

If the spirit of the gospel were allowed to operate 
with its whole efficacy, every debate of this nature 
would terminate here. Unhappily, such is not always 
the case. Our Saviour, foreseeing this state of things, 
has provided for it the best remedy which the human 
character and circumstances will admit. He has in the 
text, directed the person against whom the trespass is 
committed to take, after having failed to obtain repa- 
ration, one or two other members of the church, and, 
with their aid, to renew his efforts for the same desir- 
able purpose of gaining the trespassing brother. These 
brethren are called in for two purposes. One is, that 
they may be witnesses of everything which pertains to 
the existing state of the transaction. The other is, that 
the weight of their character and the wisdom of their 
counsels may influence the trespasser, to such future 
conduct towards his brother as will become his Chris- 
tian profession. The former of these purposes is 
directly expressed in the text. The latter is plainly 
involved in the phraseology, ' and, if he neglect to hear 
them.' This supposes these brethren to use their ad- 
vice and persuasion, and of course the weight of their 
character, for a right and happy termination of the 
controversy. 



DISCIPLINE OF THE CHURCH. 



849 



From this view of the subject it is obvious that the 
persons called in for this purpose should possess a cha- 
racter unexceptionable, particularly in the eye of the 
trespasser-; that they should be persons of weight, wis- 
dom, moderation, and gentleness; and sufficiently dis- 
interested to consult the good of both parties with 
benevolence and impartiality. As these are the men 
whom a trespasser will hear, if he will hear any man, 
so the injured brother is plainly bound to call to his 
aid men of this description, for the adjustment of his 
controversy. It is hardly necessary to add, that both 
parties are bound to listen with meekness, candour, and 
cordiality to the counsels of these brethren. 

2. The next step in the progress of ecclesiastical dis- 
cipline is admonition. 

It may be, it sometimes is, the fact, that the tres- 
passer will not listen to private remonstrance in either 
of these forms. In this case our Saviour directs the in- 
jured brother to bring his cause to the church. ' And 
if he shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church.' 
I shall hereafter inquire into the meaning of the word 
church in this place, and shall presume here, that the 
first application to be made in this place is to the body 
commonly denoted by the word in our own country. This 
body is bound to receive, hear, and adjust the cause. 

Should the accused person be found guilty of the 
fault laid to his charge, it becomes the duty of the 
church solemnly to admonish him of his sin, and the 
absolute necessity of atoning for it, by making the 
proper reparation, with the spirit of the gospel. 

3. The next step in the process is excommunication. 
It is reasonably expected, that any member of a 

church will listen to the voice of the whole body of his 
fellow Christians with whom he is in immediate com- 
munion. Accordingly, the process of discipline almost 
always terminates here with admonition. Still there 
are cases in which, either from an apprehension of be- 
ing- innocent, or, what is probably more frequent, as 
well as more unhappy, from passion, pride, and obsti- 
nacy, the trespasser refuses to hear even the solemn 
voice of this tribunal. In such cases, the church is di- 
rected to withdraw from him all Christian privileges, so 
far as their own communion is concerned, or their 
power extends. ' Let him be unto thee as an heathen 
man and a publican.' These words, as you well know, 
denoted to a Jew the worst of his fellow men. Amon«- 
such men the trespasser is henceforth to be accounted 
by those whom he has refused to hear ; and, in my 
view, by all who consider their system of proceedings 
as evangelical. 

This sentence is commonly spoken of as twofold, 
the greater excommunication, and the less ; the latter 
not uncommonly termed suspension. The difference 
between them is this : In the latter, a person is sus- 
pended from the privileges of church membership for a 
period ; sometimes, however, an indefinite one ; with a 
hope plainly intimated, that he will ere long return to 
his duty. In the former, he is absolutely excluded 
from all the peculiar privileges of the church, without 
any apparent expectation that he will be reinstated in 
them again. 

This sentence existed among the ancient Jens and 
the ancient Christians, has been continued in the Creek 
and Romish churches, and exists among the various 
Protestant churches, with different degrees of formality 
and severity. It was in use even among the heathen, 



and is now one of the most terrible punishments in- 
flicted in Hindostan. Among the Jews, Greeks, and 
Romanists, and even in the English church, it is fol- 
lowed by terrible consequences, as well as attended by 
several circumstances, to which the Scriptures, so far 
as I can perceive, give no countenance. In some cases 
it has been accompanied by dreadful imprecations, and 
followed in some by a variety of civil disabilities and 
sufferings, in themselves unjust and inhuman, and 
wholly unwarranted by Christ and his apostles. In 
this country the Scriptures are allowed to control ex- 
actly everything relating to this subject. Christ di- 
rects in the text, that the person who refuses to hear 
the church, shall be considered by it as ' an heathen 
man and a publican.' St Paul directs the church to 
' mark them that cause divisions, and avoid them,' Rom. 
xvi. 17 ; to ' withdraw from a brother who walks dis- 
orderly,' 2 Thess. iii. 6 ; and to ' reject, after the first 
and second admonition, a heretic, or a person who cre- 
ates division among its members,' Titus iii. 10. 

In all these directions, nothing is warranted beyond 
a simple refusal on the part of the church to admit the 
offending brother to a participation of its peculiar pri- 
vileges. The crimes are all specified ; and, in my opi- 
nion, we have no right to add to their number. The 
punishment is specified ; and we have no right to add 
to its severity. The reason is plain ; all the authority 
which the church possesses it derives solely from Christ, 
and can exercise no more than is given. It can con- 
stitute no new crimes, and form, if I may be allowed 
the expression, no constructive treasons. It can add 
no new modes of punishment. Contempt, therefore, 
exhibited ki a bishop's court, an offence wholly of a 
civil nature, cannot be a proper foundation for this pun- 
ishment. Nor can imprisonment, or any other inflic- 
tion of the magistrate, be connected lawfully with ex- 
communication. These and all other things of the like 
nature, I consider as unhappy relics of preceding and 
very unhappy times. 

St Paul, 1 Cor. v. 12, directs the brethren of that 
church ' not to keep company, if any man that is called 
a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, 
or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner, with such 
an one, no not to eat.' These words contain an addi- 
tional punishment to that which is inflicted under the 
directions quoted above ; and require Christians, in the 
cases specified, not voluntarily to have intercourse with 
church members excommunicated for these crimes. I 
say excommunicated for these crimes, because St Paul 
supposes the persons referred to, to be severally guilty 
of them. But this cannot be lawfully supposed, until 
it is proved before the church, the proper tribunal; 
when, if unrepented of, it is followed of course by a 
sentence of excommunication. In this decision of St 
Paul, all such intercourse is plainly forbidden as in- 
volves more countenance, and expresses less disappro- 
bation of the offender, than voluntarily eating with 
him at a common meal. It is, I think, reasonably sup- 
posed, that persons excommunicated for other crimes 
plainly equivalent in degree to those which are here 
specified, are to be treated in the same manner. The 
word ■Tropua;, in this text, denotes any incontinent per- 
son. 

In a preceding Discourse, I considered the relation 
which persons baptized in their infancy sustain to the 
church of Christ, and deferred the question concerning 
5 r 



850 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxii. 



the manner in which they are to be affected by the dis- 
cipline of the church. On this subject I shall now 
make a few observations. 

(1.) It is evident that such persons cannot be excom- 
municated. 

This is obvious from the fact that the body of which 
they are members can never be summoned together, to 
hear their cause, and pass sentence upon them ; and 
from the additional fact, that no part of this body is 
warranted to act for the whole. This I suppose to be 
a part, and a wise one, of the ecclesiastical system of 
the gospel ; indispensable, perhaps, to the prosperity of 
religion, as well as to the peace of mankind. 

(2.) The discipline of all such persons during the 
years of minority is committed supremely to their pa- 
rents and guardians. 

' Now,' says the apostle, ' I say that the heir, as long 
as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant, 
though he be lord of all ; but is under tutors and gover- 
nors, until the time appointed by the father,' Gal. iv. 
1 , 2. Here the apostle teaches us, that so long as we 
are children, we are under the absolute Control of our 
parents, even as servants are under that of their mas- 
ters ; and are obliged to obey not only them, but also 
such tutors and governors as they are pleased to ap- 
point over us. In Col. iii. 20, he commands, 'Children, 
obey your parents in all things ;' and subjoins, ' for this 
is well-pleasing unto the Lord.' Were the church to 
interfere directly in the government of persons thus 
situate, two independent jurisdictions would exist over 
the same subject, at the same time, and with respect to 
the same things. These in their exercise could not, 
from the infirmities of human nature in its best form, 
fail to clash in many instances. If both jurisdictions 
are rightful and scriptural, the child would not know 
which to obey. But the Scriptures have settled this 
point, by requiring him to obey his parents in all 
things, ami informing him, that this is ' well-pleasing 
unto the Lord.' Hence I infer, that the direct juris- 
diction of the church over the child must be merely 
nominal, and can exist to no valuable purpose. 

(3.) The church possesses an indirect control over 
the child, by the control which it has over the parents; 
and this it is bound to exercise in every proper manner. 

The parents are members of a particular church, and 
therefore subject to its discipline. Every church is ac- 
cordingly bound to require such parents as are mem- 
bers of it, to instruct and govern their children, and to 
walk before them agreeably to the gospel. The church 
is bound to see that all this is actually done ; and to 
call to a solemn account all its members who neglect 
or violate these duties. This is a control which, if duly 
exercised, cannot fail of being beneficial to the children. 
Any other must, I think, be of course injurious. 

(4.) The several members of a church are, in my 
view, bound also to reprove and admonish baptized 
persons, whom they see in the commission of sin. 

' Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour,' said 
God to the Israelites, ' and not suffer sin upon him;' 
or, as in the margin, ' that thou bear not sin for him.' 
This rule appears to have the fullest application to the 
case in hand. Baptized persons have a peculiar claim 
on professing Christians for this office of love ; and are 
bound to receive it with humility and reformation. 

Ministers ought, in my view, to make it a business 
of their ministerial office distinctly to unfold to them 



the nature of their relation to God and his church ; 
and solemnly to enforce on them the duties arising 
from this relation ; particularly the duties of repent- 
ance, and faith in the Redeemer, of giving themselves 
up to God in his covenant, and taking upon themselves 
openly the character of Christians. This, I apprehend, 
should be done not only from the desk, but in a regu- 
lar course of laborious catechetical instruction. The 
same things should be explicitly and solemnly enjoined 
from time to time upon their parents; one of whose 
first duties it is, in my apprehension, to co-operate 
faithfully with their ministers in teaching and enjoin- 
ing these things upon their children. Were these 
tilings begun as soon as the children were capable 
of understanding them, and pursued through every 
succeeding period of their nonage, a fair prospect, 
as it seems to me, would be opened for the vigorous 
growth and abundant fruitfulness of this nursery of the 
church. 

Should baptized persons with these advantages con- 
duct themselves frowardly, in a course of open, obsti- 
nate iniquity, after they have come to years of discre- 
tion, the church may, with the strictest propriety, shut 
them out from these privileges, until by a penitent and 
becoming deportment they shall manifest their contri- 
tion for their guilty conduct ; not, however, without 
previous and ample admonition. I will farther sug- 
gest, that in my own view it is a part of the duty of 
each church, at their meetings for evangelical conver- 
sation and prayer, to summon the baptized persons who 
are minors to be present at convenient seasons, while 
the church offers up prayers to God peculiarly for them, 
and to pray for them particularly at other meetings 
holden for these purposes. 

Were all these things regularly and faithfully done 
(and they all seem to grow out of the circumstances of 
persons baptized in their infancy), I cannot help be- 
lieving that a new face would, in a great measure, be 
put upon the condition and character of the persons in 
question. It must be acknowledged, that much less 
attention is paid to them in modern than in ancient 
times, at least by churches in general ; and less, I 
think by ourselves, than by our ancestors. 

II. The manner in which discipline is to be conduct- 
ed, next claims our attention. 

Concerning this subject there can be little debate or 
doubt. We are abundantly taught by the Scriptures, 
that private remonstrance and public admonition are 
ever to be administered with lowliness of mind, with 
entire candour and moderation, with unbiassed equity, 
with a spirit of meekness, patience, and forbearance. 
'The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle 
to all men ;' and must here be especially upon his 
guard against the intrusion of every passion, and the 
adoption of all improper conduct ; because here, as he 
is obliged to assume some degree of authority, and is 
at times employed in endeavouring to redress injuries 
which himself has received, he will be in a peculiar 
danger of departing from his duty. A false step at the 
commencement of this process, in private remonstrance, 
is eminently mischievous ; because from this commence- 
ment the whole process is apt to derive its character. 
Yet here such a step is ordinarily to be expected, more 
than in any subsequent stage of the progress. The 
remonstrant is often wholly unexperienced in business 
of this nature ; often personally interested ; usually in 



DISCIPLINE OF THE CHURCH. 



851 



some degree agitated, and therefore in danger of being 
off his guard; frequently ignorant of what is precisely 
his duty ; possessed of an authority in a great measure 
undefined, except by his own discretion ; and this dis- 
cretion less perfect in many cases than could be wished. 
Thus circumstanced, the best and wisest men are in 
seme danger of acting with impropriety ; while others, 
of an inferior character, are proportionally more ex- 
posed. It is ever to be remembered here, that this is 
the stage of ecclesiastical discipline peculiarly attended 
with hopes of success. While the subject of remon- 
strance is concealed from the view of the public, pride, 
that insidious enemy of all men, even the best, the 
desire of self-justification, the fear of losing one's cha- 
racter in the view of one's family, friends, and neigh- 
bours, and the heat and obstinacy produced in the 
course of a controversy already advanced, are not here, 
unless by some unhappy imprudence, roused to any 
great degree of exertion. If the mind is ever calm 
and self-possessed, it is at this time. If hope is to be 
ardently indulged anywhere, it is here. Let the re- 
monstrant, therefore, remember, and let those who ac- 
company him remember also, that here they are either 
to gain or lose their brother. With an object of this 
inestimable importance before them, there will ever be 
reason to hope that the fault will not be theirs. 

Here, I beg leave to give it as my own opinion, 
founded as I trust both on the Scriptures and experience, 
that private controversies between individuals of the 
church, arising from supposed personal offences, should, 
as far as may be, without refusing the right of appeal to 
the church, be terminated without being brought to its 
decision. This I take to be the very spirit of the text. 
It is intended by our Saviour, that the offender should 
hear and yield to those brethren who accompany the 
remonstrant. St Paul, also, finding fault with the 
Corinthian Christians for ' going to law before the un- 
just, and not before the saints,' says, ' Do ye not know, 
that the saints shall judge the world; and, if the world 
shall be judged by you, are ye unworthy to judge the 
smallest matters? If, then, ye have judgment of things 
pertaining to this life ; set them to judge who are least 
esteemed in the church.' I will not stay to comment 
on the translation of these verses, although I think it 
incorrect ; because every translation of them will coin- 
cide with my own design. It is this : that the contro- 
versies between individual Christians, the secular con- 
troversies especially, are here directed by St Paul to 
he brought for decision before other members of this 
church ; and, according to the present version, before 
those even of little estimation for their attainments in 
the view of the church. If the Corinthians were to 
issue their personal controversies in this manner, it is 
plainly reasonable and proper that ours should be is- 
sued in a similar manner. If those who possessed an 
humble character in the eyes of the Corinthian church, 
were competent to determine their controversies ; the 
superior members of our own churches are certainly 
competent to determine ours. 

Experience has, in my view, long since proved, that 
controversies of this nature are apt to be begun with re- 
sentment, and maintained with violence ; and to wear, 
at their commencement, and throughout their progress, 
the aspect of a common litigation. Of course they are 
often attended with all the evils of such a litigation, 
and many more ; are carried on with bitterness and 



animosity, and end in riveted hatred ; are the means of 
impairing Christianity in the parties, of leading them 
into many and great sins, and of leaving them in a state 
little fitted for improvement or comfort, of splitting a 
church into divisions, and of injuring, if not destroy- 
ing, the usefulness of its minister. At the same time 
they disturb the peace of a neighbourhood ; expose the 
Christian character to shame, disgust, and reprobation ; 
wound the prosperity of religion ; and become a sub- 
ject of triumph to the worst of its enemies. 

Admonition and excommunication should be admi- 
nistered with the same dispositions which have been 
mentioned as proper accompaniments of private re- 
monstrance ; united with a solemnity, firmness, and 
authority becoming the character of a church. To the 
dignity of this tribunal, calmness, moderation, and ten- 
derness are indispensable. The wisdom which should 
preside in it is that ' which is from above, pure, peace- 
able, gentle, and easily entreated, full of mercy and 
good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.' 

Before this tribunal, also, no causes should be per- 
mitted to come to trial, of which the subjects are not 
distinctly specified ; together with the time and place 
at which they have existed ; and all the material cir- 
cumstances by which they were accompanied. All these 
ought also to be communicated to the person accused a 
sufficient time before the trial, to give him a full oppor- 
tunity for preparing his defence. 

When a trespasser has been excommunicated, every 
proper inducement should be hoklen out to him to re- 
turn by repentance and reformation. .For this end, the 
minister, and other persons of weight in the church, 
should take every proper and promising occasion to 
give him their best counsels and exhortations. As this 
ought to be done for a heathen and a publican, it will, 
I presume, be acknowledged to be due to him. 

Formerly, excommunication was accompanied by 
many expressions of a spirit not more hostile to the 
trespasser, than to Christianity. The object of it was 
cursed in form, and solemnly consigned to perdition. 
Happily for us, no severities even of form exist in this 
sentence here, beside those which are plainly authorized 
by the Scriptures. 

III. The ends for which Christian discipline was in- 
stituted, are the following : 

1 . The amendment of those who transgress. 

For this end, every part of ecclesiastical discipline is 
calculated, as if it had no other object. The attention 
paid to it is, however, perfectly justified by its impor- 
tance. This is no less than the reformation of a lapsed 
Christian brother. His peace, his Christian character, 
his worthy participation of Christian privileges, his re- 
covery of the divine approbation, his future usefulness 
in the present life, the measure of his happiness in the 
life to come, and even his salvation itself, are all deeply 
concerned, and oftentimes absolutely involved in these 
administrations. That these objects are at times ac- 
complished by private remonstrance, and public admo- 
nition, will probably not be doubted. With equal cer- 
tainty are they accomplished by excommunication. 
This is directly declared by St Paul, 1 Cor. v. 4, 5, 
' In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, being gathered 
together,' in better language, ' Being gathered together 
in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of my spirit, 
with the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, I command 
you to deliver such a one to Satan, for the destruction 



852 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SfiR. CLJtST. 



of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the .day of 
the Lord Jesus.' 

2. Another end of this discipline is, the purification 
of the church from unworthy members. , 

' Tares,' we know, ' are sown' in this world ; and will 
' grow together with the wheat until the harvest.' So 
long as they are undistinguishable from the wheat, it 
is unlawful for us to eradicate them, ' lest we root up 
the wheat also ;' but when they are clearly discovered in 
the field of Christ, they are to be removed. The rules 
which are given us for this purpose are perfect, so far 
as it may be safely intrusted to the prudence of man. 
As ' a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump,' Chris- 
tians are required to ' purge out the old leaven,' that 
the church may become ' a new lump,' pure and un- 
leavened. 

3. Another end of this system is, the preclusion of 
unworthy members from the church. 

The church is probably kept pure by preventing un- 
worthy members from uniting themselves with it, more 
effectually than by excluding them after they are united. 
Wicked men never love Christian discipline ; and are 
often prevented from attempting to become members of 
the church, by the fears of falling under its censures. 
To good men it is only a privilege. Faithful subjects 
of an earthly government regard its wholesome laws, 
with all their penalties, and the just execution of them, 
with all its pains and terrors, as eminent blessings. 
These laws they so entirely choose to obey, to this ad- 
ministration they intend to be so uniformly subject, as 
hardly ever to think of their severity, and to feel no- 
thing but their beneficial influence. Whatever appre- 
hension they may at times inspire, such men consider 
them only as a useful motive to a more uniform and 
faithful obedience. 

Indeed, this subject furnishes a benef.cial criterion 
for the determination of our religious character. If we 
cordially relish the discipline of Christ's church, and 
are sincerely desirous to add to other motives those 
which it furnishes us for diligence, fidelity, and exact- 
ness in the Christian life, there is solid reason to hope 
that we love that which is good, and are therefore real 
followers of the Redeemer. If, on the other hand, we 
are impatient of this mild and equitable government, 
and live in a continual and slavish dread of its terrors, 
there is but too much reason to conclude, that we love 
the conduct which this system punishes, disrelish the 
purity which it requires, and of course have made a 
profession which is unfounded and insincere. 

Ecclesiastical discipline, more than all other means, 
lias contributed to preserve whatever purity has been 
found in the church of Christ, and in a greater degree 
prevented it from being crowded by unworthy mem- 
bers. Christians, therefore, cannot fail to regard their 
discipline as an invaluable blessing. 

4. The improvement of Christians is another impor- 
tant end of this institution. 

This end has always been promoted, and often in an 
eminent degree, by a well-directed administration of 
Christian discipline. From the social nature of man, 
that which concerns others is instinctively applied to 
ourselves. From the sins of others we learn not to sin 
in the same manner." By their negligence we are 
warned of our own danger, and induced to watch, and 
strive, and pray, that we enter not into their tempta- 
tions. By their repentance and return to their duty, 



we are forcibly admonished of our own daily necessity 
of reformation. Perhaps there is scarcely a more edi- 
fying sight, than a lapsed Christian, ingenuously con- 
fessing his sin, acknowledging the justice of his punish- 
ment, imploring the forgiveness of Cod and a re-union 
to the family of Christ, and re-commencing the Chris- 
tian life with new amiableness and beauty. Nothing 
in this world more resembles the joy of angels over a 
repenting sinner, than the emotions excited in the 
minds of good men by this solemn transaction. 

5. Another end of this institution is to keep the 
character of the church unblemished in the eye of 
mankind. 

. On the character of the church, as it appears to the 
eyes of the world, depends in a great degree the char- 
acter of religion itself. In a former Discourse I have 
shown how much more real and impressive' religion 
seems to the minds of sinners, when beheld in the life 
of a person who ' adorns the doctrine of God our Savi- 
our,' than when seen only with the eye of speculation. 
The exemplary and unblamable conduct of a church is 
proportionally a more convincing" and more persuasive 
source of these impressions. When the church is ' fair 
as the moon, and beautiful as Tirzah :' she is also ! ter- 
rible as an army with banners.' Genuine virtue is an 
awful object to sinful men. In vain do they labour to 
shake off their reverence and their dread of this object. 
It is settled in their minds by the unalterable constitu- 
tion of God ; and is irresistibly forced upon them by 
their consciences, whenever the object is brought before 
their eyes. Nothing but furious passion, or absolute 
profligacy, will prevent any man from entertaining 
these views. But they are not necessary views only ; 
they are also eminently profitable ; as was, I presume, 
satisfactorily shown in that Discourse. He who is at a 
loss concerning this truth, may easily satisfy himself, by 
observing what experience abundantly testifies, that 
wherever churches either pervert or abandon the disci- 
pline instituted by Christ, they themselves become lax, 
lukewarm, and possessed only of ' a name to live ;' and 
that religion around them hastens towards a final ex- 
tinction. Wherever this discipline is scripturally main- 
tained, churches are adorned with the beauty of holi- 
ness; and religion, usually at least, flourishes among 
those who are without. 

IV. My own views concerning the persons by whom 
discipline is to be administered, will be sufficiently com 
municated in the following observations. 

1. The persons who are to administer private remon- 
strance are plainly pointed out in the text. 

Concerning these, therefore, there can be no debnte. 
Not a little doubt, however, has arisen, in this country, 
at least, concerning the cases in which such remon- 
strance is a necessary commencement of ecclesiastical 
discipline. A multitude of Christians, in our own coun- 
try, have supposed, that the steps, mentioned in the for- 
mer part of this Discourse, are indispensable in every 
case of transgression, whether public or private. Others 
have believed, that as the case mentioned in the text is 
a private case merely, and as the discipline involved in 
it seems applicable to such a case only, it is not to be 
employed when a transgression is public. The latter 
of these opinions is, in my view, just. In the nature 
of the case, a public transgression plainly demands no 
private interference. ' Them that sin,' says St Paul 
to Timothy, ' rebuke before all; that others also may 



DISCIPLINE OF THE CHURCH. 



853 



fear,' 1 Tim. v. 20. ' A man that is an heretic,' says 
the same apostle to Titus, ' after a first and second ad- 
monition, reject,' Tit. iii. 10. By ' them that sin,' I 
understand the apostle to mean, them that sin publicly ; 
and suppose St Paul here to direct a public admoni- 
tion as the immediate and proper act of discipline for 
such a transgression. A heretic is a sower of divisions, 
or the leader of a faction in the church. Such a person 
Titus was commanded to reject after a first or second 
admonition, both plainly public ; since they were to be 
bolh administered by Titus himself, in the character 
and office of a minister. This is evident also from the 
reason subjoined in the following verse : ' Knowing- 
that he who is such is subverted, and sinneth, being con- 
demned of himself.' In other words, Because thou know- 
est that such a person is subverted, or overturned, and is 
certainly guilty of sin ; being proved to be a sinner, by 
the known fact that he makes divisions in the church, 
or heads a party against its peace. It is here, how- 
ever, to be observed, that two public admonitions are 
here required to be given to the heretic before his ex- 
communication. As there is no difference between 
heretics and other public sinners, I should regard this 
as the proper rule of proceeding in all cases of dis- 
cipline, which were not commenced with private ad- 
monition. 

But in this country, there is such a universal persua- 
sion that private remonstrance is indispensable, even 
where a transgression has been public, as to make it, 
in my view, expedient to commence the process of dis- 
cipline in this manner, in most if not all instances. The 
winds of Christians, generally, are here fully possessed 
of a conviction that this is a right established by the 
Scriptures, and whenever it is omitted feel as if all that 
was right had not been done. Excommunicated per- 
sons, therefore, feel satisfied, in every such case, that 
the judgment of the Christian community is so far on 
thejr side, and against the proceedings of the church. 
This also will ordinarily be the ojjinion of a considera- 
ble part of its members. Hence the censure will be 
stripped of much of its proper power. The man who 
is censured will feel himself to be still in a state of con- 
troversy with the church ; and will therefore be little 
inclined to reformation or repentance. The church 
will feel itself weakened, and all its enemies will mani- 
fest their hostility by clamouring against its injustice. 
For these reasons, prudence appears plainly to demand 
the adoption of private remonstrance as the means of 
avoiding these evils. 

As the administration of this remonstrance will, in 
such a case, be a duty incumbent alike on all the mem- 
bers of the church, it will be asked, By whom shall this 
duty be performed ? The answer to this question must 
be given differently, according to the different consti- 
tutions of churches. In our own, it ought unquestion- 
ably to be performed by persons commissioned by the 
church. No others will be considered as acting in the 
case with unquestionable propriety. 

2. Admonition and excommunication are to be admi- 
nistered by the pastor, or, when there is no pastor, by 
the moderator of the church, in conformity to a vote of 
the church. 

Wherever a church is vacant, it will always be ex- 
pedient that a neighbouring minister should be request- 
ed to perform this office. 

That these &entenees should be the result of a vote of 



the church, and executed under their authority, is to me 
completely evident from the Scriptures. This I do not 
gather from the text, nor from the meaning of the word 
church, which I am well aware is very various. At the 
time when the precepts in the text were delivered, the 
Christian church was not organized. It may therefore 
be difficult to settle precisely the sense in which our 
Saviour used the term on this occasion ; or to make 
any satisfactory application of it to the case in hand. 
On the text therefore I shall not insist. 

There is in the Scriptures a single case of discipline 
recited, and so far as I know, but one, in which the ad- 
ministration was committed wholly to uninspired hands ; 
or perhaps, in better terms, to persons not extraordi- 
narily commissioned to direct ecclesiastical concerns. 
This is the case of the incestuous person in the church 
of Corinth. St Paul, in 1 Cor. v. directs the members 
of that church to assemble together for the purpose of 
excommunicating this person in the name of Christ. 
The church accordingly assembled, and excommuni- 
cated the man, as we are informed in the second chap- 
ter of the Second Epistle. In the sixth verse of this 
chapter, St Paul says, ' Sufficient to such a man is this 
punishment, which was inflicted of many ;' viro tav 
i:~hstQiiav ; literally, ' by the majority ;' that is, by the 
majority of the Corinthian church ; the persons ad- 
dressed in this chapter, and throughout these Epistles. 

Should it be said, that this sentence was directed by 
St Paul ; I acknowledge it. But the execution of it 
was committed to the Corinthian church, as a body ; 
and it was accordingly executed by their vote, and ec- 
clesiastical authority. There was here no need of a 
formal trial. The question concerning the guilt of the 
man was already settled by abundant evidence. The 
apostle therefore only taught the Corinthian church 
their duty in such a case, and required them to per- 
form it. Had he meant to exercise his apostolical 
authority in a judicial manner, he would have excom- 
municated the incestuous person by a sentence of his 
own, as he excommunicated Hymeneus and Alexander, 
and not have left him to a sentence of the Corinthian 
church. This is farther illustrated by the fact, that St 
Paul beseeches, not commands, the Corinthians to re- 
store this excommunicated man ; ver. 8, ' Wherefore, I 
beseech you, that ye would confirm your love towards 
him.' This request plainly teaches us, that in the view 
of the apostle, the Corinthian church were possessed of 
the power by which this restoration was to be accom- 
plished. 

What it was proper for the Corinthian church to do 
in this case, is unquestionably proper to be done by 
every other church in a similar case. As this is the 
only scriptural example in which a sentence of excom- 
munication was passed by men not extraordinarily 
commissioned, it is, I apprehend, a decisive rule of 
proceeding to all other churches. The peculiar con- 
duct of apostles, and other extraordinarily commissioned 
persons, must in most cases be very imperfectly appli- 
cable as a rule for us. It will be impossible, I appre- 
hend, to show that the powers sometimes necessarily 
vested in these men, have descended to any men who 
are now living. My own opinions concerning bishops, 
in the prelatic sense, have been given in preceding 
Discourses. Ruling elders are, in my apprehension, 
scriptural officers of the Christian church ; and I can- 
not but think our defection with respect to these officers 



854 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser, olxii. 



from the practice of the first settlers of New England, 
an error in ecclesiastical government. But the pre- 
sent occasion will not permit an exhibition of my views 
concerning this subject at large. 

There are many cases in which individuals are dissa- 
tisfied, on reasonable grounds, with the judgment of a 
church. It is perfectly obvious, that in a debate be- 
tween two members of the same church the parties may, 
in many respects, stand on unequal ground. One of 
them may be ignorant, without family connexions, in 
humble circumstances, and possessed of little or no per- 
sonal influence. The other may be a person of distinc- 
tion, opulent, powerfully connected, of superior under- 
standing, and of great personal influence, not only in 
the church, but also in the country at large. As things 
are in this world, it is impossible that these persons 
should possess, in any controversy between them, equal 
advantages. Beyond all this, the church itself may be 
one party, and a poor and powerless member the other. 
In this case also, it is unnecessary to observe, the indi- 
vidual must labour under every supposable disadvan- 
tage to which a righteous cause can be subjected. To 
bring the parties in these or any similar circumstances 
as near to a state of equality as human affairs will per- 
mit, it seems absolutely necessary that every ecclesias- 
tical body should have its tribunal of appeals ; a supe- 
rior judicature established by common consent, and 
vested with authority to issue finally all those causes 
which, before a single church, are obviously liable to a 
partial decision. 

Such a tribunal in all the New England states except 
this, is formed by what is called a select council, that is, 
a council mutually chosen by the contending parties. 
This has long appeared to me a judicatory most unhap- 
pily constituted. The parties choose, of course, such 
persons as they suppose most likely to favour them- 
selves. If, therefore, they commit no mistake in the 
choice, the council may be considered as divided in 
opinion before it assembles ; and as furnishing every 
reason to believe that it will not be less divided after- 
ward. Its proceedings will frequently be marked wilh 
strong partialities, and its decisions, if made at all, will 
not unfrequently be those of a bare majority. Coming 
from different parts of the country, it will have no com- 
mon rules of proceeding. After its decisions, its exis- 
tence ceases. Its responsibility vanishes with its exis- 
tence, as does also the sense of its authority. As the 
members frequently come from a distance, it can have 
no knowledge concerning those numerous particulars 
which respect the transactions to be judged of; and the 
characters, interests, views, and contrivances of those 
who are immediately concerned. As individuals, these 
members may in some instances have much weight ; 
and in certain circumstances may by their wisdom and 
piety do much good. But all this must arise solely 
from their personal character. As a council, as a judi- 
catory, they can have scarcely any weight at all ; for, 
as they disappear when the trial is ended, they are 
forgotten in their united character ; and, having no 
permanent existence, are regarded with no habitual 
respect, and even with no prejudice in their favour. 
Very often, also, as they were chosen on partial prin- 
ciples, they are led of course to partial decisions ; and 
leave behind them very unhappy opinions concerning 
ecclesiastical government at large. 

In this state a much happier mode has been resorted 



to for the accomplishment of this object. The tribunal 
of appeal is here a consociation ; a standing body, com- 
posed of the settled ministers within an associational 
district, and delegates from the churches in the same 
district : a body always existing, of acknowledged au- 
thority, of great weight, possessed of all the impartial- 
ity incident to human affairs, feeling its responsibility 
as a thing of course, a court of record, having a regular 
system of precedents, and from being frequently called 
to business of this nature, skilled to a good degree in 
the proper modes of proceeding. 

The greatest defect in this system, as it seems to me, 
is the want of a still superior tribunal to receive ap- 
peals, in cases where they are obviously necessary. 
These it is unnecessary for me to particularize. Every 
person extensively acquainted with ecclesiastical affairs, 
knows that such cases exist. The only remedy pro- 
vided by the system of discipline established in this 
State, for those who feel aggrieved by a consociational 
judgment, is to introduce a neighbouring consociation 
as assessors, with that which has given the judgment, at 
a new hearing of the cause. The provision of this par- 
tial, imperfect tribunal of appeals, is a clear proof, that 
those who formed the system perceived the absolute 
necessity of some appellate jurisdiction. The judica- 
tory which they have furnished of this nature is per- 
haps the best which the churches of the State would at 
that or any succeeding period, have consented to estab- 
lish. Yet it is easy to see- that, were they disposed, 
they might easily institute one which would be incom- 
parably better. 

The only instance found in the Scriptures of an ap- 
peal, actually made for the decision of an ecclesiastical 
debate, is that recorded in the fifteenth chapter of the 
Acts, and mentioned for another purpose in a former 
Discourse. A number of the Jews, in the church at 
Antioch, insisted that the Gentile converts should be 
circumcised, and be obliged to keep the law of Moses. 
Paul and Barnabas strenuously controverted this point 
with them. As no harmonious termination of the de- 
bate could be had at Antioch, an appeal was made to 
the apostles and elders at Jerusalem. But, as I ob- 
served in the Discourse mentioned, it was heard and 
determined by the apostles, elders, and brethren. As 
this judicatory was formed under the direction of the 
apostles themselves, it must be admitted as a precedent 
for succeeding churches ; and teaches us, on the one 
hand, that an appellate jurisdiction is both lawful and 
necessary in the church ; and, on the other, that it is to 
be composed of both ministers and brethren, necessarily 
acting at the present time by delegation. 



REMARKS. 



From this account of Christian discipline, it is evi- 
dent, 

1. That it was intended for churches consisting of 
Christians. 

As this subject was discussed at some length, in the 
Sermon concerning the character of church members, 
as exhibited in the Scriptures, I shall dismiss it here, 
without any farther observations. 

2. That it is a system wisely adapted to promote the 
prosperity of such churches. 

All the ends of this discipline are such as Christians 
can comprehend and feel ; while the means are most 
happily fitted to accomplish them. Private renion- 



DEATH. 



855 



strance, is most wisely calculated to benefit tlie trespass- 
ing brother ; to awaken in him a sense of guilt, danger, 
and the necessity of repentance and reformation ; to 
preserve his Christian character; and to restore him, 
before he shall be known by others to have fallen. Of 
the same tendency is the additional remonstrance by 
the accompanying brethren, and the subsequent admo- 
nition by the church. Of these just and gentle pro- 
ceedings the final sentence of excommunication is a 
proper close, and is perfectly fitted to reform an obsti- 
nate brother. He who will not be won by the mild 
measures of tenderness, will never feel either his char- 
acter or condition, but by dint of distress. Should 
he continue obstinate in this situation, the church 
will be freed from a spot on its reputation, an ob- 
stacle to its communion, and a nuisance to the reli- 
gion which it professes. At the same time, the spirit 
with which every part of this discipline is to be ad- 
ministered, and without which it exists in form only, 
precludes every reasonable fear of haste, injustice, or 
severity. 

The manner also in which the proper evidence of the 



offender's disposition is to be obtained, and the prohi- 
bition of any farther proceeding where it is unattain- 
able, are strong marks of that wisdom in the Lawgiver, 
by which it was devised. The same wisdom is conspi- 
cuous in the repetition of the several steps of the pro- 
ceeding, and the protraction of the process in this man- 
ner for a considerable length of time. The most de- 
sirable opportunity is here furnished to the offender for 
consideration and amendment ; and to the church, for 
coolness in its inquiries, and justice in its decisions. All 
the parts of the process are also obvious to a very mo- 
derate capacity ; such as are easily understood by plain 
men, and easily applied, whether they are to judge, or 
to be judged. On the whole, it may be justly observed, 
that no system of judicial proceedings is so happily cal- 
culated to accomplish in the most efficacious manner 
the purposes for which it is instituted. Eminently pro- 
fitable, and indispensably necessary, to the Christian 
church, it is at the same time an illustrious display of 
wisdom, goodness, and providential care in its Divine 
Founder. 



SERMON CLX11I. 



DEATH. 



Thou turnesl man to destruction, and say est , Return, ye children of men. — Psalm xc. 3. 



In this series of Discourses I have considered the be- 
ing and character of Hod ; his creation of the heavens 
and the earth, of angels and men ; the primitive state 
of man ; his fall and condemnation ; their influence on 
the moral character of his posterity ; and the impossi- 
bility of justification by works. I have examined the 
character and mediation of Christ ; and the justifica- 
tion accomplished by his righteousness. I have endea- 
voured to exhibit the character of the Holy Spirit ; 
his agency in the work of regeneration ; the reality, 
necessity, and nature of that work, together with its 
antecedents, attendants, consequences, and evidences. 
I have attempted to explain the divine law, and the 
principal duties which it requires ; together with the 
foundation, the nature, and the effects of virtue, the 
true and only obedience to it ; and the nature of that 
inability to obey it, which is an important characteristic 
of man ; and the means of our restoration to obedi- 
ence. I have also investigated the means of obtaining, 
and the means of increasing grace ; the manner in 
which, and the persons by whom, they are to be em- 
ployed. In the course of this investigation, 1 have 
endeavoured to explain the constitution of the Chris- 
tian church ; the character and duties of its members 
and officers ; the nature of its sacraments ; and the 
scheme of its discipline. 

In the progress of these Discourses I have also 
stated, and endeavoured to obviate, the principal objec- 
tions usually brought against that system of theology 
which 1 believe to be revealed in the Scriptures. 

Thus have I gone through the consideration of the 



great articles contained in the Scriptural providence of 
God, as disclosed in the gospel ; and conducted man 
through life, to the last act of that providence with 
which he is concerned in the present world — the act by 
which he is removed into eternity. 

This great and gloomy event is in the text ascribed 
directly to the providence of God; and exhibited, not 
as the result of a natural and necessary decay, nor of 
a general tendency of things, but of his sovereign plea- 
sure. ' Thou turnest man to destruction, and sayest, 
Return, ye children of men.' — Thou art the agent in 
bringing man to death, and the grave ; and by thy com- 
mand returnest him to his original dust. All the na- 
tural causes of death, therefore, are only modes and 
means of its accomplishment by the hand of God. 

A multitude of considerations necessarily strike the 
mind of him who makes this subject the theme of his 
serious attention. Of this number are, 

Its universality, 

Its extension through the ages of time, 

Its certainty, 

Its uncertainty with regard to the time, manner, and 
circumstances, 

The cause by which it is brought to pass ; and, 

The impossibility of escaping or resisting it — toge- 
ther with many other things deeply solemn, and capa- 
ble of being eminently useful to mankind. 

But it is my design to consider death, on this occa- 
sion, merely as a part of the great system of providen- 
tial dispensations towards the children of men ; as the 
event, by which they are removed out of their present 



856 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Sek. 



state of being, as the close of their probation, and their 
introduction into eternity. 

It is manifest that some removal from this world is a 
necessary part of such a system. A probation involves 
in its nature a close. It infers a trial at that close, by 
which the character of the man who has gone through 
the probation shall be finally settled, as good or evil, as 
acquitted- or condemned. It supposes also a reward 
suited to his conduct, and intended to recompense it 
with absolute propriety. 

This close, so far as we can understand the subject, 
must be either painful or pleasant, disgraceful or hon- 
ourable, according to the conduct of the persons con- 
cerned. If their conduct be supposed to have been 
virtuous, obedient, and pleasing to God, the end of 
their trial we should naturally expect to be pleasing 
and honourable, and a proof of his approbation of 
their character. If their conduct be supposed to have 
been evil, and displeasing to God, a painful and dis- 
graceful termination of this state of their existence 
would be rationally expected. The views which he 
formed of their conduct, we should naturally expect 
him to express at their removal from the world. 

In this world good men are continually surrounded 
by spiritual enemies, or enemies to their virtue and 
final welfare. These enemies, it is to be supposed, will 
on every occasion attempt to lessen their happiness, and 
increase their sufferings. The close of life furnishes 
the last opportunity for this purpose. This period, 
therefore, these enemies must be expected to seize with 
eagerness, in order to annoy them so far as they are 
permitted. 

The best of men also have sinned often and greatly ; 
and have thus merited great evils at the hand of God. 
Hence, with the strictest propriety, they may suffer 
greatly at this, as well as at other seasons. No reason 
can be assigned why their enemies may not be per- 
mitted to disturb them, therefore, in the article of death. 

Their own minds also may, for important purposes, 
be left at this time to the distresses arising from the 
remembrance of their former sins, and from perplexing 
thoughts concerning their spiritual condition. Hence 
various doubts may arise and anxieties be multiplied. 
' The terrors of death may encompass them, and the 
pains of hell ' (of sheol, or oiori;, that is, in plainer 
language, the fears of what will befall them in the world 
of departed spirits), may ' lay hold on them.' Espe- 
cially will all this seem easy of apprehension, if we re- 
member that these things may and will be in the end 
benefits to them, through the agency of him who is able 
to bring good out of evil. In this manner may the 
distresses sometimes suffered by good men at death be 
sufficiently explained. 

Wicked men, on the contrary, are often totally care- 
less concerning all moral and religious subjects, uncon- 
cerned about their present or future condition, and 
indifferent alike to the favour and the frowns of their 
Maker. This heedless spirit they sometimes carry with 
them to a dying bed, and under its influence are equally 
stupid as in the preceding periods of life. On this ac- 
count it is to be expected that such men should, at 
times, ' have no bands in their death.' Disease also 
often weakens their capacity of thinking, and prevents 
them from coming to any just conclusions concerning 
their past conduct, their present state, and their future 
allotments. Frequently too they labour to make a vir- 



tue of necessity, to resign themselves quietly 10 the 
death which they see they cannot avoid, and to submit 
to that God whom they now feel themselves unable to 
resist. This, they frequently mistake for Christian re- 
signation, although totally unlike it in every important 
characteristic ; and, under the influence of this" mis- 
take, sometimes leave the world with a degree of com- 
posure. 

Nor is it unreasonable to believe that these things 
are the result of a judicial dispensation of God. We 
know, that he has given up men judicially to ' strong 
delusion, that they should believe a lie.' In what case 
can such a dispensation be supposed with more pro- 
priety, than in that of gross, long-continued, and obsti- 
nate sin, perpetrated by a heart hardening itself in ini- 
quity through life. Such a heart certainly may with pro- 
priety be permitted to deceive itself at any time during 
its probation ; and this deception may, for aught that 
appears, be enhanced by its external enemies. Evil 
men often deceive and flatter with false hopes their dy- 
ing companions. No reason can be given why the 
same mischievous office may not be performed by other 
evil beings. 

To these things it ought to be added, that such men 
have, in several instances, died in alarm and horror ; 
when, from the pains taken to conceal the circumstances 
of their death, they may have been supposed to leave 
the world in peace. There is a general disposition in 
mankind to think and speak favourably of the dying 
and tjie dead. In this solemn case even personal hatred 
is apt to give way to compassion, and every prejudice 
to he lost in concern for him who now ceases to be either 
our enemy, or our rival. Often also we speak favoura- 
bly of deceased persons from compunctions of con- 
science, from a design to be thought candid and kind, 
because they were our relations or friends, or because 
they were of the same party or sect with ourselves. 
Frequently we make the case our own ; wishing, and 
under the influence of our wishes believing, that their 
exit may be hopeful and safe, because we are of a similar 
character, and may in this case die hopefully also. In- 
fidels, particularly, have often taken great pains to per- 
suade the world that their fellow infidels died with se- 
renity ; and, when their last moments have been imbit- 
tered by remorse and terror, have concealed this fact 
with every ingenious and laborious effort. No man can 
mistake the reason of this conduct. The acknowledg- 
ment, that these persons died in fear and anguish, would 
convince every man that they doubted of the doctrines 
which they professed to believe ; and were afraid that 
the Scriptures were still of divine origin, and that thus 
infidelity would receive a wound which could not be 
healed. Several instances of this nature have been 
disclosed to the world ; and have furnished strong 
reasons to believe that, if the whole truth were discov- 
ered, many more would be found. 

These considerations taken together prove beyond 
debate, that the serenity, whether assumed or pretend- 
ed, with which wicked men are supposed to die is false 
and hollow ; on the one hand, the mere result of ignor- 
ance, or stupidity ; on the other, a veil employed to 
cover either from themselves, or their fellow men, the 
real state of their minds at death. From this source, 
therefore, no good can be augured for them ; and no 
support warrantably gained by their impenitent survi- 



DEATH. 



857 



Willi these things premised, I observe, 

I. That death is accomplished by the hand of God. 

' Thou turnest man to destruction, and sayest, Return, 
ye children of men.' Thus it was threatened to our 
first parents, and to their posterity. It was threatened 
and executed as the reward of sin. Its universal ex- 
ecution is, therefore, a decisive proof of the universality 
of sin. 

II. Death is a direct and strong expression of the 
views which God entertains concerning the character of 
man. 

This remarkable event is a part of the providence of 
God, and the result of an immediate act of him alone ; 
a fact in which his hand is seen, and his pleasure ex- 
pressed. It is, therefore, a direct expression of the 
views which he forms of the human character. That 
we should leave the world in some manner or other 
may not unnaturally be regarded as a necessary event in 
the providential system ; necessary, not for its own 
sake, but for the sake of other events, to the existence 
of which it is indispensable. In this view, it may be 
considered as no testimony of the approbation or dis- 
approbation of God. In this view, death may be consid- 
ered merely as an expression of the divine pleasure 
concerning something beyond the present world ; some 
future purpose, to which our removal is a necessary in- 
troduction. But the manner in which we are actually 
removed, the circumstances which now attend our de- 
parture, are plainly unnecessary to the removal itself, 
and to any allotments which are destined to us beyond 
the grave. 

Were all mankind to leave this world as Enoch and 
Elijah left it; or were they, without pain or sorrow, to 
drop these corruptible bodies, and be invested with 
those which are incorruptible, immortal, and glorious ; 
their exit would be justly considered as a most happy 
omen, that they were destined to a future state of favour 
and enjoyment. All men would say, with unanswerable 
force, that these splendid and auspicious circumstances 
were indubitable proofs of the divine pleasure; proofs 
that God regarded us with kindness only, and intended 
that we should be only prosperous in the coming world. 
In the same manner, and with the same evidence, we 
are compelled to conclude, that the gloomy, distressing 
circumstances with which we are conveyed out of time 
into eternity, exhibit the anger of God against our race, 
and forebode a melancholy reception in the world 
whither we go. The long-continued decays, and the 
violent diseases with which our removal is accomplish- 
ed ; the wasted strength, the corrupted frame, the livid 
aspect, the enfeebled understanding, which precede our 
dissolution ; the struggles, the convulsions, the fears, 
the agonies, with which we give up the ghost ; are cer- 
tainly, to the eye of just consideration, strong intima- 
tions of the manner in which God regards our conduct 
here, and of the treatment which we are to expect from 
him hereafter. So far as his designs can be learned 
from this dispensation, no such reception can be expect- 
ed from him as will support a trembling mind, just 
ready to enter the regions of future being. On the con- 
trary, ' a fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery in- 
dignation,' must naturally alarm every child of Adam, 
while bidding adieu to the place of his probation. 

It is not here intended, that death in any form or 
circumstances is an expression of the views which God 
entertains concerning a given individual. It may be 



true, it undoubtedly is, that death in soma instances is 
so conducted by the providence of God, as to exhibit 
the manner in which individuals are regarded by him. 
There is a peace in death, on the one hand, and a hor- 
ror on the other, sometimes existing, which, when taken 
in connexion with the preceding life, may be fairly con- 
sidered as disclosing the favour or the anger of God. 
But the observations just now made respect death mere- 
ly as a general dispensation to mankind ; as an expres- 
sion of the views which God forms of our common 
nature. With this reference, the doctrine here urged 
will be seen to be just, as well as highly important. 
He who duly considers it will easily discern that, if he 
would form rational hopes of future good, he must found 
them on something entirely different from the natural 
character, or the usual conduct of man. 

Should it be objected, that death is only a necessity 
of our nature (as ancient philosophers choose to con- 
sider it,) and that therefore no such conclusion can be 
drawn from it ; I answer, that our nature itself is not 
necessary ; but might have been changed with infinite 
ease, by the mere pleasure of God. I answer, also, that 
none of the actual circumstances of death are at all 
necassary, any farther than that his pleasure has made 
them so ; for with infinite ease he could remove nil 
men from this world, as he removed Enoch and Elijah. 

III. Death arrests mankind at every age of life. 

This is undoubtedly one of the most mysterious dis- 
pensations of Providence with which we are acquaint- 
ed. God, we certainly know, does nothing without a 
sufficient reason. But we can allege, we can devise no 
reason, why children should be created, and close their 
eyes in death, at the very moment when they first open 
them upon the light of the living. The agonies of the 
cradle — agonies suffered by a being incapable of hav- 
ing done good or evil — are wholly inexplicable by 
man ; and leave the serious inquirer in a state of abso- 
lute suspense and perplexity. This perplexity is ren- 
dered still more distressing, when we reflect on the 
apparent usefulness of their existence here, both to 
themselves and others ; and the apparent want of any 
sufficient end for which they were created. It is not 
intended, that no apparent end of their being exists; 
but that none satisfactory to the human mind is visible 
in the circumstances which attend them. The very 
mysteriousness of the fact is one useful thing; and will 
contribute to persuade us, that we ought readily to be- 
lieve other mysteries which are of great importance. 
He who admits the providence of God, and acknow- 
ledges wisdom and goodness to be the source of it all, 
will see, in this event, abundant reason to determine 
that the mysteries of the gospel are no objection to its 
truth or. revelation. Mysteries are no more an objec- 
tion against the gospel, as a work of God, than against 
creation and providence, as works of the same great 
Being. That the dispensation in question is a work of 
God, cannot be doubted. That a revelation from him 
should resemble his other works, and be mysterious in 
some such manner as they are mysterious, ought to be 
pre-supposed. All the works of the same Being ought 
certainly to be expected to sustain the same general 
character; and all the works of an infinite Being must, 
especially as they are formed for purposes boundless in 
their nature and extent, be incomprehensible by us, 
who ' are of yesterday, and know (comparatively) no- 
thing.' Our proper business is therefore to trust, where 
5 Q 






858 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CLxnr. 



we cannot know; and in both cases humbly and de- 
voutly to adore. 

IV. Death terminates the probation of man. 

That death ends our probation, so far as this world 
is concerned, I shall not be expected to prove. That 
there is no probation beyond the grave, is evident from 
the fact, that such a state is never mentioned in the 
Scriptures. Every thing which is said in them con- 
cerning futurity, exhibits it only as a state of reward. 
To this object they conduct us ; and then close their 
communications. 

But this is not all, nor even the chief proof of the 
doctrine. In Eccles. ix. 10, we are informed, that 
' there is no work, device, knowledge, nor wisdom, in 
the world of departed spirits, whither we go.' The 
work here mentioned is plainly the work of salvation ; 
and this it is declared cannot be done. Hence Solomon 
exhorts us to do this work ' with our might,' while we 
are in the present world. 

In Acts iii. 21, St Peter says concerning Christ, 
' Whom the heaven must receive, until the times of the 
restitution of all things.' But Christ, we are elsewhere 
informed, will come a second time to judgment. At 
this time, then, all things will be restored, which will 
ever be restored. The present ' heavens and earth 
will then pass away,' and be succeeded by ' new heavens 
and a new earth,' in which ' righteousness will dwell ' 
for ever. But we are abundantly assured, that, at this 
period the everlasting rewards of the righteous and the 
wicked will commence. There will therefore be no 
future probation. 

In John ix. 4, our Saviour says, ' The night cometh, 
in which no man can work ;' that is, the season, of 
which death is the beginning, and eternity the con- 
tinuance. All the probationary work of man, there- 
fore, is ended when death arrives ; and will never be 
resumed. 

V. Death ends the enjoyments of the impenitent. 

' Son,' says Abraham to the rich man, ' remember, 
that thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good things.' 
This was said to a man in the future world, immedi- 
ately after his death ; and said by a glorified spirit. It 
was said to a man humbly and earnestly asking for ' a 
drop of water' only ; the least good of which we can 
form a conception. It is alleged also as a reason why 
he must not expect even this little good. What is this 
reason ? It is, that he had received all his good things 
on this side of the grave. The list of his good things 
was therefore completed. 

Of these enjoyments, some such men have more, and 
some less. All, however, have very few compared with 
the necessities of a rational and immortal mind ; al- 
though each has many, when compared with what he 
deserves. But whether they be few or many, they all 
exist in the present world only. Beyond the grave 
every such man will find eternity destitute of all good 
to himself. 

VI. Death terminates the sufferings of the righ- 
teous. 

' And likewise,' says Abraham to the rich man, ' and 
likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comfort- 
ed.' When Lazarus finished his earthly existence, he 
bade adieu to his last sorrows : all that now remained 
for him was comfort. The prospect before him was 
only bright and glorious: the unclouded morning of 
eternal day. ' God ' now began to ' wipe away all tears 



from his eyes ; and the Lamb to feed him, and to lead 
him to fountains of living water.' 

Good men in this world, although never punished 
according to their deserts, suffer in many instances long 
and severely. Sometimes they have ' trial of cruel 
moekings, and scourgings,' sometimes of ' bonds and 
imprisonments.' They have been ' stoned, sawn asun- 
der, tempted, and slain with the sword.' They have 
' wandered about in sheep-skins, and goat-skins, being 
destitute, afflicted, tormented ;' and have been com- 
pelled to find a refuge ' in deserts, in mountains, in 
dens, and in caves of the earth.' Even where these 
dreadful evils of persecution have not been undergone, 
they have still encountered severe distresses from sick- 
ness, pain, poverty, bereavements, melancholy, deser- 
tion, and many other calamities incident to our un- 
happy state. How delightful must be the remembrance 
to every such sufferer, that these distresses constitute 
his whole portion of woe. Few things can more effec- 
tually contribute to prevent him from fainting, when 
he is rebuked, or persuade him to ' run with patience 
the race which is set before him.' Let every Christian, 
then, bow submissively to the chastisement of his hea- 
venly Father; and sustain himself under every trouble 
with the full assurance, that his sorrows will' soon have 
passed away for ever. 

VII. The termination of human life is wisely appoint- 
ed by God. 

Life is long enough for the sinner, and for the saint. 
Seventy years are a sufficient period to try the charac- 
ter. Were the sinner to continue longer in the world, 
he would still be equally hopeless, and more guilty. 
Habits of wickedness, strengthened through so long a 
period, admit neither of removal, nor of hope. Whither 
shall we go to find penitence, after this period is passed? 
The antediluvian world was immensely more wicked 
than the present, because men lived a thousand years. 
Their plans of sin were vastly more extensive, their 
sagacity in pursuing them greatly superior, their op- 
portunities amazingly more numerous, and their hopes 
of success beyond comparison better founded. In this 
manner their evil habits became fixed beyond recall ; 
while death was at such a distance as to make the pre- 
sent life seem not a little like an eternal duration. 
What existed then, would in the like circumstances 
exist now. Were human life to be equally protracted, 
mankind would soon become as profligate as they weie 
before the deluge. 

That the present life is a sufficient period of proba- 
tionary existence to the righteous will be readily ac- 
knowledged by all men. Every person of this charac- 
ter secures within this period an everlasting inheritance 
beyond the grave. This is the end for which we live, 
the only end of real importance. When this end there- 
fore is secured, no good reason can be given for pro- 
tracting the date of the present life. It cannot be al- 
leged, that the sufferings of it are so few and small, or 
the blessings so numerous and great, as to render it 
desirable to those who have become entitled to the 
heavenly happiness, to lengthen out a weary pilgrimage 
in the present world. It is no uncommon thing for the 
righteous themselves to be desirous, with St Paul, ' to 
depart, that they may be with Christ ' in a future and 
better world ; and this notwithstanding all the gloom 
and terror with which death is arrayed. Plainly, 
therefore, the present period of human life is well suited 



DEATH. 



859 



to the circumstances of both saints and sinners, and 
wisely appointed by God. 

From these considerations concerning this solemn 
subject, I derive the following 

REMARKS. 

1. It is manifest, that in the circumstances of our de- 
parture from this world, there is much room for mis- 
judging concerning the character of those who die. 

There are, I acknowledge, instances in which we 
may estimate this character with a high degree of pro- 
bability. There are instances in which wicked men 
strongly exhibit both their wickedness and their awful 
apprehensions of an approaching retribution, so strong- 
ly and so decisively, as to forbid every rational hope, 
that it will be well with them in a future world. There 
are other instances in which their stupidity is so entire, 
and their presumption so gross, as to create necessarily 
the most unfavourable apprehensions concerning them. 
There are cases, on the contrary, in which the views of 
good men are so clear and just, their sentiments so 
fraught with the spirit of the gospel, and their hopes so 
bright, rational, and evangelical, as to leave no painful 
doubt concerning their future destiny. All this, how- 
ever, is to be considered in a direct and intimate con- 
nexion with the preceding lives of the persons in ques- 
tion. 

But there are also many more cases, with respect to 
both classes of men, in which a determination, such as 
would be satisfactory to a candid mind, is by the cir- 
cumstances on which it must be founded rendered plain- 
ly impossible. Sinners, I mean such as possess the 
character of impenitents throughout their lives, are, it 
is to be remembered, often as amiable by nature as .any 
of those who become Christians. They are often as 
religiously educated, are trained to habits equally de- 
sirable, and possess to the eye of the world characters 
as unimpeachable, and even more agreeable, than many 
persons who ultimately become penitents. The grace 
of God descends not unfrequently upon men of origin- 
ally harsh, violent, rugged, sordid, proud, or unfeeling 
tempers; upon men erroneously, grossly, narrowly, or 
not at all, educated ; upon men long habituated to 
many sins ; upon men rendered unamiable by an un- 
resisted, pertinacious, and riveted indulgence of these 
odious dispositions. On the other hand, there is no 
reason to believe that the young ruler, who came to 
Christ to inquire ' what good thing he should do, that 
he might have eternal life,' was sanctified ; although 
we are informed that ' Jesus, beholding him, loved him.' 
As little reason is there to believe that many others of 
our race, possessing a character equally amiable, both 
by nature and habit, are ever renewed by the Spirit of 
God. Persons of the former class also carry through 
life, notwithstanding their renovation, notwithstanding 
the real and important moral change made in them by 
this event, not a little of their original, unamiable spi- 
rit. Their remaining sinfulness will often show itself 
in an unpromising as well as unhappy manner. Can- 
did and charitable persons who live by their side will, 
indeed, see many appearances of piety, mingled at 
times with the operations of this untoward character. 
But the world at large will discern very few ; and per- 
sons peculiarly prejudiced will perceive none. When, 
therefore, such men leave the world it is plain, that, if 
they should leave it full of hope, and even of exul- 



tation, all those who believed nothing concerning their 
sanctification, and remembered only the unamiable 
parts of their character, would now regard their hope 
and exultation as unwarranted by the gospel, and 
founded only in delusion. Equally evident is it, that 
those who with less prejudice saw them only at a dis- 
tance, and marked only the prominent and perhaps the 
disagreeable parts of their conduct, would entertain 
many doubts, and very limited hopes, concerning their 
present character, or future welfare. Those Christians 
who were intimately connected with them, knowing 
them better, would indeed judge more favourably. 
But this judgment would by others be regarded as the 
result of mere prejudice, and the blind spirit of party. 

Those of the latter class would, on the other hand, 
be regarded with affection and complacency. All their 
commendable actions, which, it is to be recollected, are 
usually very pleasing to mankind, because they are 
chiefly intended to give them pleasure, would now be 
remembered with peculiar advantage to their character. 
The prejudice in favour of the dead would operate pe- 
culiarly in their favour. The hope of our own final 
safety, founded on the belief that they were safe, and 
that we were like them, would render us eager to con- 
clude well Concerning them. The wish of all around 
us, that their future state might be happy, and the si- 
lence of all concerning everything which might unset- 
tle this favourable opinion, would give it increased, and 
often irresistible strength. Thus, when to the judg- 
ment of strict scrutiny the case might seem at the best 
doubtful and distressing, it would be regarded with 
high hopes, and abundant consolation ; since no such 
scrutiny would be employed. 

At the same time, it is ever to be remembered, as I 
have shown at large in a preceding Discourse, that the 
scriptural evidences of piety are often not without great 
difficulty applied to the state of our own minds. Hence 
multitudes of good men probably experience many 
doubts and difficulties throughout their lives. Chris- 
tians who are modest, timid, and easily apprehensive, 
will therefore naturally and often conclude against 
themselves. Bold and rash men, on the contrary, nay, 
even such as are easy and quiet, and always prone to 
hope well, will at least as often and as naturally con- 
clude in their own favour. An extensive knowledge 
of sin, and a watchful observation on the part of him 
who possesses such knowledge of the sins committed by 
himself, can hardly fail of producing many anxieties on 
a dying bed. Ignorance and inattention concerning 
this interesting subject will, to a great extent, have the 
contrary effect. 

From these considerations, and others of a similar 
nature which cannot now be mentioned, it is evident 
that this subject must be attended often with great un- 
certainty ; and in very many cases cannot be judged of 
without extreme danger of error. The reason why it 
has been here discussed, is a wish to prevent those un- 
founded and dangerous hopes, and those unnecessary 
and causeless fears, which bad men on the one hand, 
and good men on the other, derive from very doubtful 
appearances attendant on the deaths of others. Let it. 
be remembered, that the Scriptures have nowhere made 
the circumstances of our decease proof's of our moral char- 
acter. These they have taught us to look for in the 
life. ' Every tree,' saith our Saviour, ' is known by its 
fruits.' He who has lived a life of piety, he who has 



880 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxih. 



actually exercised piety while he lived, will find, how- 
ever anxious may be his last moments, ample consola- 
tion in the future world. He who has not, however 
peaceful may be his death, will fail of happiness beyond 
the grave. 

2. These observations teach us tiie immense impor- 
tance of obtaining the favour of God in the present life. 

There is no more affecting proof, that we are alto- 
gether in the hands of God, and are entirely disposed 
of according to his pleasure, than that which is seen in 
our death. He who removes us from this world, can 
plainly remove us to any place, and dispose of us in any 
manner which he" chooses. Dreadful would it be be- 
yond expression, should he make us die* for ever ; and", 
throughout our future existence, make every succeed- 
ing death more distressing than that which went before 
it. Dreadful would it be, should he make all our future 
being a state of unceasing death, both to the body and 
the soul. With what force and propriety has our Sa- 
viour required us to ' fear him, who is able to destroy 
both the soul and the body in hell !' 

As this life is the only time of probation to man, the 
present is the only period in which this mighty evil 
can be prevented. Seize, therefore, this golden season, 
and, while it lasts, ' work out your salvation with fear 
and trembling.' Think what it will be to die for ever. 
Remember how short life is, how uncertain, by how 
frail a tenure possessed, and how apt to vanish before 
we are aware. Feel, that in this short period, if ever, 
your salvation is to be secured. Remember, that to all 
the impenitent the first death corhes too soon, and- is 
always a dreadful introduction to a second, infinitely 
more dreadful. If the first death is terrible to you, and 
to all men, think what it must be to endure these ter- 
rors in endless repetition. Soon, I beseech you, call 
to mind how soon the sun of the longest day goes down. 
Think how often it is lost in clouds, before it has 
reached the meridian. Count not upon the evening of 
life. By him who postpones the business of the day, 
it will never be done. Awake from the fatal slumbers 
of sloth, from the deceitful hopes of procrastination, 
from the benumbing torpor of security in sin. Let no- 
thing stand between you and heaven. What would you 
not give to purchase this glorious possession. What 
exchange for it would you receive ? How poor must 
he be, who through this life possessed the world, and 
throughout his endless existence was in want of all 
tilings ! How wretched he who wallowed in pleasure 
here, and languished out eternity in lamentation, 
mourning, and woe ! 

3. How poor a portion is that of the wicked. 

The portion of the wicked is all received and expend- 
ed during this little life, and is finally terminated by the 
grave. Its enjoyments are small, they are few, they are 
mingled with many woes, they are embittered by many 
disappointments. Many dangers continually betide 
men of this character, and many fears beset them. 
Often they are cut off in the beginning, often in the 
midst of life, and always before they are ready. On a 
dying bed they are unable to look back with comfort 
on anything which they bave done ; or forward with 
hope to anything which awaits them. Here their en- 
joyments bid them a final adieu. All their future being 

a long and dreary night, with no succeeding day. 
With how much wisdom do the righteous choose 
Portion. 



' Godliness,' says St Paul, ' is profitable unto all 
things, having the promise of the life that now is, and 
of the life which is to come.' The nature of the case, 
and the- experience of man, furnish ample proof of the 
truth of this declaration. A great variety of considera- 
tions combine their evidence to prove that a good man 
is, even in this world, happier than a bad one. Ex- 
ternal enjoyments may, indeed, be distributed to either, 
indifferently, in greater or less numbers. There are 
cases, also, in which either may be peculiarly unhappy. 
The fair application of the rule is, undoubtedly, to what 
may be called the average of human life ; and, if ap- 
plied to this object, it will be found unquestionably and 
universally just. 

Enjoyments, it is to be remembered, are what the 
mind finds or makes them. Plain food is delightful to 
the palate by which it is relished ; while the daintiest 
viands are lost upon a sickly appetite. The spirit of a 
good man disposes him to consider, and enables him 
to receive, all his enjoyments as gifts from the best of 
all friends ; and to exercise continual gratitude to that 
friend ; the most pleasing of all emotions. On this 
friend, also, he perpetually relies, as perpetually able 
and inclined to befriend him ; as present wherever he 
is, as knowing whatever he needs, as exercising to- 
wards him everlasting loving-kindness, and as having 
given his own immovable promise, that ' all things 
shall work together for his good.' This train of con- 
siderations, regularly attending his whole course of 
enjoyments, cannot fail to enhance the value of every 
blessing in which he shares ; and to spread warmth, 
and light, and life around him in his journey to heaven. 

At the same time, he is at peace with himself. He 
has submitted to God; he has yielded, himself to the 
Redeemer. The war between his inclinations and his 
conscience, the tumult of his passions and his fears, 
has in a great measure subsided. To this state of agi- 
tation has succeeded the peace of forgiven sin, and an 
approving- conscience. The long night of darkness 
and storm has retired ; and a serene and cheerful 
morning has arisen upon the world within : a happy 
presage of perpetual day. A mind at peace with itself, 
is the only mind at ease ; and a mind without ease is 
ill prepared to enjoy. Whatever good the world gives 
must be imperfectly tasted by him who is unsatisfied 
with himself, conscious of his exposure to the anger of 
God, and terrified by expectations of future woe. *An 
exemption from these evils is the first great step towards 
sincere happiness, and confers a capacity for enjoyment 
which, without it, must be for ever unknown. But the 
present state is far from being a state of enjoyment 
only. The means of soothing sorrow are at least as 
necessary to us, as those of enhancing comfort. In this 
important privilege the superiority of the good man's 
choice is perhaps still more conspicuous. Peace of 
mind blunts, in a great measure, all the shafts of ad- 
versity. A strong sense of the universal government 
of God, and of his friendship to the soul, change the 
very nature of afflictions, and transmute them from 
curses into blessings. At the same time, the hope of 
the gospel, always present to the mind of such a man, 
administers to him the richest consolation in every sor~ 
row, reminds him daily, that in this life only will he be 
a sufferer, and directs his eye to that world of approach- 
ing peace and prosperity, where his afflictions will fin- 
ally flee away. 



THE IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH. 



861 



In death itself all these privileges will be his. Hope, 
particularly, and peace, will soothe all the sufferings of 
a dying bed, and illumine his passage into eternity. Or 
should he, as is sometimes the case, find fears and sor- 
rows await him at this period, this is his last enemy, and 
possessed of power over him but for a moment. 

Thus the good man goes through the present life, 
possessed of a happier character and a happier lot than 
any which can be challenged by bad men. His enjoy- 
ments are superior in kind, in number, and in degree. 
He possesses alleviations of trouble to which no bad 
man can make any pretensions. Death itself is to him 
often peaceful, and often filled with hope and consola- 
tions : whenever it is not, it is still the termination of 
all his sorrows. 

In the future world the difference is infinite. When 



the good man resigns his body to the grave, and his 
spirit to the hands of God who gave it; he enters im- 
mediately into ' the joy of his Lord.' Sin and suffer- 
ing", time and death, hold their dominion over him no 
more. The dawn of his future being is to him the 
dawn of everlasting day. In this immense duration, 
his life will be an uninterrupted progress of virtue, hon- 
our, and enjoyment. Fixed for ever in the world of 
glory, and surrounded by the general assembly of the 
first-born, a companion of angels, and a child of God, 
he will look back with ineffable delight on that choice 
which accomplished the end of his being, and made life 
and death blessings to him; and will stretch his view 
forward with transport to joy succeeding joy, and to 
glory surpassing glory, throughout ages which cannot 
end. 



SERMON CLXIV. 

THE IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH. 



Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return to God who gave it.— Eccles. xii. 7. 



3n my last Discourse I made several observations con- 
cerning death, considered as the last dispensation of 
providence to man in the present world. The imme- 
diate consequences of death furnish the next subject of 
our investigation. 

In the text we are told, that when ' man goeth to 
his long home, the dust (or body) shall return to the 
earth,' of which it was formed, and that then also ' the 
spirit shall return to God who gave it.' In considering 
this subject, I shall follow the order of discourse here 
presented to us : and examine those things which im- 
mediately after death respect, 

I. The bodi, ; 

II. The soul. 

Under the former of these heads, I observe, 

1. That the body is changed into a corpse. 

Death is the termination of all the animal functions 
of our nature. So long as these continue, life, the 
result of them, diffuses warmth, activity, and beauty 
throughout our frame. In this state, the body is a use- 
ful as well as pleasing habitation for the sou] ; and a 
necessary as well as convenient instrument for accom- 
plishing the purposes to' which it is destined in the pre- 
sent world. But when these functions cease, life also 
ceases. The body then becomes cold, motionless, de- 
formed, and useless. The form, which once gave plea- 
sure to all around it, now creates only pain and sorrow. 
The limbs are stiffened, the face clouded with paleness, 
the eye closed in darkness, the ear deaf, the voice dumb, 
and the whole appearance ghastly and dreadful. In 
the mean time, the spirit deserts its ruined habitation, 
and wings its way into the unknown vast of being. 

2. The body is conveyed to the grave. 

Necessity compels the living to remove this decayed 
frame from their sight. Different nations have pur- 
sued different modes of accomplishing this purpose. 
By some nations the body has been consumed with fire. 



By others it has been embalmed. By some it has been 
lodged in tombs properly so called. By some it has 
been consigned to vaults and caverns ; and by most 
has been buried in the grave. All nations, in whatever 
manner they have disposed of the remains of their de- 
parted friends, have with one consent wished, like 
Abraham, ' to remove the dead out of their sight.' 

In this situation the body becomes the prey of cor- 
ruption, and the feast of worms. How humiliating an 
allotment is this to the pride of man ! When the con- 
queror, returned from the slaughter of millions, enters 
his capital in triumph ; when the trumpet of fame pro- 
claims his approach, and the shouts of millions announce 
his victories ; surrounded by the spoils of subjugated 
nations, and followed by trains of vanquished kings and 
heroes ; how must his haughty spirit be lowered to the 
dust by the remembrance, that within a few days himself 
would become the food of a worm, x-eigning over him 
with a more absolute control than he ever exercised 
over his slaves. Yet this will be the real end of all 
his achievements. To this humble level must descend 
the tenant of the throne, as well as of the cottage. 
Here wisdom and folly, learning and ignorance, refine- 
ment and vulgarity, will lie down together. Hither 
moves with an unconscious, but regular step, the beauty 
that illumines ' the gay assembly's gayest room;' thai 
subdues the heart even of the conqueror himself; and 
says, ' I sit as queen, and shall see no sorrow.' All 
these may, and must, ultimately say to corruption, 
' Thou art our father, and to the worm, Thou art our 
mother, and our sister.' But we are not yet at the end 
of the progress. The next stage in our humiliation is, 
to be changed into dust. This was our origin ; this is 
our end. The very clods on which we tread, were 
once, not improbably, parts, to a greater or less extent, 
of living beings like ourselves. Not a small part of 
the surface of this world has, in all probability, been 



862 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. CLX1V. 



animated and inhabited by human minds; and the 
remains of man are daily perhaps, as well as insensibly, 
turned up by the plough and the spade. 

II. The events, which immediately after death con- 
cern the soul, are the following : — 

1 . At death the soul quits the body, to return to it 
no more. 

At death the animal functions cease, or rather the 
cessation of them is death itself. Then the flexibility! 
the power of action, and the consequent usefulness to 
which they gave birth, are terminated also. The soul, 
of course, finds the body no longer fitted to be an in- 
strument of its wishes, or its duties. The limbs can no 
longer convey it from place to place, the tongue com- 
municate its thoughts, nor the hands execute its plea- 
sure. Deprived of all its powers, the body becomes a 
useless and uncomfortable residence for a being to whose 
nature activity is essential, and the purposes of whose 
creation would be frustrated by a longer confinement to 
so unsuitable a mansion. We cannot wonder, therefore, 
that the Author of our being should, in his providence, 
remove the soul from a situation so contradictory in all 
respects to the design of its existence. 

The proof of the fact which I am considering, and 
of the existence of the soul in a state of separation from 
the body, has, to a great extent, been necessarily given 
in a former Discourse, in which I attempted to show, 
that the soul is not material. To that Discourse 1 
must, therefore, refer my audience for these proofs. It 
may, however, not be improper briefly to mention some 
of them on the present occasion. 

The first which I shall mention is the text. Here 
we are informed, that 'the dust,' at death, 'shall return 
to the earth, as it was ; and the spirit shall return to 
God who gave it.' That the soul and the body are two 
distinct beings, and that at death one returns to the 
earth, and the other to God who gave it, are truths de- 
clared in this passage in a manner so plain as probably 
never to have been misapprehended by any man, not 
embarked in some philosophical controversy. 

Secondly : Of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, it is said, 
accordingly, that they ' gave up the ghost,' or rendered 
their spirits to God who gave them. In Exodus, God 
saith, ' I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, 
the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.' — ' God,' our 
Saviour observes, ' is not the God of the dead, but of the 
living;' that is, of the spirits of Abraham, Isaac, and 
Jacob ; living at the time when this declaration was made 
to Moses. Accordingly this passage is alleged by our 
Saviour to the Sadducees, as full proof of the avavTmis, 
or separate existence, of souls beyond the grave. 

Of these persons, also, it is said, that ' they were 
gathered unto their people.' This declaration is com- 
monly, but very erroneously, understood to mean, that 
their bodies were gathered to the bodies of their kin- 
dred ; and is supposed to be equivalent to the scrip- 
tural phrase, ' They slept with their fathers.' But in 
this sense it is, in many instances, obviously untrue. 
Neither Abraham nor Isaac was, in this sense, gathered 
unto his people. The people of Abraham were all 
buried either in Padan-Aram, or in Ur, of the Chal- 
dees; while he was buried in the cave of Machpelah in 
Canaan. Isaac was buried with none of his friends 
beside his parents ; and these could not be styled ' his 
people.' The people to whom these persons were 
gathered were the assembly of the blessed. 



Thirdly: In conformity to this interpretation, Christ 
says, concerning Lazarus, that ' he died and was car- 
ried by angels to Abraham's bosom:' a complete proof, 
that Abraham was in existence among the blessed, at 
the time to which this parable refers. 

Fourthly : Christ said to the penitent thief on the 
cross, ' To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.' 
This could not be true, unless the soul of the thief 
existed in a separate state. 

Fifthly : St Paul declares, 2 Cor. v. 6, that ' while 
we are at home in the body, we are absent from the 
Lord ;' and subjoins, ' we are confident, I say, willing 
rather to be absent from the body, and present with 
the Lord.' Here this apostle teaches us, that Chris- 
tians can be absent from the body ; and that this ab- 
sence must take place to enable them to be present 
with the Lord ; and that, whenever it does take place, 
they will be present with the Lord. Christians, there- 
fore, that is, the spirits of Christians, exist in a state 
separated from the body. 

Sixthly: The same apostle, Phil. i. 21 — 23, says, 
' For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.' And 
again, ' I have a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, 
which is far better.' When the apostle says, ' For me 
to live is Christ,' he declares, that the present life is to 
him a source of high enjoyment. But if he did not 
exist in a separate state, his death would put an end to 
all his enjoyment; being an absolute termination of 
his consciousness. If, then, he had the least degree of 
enjoyment while living, his death, destroying this 
enjoyment, and supplying no other in its place, would 
with mathematical certainty be a loss to him. How 
much greater must this loss be, when, as he informs us, 
it was Christ to him to live. Can any sober man be- 
lieve, that St Paul meant to declare death, which, 
according to the opposite scheme, is merely a tempo- 
rary annihilation, to be greater good than the happi- 
ness indicated by this expressive phraseology? 

But the apostle himself has determined this point. 
He has told us, that the gain of his departure consisted 
in being with Christ, in a state of happiness totally 
superior to anything found in the present world. 
Here, indeed, he enjoyed the presence of his Saviour, 
in an eminent, perhaps in a singular degree : yet in a 
manner far inferior to what, he was assured, he should 
find immediately after death. 

Seventhly: St John, when caught up to heaven, 
' beheld a great multitude, which no man could num- 
ber, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and ton- 
gues, standing before the throne, and before the Lamb, 
clothed in white robes, with palms in their hands,' 
uniting with the angels in their everlasting song of 
praise. The apostle asked who these persons were, 
The interpreting angel informed him, that they were. 
' those who came out of great tribulation, and had 
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood 
of the Lamb. Therefore (he adds), are they before 
the throne of God, and serve him, day and night, in 
his temple: and he, that sitteth on the throne, shall 
dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, nei- 
ther thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on 
them, nor any heat ; for the Lamb which is in the 
midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead 
them unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall 
wipe all tears from their eyes.' It will not be denied, 
that these were men, and deceased men ; nor that the 



/ 



THE IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH. 



863 



time referred to in this passage was long antecedent to 
the resurrection. They were therefore separate spirits ; 
conscious, virtuous, happy beings. It may be said, and 
truly, that all this passed in vision. But it must be 
added, and must be admitted by those who say this, 
that a vision communicated by the Spirit of God ex- 
hibits nothing but what is true. 

Eighthly : In conformity to this representation of St 
John, St Paul says, 1 Thess. iv. 14, 'For, if we believe 
that Jesus died, and rose again, even so them also 
who sleep in Jesus will God bring with him ;' that is, 
as the sixteenth verse informs us, when he comes to 
the final judgment. Who are those whom God will 
bring with Christ at this time ? Certainly not the 
bodies of the saints. They will be raised from the 
grave ; and cannot be brought with Christ. The only 
answer, therefore, is, he will bring with him ' the spirits 
of just men made perfect.' 

Ninthly: Christ informs us, that 'Lazarus died, and 
was carried by angels to Abraham's bosom ; that the 
' rich man died ; and in hell lift up his eyes, being in 
torments ;' and all this, while the five brethren of the 
rich .man were still living in the present world. Now 
I ask, whether the body of the rich man was at this time 
in hell; or the body of Lazarus carried by angels to 
Abraham's bosom ? These questions can need no an- 
swer. The consequence is, therefore, unavoidable. 
Should an objector say, that this representation is 
parabolical : he will say it only to escape from an ar- 
gument which he cannot face. That parables are figu- 
rative representations, is acknowledged; hut he must 
be a hardy commentator, who will assert that they ex- 
hibit any thing but truth. 

I might multiply proofs of this doctrine to a very 
great extent ; for the language of the Scriptures con- 
cerning this subject is entirely uniform. But I shall 
only add one more, of a nature somewhat different 
from those which have been already alleged. The 
body of Moses was buried by God ' in a valley in the 
land of Moab, over against Beth-peor.' Yet Moses 
appeared on the mount of transfiguration, and con- 
versed with Christ. 

With this scheme of interpreting the Scriptures al- 
most all who have professed to believe them have coin- 
cided, in every age of the church. Probably no individ- 
ual has ever thought of finding in them the opposite doc- 
trine, unless when forced to it by a wish to support some 
other favourite tenet. Dr Priestley has plainly adopted 
it, because he thought the immateriality of the soul incon- 
sistent with his views concerning the nature of Christ. 

There is no more difficulty in supposing the soul of 
man to be capable of existing in a state of separation 
from the body, than in supposing any other spirit to be 
capable of existing without a body. Angels we know 
are unembodied. In the same state, the spirits of de- 
ceased persons may exist, with as little difficulty in the 
eye of sound philosophy, as angels. Aware of this truth, 
Dr Priestley has strenuously laboured to disprove the 
existence of angels also, in my view without the least 
aid of philosophy, and in direct defiance of revelation. 
If the Scriptures do not assert the existence of angels, 
they cannot be said to assert anything ; for they do not 
assert anything with more clearness or precision. If 
their assertions concerning this subject can be subverted 
by criticism, there can be no assertions which criticism 
may not subvert. 



2. The soul after death returns immediately to God, 
to give an account of its conduct in the present life. 

'Phis appears to be the plain language of the text, in 
which the return of the body to the dust, and of the soul 
to God, are exhibited as co-existing events. That the 
purpose of its return to God is, that it may give up its 
account, appears sufficiently plain from the parables of 
the talents and the pounds. In these, each of the ser- 
vants is exhibited as summoned to give, and as actually 
giving, his account to his lord concerning his use or 
abuse of the privileges intrusted to him, immediately 
after the close of his stewardship. Nor is there, so far 
as I have observed, anything in the Scriptures which 
is at all inconsistent with this scheme of our future 
destination. 

In this account will be unfolded, alike, the state of 
the thoughts, and that of the external conduct. Of 
course, the soul will be furnished with a power of recol- 
lection, sufficiently capacious to comprehend all that it 
has done, and will be compelled to declare it without 
disguise, enhancement, or evasion. Its secret chambers, 
and all which they contain, or have ever contained, will 
be laid open to its own eye, as well as to that of its 
Maker. In this manner, the motives by which it has 
been governed, and the moral character which it has 
sustained, during its probation, will be so entirely de- 
veloped, as to satisfy even itself, that the investigation 
had been just, as well as complete. 

3. The sentence of God will be pronounced in per- 
fect righteousness on all that it has done. 

To those who have done the will of God, loved his 
character, believed in his Son, and turned away from 
their iniquities, he will say, ' Well done, good and faith- 
ful servants, ye have been faithful over a few things ; I 
will make you rulers over many things ; enter ye into 
the joy of your Lord.' Of those, who have refused or 
neglected to do these things, he will say, ' Take ye the 
unprofitable servants, and cast them into outer dark- 
ness ; there shall be weeping, and gnashing of teeth.' 

4. In consequence of this sentence the soul will im- 
mediately enter upon a state of reward. 

When Lazarus died, he was ' carried by angels to 
Abraham's bosom.' His ' evil things,' or sufferings 
were all terminated ; and he was henceforth ' com- 
forted,' or made happy for ever. When the rich man 
died, ' he lift up his eyes in «3>)j, being in torments; 
and is declared to have received all his good things in 
the present life. 

There has been no small debate among divines, and 
those of great reputation, concerning the places where 
the dead will reside between their departure from this 
world, and the final judgment. This subject demands 
too extensive a consideration to be attempted at the 
present time. It must be acknowledged, that the lan- 
guage of the Scriptures furnishes a foundation for some 
difference of opinion concerning it. Several expres- 
sions, found in both Testaments, seem to indicate an 
intermediate place, as well as an intermediate state of 
existence, between this world, and the final scenes of 
retribution. After a considerable examination of this 
subject, and an examination of several able commenta- 
tors, who have handled it to some extent, I am obliged 
to confess myself not altogether satisfied ; and to say, 
that hitherto I have found difficulties on both sides. I 
know of no method in which they can be removed, ex- 
cept a direct recurrence to every scriptural passage 



864 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



(Ser. cfiXiv. 



Viliich relates to the subject, a thorough consideration of 
each, and an attentive comparison of them all. It is 
undoubtedly true, that the Hebrew 7lKt£>', sheol, and 
the Greek <£§'«, commonly rendered hell, or the grave, 
in our translation, do not properly signify either ; but 
always the world of departed spirits. As these words 
have so extensive a signification, and must be inter- 
preted by every passage of Scripture referring to that 
world, there must be room for considerable difference 
of opinion.* But, whatever may be true concerning an 
intermediate place of existence, there can, I apprehend, 
be no reasonable doubt concerning an intermediate 
state. St Peter says of the angels that sinned, that God 
' cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains' 
of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.' St Jude, 
also, declares them to be ' reserved,' in like manner; 
' unto the judgment of the great day.' From these 
declarations it is manifest, that fallen angels have not 
yet received their final judgment, nor of course their 
final reward. This, indeed, seems evident from the 
phraseology used by St Peter, as well as by the decla- 
rations of both him and St Jude. The word which is 
rendered from St Peter, ' cast them down to hell,'' is in 
the Greek, Ta-Qrec^mx; ; literally rendered, ' cast them 
down to Tartarus.' While this phraseology plainly 
declares a state of punishment; it indicates directly a 
different state from that which is taught by the word 
•yiii/va. ; the appropriate name of hell in the Scriptures. 
After ' the rich man died and was buried,' it is said by 
our Saviour, ' he lift up his eyes in hell, being in tor- 
ments;' in the Greek, sc ra aojj, ' in hades he lift up 
his eyes, being in torments.' This word also denotes, 
with sufficient clearness, a different state of suffering 
from that which is intended by the word yimiia. In the 
same parable, Lazarus is declared to be ' carried by 
angels to Abraham's bosom.' The state in which La- 
zarus was placed, is denoted elsewhere by the wovA pa- 
radise. ' To-day,' said our Saviour to the thief on the 
cross, ' thou shalt be with me in paradise.' But we 
know from our Saviour's own declaration, that when 
he gave up the ghost on the cross, his spirit went, not 
to hell, but to hades, or sheol. For in the sixteenth 
Psalm, he himself says, ' Thou wilt not leave my soul 
in sheol j' rendered both by the Septuagint, and by St 
Peter (quoting this passage, Acts ii. 27, and referring 
to it in verse 31), by hades, the (.reek word, by which 
sheol is always translated both in the Old and New Tes- 
tament. Thus it is, ' Thou wilt not leave my soul in 
hades,' and in verse 31, 'his soul was not left in 
hades.' The thief, therefore, went to the state which 
is denoted by this word ; and not to that which is de- 
noted by heaven, unless this word is supposed to include 
heaven: 

In Heb. xi. 39, 40, St Paul says of the ancient saints, 
* And these all, having obtained a good report through 
faith, received not the promise : God having provided 
some better thing for us, that they without us, should 
not be made perfect.' The promise here denotes, I ap- 
prehend, the good, or reward, promised to faith and 
obedience, in its full extent. This good the ancient 
saints are here declared not to have received in this ex- 
tensive manner : something better being reserved for 
Christians under the gospel, in which they are to share, 
together with those who have gone before them, when 

* See particularly on this subject I'r Campbell's Sixth l 3 relimiuary 
Dissertation, Part ii. and Peters mi Jub. 



they shall be all gathered into the divine kingdom, and 
the state of perfection shall finally arrive. 

In accordance with these observations, Christ informs 
us, that the righteous will possess ' the kingdom, pre- 
pared for them from the foundation of the world ;' and 
the wicked t depart into the everlasting fire (sig to otj 
to uiaviaii) prepared for the devil and his angels,' not 
before but after the general judgment. St John, also, 
in the 20th and 21st chapters of the Apocalypse, teaches 
us, that the wicked will be cast into a lake of fire ; and 
that the state of glory destined for the enjoyment of 
the righteous, and denoted by his vision of the New 
Jerusalem, will commence after the judgment is finish- 
ed. These in both instances are the states of existence 
denoted in scriptural language by the words heaven and 
hell. 

Still, virtuous men, when they leave this world, go 
to a state of enjoyment only ; and impenitent men to a 
state of mere suffering. Lazarus was only comforted, 
after he left this world ; and the rich man was only tor- 
mented. St Paul informs us, that when good men are 
' absent from the body,' they are ' present with the 
Lord.' The favourable presence of Christ will there- 
fore be afforded to all his followers : and he will begin 
to exhibit to them, in a glorious manner, the ' everlast- 
ing kindness,' with which he has had ' mercy on them.' 
When the bodies of mankind are re-united to their spi- 
rits, there can be no doubt that the happiness of the 
righteous, and the misery of the wicked, will be ren- 
dered more complete. But, antecedently to that event, 
both the happiness and the misery will be entire and 
unmingled. The happiness will in no degree be al- 
loyed by suffering : the misery will in no degree be 
lessened by enjoyment. 



1. From these considerations appears, with strong 
evidence, the folly of that excessive attention so com- 
monly rendered to our bodies. 

Not a small proportion of the care, anxiety, and la- 
bour of man is employed upon the body. So far as 
necessity, decency, and comfort demand these exer- 
tions, the demand is certainly reasonable ; and will be 
complied with, when it is in his power, by every wise 
man. But there are certainly limits to this employ- 
ment, fixed by revelation, and seen and acknowledged 
by reason. To take, even in this way, the real ' good 
of all our labour under the sun,' is plainly included in 
that ' portion, which God hath given us' of this labour. 
The allowance is certainly liberal and sufficient. But 
there are anxieties experienced, there are efforts made, 
which are productive of no such good. Common sense 
continually discerns and declares this truth. These 
anxieties and efforts are also immensely numerous, eager, 
and painful. It is necessary to have food ; it is de- 
sirable that that food should be wholesome and pleasant. 
It is necessary to have clothes ; it is desirable that our 
clothes should be convenient and becoming. But there 
may be excessive care to gratify the palate, and to adorn 
the person. I know of no rational objection to that 
mode of life, regularly demanded by common sense, 
which, according- with the character and circumstances 
of an individual, is pronounced by the general sense of 
propriety, to be suited to his station. Yet the whole of 
life is certainly not to be consumed either in pamper- 
ing or adorning the person. Our life is the only pe- 



THE IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH. 



865 



riod of our probation ; and flaring that probation eter- 
nal life J3 to be gained or lost. With such an employ- 
ment on our hands, it is madness to waste this little 
period in providing the means of luxury, to pamper 
our palates and our pride. Would the epicure, while 
feasting his sight, and smell, and taste, on viands, to 
collect which, he has perhaps ransacked both the In- 
dies, remember that he is pampering his body merely 
to make it a more dainty meal for the worms of the 
dust; it is questionable whether the keenness of his 
relish would not be blunted, and his solicitude concern- 
ing ' what he should cat, and what he should drink,' 
exchanged for a more becoming anxiety concerning 
the means by which he might live for ever. Were the 
monarch on his throne, to adorn whom the South has 
yielded up its gold, and the East lavished its gems, to 
recollect, that within a few days he would be wrapped 
in a shroud, and lodged in the grave ; would not all 
these splendours fade upon his eye, and pall upon his 
heart ? Were the beauty, who swims through the 
dance, or sparkles in the drawing-room, with the con- 
scious superiority of her charms, and amid the homage 
of surrounding admirers, to call to mind, that the form 
which, Narcissus-like, she surveyed in the glass with 
rapture, must within a few days be chilled by the icy 
hand of Death, the roses fade from her cheeks, the 
splendour vanish from her eyes, and all her elegance of 
form be dissolved in dust ; must she not be compelled 
to believe, that her vanity was misplaced, and worth- 
less ; and that she squandered life upon objects equally 
undeserving and mischievous ; and that to acquire beauty 
of mind, to become lovely in the sight of God, and to 
merit the esteem of angels throughout eternity, were 
pursuits infinitely more worthy of rational ambition ? 

The manner in which God has exhibited his views 
concerning our bodies is in no measure calculated to 
raise them in our estimation. He formed them out 
of earth. He mnde them so frail, as to be subjected 
to accident, pain, and disease in ten thousand forms. 
At death he returns them to earth again. This is their 
final end. ' Flesh and blood will not inherit the king- 
dom of God.' How can pride, vanity, or ambition 
dwell so fondly on a subject so full of frailty and hu- 
miliation ! 

2. By the same considerations we are taught the folly 
and indecency of pride. 

Pride is a passion cherisbed and fondled in every 
human bosom. Still it is one of the most dangerous 
enemies to our true interests. I have formerly exhi- 
bited it as the commencing sin of man ; the real begin- 
ning of human apostasy. From that time to the pre- 
sent, it has been a prime part of our rebellion against 
God. It is also a principal source of our injurious 
treatment of each other ; mingles with all our love of 
the world, even with our devotion to pleasure ; is un- 
kind, unjust, insincere, impatient of the prosperity of 
others, jealous, hard-hearted, cruel as the grave, arro- 
gating to itself the blessings of mankind and the pre- 
rogatives of God, unbelieving, and obdurate. With 
these things in view, we shall not wonder to find it in 
every degree pernicious to ourselves. ' Pride,' says 
Solomon, ' goeth before destruction, and a haughty 
spirit before a fall.' 

Both the word and works of God furnish innumer- 
able dissuasives from the indulgence of pride ; all of 
Uiein, however, insufficient to overcome this obstinate 



evil. Among them, few are mere happily adapted to 
this end than the truths which have been mentioned on 
the present occasion. When we look around with exul- 
tation on the advantages which we fancy ourselves to 
possess over our fellow men, and let loose the pride of 
wealth, the pride of office, and the pride of influence, 
the pride of taste, and the pride of reputation ; when 
we turn our eyes upon ourselves, with all the do- 
tage exercised by a fond and foolish parent towards 
a favourite child, and becoming inflated with the 
pride of beauty, the pride of talents, or that most 
odious of all pride, which is customarily styled ' self- 
righteousness ;' we can hardly fail of being humbled 
and crest-fallen, if we call to mind the end of all our 
loftiness exhibited in this Discourse. Go to the bury- 
ing ground, and walk over its dark and solemn recesses. 
On whom do you tread ? ' On the mighty man, and 
the man of war, the judge, and the prophet, and the 
prudent and the ancient, the captain of fifty, and the 
honourable man, and the counsellor, and the cunning 
artificer, and the eloquent orator.' What are they 
now ? A mass of dust. What have they been ? The 
food of worms. Is it possible that beings destined to 
this end should be proud ? It is possible. You and I 
are proud, as were once these wretched tenants of the 
grave ; and are destined to the same humble, deplorable 
end. When, therefore, you contemplate with high self- 
complacency the advantages of person which you pos- 
sess, or the endowments of the mind ; when you look 
down from superiority of birth, riches, character, or 
influence on those below you, and your bosoms swell 
with the consciousness of distinction ; remember your 
end, and be proud no more. Remember that your 
gayest attire will soon be exchanged for a winding- 
sheet, and your most splendid habitations for the grave. 

Remember, also, that the pride which you now in- 
dulge will in the future world become to you a source 
of the deepest humiliation. In the grave, the beggar 
and the slave will lie on the same level with you. But 
in the future world, every humble child of Adam will 
become your superior. Unless you renounce your 
pride, and assume the humility of the gospel, the beg- 
gar and the slave, in many instances, will rise to a 
superiority above you, higher than your mind can con- 
ceive ; and look down upon you with a contempt and 
abhorrence which, although you may deserve, you have 
never been able to feel. You in the mean time will 
sink to a depth of degradation which your present 
powers cannot measure ; and will feel yourselves low- 
ered to a double depth by seeing those, whom hitherto 
you have openly despised, elevated to endless dignity 
and glory. When the day shall arrive, ' which shall 
burn like an oven, all the proud shall be stubble ; and 
the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord 
of Hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor 
branch.' 

3. These considerations ought to remind us how near 
the solemn events mentioned in this Discourse are to 
ourselves. 

It is a propensity of human nature to believe, that 
the day of death must be distant, because we wish it to 
be distant. This propensity is continually strength- 
ened, like others, by indulgence; as is also the wish 
for its tardy arrival. In this respect we exactly resem- 
ble those Israeli tish sensualists whose character the 
prophet Amos describes in this remarkable address, 
5 u 



866 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



(Ser. clxv. 



' Ye that put far away the evil day ;' and like those 
who said concerning the prophecies of Ezekiel, ' The 
vision that he seeth is for many days to come ; and he 
prophesieth of the times that are far off.' As this pro- 
pensity is indulged daily, and is checked only by a few 
peculiarly solemn events ; such as our own sicknesses, 
and the deaths of those who are near to us ; as all 
around us exercise the same disposition ; and as the 
subject is so gloomy, as never to be contemplated with- 
out pain, or dismissed without pleasure : most persons 
rarely think of death at all ; and, whenever this unwel- 
come subject intrudes into their minds, either force it 
out with violence, or forget it as speedily as they can. 
Hence so many of mankind, hence so many of us, 
make apparently little or no preparation for this solemn 
event. 

What palpable folly is manifested in this conduct ! 
Death is not the less near to us because we choose to 
think it distant ; nor the less interesting, because we 
disregard it; nor the less awful, because we lull our 
fears of it to sleep. We know that we must die ; we 
know that death will terminate our probation ; and are 
assured, that it will introduce us to the judgment. 
Wisdom therefore demands, common sense demands, 
that we should make effectual preparation for death, by 
preparing ourselves for the judgment. Among the 
means of accomplishing this work, few are so efficacious 
as the solemn, habitual, realizing contemplation of 
these subjects. He who daily revolves in his mind, 
and laboriously brings home to his heart, death and the 
judgment, will scarcely fail of very serious exertions to 
become ready for these affecting scenes. 

Probably not a person who is here present will sur- 
vive seventy years from this day. A great proportion 
will be in the grave, ascend to the judgment, and en- 
ter upon the recompense of reward, within fifty years ; 
not a small number within twenty ; some, in all proba- 
bility, God only knows how many, within ten, five, two, 
or even one. Where then will be our schemes of plea- 
sure, pride, avarice, and ambition ? Where shall we 
ourselves be ? When we open our eyes on the eternal 
world, and mark the incomprehensible vast which is 
before us ; how strong will the reasons appear which 
urged us to prepare ourselves for this amazing exis- 
tence ! How immensely desirable will it seem to enter 
upon boundless being with a complete provision for our 
comfort throughout its interminable ages ; a provision 
which will fill up every passing year with enjoyment, 



and leave an ample supply for the countless multitude 
which are to come ! 

Think, I beseech you to think, how soon the little 
time of life will be gone to you ; with what a rapid 
flight, hours, and days, and years hasten over your 
heads. What is the amount of your past life ? A mo- 
ment What will be the amount of your life which is 
yet to come? Another moment. And then you will 
be summoned to the judgment. 

4. How awful must be the final interview. 

How awful is the character of Him to whose presence 
our souls will be summoned ! From him we derived our 
being. By him we are continued in being. On him 
we are dependent for every blessing and every hope. 
To him we are accountable for all our conduct. Of 
that conduct he has been an eye-witness from the be- 
ginning. He is the God against whom we have sinned; 
who infinitely hates sin ; and who has recorded all our 
transgressions in his book. He is our judge : he is our 
rewarder : his frown is hell : his smile is heaven. 

How amazing is the end for which we shall appear 
at this interview ! It is no other than to settle for ever 
the concerns of the soul. It is to fix our condition 
throughout the ages of immortality. It is to render an 
account of all that we have done in the present life, that 
we may be rewarded according to our works. On this 
account are suspended endless happiness, and endless 
misery. 

How affecting must be the situation of the soul at this 
interview ! It stands in the presence of God, the Judge 
of all, alone ; without a friend to help, without an ad- 
vocate to plead its cause; its all depending; itself to 
be disposed of for ever ! 

Let me solemnly ask this assembly, Are you prepared 
for this awful event ? Is your account ready ? Is it such 
an account as you are willing to give? Is it such a one 
as you believe your Judge will accept? Would you be 
willing to render it this day ? Are you willing to hazard 
your souls upon it — your acceptance — your immortality? 
Or is it an account which will cover you with shame, 
agony, and despair? Have you lived hitherto only to 
do evil, to ' treasure up wrath,' and to enhance your 
ruin ? Is the great work of your life yet to be begun ? 
Will it be still to be begun to-morrow — the next year — 
in old age — on a dying bed ? Has your whole course 
hitherto been directed, shall it through life be directed, 
towards perdition ; and not a single step taken towards 
heaven ? 



SERMON CLXV. 

THE REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH THE RESURRECTION. 



For if the dead rise not, then is not Christ raised. — 1 Cor. xv. 16. 



In the preceding Discourse I considered the immediate 
consequences of death; in this I shall begin an inquiry 
concerning its remoter consequences. The first of these 
•is the resurrection of the body. 

The subject of this chapter is the di/xorxui;, or fu- 



ture existence of man. This word is commonly but often 
erroneously, rendered resurrection. So far as I have 
observed, it usually denotes our existence beyond the 
grave. Its original and literal meaning is, to stand up, 
or to stand again. As standing is the appropriate pos- 



THE RESURRECTION. 



867 



ture of life, consciousness, and activity, and lying down 
the appropriate posture of the dead, the unconscious, and 
the inactive, this word is not unnaturally employed to 
denote the future state of spirits, who are living, con- 
scious, active beings. Many passages of Scripture would 
have been rendered more intelligible, and the thoughts 
contained in them more just and impressive, had this 
word been translated agreeably to its real meaning. 
This observation will be sufficiently illustrated by a re- 
currence to that remarkable passage which contains 
the dispute between our Saviour and the Sadducees, 
Matt. xxii. 23. ' Then came to him,' says the evangelist, 
' the Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection :' 
fi'/j tii/a.i AvauTaatu, that there is no future state, or no 
future existence of mankind. The objection which they 
bring to Christ against the doctrine of a future state, 
is founded upon the Jewish law of marriage, which re- 
quired that a surviving brother should marry the widow 
of a brother deceased. In conformity to this law, they 
declare seven brothers to have married, successively, 
one wife, who survived them all. They then ask, 
' Whose wife shall she be in the resurrection ? — ku ry 
duxaTcwii — in the future state ? They could not suppose 
that she should be any man's wife in the resurrection : 
a momentary event ; and of such a nature as to forbid 
even the supposition, that the relations of the present 
life could be of the least possible importance, or be re- 
garded with the least possible attention, during its tran- 
sitory existence. Our Saviour answers them, ' In the 
resurrection,' or, as it should be rendered, ' In the fu- 
ture state, they neither marry nor are given in mar- 
riage ; but are as the angels of God in heaven. But 
as touching the resurrection of the dead, have ye not 
read that which was spoken unto you by God ;' or, as it 
ought to be rendered, ' Have ye not read that which 
was spoken unto you by God, concerning the future 
existence of those who are dead, saying, I am the God 
of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob ? 
God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.' 
This passage, were we at any loss concerning the mean- 
ing of the word tx.uaara.ai;, determines it beyond a dis- 
pute. The proof that there is an dudaraatg of the dead, 
alleged by our Saviour, is the declaration of God to 
Moses, ' I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of 
Jacob ;' and the irresistible truth, that ' God is not 
the God of the dead, but of the living.' The conse- 
quence, as every one who reads the Bible knows, is, 
that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, were living at the time 
when this declaration was made. Those who die, there- 
fore, live after they are dead, and this future life is the 
duaaratjis, concerning which there was so much debate 
I between the Pharisees and Sadducees, which is proved 
by our Saviour in this passage, and which is universally 
denoted by this term throughout the New Testament. 
Nothing is more evident, than that Abraham, Isaac, 
and Jacob had not risen from the dead ; and that the 
declaration concerning them is therefore no proof of 
the resurrection. But it is certain that they were liv- 
ing beings; and therefore this passage is a complete 
proof that mankind live after death. 

The appropriate Greek word for resurrection is 
lyiQutg, as in Matt, xxvii. 52, 53 ; ' Many bodies of 
the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves 
after his resurrection ;' perx tj)» 'iyiQptv uvrov. 

The otvaaraat; is the thing mentioned as having been 
denied by some of the Corinthian Christians. See 



verse 12th of the context. 'How say some among 
you, that there is no resurrection (no future lift, or 
existence) of the dead?' A person who reads the 
Epistles to the Corinthians with reference to this object, 
will easily perceive that there was at least one heretical 
teacher at the head of the faction in the Corinthian 
church, who refused submission to the authority of the 
apostle. This man seems evidently to have been a 
Jew, and was most probably a Sadducee, as he brought 
over several members of this church to the great Sad- 
ducean error, the denial of a future state. To remove 
this error from that church, and to prevent its existence 
ever afterward, was obviously the design of St Paul in 
writing this chapter. Accordingly, he shows its absurd- 
ity in tbe most triumphant manner, in the first thirty- 
four verses; and with equal success, elucidates and 
proves the contrary doctrine. In the remainder of the 
discourse, he dwells extensively on the nature of *he 
body with which those who are dead will be invested at 
the final day ; declares the change which those who are 
living at that time will experience, and concludes with 
a song of triumph over death and hades, and a solemn 
exhortation to Christians steadfastly to abound in the 
service of God. 

I have remarked, that the doctrine denied by some 
of the Corinthian Christians was, strictly speaking, that 
of a future existence in another world. As this exist- 
ence will in fact be connected with the future existence 
of the body, and therefore with the resurrection, pro- 
perly so called, St Paul, in order to remove the objec- 
tions of such as opposed it, and the difficulties and 
doubts of others, and to disclose the truth concerning 
this interesting subject, has entered into an extensive 
discussion concerning tbe resurrection. The future 
existence of the soul will in fact be connected with the 
future existence of the body ; to give a just and com- 
prehensive view of the former of these subjects, it was 
necessary therefore to enter into a particular consider- 
ation of the latter. Accordingly, St Paul commences 
his examination of it in the thirty-fifth verse, by put- 
ting an objection against a future state into the mouth of 
an opponent, derived from apprehended difficulties con- 
cerning the future existence of the body. The objec- 
tion is indeed without weight ; as it is merely an expres- 
sion of the objector's ignorance concerning the subject, 
and his inability to imagine what kind of body, or by 
what means any body, can be united to the soul in the 
future world. Still, it is the objection which probably 
rises sooner, and in more minds, against the doctrine, 
than any other which can be alleged. It was there- 
fore suggested by St Paul with the utmost propriety. 

In considering this objection the apostle not only re- 
moves it, but unfolds also many truths concerning it, of 
the most edifying and glorious nature. Indeed, this 
chapter is one of the first specimens of that expansion 
and sublimity of intellect for which St Paul is distin- 
guished above every other writer. Nothing in heathen 
antiquity can be found among poets, orators, or philo- 
sophers, which in loftiness of conception, or extensive- 
ness of views, deserves to be named in comparison with 
this discourse: From the very proposition of the sub- 
ject, the writer begins to ascend; and with an eagle 
wing rises higher and higher ; throughout all his pro- 
gress, until he lifts himself, and elevates the mind of 
his reader, to the heavens. 

In the text the resurrection of the body is asserted 



868 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxv. 



and proved. The proof alleged is the resurrection of 
Christ ; and the argument may be advantageously ex- 
hibited in the following manner. Christ predicted his 
own resurrection, and actually rose in the manner pre- 
dicted. He has thus proved both his power to do every 
thing, and his veracity in all his declarations. But he 
has declared that he will raise up at the last day all that 
are in their graves. Thus his own resurrection is a 
complete proof of the general resurrection of mankind. 

This doctrine has, in one manner and another, been 
opposed by various sorts of men, in most ages of the 
world. The Sadducees denied all future existence to 
man. The Athenian philosophers, when Paul preached 
to them Jesus and the d'ja.aza.aig, said, ' What will this 
babbler (this scatterer of words) say ?' In modern 
times, infidels extensively have denied the future exist- 
ence of both soul and body ; and there have not been 
wanting those who, professing themselves to be Chris- 
tians, have entertained unwarrantable opinions, and 
found many difficulties relative to this subject. This 
opposition, and these difficulties, seem, however, notto 
be suggested by the intellect, but to spring from the 
imagination. When we begin to think concerning the- 
separate existence of the soul, we naturally follow our 
customary course of thought concerning intelligent 
beings. All these with whom we directly correspond 
are embodied, and therefore obvious to our senses. We 
are taught, that souls in a separate state of existence 
are unembodied, and therefore unsusceptible of form, 
and visible appearance. Of their places of residence, 
modes of existence, modes of communication, pursuits, 
enjoyments, and sufferings, we know almost nothing. 
This chasm in our knowledge we endeavour to fill up 
by the aid of imagination ; and proceed, almost of 
course, to form images of such spirits in the world in 
which they dwell, and of the manner in which they exist, 
communicate, are busied, enjoy, and suffer. With re- 
spect to all these things, however, we find our imagi- 
nation, after its utmost efforts, unable to satisfy even 
itself, and much more unable to satisfy the understand- 
ing. The world which we thus form, its inhabitants, 
and their circumstances, are never such as that we can 
realize their actual existence. Hence we give them up 
as unreal and visionary ; and by a transition exceed- 
ingly common, although usually unobserved, we con- 
sider the decision, made merely by our fancy, as made 
in fact by our understanding. Against this decision 
arguments are often urged in vain. We may be, we 
usually are, unable to refute such as are advanced in 
opposition to it ; but, finding ourselves unable to con- 
ceive in our imagination the state of things urged upon 
our belief, we hesitate concerning it, and then doubt, 
and perhaps ultimately deny, its existence. 

That this is a just account of the real state of many 
minds with respect to this subject, I fully believe, from 
observations which have been actually made to myself; 
and beg leave to add, that this is far from being the 
only case in which the imagination is suffered to con- 
trol the dictates of the understanding. Not only in 
those familiar instances, where the mind receives strong 
impressions from the operations of this faculty, is the 
intellect induced to admit that which is unsupported by 
evidence ; but in numerous others also it is equally in- 
fluenced, and inclined to refuse its faith to positions 
abundantly evinced merely because it cannot imagine 
the manner in which objects involved in those truths 



can exist. In this way its views concerning subjects 
pertaining to the future world often receive a very un- 
happy bias. 

Another source of perplexity with regard to the doc- 
trine of the resurrection, has been the question, whe- 
ther the same body will be raised ? A question exten- 
sively agitated, with no small ardour and anxiety. All 
the difficulties which attend this subject are derived, as 
it appears to me, either from extending our philosophi- 
cal inquiries beyond the power of the understanding to 
answer them, as is sometimes done, or from neglecting 
to settle what. we intend by sameness. If the question 
intends, whether the same atoms which have composed 
our bodies in the present world, will constitute the 
body raised at the final day, both reason and revelation 
answer it in the negative. The whole number of par- 
ticles which have, at different times, constituted the 
body of a man, during his progress through life, will 
undoubtedly be sufficient to constitute many such bo- 
dies. St Paul also observes to the objector, in answer 
to this very question, ' Thou fool ; that which thou 
sowest is not quickened, except it die ; and that which 
thou sowest, thou sowest not that body which shall be, 
but bare grain : it may chance of wheat, or of some 
other grain ; but God giveth it a body, as it hath pleased 
him. So also is the resurrection of the dead.' And 
again, ' Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood 
cannot inherit the kingdom of God.' This scheme of 
thought he pursues, from the thirty-fourth verse, 
throughout most of the chapter. 

If the same constitution, arrangement, and qualities 
of the body, be intended by the question ; it is equally 
evident that the same body will not be raised. This is 
decisively taught us in the last quoted declaration, and 
in the passage immediately following: 'Flesh and 
blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth 
corruption inherit incorruption.' It is also clearly 
shown by the general tenor of the reasoning contained 
in the whole passage. Reason too decides with abso- 
lute certainty, that a constitution which involves in its 
nature decay and termination, cannot belong to a body 
destined for the residence of an immortal and ever vi- 
gorous mind. 

Should it be asked, Whether some of the same par- 
ticles which are found in our earthly bodies, will not 
be transferred to those which will be formed at the re- 
surrection ; I answer, that this point has not been deter- 
mined in the Scriptures, and that the determination of 
it lies beyond the reach of philosophy. Let me add, 
that the question itself is perfectly nugatory. 

That the body will be the same in such a sense as to 
be known, appears sufficiently evident from the Scrip- 
tures. Even departed spirits in their intermediate 
state appear plainly to be exhibited in the gospel as 
known to each other. Our Saviour informs us, that 
' many shall come from the east, and from the west, 
and shall sit down in the kingdom of God, with Abra- 
ham, and Isaac, and Jacob.' In order to a complete 
fulfilment of the intention of this promise, it seems ne- 
cessary that the persons here spoken of should know 
these patriarchs. Lazarus, Abraham, and the rich man, 
are all exhibited in the parable as known to each other. 
Moses and Elias also were known by the disciples, on 
the mount of transfiguration, to be Moses and Elias ; 
one of them an embodied, the other an unembodied, 
spirit. From these facts it is, I think, sufficiently evi- 



THE RESURRECTION. 



869 



dent, that mankind will know each other in the future 
world, and that their bodies will so far be the same, as 
to become the means of this knowledge. 

Against the resurrection itself there is no presump- 
tion, and in favour of it a strong one, from analogy. 
Many works of God naturally and strongly dispose the 
mind to admit the doctrine without hesitation. In this 
climate almost the whole vegetable world dies annually 
under the chilling influence of winter. At the return 
of spring the face of nature is renewed ; and all the 
plants, shrubs, and trees with which it is adorned are 
again clothed with verdure, life, and beauty. 

In the insect creation we find a direct and striking 
example of the resurrection itself. Animals of this 
class begin their existence in the form of worms. Af- 
ter continuing some time in the humble state of being 
to which they are necessarily confined by their struc- 
ture, they die, and are gone. In the moment of death 
they construct for themselves a species of shell, or tomb, 
in which they may with the strictest propriety be said 
to be buried. Here they are dissolved into a mass of 
semi-transparent water, the whole which remains of the 
previously existing animal, exhibiting to the eye no 
trace of life, and no promise of a future revival. When 
the term of its burial approaches to a period, the tomb 
discloses, and a winged animal comes forth in a nobler 
form, often exquisitely beautiful, brilliant with the gay- 
est splendour, possessed of new and superior powers, 
and destined to a more refined and more exalted life. 
Its food is now the honey of flowers, its field of being, 
the atmosphere. Here.it expatiates at large in the de- 
lightful exercise of its faculties, and in the high enjoy- 
ment of those sunbeams which were the immediate 
means of its newly acquired existence. 

Could there be a rational, or even a specious, doubt 
concerning the power of God, and his sufficiency to 
raise the body from the grave, this change in the world 
of insects accomplished before our eyes, and for these 
animals, not less extraordinary than that which we are 
contemplating is for man, puts an end to every such 
doubt, and places the possibility of this event beyond 
debate. In truth this change is nothing less than a 
glorious type of the resurrection. 

Whatever sameness may attend the body at the re- 
surrection, it is clear from the Scriptures that, in many 
important particulars, it will be greatly changed ; so 
much changed, as to wear in various respects an entirely 
new character. These I shall now proceed to mention. 

1. The body will be raised incorruptible. 

' It is sown,' says St Paul, ' in corruption ; it is raised 
in incorruption.' 

One of the most striking characteristics of the human 
body in its present state, is its universal tendency to 
decay. This tendency appears, and often fatally, in 
its earliest existence, and at every succeeding stage of 
its progress. It is, however, most visible and affecting 
after it has passed the middle point of life. Then 
decay arrests it in many forms, and with irresistible 
power; then the limbs gradually stiffen, the faculties 
lose their vigour, the strength declines, the face becomes 
overspread with wrinkles, and the head with the locks 
of age. Health, at the same time, recedes by degrees, 
even from the firmest constitution : pains multiply, 
feebleness and languor lay hold on the whole system, 
and death at length seizes the frame as his prey, and 
changes it to corruption and to dust. 



A mighty and glorious difference will be made in 
our nature, when the body revives beyond the grave. 
All the evils and accidents which befall it in the present 
world will then have lost their power. Hunger, thirst, 
weakness, declension, death, and corruption are bound- 
ed by the tomb. Those who rise to the resurrection of 
life, ' will hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; 
neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.' 
Firm, enduring, unassailable by distress, and proof 
against the undermining progress of years, they will, 
' like gold tried in the fire, remain bright and inde- 
structible through the endless succession of ages. 

2. The body will be raised immortal. 

' When this corruptible,' says St Paul, ' shall have 
put on incorruption, and this mortal immortality.' 

Incorruption and immortality are attributes so near- 
ly allied, as not easily to be separated in our discus- 
sions. Still they are only kindred attributes, not the 
same. An incorruptible body, although it cannot per- 
ish by decay and dissolution, may yet be annihilated. 
An immortal body will know no end, either from its 
own weakness, or from external power. Such God 
has been pleased to constitute the bodies of his children 
beyond the grave. Death to them shall be no more. 
In defiance of time, and superior to injury, the body 
will ' live with him for ever and ever.' 

3. The body will be raised in power. 

' It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power,' ver. 
43. 

In the future world the righteous ' serve God day 
and night in his temple,' Rev. vii. 15 : that is, they 
serve him without cessation or rest ; and need, of 
course, faculties fitted for the performance of these 
services ; faculties, whose vigour the magnitude of no 
duty shall overcome, and no continuance of action 
fatigue, or impair. Originally destined for an exis- 
tence of this nature, the powers of the body will corres- 
pond with the activity of the mind ; and will sustain 
without injury, defect, or decay, and will accomplish 
with enjoyment growing out of its exertions, every 
labour which it is required to undergo. Instead of 
being exhausted or weakened, it seems evident from 
the Scriptures, that its strength, as well as its other at- 
tributes, will, like those of the mind, advance towards 
a higher and higher perfection throughout the ages of 
eternity. 

4. The body will, at the resurrection, be endued with 
great activity. 

In Luke xx. 36, our Saviour declares that the right- 
eous will in the a-uauTxaig, or future state of existence, 
be laccyyihat ; literally, ' equal to the angels;' but per- 
haps intended here to denote, ' like the angels;' that 
is, possessing in a near and kindred degree the attri- 
butes which they possess. Accordingly, in the fourth 
chapter of the Apocalypse, we are taught that the four- 
and-twenty elders, the representatives of the ancient 
and modern churches, are placed round about the 
throne, together with the four living ones, the repre- 
sentatives of the angelic host. The resemblance here 
exhibited is such as strongly to exemplify this declara- 
tion of Christ. Their station is substantially the same ; 
their employments are the same. 

The activity of angels is disclosed to us by the Scrip- 
tures in many passages, and in language of the greatest 
force. The ninth chapter of Daniel particularly con- 
tains, as I observed in the first Discourse concerning 



870 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxv. 



these glorious intelligences, a remarkable illustration 
of this subject. Here we are told, that Gabriel receiv- 
ed a command in heaven, while Daniel was employed 
in prayer, to interpret his vision ; and that, • being 
caused to fly swiftly, he touched Daniel about the time 
of the evening oblation.' The activity here declared is 
plainly superior both to conception and calculation ; 
and exceeds that of the sunbeams beyond any propor- 
tion perceptible by our minds. Similar to this repre- 
sentation will be the activity of the righteous in the fu- 
ture world. 

To recur to the illustration adopted in the former 
part of this Discourse. We are now, as we are styled 
in the Scriptures, worms of the dust ; slowly and hum- 
bly creeping upon the earth, appointed for our habita- 
tion. With these reptiles we die, and are lost in the 
tomb. Like them also we shall revive to a new and 
nobler existence ; and wander freely at our pleasure, 
through regions shut to us hitherto by an immovable 
law of our nature, and to our apprehension existing only 
in argument or fancy. 

To act is the end of all rational existence, and to act 
at pleasure the necessary concomitant of happy exis- 
tence. Like Moses and Elias, if we obtain a part in 
the first resurrection, we may hereafter visit distant 
worlds, with incomparably more ease than we can now 
pass from one continent to another; and find the oceans 
of space by which they are separated merely means of 
illustrating our activity, and furnishing delightful oppor- 
tunities of expatiating at our pleasure. 

5. As all these attributes, united, are a complete es- 
tablishment of' endless youth ; the body at the resurrec- 
tion will of course be invested with this delightful cha- 
racteristic. 

On this subject it will be unnecessary to , after 

what has been already said. I shall only observe, that 
the angels who appeared to Mary and the apostles, after 
the resurrection of Christ, were, although created many 
thousand years before, still young ; and were regarded 
by them, at first, as being young men. On them dura- 
tion makes in this respect no impression. Ages roll 
their years away, and leave them, as they found them, 
in the blossom of youth, which shall begin for ever. 
Such is the character of all the children of God beyond 
the grave. 

6. The body will at the resurrection be arrayed in 
glory and beauty. 

' It is sown in dishonour,* says St Paul, ' it is raised 
in glory,' verse 43. * Who shall change our vile body,' 
says the same apostle, ' and fashion it like unto his glo- 
rious body, according to the working whereby he is 
able even to subdue all things unto himself.' In stricter 
language, ' who shall fashion anew the body of our 
humiliation, that it may become of the like form with 
his glorious body, according to the energy, whereby he 
is able also to subdue all things unto himself.' 

On the mount of transfiguration, Christ appeared to 
Peter, James, and John, in his glorious body ; then 
as we are told by the evangelists, ' his face did shine 
as the sun, and his raiment became white and glister- 
ing.' In Rev. i. 9, we have a more ample exhibition of 
the same illustrious object ; in some respects emblema- 
tical, but in all sublime and glorious beyond a parallel. 
' And being turned, I saw seven golden candlesticks, 
and in the midst of the golden candlesticks one like 
unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to 



the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle. 
His head and his hair were white like wool, as white 
as snow ; and his eyes were as a flame of fire. And his 
feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace. 
And his voice as the sound of many waters. And he 
had in his right hand seven stars : and out of his mouth 
went a sharp two-edged sword. And his countenance 
was as the sun shineth in his strength.' Of the supreme 
splendour of this appearance how high must our con- 
ceptions rise, when we hear the apostle subjoin, ' And 
when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead.' In tin's 
wonderful change, St Paul observes, there shall be a 
display of ' energy,' that is, of power and skill, like that 
by which he ' subdues all things unto himself.' What 
a transformation must that be, which this poor frail, 
perishable body will experience, when the full import 
of this prediction shall be accomplished ! How exceed- 
ingly is such a change to be coveted by beings like our- 
selves ; subject as we are to pain and disease, decay and 
death ! 

7. The body raised will be a spiritual body. 

' It is sown,' says St Paul, ' a natural (or animal) 
body, it is raised a spiritual body : there is a natural 
(or animal) body : there is a spiritual body.' 

By an animal body, is intended, as you well know, 
the present body of man ; depending for its continu- 
ance upon the principle of animal life, the subject of 
innumerable frailties, and making a regular progress 
to dissolution. 

Of a spiritual body, it is not, perhaps, in our power 
to form an adequate conception. Some of the ancient 
fathers supposed it to be a body which, having no need 
of the animal functions, was preserved in life by the 
mere inhabitation of the mind. This opinion, I pre- 
sume, they derive from the phrase only, and not from 
any scriptural declaration. 

In the view of St Paul this subject was plainly of high 
importance, for he insists on it in a fervent and sublime 
strain in several of the following verses. After declar- 
ing that there is a spiritual body, as well as an animal 
one, he illustrates the declaration by observing, that 
' the first Adam was made a living soul, the last a 
quickening spirit : that the first was of the earth, 
earthy ; the second, the Lord from heaven ; that they 
who are earthy, are like the earthy Adam, and they 
who are heavenly, like the heavenly Adam ; and that, 
as we have borne the image of the earthy, so we shall 
bear the image of the heavenly.' He then declares that 
' flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.' 
Hence he observes, that ' those who are alive ' at the 
sounding of the last trumpet must necessarily undergo 
a change of the same nature with that which the dead 
will experience, and which he has described in the pre- 
ceding part of the chapter. From these observations it 
may, I think, be asserted, without danger of error, 

(1.) That the body raised will not be composed of 
flesh and blood, 

(2.) That it will in its nature possess powers of life, 
totally superior to those which we now possess ; being 
destined to resemble in this respect ' the quickening 
spirit,' whose image it will bear. 

(3.) That none of its organs will prove temptations 
to sin as in the present world ; but all of them aids to 
holiness: this circumstance being often, in the Scrip- 
tures, the professed distinction between that which is 
natural or animal, and that which is spiritual. 



THE RESURRECTION. 



871 



(4.) That its organs of perception, and of enjoyment 
also, will possess a far higher and nobler nature than 
those with which we are now furnished. Like Moses 
and Elias, the glorified man may be able, without dan- 
ger of mistake, to direct his way from the highest 
heavens to the distant regions of the universe. 

(5.) That, generally, the attributes of the body will 
so resemble those of the mind, as to render the epithet, 
spiritual, the proper description of its nature. Like 
the mind, it may, not without probability, contain in- 
herently the principles of life, and the seeds of immor- 
tality. 



1. In this account of the resurrection we have one 
specimen of the consistency exhibited in the gospel be- 
tween different parts of the Christian system. 

The gospel everywhere discloses to us illustrious 
things concerning the future happiness and glory of the 
mind ; and at the same time teaches us, that it will be 
re-united to the body in the future world. The least 
reflection will convince us, that such bodies as we now 
possess must be very unsuitable mansions for minds 
destined to be thus glorious and happy. The mind is 
prepared to dwell in a palace. Such a body as ours 
could only become its prison. The uncouthness, the 
deformity suggested when only so much of the scheme 
is brought before our eyes, is here delightfully done 
away. Here we learn, that the body shall be fitted to 
become the habitation of a sanctified and immortal 
mind, and prove to it a most useful and delightful com- 
panion throughout eternity. Here we learn, that the 
body will be suited to all the perceptions, labours, 
enjoyments, and glories of the mind; and that the 
mind, in the possession of this residence, will become 
greater, more useful, and more happy. Thus this part 
of the system is exactly proportioned to the rest, and 
strongly illustrative of the wisdom and goodness of its 
Author. 

2. The doctrine of the resurrection is a doctrine of 
revelation only. 

Of this doctrine not a trace can be found in all the 
investigations of philosophy. Paul when declaring it 
to the Athenian philosophers, was pronounced by them 
to be a babbler. It was, therefore, a doctrine unknown 
and unheard-of within the purlieus of their science. No 
philosopher, to that time, had been so fortunate as to 
light upon it by accident, nor so ingenious as to derive 
it from reason. Iiideed, it must be acknowledged to lie 
beyond the reach of reason ; and, in its very nature, to 
be hidden from the most scrutinizing human inquiry. 
The resurrection itself is an event depending absolutely 
on the will as well as on the power of God ; and what 
he will choose to do with respect to this subject, no be- 
ing but himself can determine. 

Yet no doctrine devised by philosophy concerning 
man is so sublime, so delightful, or so fitted to furnish 
consolation and hope to beings whose life in this world 
is a moment, and whose end is the grave. To this dark 
and desolate habitation, man, by the twilight of nature, 
looks forward in despair, as his final home. All who 
have gone before him have pointed their feet to its 
silent chambers, and not one of them returned, to an- 
nounce that an opening has been discovered from their 
dreary residence, to some other more lightsome and 
more desirable region,, His own feet daily tread the 



same melancholy path. As he draws nigh he surveys 
its prison walls, and sees them unassailable by force, 
and insurmountable by skill. No lamp illumines the 
midnight within. No crevice opens to the eye a glimpse 
of the regions which lie beyond. In absolute despair 
he calls upon philosophy to cheer his drooping mind ; 
but he calls in vain. She has no consolations for herself; 
and can, therefore, administer none to him. ' Here,' 
she coldly and sullenly cries, ' is the end of man. From 
nothing he sprang : to nothing he returns. All that 
remains of him is the dust, which here mingles with its 
native earth.' 

At this sullen moment of despair, revelation ap- 
proaches, and with a command at once awful and de- 
lightful, exclaims, ' Lazarus, come forth !' In a moment 
the earth heaves, the tomb discloses, and a form, bright 
as the sun, and arrayed in immortality, rises from the 
earth ; and, stretching its wings towards heaven, loses 
itself from the astonished sight. 

3. These considerations teach us, to entertain the 
highest apprehensions concerning the future glory of 
the mind. 

Of how little value, even in our own view, are these 
earthly, frail, perishable bodies ! Yet what great and 
delightful things are to be done for them at the resur- 
rection. What, then, must we suppose will be the future 
allotments of the mind, in its nature imperishable and 
eternal. The future glory of the body, as revealed in 
the Scriptures, outruns all the efforts of the human 
imagination. How ' exceeding abundantly above all 
that we are able to ask, or think,' will the mind be ex- 
alted, adorned, and enraptured, by him, whose glory 
and delight it is to bless, and who has already enstam- 
ped it with his own image, loveliness, and beauty. 

4. We learn from these considerations, the true way 
of providing for the welfare of our bodies. 

The human frame is here shown to possess an incal- 
culable value, in the distinction to which it is entitled 
beyond the grave. If, therefore, we love our bodies, 
and desire to preserve and cherish them, we shall with 
the most effectual care secure their revival to all that 
distinction, and the happiness with which it is connect- 
ed. This is to be accomplished, not by adorning and 
pampering them here, in obedience to the calls of pride 
and luxury ; but by seeking effectually the immortal 
life of those minds by which they are inhabited. The 
body necessarily follows the destination of the mind. 
He, therefore, who gains a title to endless life, makes 
complete provision for the welfare of the whole man. 
In the Christian system all good is united ; our duty 
and our interest, the well-being of the soul and that of 
the body, the blessings of time, and those of eternity. 
He, therefore, who neglects the life of the soul, casts 
away his present good ; he who refuses to do his duty, 
squanders his all. 



872 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser, clxvi. 



SERMON CLXVI. 



THE REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 



But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night. — 2 Peter iii. 10. 




In the three preceding Discourses I have considered 
death ; its immediate consequences ; and the first of its 
remoter consequences; to wit, the resurrection. I shall 
now proceed to the consideration of another of these 
consequences ; to wit, the General Judgment. 

The day consecrated to this great transaction is in 
the text styled • the day of the Lord.' The Christian 
sabbath is, in the cxviiith Psalm, said to be ' the day 
which the Lord hath made ;' and is called in the first 
chapter of the Apocalypse, ' the Lord's day.' On that 
day Christ arose from the dead, finished the work of 
redemption, and ' rested from his labours, as God did 
from his.' In honour of this wonderful event, Christ 
consecrated the first day of the week for ever to him- 
self, as a season of public religious worship to all the 
nations of men. On this day, he has ever been parti- 
cularly present with all his followers, and ' commanded 
the blessing ' to descend upon Zion, ' even life for 
evermore.' 

But the day mentioned in the text is his day, in a 
still higher and more solemn sense. It is selected 
from all the days of time, as the sabbath from those of 
the week. 

It is the final day ; the period of this earthly sys- 
tem ; the dying day of this great world ; on which its 
last groans will be heard, its knell sounded through 
the universe, and its obsequies celebrated with most 
awful pomp, and supreme as well as melancholy gran- 
deur. 

It is the day of universal judgment; on which the 
personal concerns of angels and of men will be brought 
to the last trial, before the Judge of the quick and dead, 
and irreversibly settled for eternity. 

It is the day in which the mystery will be finished. 
All the wonderful and perplexing events of providence 
towards this world, will at this time be explained to the 
full conviction of the assembled universe : so that God 
will appear 'just when he judges, and clear when he 
condemns.' The secrets of the human heart, the mazes 
of providence, and the wonders of the divine cha- 
racter, displayed in these events, will be unfolded in 
such a manner, as to stop every mouth, and murmur, 
for ever. 

It is the day on which the catastrophe of this earthly 
system will arrive. The plot, immensely great and 
wonderful, comprising innumerable important scenes 
and an endless variety of actors, will now be unx-avelled. 
The theatre is a world ; the duration of the action is 
time-; the actors are all the millions of the race of 
Adam; the subject is redemption; the hero is the Mes- 
siah ; the end is the final triumph of virtue, and the irre- 
vocable overthrow of sin. The catastrophe on this day 
will be completed and disclosed ; and all the efforts, 



windings, and intricacies, find their termination. ' It 
is done,' will be proclaimed by the divine herald to the 
universe, and the curtain will be drawn for ever. 

It is the day on which Christ will be glorified. In 
this world he appeared as a man, humbled, persecuted, 
suffering, dying, nailed to the cross, and buried in the 
grave. Now he will descend from heaven ' with the 
glory of his Father ;' and ' will come to be admired by 
all them that believe,' with wonder and reverence inex- 
pressible. No more the babe of Bethlehem ; no more 
a prisoner before a human judge ; no more an expiring 
victim on the cross; no more a lifeless corpse in the 
sepulchre : he will sit upon the throne of the universe 
invested with the sceptre of infinite dominion. He will 
judge both angels and men, dispose of all nations at 
his pleasure, and open and shut both heaven and hell. 
Eternity to all beings will now be suspended on his 
nod; and life and death, which will know no end, will 
be conveyed by his voice. All beings will be ' as no- 
thing before him ;' and will be justly ' counted unto 
him as less than nothing and vanity.' He will speak, 
and it will be done ; he will command, and it will stand 
for ever. 

On this day he will glorify his justice in the sight of 
the universe. He will show, beyond denial, to the con- 
sciences of impenitent beings, that their ruin was de- 
rived from themselves ; that their sin is just as evil 
and odious, as he has declared it to be in the Scriptures ; 
and that it is equitably ' punished with everlasting de- 
struction from his presence, and the glory of his power.' 

On this day he will glorify his kindness in the deli- 
verance of all his followers from guilt and perdition. 
His compassion to this ruined world, his overflowing 
mercy to them, who believed in him, chose him as their 
Saviour, and obeyed his voice, will now be manifested 
with supreme and eternal splendour. The universe 
will perceive that he chose them as his own, with per- 
fect propriety ; while they with astonishment and rap- 
ture will remember ' the love with which he loved them, 
and gave himself for them,' the tenderness with which 
he preserved them from temptations and enemies, the 
affection with which he still bears them on his heart, 
and the divine promises which, while they lived in the 
present world, conveyed to them immortal life, and are 
now to be fulfilled in a manner which no eye hath seen, 
and no mind conceived. 

On this day he will glorify his omniscience. He will 
show that from the beginning he hath ' searched th» 
hearts, and tried the reins, of all the children of men.' 
The sins which they have committed, the virtues which 
they have exercised, the motives by which they have 
been governed, and the rewards which will constitute 
an equitable retribution for their various conduct, he 



THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 



873 



will ' set in the light of his countenance,' as objects in- 
tended to be clearly seen are by ourselves placed in the 
sun-beams. It will then appear, that he ' knew all his 
works from the beginning ;' and is that ocean of know- 
ledge whence innumerable streams have flowed, and 
will for ever flow, to his intelligent creatures. 

On this day he will glorify his immutability. Now 
he will clearly discover, that he is ' Jesus Christ, the 
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' Truth, the mo- 
ral immutability of his character, will be found to have 
been the only language of his word ; of his law, his 
promises, and his threatening^ ; of the system of re- 
demption, and of the terms on which it is proffered to 
man. Of course, the universe will distinctly see how 
wisely his followers, have trusted in him, and how fool- 
ishly sinners have refused to believe his declarations. 

Finally : On this day he will glorify his power. The 
most awful and convincing evidence will be furnished, 
that he ' has the keys of death, and of hades.' Heaven 
at his command will open all its infinite blessings to 
the eternal enjoyment of his children, and the doors of 
hell at his bidding will close on its guilty and misera- 
ble inhabitants. ' None will be able to stay his hand,' 
or dare to ' say unto him, What doest thou ?' ' From 
his face the heavens and the earth will flee away ; and 
at his word, ' new heavens and a new earth, wherein 
righteousness shall dwell ' for ever, will spring up in 
their stead. 

This awful day ' will come as a thief in the night.' 
A thief comes in the hour of peace and security, when 
the house is defenceless, and the family buried in sleep. 
The first noise of his arrival is the sound of his break- 
ing up, or the noise of his ravages. He comes also un- 
expectedly ; he comes only to invade, distress, and de- 
stroy. In this unexpected and dreadful manner will 
the day of the Lord come. 

Mankind, according to the representations of St 
John, will, at the period which precedes the final judg- 
ment, be sunk in degeneracy and pollution. The glo- 
rious effects of the millennium will have ceased ; and 
the world returned to a degeneracy like that which ex- 
isted immediately before the deluge. ' The lust of the 
flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life,' will 
have regained their full dominion over the human race, 
and religion prepared her final flight to her native heaven. 
Strong in their numbers, their power, and their pride, 
sunk in sense and profligacy, and burning with intense 
hatred to God and his children, the nations ' who are 
in the four quarters of the earth, Gog and Magog,' will 
be ' gathered together to battle ' against the Christians 
remaining in the world ; will ' go up on the breadth of 
the earth ; and compass the camp of the saints about, 
and the beloved city.' Exulting in the fullest confi- 
dence of their final extinction, this army of ' scofFei's' 
will exclaim with triumphant insolence, ' Where is the 
promise of his coming? For, since the fathers fell 
asleep, all things continue as they were from the begin- 
ning of the creation.' In this night of stupidity and 
sin, this season of spiritual slumber, the final day will 
arrive. In a moment it will burst en the astonished 
world, break the last sleep with alarm and terror, and 
strip guilty men of all their beloved enjoyments, and 
all their fond hopes of future good. 

The ancient Christians believed that»the declaration 
in the text would be literally accomplished. Nor is 
there any proof, that their interpretation was erroneous. 



There is no improbability, that the sun, which hid its 
face at the crucifixion of the Redeemer, will again re- 
tire from this stupendous scene ; or that the moon and 
stars will ' withdraw their shining,' and leave the world 
in deep and melancholy darkness. In this case, the 
morning of the great day will be ushered in, not by the 
cheerful twilight spread over the mountains, but the 
awful approach of that intense splendour, surrounded 
by which the Son of God will descend. A new and 
terrible light will appear in mid-heaven ; and, advanc- 
ing towards the earth, will diffuse such a morning over 
all its regions, as the universe has never beheld, and 
will never behold again. 

At this momentous period, the trumpet of God will 
sound, as it once sounded when the same glorious Per- 
son descended upon Mount Sinai ; while all the people 
who were in the camp trembled. At this renewed sound, 
all nations will tremble, and the earth quake to its ut- 
most shores. 

At the same period, the archangel will call to the 
dead, and awaken them from the long sleep in which 
they have been buried. The earth and the ocean ' will 
give up the dead which are in them.' The regions of 
death, and the world of departed spirits, ' will give up 
the dead which are in them.' Every grave will open, 
its dust be reanimated, and living forms be seen rising 
from its dark chambers, over all the surface of the globe. 
Those who are still alive, will also undergo, substan- 
tially, the same great change which has been before un- 
dergone by those who have been dead; and both will 
be invested with bodies incorruptible, and immortal. 
The globe will be repeopled in a moment; and the 
whole family of Adam, with their progenitor at their 
head, will stand up together. 

This vast assembly will be divided into two great 
classes ; the righteous, and the wicked. The former 
will ' rise to the resurrection of life ; and the latter will 
' rise to the resurrection of damnation.' The righteous 
will ' lift up their heads with exultation and transport, 
and ' behold their redemption drawing nigh.' Their 
fears will now be ended, their dangers overcome, their 
enemies subdued, their sins washed away, and their re- 
ward be ready to begin its eternal progress. The wick- 
ed, on the contrary, will rise with full conviction, that 
' in their lifetime they had received all their good 
things.' Time, the world, the gratifications of pride, 
avarice, and sensuality, the combinations of evil men, 
the courage and strength which they have derived from 
their numbers, their contempt, hatred, and persecution 
of good men, and all the bright prospects which they 
have cherished of success in sin, have retired behind 
thein to return no more. The day of enjoyment and 
hope is past for ever. The day of retribution is come. 
The Lord of all things, whom they have so often and 
so obstinately disbelieved, despised, and crucified afresh, 
is now approaching ' to take vengeance on all them who 
in this world knew not God, and obeyed not the gospel 
of his Son.' With supreme dismay and anguish ' they 
will call to the rocks and mountains to fall on them, 
and hide them from the wrath of the Lamb.' 

This divine Person will now be seen descending from 
heaven, ' in the glory of his Father,' in his own pecu- 
liar glory ' and with all his holy angels.' The She- 
chinah, in which he so often manifesteo. himself to his 
ancient church, and in which he ascended after his re- 
surrection, will now surround him with an interchange 
5 s 



874 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SER. CLXVJ 



of the deepest darkness, and light inaccessible. ' His 
eyes, as a flame of fire, his countenance as the sun 
shineth in his strength, and his voice as the sound of 
many waters,' will fill all virtuous beings with wonder, 
awe, and delight, and all sinful ones with amazement 
and horror. 

Around him, with supreme veneration and transport, 
' the innumerable company of angels ' will send ' a 
shout of triumph to the distant regions of the universe, 
and the happy millions of the righteous re-echo from 
tliis world the joyful acclamation. 

To meet him, his faithful followers will be ' caught 
up' by divine power, and their own instinctive energy : 
and rise as an immense cloud through the air, to be 
placed in open distinguished honour at his right hand. 
They were not ashamed of him in this world ; and he 
will thus gloriously prove that he is not ashamed of 
them in the day of trial. Here they publicly and stead- 
fastly confessed him before men, as their Saviour. 
There he will confess them before the universe, as his 
chosen, faithful, and beloved followers. 

When the throne of judgment is set, and the books 
opened ; the wicked will be summoned to his left hand 
as a public proof of his indignation against their guilty 
character. To their view as well as to that of the right- 
eous, will rise up in clear remembrance, with unerring 
discernment, and in the most rapid succession, all the 
events of their earthly being. The sins of both, the 
proffers, of mercy made in the gospel, the unbelief and 
impenitence of the wicked, and the faith and repent- 
ance of the righteous, will now be ' set in order before 
their eyes.' With a clear and comprehensive glance of 
thought, sinners will behold the vast picture of life 
drawn only in black, with no bright and luminous 
strokes to relieve the distressed eye. The righteous, 
on the contrary, will see their sins washed away in the 
blood of Christ, their souls sanctified by the Spirit of 
grace, and their services accepted as ' well done,' be- 
cause they were rendered with a spirit of sincere obe- 
dience, and with faith in the Redeemer. 

To the righteous he will then say, ' Come, ye blessed 
of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you 
from the foundation of the world : for I was an hun- 
gered, and ye gave me meat ;' I was thirsty, and ye gave 
me drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me in ; naked, 
and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; 1 
was in prison, and ye came unto me.' To the wicked 
he will say, ' Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlast- 
ing fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. For I 
was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat ; I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink ; I was a stranger, 
and ye took me not in ; naked, and ye clothed me not ; 
sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.' 

When the trial is ended, and the final allotments of 
angels and men are determined, flaming fire from the 
presence of the Judge will kindle this great world with 
a universal conflagration. All the works of man ; his 
palaces, towers, and temples ; his villages, towns, and 
cities ; his wonderful displays of art, his haughty piles 
of grandeur, and his vast labours of defence and domin- 
ion, will be lighted up in a single blaze, and vanish 
from the creation. 

Nor will the desolation be limited to the works of 
men. The earth on which they stand ; the hills and 
mountains, the valleys and plains, the lakes, the rivers, 
and the ocean, will all in a moment become one blaz- 



ing ruin. The very ' elements ' of which they are com . 
posed, will ' melt with fervent heat;' and the world it- 
self, so long the seat of sin and sorrow, be finally de- 
stroyed. 

The visible heavens, in the mean time, will catch the 
flame. Above, beneath, around, a vast concave of fire 
will encircle this dissolving globe ; and ' with a great 
noise,' an awful sound filling the universe, both the in- 
ferior heavens, and the earth, will ' flee away from the 
face of him that sitteth on the throne, and no place be 
found for them any more.' 

From this scene of destruction, the Judge, together 
with all his happy followers, the angels who have faith, 
fully ministered to him, and the saints who have loved 
and believed in him, will ascend to the heaven of hea- 
vens, where he will present them before his Father, as 
his own friends and children, the crown and reward of 
all his labours, in the work of redemption. By him 
they will be approved, accepted, and blessed for ever. 

The wicked, at the same time, will descend to the 
regions of woe ; and begin and pursue the melancholy 
journey of their future being in an unceasing course of 
sin and sorrow for ever. 



1. How rational and harmonious a system of the di- 
vine conduct is presented to us in the Scriptures. 

This wonderful volume exhibits to us the Former 
and Ruler of the universe, as self-existent, eternal, in- 
dependent, omnipresent, and immutable ; and as pos- 
sessed of all power, knowledge, and goodness. This 
great and wonderful Being, they inform us, in the be- 
ginning created with a command the earth and the hea- 
vens, and peopled them with angels and men. Of the 
angels they declare, some fell from their allegiance to 
the Ruler of all things ; and were turned out of heaven 
into the region of woe : while others, who persevered 
in their duty, are continued in the glorious possession 
of that happy world for ever. Man, created perfectly 
holy, they also teach us, apostatized from this charac- 
ter, and from obedience to his Creator. The proofs of 
this melancholy event are complete, and exist equally 
within us, and without. 

To deliver him from this evil condition, God. we are 
farther told, provided wise and ample means of resto- 
ration ; means most happily suited to the character of 
man, as a moral agent, and of his Maker, as the moral 
Governor of the universe. He sent his Son, to atone 
for human guilt ; and his Spirit, by a mysterious 
agency to renew the human soul. At the same time, 
and by the inspiration of the same Spirit, he gave his 
word to enlighten the mind by his instructions, to con- 
trol it by his precepts, to allure it by his promises, and 
to alarm it by his threatenings. The conditions of its 
restoration are there declared to be ' repentance to- 
wards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ.' 
No conditions could be more suited to his perfection, 
or to the character or the wants of man. They are 
obvious, they are reasonable, they are necessary, they 
are efficacious. Without them, man could neither be 
virtuous, useful, nor happy. Towards the attainment 
of them he has also provided in his word and ordi- 
nances, advantages of the most desirable nature. 

When the end of this scheme of providence shall ar- 
rive, and all the generations of Adam shall be com- 
pleted, he has appointed a day on which he will in 



THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 



875 



righteousness judge both angels and men by his beloved 
Son, whom he has ordained to this mighty office. All 
their conduct will then be examined, and their endless 
allotments apportioned to them, severally, ' according 
to their works. How obvious and perfect a consis- 
tency is displayed throughout every part of this scheme ! 
The end proposed is exactly suited to the character 
given of the Proposer ; and is no other than the estab- 
lishment of an immense kingdom, ' of the increase of 
whose prosperity and peace, there shall be no termina- 
tion.' The means adopted for the accomplishment are 
entirely fitted for this purpose, and are accordant parts 
of a perfect whole. 

Nor is this exhibition less remarkable for its splen- 
dour than for its harmony. An immeasurable gran- 
deur, a divine magnificence, invest it everywhere, and 
write upon all its parts the name of the city seen in 
vision by Ezekiel, ' Jehovah is here.' In comparison 
with it, the highest conceptions of philosophy and 
poetry are the babblings of children. Moses and Isaiah, 
Paul and John, hold their course among the stars - y 
while Homer and Virgil, Plato and Cicero, creep on 
the earth beneath them. The opening of this wonderful 
scheme is the creation of the universe, its progress is 
constituted by the mediation of the Son of God, and the 
long train of prophecies with which he was ushered into 
the world, the establishment of the church, and the host 
of miracles by which it was preserved and blessed, 
its extension over the known world by the apostles, 
its sufferings from antichristian persecution, and its 
supreme glory and prosperity throughout the millen- 
nium, together with all the changes and revolutions of 
time which have been connected with these illustrious 
events. Its end is the resurrection of the dead, the 
judgment of angels and men, the conflagration of the 
earth and the heavens, and the endless retribution of 
the righteous and the wicked. For such an exhibition 
no mind uninspired, could suffice. 

2. What an illustrious proof is here furnished of the 
deity of Christ ! 

This glorious Person informs us, that ' the Father 
judgeth no man ; but hath committed all judgment unto 
the Son.' On this awful day the wonderful commission 
will be executed. On this day the Son will be seated 
upon the throne of the universe, and hold the sceptre 
of infinite dominion. On this day he will show that 
all authority in heaven and in earth ' is in his posses- 
sion ; that he ' searches the hearts, and tries the reins ' 
of all intelligent beings, and that their endless destiny 
is suspended on his pleasure. No other specimen of 
the divine agency, no other exhibition of the divine 
character, will in glory and greatness be equal to this ; 
none, I mean, of which the tidings have reached the 
present world. Omniscience will never be so dis- 
played. There will never be so awful or affecting a 
display of omnipotence. Wisdom, justice, goodness, 
and truth will never be so divinely illustrated, as in the 
allotments of the righteous and the wicked. In a word, 
the divine character will be glorified here in a manner 
unrivalled at any preceding period ; and Christ, in his 
own person and office, will appear as God, with such 
splendour and majesty as were never seen before, and 
will never be seen again. 

3. What different views will at this period be formed 
of moral things, from those which are usually enter- 
tained by men in the present world! 



How differently will mankind think concerning their 
own favourite pursuits in this life. What views will 
the miser just risen from the grave and fixing his eye 
with astonishment and terror on the Judge awfully 
descending through the heavens, form concerning the 
devotion of his life and labours to the accumulation of 
gold ! What is the value of that gold now ? How 
wonderful will it seem, that he could lose his probation 
and his soul in the pursuit of money ! With what 
emotions will the ambitious man look back on the 
power and place for which he bartered his salvation ; 
and on the fraud, slander, and falsehood, with which he 
depressed bis rivals, and elevated himself to distinction ! 
How will the votary of sense roll back his eyes to the 
scenes of sloth, luxury, and lewdness, to the tables of 
festivity, drunkenness, and gluttony at which he cor- 
rupted his soul, and converted it into a house of pollu- 
tion, incapable of becoming a habitation of the Holy 
Spirit! In what manner will the devotee of amuse- 
ment survey the dance, the song, the party of pleasure, 
the festival, and the theatre, which allured the mind 
away from God, and turned the feet out of the path to 
heaven! With what a change of opinion will the 
sophist regard the books and the conversation in which 
he laboured to seduce his fellow men from piety, to 
withdraw their thoughts from religion, to awaken sus- 
picions of the gospel, and distrust of the Redeemer, to 
lull them asleep in security and impenitence, and to 
beget in them a final oblivion of the soul and its wel- 
fare, of the judgment and eternity ! How will he now 
regard his ingenuity, his false arguments, his successful 
struggles against truth, and his triumphs over its friends ! 
How will the soul of the impenitent sinner feel on this 
occasion, while recalling to its remembrance all its 
former attempts to support itself in unbelief and hard- 
ness of heart ! Whither will be fled its mockery at sin ; 
its bold profanations of ' that glorious and fearful name, 
the Lord its God ;' the contempt which it has cast 
upon its Redeemer, its ridicule of things sacred, and 
its hatred of religion, and the religious? What appre- 
hensions will it now entertain concerning its former 
jests, which it gaily uttered upon the Scriptures, the 
sabbath, and the sanctuary ; upon the worship of God, 
the threatenings of his law, the warnings of his provi- 
dence, and the invitations of his grace ? With what 
emotions will it call to mind its contempt of heaven, 
and its disregard of hell ! 

4. What a mighty change will this event produce in 
the universe. 

Our Saviour has taught us, that ' many who are last. 
will be first,' and that ' many who are first will be last.' 
On this solemn day the declaration will begin to be 
wonderfully accomplished. On this day, those who 
were ' wise men after the flesh,' whose talents aston- 
ished mankind, and whose researches entailed on them 
the admiration and applause of a world, will descend 
from their envied elevation to contempt and infamy ; 
and see, raised incalculably above them, the lowly, 
ignorant, and despised Christian, who believed and 
obeyed that ' preaching of the cross' which in this 
world they esteemed the most despicable folly. The 
monarch, who in the present life was served, flattered, 
and idolized by his courtiers, and regarded by the 
millions whom he governed only with awe and terror, 
will here find his power and splendour, the pride of 
distinction, and the incense of homage, vanished for 



876 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxvi. 



ever ; and himself depressed lower tlian was in this 
world the meanest wretch, who shrunk from his nod, 
or lived upon his smile ; while that very wretch, per- 
haps, has now cast off all his former attire of debase- 
ment and suffering, and risen to distinction and glory 
inexpressible. Here the hero, the foster-child of fame, 
the conqueror of realms, the murderer of nations, and 
the plunderer of a world, will see himself poor beyond 
the poorest, low beneath the lowest, and despised more 
than the most despicable ; powerless, sunk, and miser- 
able, in a degree outrunning conception. His misery 
will be mightily enhanced also, by the sight of multi- 
tudes whom in this world he trampled in the mire, tor- 
tured, butchered, and. gave to be food for the fowls of 
heaven, looking down upon him from a height to which 
he never raised his imagination, and commencing the 
possession of dignity and enjoyment to which no limit 
is prescribed. Generally, ' there will be weeping and 
gnashing of teeth,' such as this world never saw, when 
the rich, the splendid, the polished, and the noble, be- 
hold the clown, the beggar, and the slave ' sitting down 
in the kingdom of God, with Abraham, Isaac, and Ja- 
cob, and themselves thrust out.' 

At the same time it is to be remembered, that these 
will not be the only disappointments undergone at this 
asvful period. The rich, the learned, and the great will 
not be condemned because they possess wealth, know- 
ledge, or power; but for the measures by which they 
acquired these possessions, or the unworthy use which 
they made of them. Nor will the poor and lowly be 
accepted on account of their poverty, their ignorance, 
or their rusticity ; but for the disposition which they 
entertained, and the manner in which they conducted 
themselves, in these humble circumstances. Wherever 
this has not been their disposition and their conduct, 
they too will be rejected. Virtue and sin exist in the 
heart, and are never necessarily connected with our 
external condition. Let the rich consider how dread- 
ful a contrast it will be to have been opulent in this 
world, and to be in want of all things beyond the grave. 
Let the poor remember how deplorable must be the 
condition of being poor, despised, and wretched here, 
merely as a prelude to endless poverty, contempt, and 
misery in the world to come. 

Nor will the changes be less affecting, which will 
exist 'among those who, in the present life, were found on 
the same level. Were we to select a single neighbour- 
hood, and go with our inquiries from house to house, 
what mighty alterations in their relative condition, what 
affecting terminations of their former friendly inter- 
course, would be presented to the eye even of the most 
expansive charity ! In what an affecting manner would 
the wealth and poverty, the reputation and disgrace, 
the enjoyment and the suffering, be exchanged ! To 
what a height would those, who here are in the most 
lowly circumstances, begin in many instances to rise on 
this awful day ! To what a depth those who are the 
most prosperous begin to fall ! 

Still more affecting, more full of disappointment and 
anguish, will be the distinction made in families. There 
will be instances in which the parents will ascend to 
glory inexpressible, accompanied sometimes by none, 
sometimes by one, sometimes by two, sometimes by 
three, and, it is to be hoped and believed, sometimes by 
all, their happy offspring. At other times, the parents 
themselves will be left behind ; and with failing eyes 



and broken hearts will follow their children rising to 
the heavens, and bidding them an everlasting farewell. 
Such will be, such in some respects has already been, 
the separation between Jeroboam and his son Abijab. 
Brethren and sisters, also, mutually and unspeakably 
beloved here, and such of them as were devoted to sin, 
warned, reproved, and borne to heaven on the wings of 
prayer by those who consecrated themselves to God, 
will be parted asunder, to meet no more. No longer 
brothers and sisters, but strangers and aliens ; some of 
them will be vessels of mercy, usefulness, and honour 
in the house of their Father, and others vessels of 
wrath in the mansions of woe. 

Most distressing of all, husbands and wives, here 
united in the nearest of all earthly relations, and in the 
tenderest of all human attachments, will there not un- 
frequently be seated, ' one on the right hand, and the 
other on the left One will ascend with the Judge to 
the world of glory ; the other, lost in the host of evil 
beings, go down to the regions of despair. One will 
advance in wisdom, worth, and joy throughout endless 
ages, the other make a dreadful and melancholy pro- 
gress in guilt and sorrow for ever. 

5. How will sinners be amazed, when they awake out 
of the grave, and see all these things come to pass ! 

They will then behold Christ really come to judg- 
ment ; the day of retribution actually arrived, and the 
declarations of the Scriptures literally fulfilled. They 
will see the graves rent asunder, and themselves raised 
from the dead. They will hear ' the voice of the arch- 
angel, and the trump of God.' The rocks around 
them will be rent, the mountains fall, and the earth 
heave with its final agonies. Over their heads, the 
heavens will be filled with the hosts of angels, and the 
glory of the Messiah. At their side, the righteous, and 
among them their own beloved friends, their parents, 
husbands, wives, children, brothers, and sisters will be 
arrayed in immortal beauty, and ' caught up to meet 
the Lord in the air.' With what bitterness of soul will 
they ' call to the hills to fall on them, and to the moun- 
tains to cover them from the presence of the Lord, and 
from the glory of his majesty !' 

6. How delightful and glorious will be the assembly 
of the righteous on this day ! 

The endless multitude of the first-born will on this 
day, ' in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the 
last trump,' burst the grave, and stand upon their feet ; 
their ' bodies fashioned like unto Christ's glorious 
body,' and their souls informed with immortal life : 
their faces ' will shine as the sun, and their raiment be 
white and glistering.' There are countenances in this 
world which, when united with fine forms, and com- 
posed of superior features, when animated with intelli- 
gence, and moulded by peculiar virtue into the clear 
and strong expression of worth and loveliness, fasci- 
nate the eye, and engross the heart. What then must 
be the appearance of that aspect which is wrought into 
harmony, beauty, and dignity by the most exquisite 
workmanship of God, inspired with the intelligence of 
heaven, and lighted with the beams of angelic excel- 
lence ; around which virtue plays with immortal radi- 
ance ; while joy illumines the eye with living splendour, 
and glory surrounds the head with its crown of stars. 
In this manner will be arrayed, in this manner adorned, 
' a multitude which no man can number, of all nations, 
kindreds, and tongues.' How delightful, how astonish 






PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED ITS DURATION. 



877 



ing must it be, to behold this vast assembly rising from 
the tomb, throughout every part of the habitable world, 
and ascending, as by one instinctive impulse, to meet 
their divine Redeemer, and to be welcomed to the seat 
of approbation and honour at his right hand ! Trace 
them one step farther. How magnificent, how sublime, 
how enrapturing must be the prospect of these glorified 
beings, surrounding, after the judgment is terminated, 
the Lord of all things ; and rising in his train, as a 
cloud of splendour, to the mansions of eternal joy ! This 
will be that ' manifestation of the sons of God,' so ' ear- 
nestly expected,' as St Paul informs us, by ' the whole 
creation ' — the jubilee of the virtuous universe — the 
dawn of everlasting day. 

7. With all these solemn considerations in full view, 
let me exhort this audience to consider ' what manner 
of persons they ought to be in all holy conversation and 
godliness.' 

This is the practical use made of the same subject by 
the apostle Peter, and certainly the best which can be 
made. Every Christian is most deeply interested in 
the exhortation. The most powerful of all motives 
here summon you, my brethren, to the great work of 
spiritual improvement. Lukewarm indeed must you 
be, sunk in sloth, and buried in sleep, if you do not 
feel yourselves roused by these awful things to diligence 
and vigour in the Christian life. Let me press upon 
you the indispensable duties of watching, striving, and 
praying aluay. Let me solemnly urge you with ' all 
diligence to make your calling and election sure ;' to 
resist temptation and to overcome iniquity ; to ' fight 
the good fight, and to keep the faith ; that you may 
finish your course with joy.' * Look ' steadily ' for the 
blessed hope, and glorious appearing of the great God, 
even our Saviour Jesus Christ ;' that ' when he, who is 
the believer's life, shall appear, you may all appear with 
him in glory.' 

But there are multitudes in this house whose lives 
furnish no testimony that they are children of God. 
How much more deeply still are these persons interested 
in this exhortation ! When the blessed Redeemer of 
mankind ' came preaching the kingdom of God,' he 
commanded all men every where to ' repent, and be- 
lieve the gospel.' A thousand times has he repeated 
this command to you. Without faith in him, without 
repentance, without holiness, you cannot ' abide' in this 
awful day. Remember then, while life lasts, that this 
is all for which you live. How invaluable is this gol- 
den season, this accepted time ; in which, if you hasten 
to the empioyment, you may ' work out your salvation.' 
Far downward have you advanced in ' the broad and 
crooked way which leads to destruction ;' but the night 
of death has not overtaken you. Look upward, and 
you will see the Sun of righteousness still shines, to il- 



lumine your path back to life. Seize the inestimable 
moment, and flee for your lives, as Lot escaped from 
the cities of the plain. 

To these all-important duties Christ knew that your 
hearts would be, as you know they are, utterly opposed. 
That you might overcome this opposition, he has given 
you all the means of grace, to become, under the bless- 
ing of his good Spirit, the means of your salvation. 
Feel then their immense importance : and seize and 
employ them with all possible earnestness and anxiety. 
Let no sabbath pass, until it shall have blessed you. 
When the sanctuary opens its doors, let your ' souls 
long, yea, even faint, for the courts of the Lord.' Let no 
sermon escape, without enlightening your minds, and 
amending your hearts. Every morning, and every even- 
ing, bow your knees in secret, before the Father of all 
mercies : and send up your cries to heaven for the sal- 
vation of your souls. Prize the word of life ' more than 
the most fine gold,' and relish it ' more than honey, and 
the honey-comb.' ' Seek for wisdom as for silver, and 
for understanding as for hidden treasure.' 

To rouse yourselves every day to every effort for the 
attainment of eternal life, keep in perpetual view these 
amazing events. Of all the astonishing scenes which 
have been recited, you will be witnesses. You will hear 
the call of the archangel, and rise from the grave. You 
will see the Judge descend, the judgment set, and the 
books opened. You will hear the sentence pronounced 
on the righteous and on the wicked. You will ascend 
with your glorious Redeemer to the heaven of heavens, 
or be sent down with evil men and evil angels to the 
world of perdition. 

Does not your heart tremble at this ? Is it not 
moved out of its place ? When ' the mountains quake ' 
at the approach of their Creator, and ' the hills melt ; 
and the earth is burned at his presence ; the world, and 
all that is therein ; who can stand before his indigna- 
tion ; who abide in the fierceness of his anger ?' What 
emotions will then be felt by every impenitent sinner ! 
With what agonies will he sigh for the return of the 
accepted time ! With what delirious ecstasy would his 
heart heave, to hear another day of grace, another op- 
portunity of repentance, proclaimed by his Judge ! But 
no day of grace will ever return to him. No voice of 
mercy will again announce the birth of a Saviour. The 
doors of heaven will be opened no more. The smiles 
of a forgiving God will never dawn on the regions of 
sin and sorrow. Season will hasten after season, and 
age roll on after age, the melancholy round of darkness 
and despair, and not a beam of hope glimmer througli 
the cheerless void, to revive the wearied and dying eye. 
' Oh, that ye were wise, that ye understood these things, 
that ye would consider your latter end !' 



SERMON CLXVII. 

REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED ITS DURATION. 



And these shall yo away into everlasting punishment. — Matt. xxv. 46. 

Iv the last Discourse I gave an account of the final I righteous and the wicked. The next subjects of con- 
judgment, and of the sentences pronounced upon the I sideration are their future allotments. I shall first con- 



878 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[SEH. CLXV1I 



sider that of the wicked. This subject naturally di- 
vides itself into two parts ; its nature and its duration. 
The latter of these will be the subject of discourse at 
the present time. 

In the text it is asserted, that impenitent sinners shall 
' go away into everlasting punishment.' Christians 
have very generally regarded this declaration of Christ 
as intending, in the strict sense, a punishment without 
end. But there have been multitudes of persons styl- 
ing themselves Christians, particularly in modern times, 
who have decided otherwise ; and insisted, either that 
there will be no punishment beyond the grave, or that 
it will be temporary. In support of this opinion, and 
in opposition to that which has been generally received, 
they have advanced various arguments and objections, 
which they professedly consider as having great weight, 
and to which apparently they yield their own assent. 
A teacher of systematical theology seems obliged there- 
fore to examine this subject, to meet such objections 
and arguments, and either to refute them, or to ac- 
knowledge that he is unable to answer them. 

As the abettors of this scheme blend their objections 
and their direct arguments together, and as they are 
too numerous to be examined in every instance sepa- 
rately in a single sermon, I shall not feel myself obliged 
to discriminate very solicitously in this respect; but 
shall take the liberty to follow in some measure the 
path which my opposers have trodden. 

Before I begin the investigation of this subject I shall 
make a few observations, for the purpose of removing, 
or, if that cannot be done, of lessening a prejudice (the 
strongest, perhaps, cherished by the human mind) 
against the doctrine in question. The subject is im- 
measurably awful, and beyond all others affecting. Few 
persons can behold it in near vision with a steady eye. 
The very preacher who teaches the doctrine to others, 
cannot but know, unless certainly assured of his own 
salvation (a case undoubtedly very rare) that he may 
at that very time be alleging arguments which are to 
affect himself, and to evince his own final destruction, 
as well as that of others. If his heart is not made of 
stone, he cannot contemplate the subject, as it respects 
his fellow men, without overwhelming amazement. The 
destiny of one immortal mind is an object whose im- 
portance no finite thought can conceive, no number 
estimate. How vast must be this object, when the 
number of such minds becomes so great as to reach the 
lowest limit to which the most enlarged charity will be 
compelled to extend it ! How entirely overwhelmed 
must he be who contemplates it, when he remembers, 
and beholds a melancholy experience verify, the de- 
claration of our Saviour, that ' wide is the gate, and 
broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many 
there be who go in thereat !' 

At the same time, the subject is unquestionably per- 
plexing as well as distressing. There are, I know, 
persons who speak concerning it with an air of cool self- 
complacency, as being, in their view, easy of investiga- 
tion, and free from embarrassment. I am inclined, 
perhaps uncharitably, to give them little credit for can- 
dour, clearness of intellect, or soundness of character ; 
and greatly doubt whether the doctrine has been inves- 
tigated by them, either to such an extent, or with such 
a spirit, as might furnish them with just views of its na- 
ture. There are others who discourse of it in the desk 
in the phraseology, the style, and the utterance belong- 



ing to vehement eloquence ; such as we often find at- 
tached to a powerful strain of invective, or vigorous 
controversy. Something may here be allowed for the 
strong impulses of ardent minds ; something to the in- 
fluence, unhappy as it may be deemed, of controversial 
feelings ; and something to mistaken apprehensions of 
duty. In this manner we may in some measure excuse, 
but cannot justify, this unfortunate conduct. Were 
such persons to remember, that they may at this very 
time be pronouncing the final doom of their own pa- 
rents, brothers, sisters, wives, children, and even of 
themselves, I cannot but believe that their mode of ad- 
dress would be essentially changed, would lose all its 
violence and exaggeration, and would become deeply 
humble, solemn, and affectionate. Every preacher 
ought to remember, that the latter of these modes of ad- 
dressing a congregation on this subject, is incomparably 
better fitted to produce the best effects on those who 
hear him ; while the former will usually terminate in 
awakening mere horror concerning the subject, and 
mere disgust at the preacher. 

But painful and perplexing as this subject is, it is 
often exhibited in the word of God. Whatever doc- 
trines he has declared concerning it are true, and un- 
fold with absolute certainty a part of the future destiny 
of man. They cannot, therefore, fail of being supremely 
interesting to us. To know and to feel their proper 
import may be the very means of turning our feet into 
the path of life. To disbelieve them, or to be ignorant 
of them, can on the other hand be of no possible use to 
us, and may easily prove fatally injurious. Were there 
no escape from this dreadful allotment published to us 
during our probation, we might, indeed, as well remain 
in ignorance of the evils to which we were advancing. 
But, as a knowledge of our danger may prove the most 
effectual means of our escape, the importance of gain- 
ing this knowledge cannot be measured. 

The punishment of the wicked is, as you well know, 
often asserted in the Scriptures to be ' everlasting,' to 
' endure for ever,' and ' for ever and ever.' The ob- 
jectors whom I have mentioned insist that all the words 
and phrases of this nature denote a limited duration, 
and are never used to signify an absolute eternity. The 
meaning of all language is to be learned only from 
those who use it. If the manner in which they under- 
stand it is clearly discoverable from their writings, we 
may by critical attention become possessed of its mean- 
ing ; if not, we are left without a remedy. Let us, 
therefore, in the present case have recourse to the writ- 
ers of the New Testament, the only persons from whom 
we can expect to derive explicit views concerning the 
subject in hand, that we may, if possible, determine 
this point in a satisfactory manner. It is to be ob- 
served, then, 

1. That the words and phrases which have been 
either mentioned or alluded to, appear to be used in the 
Scriptures to denote the longest period of which the 
subject mentioned in each case is capable. 

In one instance the word, ' for ever,' seems to signify 
merely a long period. ' One generation passeth away, 
and another cometh, but the earth abideth for ever.' If 
the destruction of this world mentioned in the Scrip- 
tures denotes the annihilation of its atoms, as well as 
the ruin of its form and structure, then the earth can 
be said to abide for ever with a limited meaning only ; 
to wit, that it will endure for a long time, compared 



PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED.—ITS DURATION. 



879 



with .1 period of a human generation. But if the ele- 
ments are to survive this destruction, and become the 
materials of ' the new earth, wherein righteousness shall 
dwell,' then the term is used in a literal sense, and de- 
notes an endless duration. 

In such other cases, as I have observed, this word 
is employed to denote the longest period of which the 
subject united with it is capable. Thus ' a servant for 
ever,' is a servant during the longest period in which 
he can be a servant ; that is, during his life. ' An or- 
dinance for ever,' is an ordinance continuing through 
the longest time in which it can be an ordinance: 
that is, throughout the whole continuance of the dis- 
pensation of which it is a part ; viz. the Mosaic dis- 
pensation. 

In the same manner, ! the everlasting hills,' and ' the 
everlasting mountains,' denote hills and mountains en- 
during throughout the longest possible period which is 
predicable of them ; to wit, while the earth endures. 

It will be observed, that I have here mentioned the 
English words and phrases, and not the corresponding 
ones of the original languages. The reason of this is, 
that, so far as I know, the original words are acknow- 
ledged on all hands to be correctly translated. 

But if these words, when applied in the continuance 
of things in the future world, are used in this manner, 
they unquestionably denote an absolute eternity. For 
with respect to these things such a duration will then 
evidently be possible. 

2. The phrase, si; tovc xiuuug twj cziai/wj, commonly 
rendered 'for ever and ever,'' is used, if I mistake 
not, eighteen times in the New Testament ! In fifteen 
instances it is applied to the continuance of the glory, 
perfections, government, and praise of God. In one, 
tfev, xxii. 5, it is said of the righteous in the future 
world, that ' they shall reign for ever and ever.' In 
one of the remaining two, it is said of the impenitent, 
that is, of those among them who worship the beast and 
his image, that ' the smoke of their torment ascendeth 
up for ever and ever ' In the remaining instances, it is 
said of the devil, who deceived the nations, of the 
beast, and of the false prophet, that, ' In the lake of 
fire and brimstone, they shall be tormented, day and 
night, for ever and ever.' 

Now let me ask whether a man, even of moderate 
understanding, could be supposed to write with scru- 
pulous integrity a System of Theology, and employ this 
phrase sixteen times to denote an absolute eternity, and 
twice to denote that which was infinitely different; 
while these were the only instances in which the phrase 
was applied to a given subject, and that of immeasura- 
ble importance to those for whom he wrote ? But if 
such a man cannot be supposed thus to use language, 
nor vindicate it when used in this manner, can such 
conduct be attributed safely to the Spirit of God ? 

3. In the text the Greek word, xtauiog, is applied to 
the future happiness of the righteous, and to the future 
misery of the wicked. 

On this application I have two remarks to make : 
The first is : that it is applied to both these subjects 
in exactly the same manner ; without any mark, or 
hint, of a distinction in the use of the word. Plainly, 
therefore, we are not warranted to suppose any such 
distinction, unless we are taught it elsewhere in the 
Scriptures. 

It is to be remarked farther, that the same word is 



generally, and, so far as I have observed, always, ap- 
plied in the same manner, without any appearance of 
an intentional distinction. 

My second remark is this : that the word is employed 
in the text to denote a duration which commences after 
what, we commonly intend by time is ended. If, then, 
a limitation is not found elsewhere, we shall be unwar- 
ranted, since it is used here in the absolute mannev, to 
believe, that the duration which it expresses will have 
any limits. The longest duration which will then be 
possible, the longest which may be predicated of the 
enjoyments of the righteous, and the sufferings of the 
wicked, will certainly be eternal. 

4, The terms in which the sufferings of the impeni- 
tent are spoken of in other passages of Scripture, leave, 
so far as I can discern, no hope of their termination. 

The following examples will sufficiently illustrate 
this observation. In the Second Epistle of St Peter, 
it is said of the wicked, ' that they will utterly perish in 
their own corruption.' It cannot be denied, that the 
destruction spoken of in this passage is declared to be 
absolute and must be either annihilation, or eternal 
woe. But annihilation cannot be that long-continued 
suffering to which the abettors of the doctrine here 
opposed acknowledge the wicked to be consigned in 
the text. 

In Mark ix. 43, the immediate means of suffering to 
the impenitent are styled by our Saviour, ' the fire that 
never shall be quenched.' 

In several passages of the Scripture, particularly in 
the text; Dan. xii. 2 ; Matt. iii. 12; Matt. xiii. 36, 
&c, the happiness of the righteous and the sufferings 
of the wicked are exhibited to us in what may be called 
a parallel manner; and yet no intimation is given, 
that the duration of the one will not be equally extend- 
ed with that of the other. 

In Mark xiv. 2 1 , our Saviour says, ' Woe to that 
man by whom the Son of man is betrayed. Good were 
it for that man, that he had never been born.' If Ju- 
das should be miserable through any limited duration, 
however long, and should afterwards be happy through 
the eternity which would lie beyond it, this position 
must, with mathematical evidence, be seen to be untrue. 

In Luke xvi. 25, the rich man is informed by Abra- 
ham, that ' in his lifetime he had received his good 
things ; as Lazarus had likewise received his evil 
things.' Lazarus had received all his evil things. The 
rich man must clearly, I think, be considered as having 
received all his good things. Especially will this be 
evident, when we remember that the declaration is 
made as a conclusive reason why he could not receive 
a single drop of water, the only good thing for which 
he asked. 

In Psalm 1. which seems plainly to be an account 
of the last Judgment, we have, in the 22nd verse, 
subjoined to this account, the following awful monition, 
' Now consider this, ye that forget God ; lest I tear 
you in pieces, and there be none to deliver.' 

In Matt, xviii. 23, &c, we have the parable of the-ser- 
vant who owed ten thousand talents, and had nothing 
to pay. This servant his lord ultimately commanded 
to be thrown into prison, and there confined until he 
should pay the debt. How evident is it that this man 
could never pay the debt, and therefore must for ever 
remain in prison. 

In John iii. 26, our Saviour says, f He that believeth 



880 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxvil 



not the Son, shall not see life.' I can conceive of no 
language which could more effectually cut off every 
hope of the impenitent, than this. 

In Rev. xxi. 27, it is said, ' There shall in no wise 
enter into it,' that is, into the heavenly city, ' any thing 
that defileth, or that worketh abomination, or that 
inaketh a lie ; but they who are written in the Lamb's 
book of life.' According to the declaration of Scrip- 
ture, all impenitent sinners are defilers. They all work 
that which is abominable in the sight of God ; and in 
this character, as they have not repented, nor believed 
in the Redeemer, nor ceased to sin, they will all appear 
before their Judge ; and therefore will ' in no wise ' be. 
permitted to enter the heavenly city. 

To these passages might be added, as every one who 
reads his Bible knows, a multitude of others declaring 
the same doctrine in the same unambiguous manner. 
But if these do not produce conviction, it will, I am 
afraid, be vainly expected, not only from any which 
are found in the Scriptures, but from any which lan- 
guage can express. 

To all this, however, it is farther objected, that God 
cannot justly punish the sins of men, who are finite be- 
ings, with an infinite, or endless, punishment. To this 
it is usually replied, that although men are finite beings, 
yet as their obligation to obedience is great in propor- 
tion to the greatness and excellency of God, it is of 
course infinite. To violate infinite obligation it is far- 
ther said, is plainly an infinite evil ; and therefore a 
finite being may commit a crime infinitely heinous, and 
deserving infinite punishment. The same conclusion 
is also drawn, by much the same course of reasoning, 
from the tendency of sin to oppose the designs and 
glory of God, and the supreme good of his creation. 

It is not my design to deny this doctrine, nor to 
scrutinize the arguments by which it is usually support- 
ed. It is, however, but just to observe, that neither the 
doctrine nor the arguments have appeared so satisfac- 
tory to the minds of others, as they seem to have done 
to those by whom they have been alleged. We know 
nothing of infinity, but the fact, that certain things are 
infinite. The nature of infinity we do not comprehend 
at all, nor form a conception of what this phraseology 
means. It hardly needs to be observed, that where we 
have no conceptions we can form no comparisons, and 
therefore can make no propositions, the truth of which 
can be perceived by our minds. Concerning the fact, 
that something is infinite, we may with sufficient ease 
argue, to some extent, successfully. Concerning the 
nature of infinity, I discern no manner in which such 
minds as ours can argue at. all. But in our discussions 
concerning infinity, we are prone insensibly to blend 
these two things together ; and often are amused with 
words only, when we suppose ourselves to be employed 
about ideas. Hence have arisen the perplexity and the 
want of satisfaction which have attended inquiries con- 
cerning this subject. I shall, therefore, not insist on 
these arguments, nor on the conclusion to which they 
conduct us ; but proceed to other considerations which 
lie more within our reach. 

1. God may justly punish sin so long as it exists ; and 
it may exist for ever. 

He who sins through this life may evidently sin 
through another such period, and another, and another, 
without end. That while we continue to sin, God may 
justly punish us, if he can justly punish us at till, is 



equally evident. No reason can be given, why sin May 
not be punished at any future time, with as much jus- 
tice and propriety as at the present. That it may be 
justly punished at the present time, cannot be denied, 
any more than that it is in fact punished. 

2. The Scriptures teach us, that sinners who die in 
impenitence will not cease to sin throughout eternity. 

The supposition that their sufferings in the future 
world will be complete, involves in it as a consequence 
that they will continue to sin. If they were to become 
penitent and virtuous, they would of course possess 
many enjoyments, and those of a very important nature. 
Our Saviour, speaking to St John concerning those who 
in the future world are excluded from heaven, says. 
Rev. xxii. ] 5, ' Without are dogs, and sorcerers, and 
whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and who- 
soever loveth and maketh a lie.' It will not be ques- 
tioned, that this is an account of sinners. It cannot be 
questioned, that it is an account of their existing char- 
acter in the future world. 

' Do therefore,' says Solomon, Eccl. ix. 10, ' what 
thy hand findeth to do with thy might : for there is no 
work, device, knowledge, nor wisdom, in the world of 
spirits, whither thou goest.' — ' Wisdom, in the language 
of Solomon, denotes virtue, or the religion of the heart. 
' Work' here intends the work of salvation; the work 
in which virtue is assumed, and increased. There is, 
then, in that world, no work of salvation, no assumption 
of virtue. Of course, those who go into that world in 
the character of sinners, still continue to sin. They 
may therefore be punished with the same justice as in 
the present world ; and the Scriptures declare in the 
text, and many other passages, that they are punished. 

3. These things are all said and done after the close 
of the present dispensation ; and after the commencement 
of that dispensation which in the Scriptures is represent- 
ed as eternal and unchangeable. 

There is no hint given us, either in the Old or New 
Testament, that the dispensation which will commence 
after the judgment will ever change. On the contrary, 
so far as it is mentioned at all, it is always spoken of as 
enduring and immutable. In Heb. xii. 26 — 28, St 
Paul says, ' Whose voice then shook the earth : but 
now he hath promised, saying, Yet once more I shake 
not the earth only, but also heaven. And this word, 
Yet once more, signifieth the removing of those things 
that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those 
things which cannot be shaken may remain. Where- 
fore, we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, 
let us have grace, whereby we may serve God accepta- 
bly with reverence and godly fear.' From this passage 
it is evident that the things which are not shaken will 
remain steadfast and immovable. But were there 
nothing explicitly declared concerning this subject, the 
very silence of the Scriptures forbids a rational belief of 
any such alteration, since the belief rests on nothing but 
a mex-e hypothesis, gratuitously adopted. 

It is farther objected, that the benevolence of God is 
irreconcilable with the idea of endless punishment. 
Were I to determine, a priori, what conduct the bene- 
volence of God would prompt him to pursue, I should 
not hesitate to say, that he would never permit either 
natural or moral evil to exist in the universe. Perfect 
benevolence, I should without a doubt conclude, would 
produce nothing but virtue and enjoyment. Very re- 
mote however, from this scheme is the actual state of 



PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED.— ITS DURATION. 



881 



the world which we inhabit. Sin has here reigned 
from the beginning ; and soivow, the proper reward of 
sin, has been multiplied unceasingly throughout every 
habitable part of the earth. It Is certain, therefore, 
that to permit the existence of sin, and to punish it with 
suffering, and that suffering often so excruciating as to 
terminate our present life, are things consistent with 
the benevolence of God. No reason can be given, why he 
who does these things here, in a state of trial, may not 
do the same things, to a much greater extent, in a state 
of retribution. When man undertakes to determine 
what it is proper or improper for his Maker to do, in the 
government of the world, he ought to remember that ' as 
the heavens are high above the earth, so are his ways 
above our ways, and his thoughts above our thoughts.' 

It is farther said, that the punishment of the future 
world is merely disciplinary. This opinion certainly 
cannot be founded upon scriptural testimony. When the 
gospel was written, the fallen angels had been suffering 
punishment at least four thousand years. Yet we find 
them no less hostile to their Creator, and actuated 
by no less malice against his intelligent creatures, 
than at the first. Men of all succeeding ages are 
by Christ and his apostles warned against their false- 
hood and seduction, because in every age they would 
be false and seductive. At the judgment day, to which 
they are ' reserved under chains and darkness,' they 
will be consigned to the fire, which was prepared for 
them. Of course, their punishment will to that time 
have had no good effect upon their character. The 
punishment of the future world therefore is not exhibit- 
ed in the Scriptures as disciplinary. 

Again it is objected, that endless punishment is un- 
necessary. This cannot be said with propriety, unless 
we know the whole state of the divine government, and 
all the necessities of those who are governed. The 
wants of the universe are such, as to be supplied by far 
other means than we should devise. It is impossible 
for us to determine how great, how numerous, or how 
useful the consequences may be, which will flow from 
the punishment of the impenitent God, speaking by 
the prophet Isaiah, in a passage which our Saviour ap- 
plies to the future state of the wicked, says, ' They,' 
that is, righteous beings, ' shall go forth, and look upon 
the carcases of the men who have transgressed against 
me ; and they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh.' 
This abhorrence may, for aught that appears, have a 
powerful, perhaps an indispensable, efficacy to preserve 
virtuous beings throughout the universe in a course of 
endless obedience. The measures necessary in a moral 
government reaching through immensity and eternity, 
cannot be contrived by such beings as we are. 

I know of but one objection more which appears to 
demand a particular answer. This is derived from the 
gospel. Here, in various passages and forms, it is said, 
that ' Christ died for all.' The meaning of these de- 
clarations I formerly explained, and, if I mistake not, 
sufficiently, when considering the extent of the atone- 
ment. I shall therefore only observe at this time, that 
with the strictest propriety and truth, Christ may be 
said to have ' died for all,' if he has made a sufficient 
atonement for all ; although some should choose not to 
accept the proffer of an interest in it, and should there- 
fore never enjoy the blessings which it provides. 

To these objections and arguments are customarily 
added several passages of Scripture, construed by the 



objectors in such a manner as they judge to be favour- 
able to their own scheme. These have been often 
shown to be vainly alleged for this purpose ; nor are 
they, so far as I perceive, articles on which the objec- 
tors very seriously rely. I shall, therefore, refer those 
of my audience who wish to see these texts particularly 
considered, to formal treatises written on the subject, 
and to respectable commentaries on the Scriptures, and 
shall conclude this Discourse with the following 

REMARK. 

That the considerations presented in this Discourse 
strongly exhibit the folly of hazarding the soul upon the 
doctrines of Universalism. 

The peculiar evil of the doctrine which I have opposed 
in this Discourse is this — those who embrace it are 
prone, almost of course, to feel that they are in some 
good degree safe, while continuing in a state of impeni- 
tence and unbelief. The heart relishes sin, and dis- 
relishes reformation. Hence it devises various modes 
of quieting its fears concerning the anger of God, and 
securing itself from future woe. To forsake its iniqui- 
ties is, according to its own views, to strip itself of all 
real good ; and therefore does not enter into its plans, 
nor become any part of its conduct. Still it cannot 
bear the thought of being punished for its sins. In this 
situation it contrives various schemes, by which it hopes 
on the one hand to enjoy the pleasures of sin, and on 
the other to escape punishment. For this purpose some 
persons become atheists, and deny the very existence 
of God. Others become deists, and deny his word and 
character. Others, who acknowledge the revelation of 
the Scriptures, reject the atonement of Christ ; and 
others, the necessity and reality of regeneration by the 
Spirit of God ; merely that they may neither be obliged 
to confess nor to feel themselves so sinful as to need 
these things. Some determine that they shall be safe 
on account of the natural amiableness of their disposi- 
tions ; some on account of the abundance of their good 
works, their uprightness towards men, their zealous at- 
tendance on the external duties of religion, the fervid 
state of their imagination and their feelings with respect 
to religious subjects, or their correct and abundant con- 
versation about religious doctrines. Others still adopt, 
for the same purpose, the scheme of Universalism ; to 
something very like which, in substance, all the other 
schemes which I have mentioned directly tend ; whether 
perceived by those who embrace them, or not perceived. 
Of those who embrace this -scheme, some admit that the 
impenitent will be punished for a season. Others deny 
that they will be punished at all. Some hold, that 
Christ has in the complete sense expiated the sins of 
all men ; while others consider the impenitent as expi- 
ating their own sins by sufferings limited in their du- 
ration. In all these different schemes, it is obvious that 
not a single contrivance is adopted to make men virtu- 
ous. This evidently is no part of their designs. On the 
contrary, every one is calculated only to foster the love 
of sinning, and provide safety for the sinner. 

But how suspicious is this design in its very nature! 
Is there to the eye of common sense even a remote pro- 
bability that God will love sin, or prosper sinners ? Do 
the Scriptures furnish a single hint which in the re- 
motest manner, even countenances such an opinion ? 
Do they not, on the contrary, hold out the most terrible 
alarms to every impenitent transgressor? Would it 
5 x 



882 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. ci.xvin. 



not break the heart of every such transgressor in this 
house, if God were audibly to declare to him, ' Thou 
shalt go away into everlasting punishment? Trust not, 
then, your souls, your eternal safety, to the doctrines of 
Universalism. Launch not into the ocean of eternity 
upon this plank. Flee to Christ, the ark in which you 
will be secured from every danger. Waste not your 
probation in seeking ' refuges of lies,' in ' making cove- 



nants with death, and agreements with hell.' Re- 
member, that God hath said, ' Your covenant with death 
shall be disannulled, and your agreement with hell shall 
not stand.' Remember, that Christ himself has told 
you, that ' he who believeth on the Son, hath everlasting 
life ; and that ' he who believeth not the Son, shall not 
see life ; but the wrath of God abidelh on him.' 



SERMON CLXV1II. 



THE REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKfiiD ITS 

NATURE. 



But these, as natural brute beasts, made to be taken and destroyed,- 

corruption. — 2 Pet. ii. 12. 



shall utterly perish in their own 



In the preceding Discourse, I considered the duration 
of future punishment. I shall now make some obser- 
vations concerning its nature. 

That this punishment will be intense and dreadful, 
is declared in the words which I have chosen for the 
theme of this Discourse. In the same language it is 
declared to be hopeless. Those who ' utterly perish,' 
and who know that this is their destiny, as pronounced 
by God himself, can entertain no hope of a change in 
their circumstances for the better. They are ' judged 
according to the deeds done in the body :' or, in other 
words, during the time of their probation. But their 
probation is ended ; and the foundation on which the 
judgment rests completed. Nothing remains for them, 
therefore, but a reward measured out to them accord- 
ing to their works. This reward, as the reason of man 
has in all ages believed, and as the Scriptures peremp- 
torily decide, will be only punishment. 

The punishment of impenitent sinners may be con- 
sidered, 

As it will proceed immediately from God ; and, 

As it will spring from themselves. 

On the punishment of sinners, as immediately in- 
flicted by the hand of God, it is to be observed, that it 
is described to us in the Scriptures in general terms, 
and those chiefly, if not wholly, figurative. One rea- 
son why such language is employed, is obvious and 
sufficient. A state of existence, so different from any 
thing with which we are acquainted in the present 
world, cannot be directly described by words denoting 
only such things as are within our reach, and express- 
ing only such ideas as we have been able to form. It 
is therefore necessarily exhibited to us in phraseology, 
not used according to its simple or literal meaning, but 
employed in the way of simile and allusion. Even in 
this manner, however, it is so employed as to convey to 
us the most terrible images which have ever been pre- 
sented to the human mind ; and such as in all ages 
have, more than any others, awakened alarm and 
anguish in the heart of man. 

It is also called, Death. 
, Death, as was observed in a former Discourse, is the 



most distressing of all the evils suffered in the present 
world, and is accordingly made by every nation the 
last infliction of penal justice, for crimes committed 
against human government. It is surrounded with 
gloom and terror ; it is replete with agony ; and pro- 
bably creates more anxiety in the minds of our race, 
than all the other calamities which exist in this suffer- 
ing world. 

What then must it be to die for ever ? — to suffer the 
pangs of death to-day, only as a prelude to suffering 
them to-morrow ? What must it be to die from morn- 
ing till night, and from night till morning ? — to die 
through days, and years, and centuries ; and thus to 
spend eternity in dying ? 

It is presented to us as the sufferance of the wrath of 
God. 

The anger even of a human being is often produc- 
tive of the most terrible effects, which are ever visible 
in the present world. The earthquake, the volcano, 
the famine, and the pestilence have wasted the world 
less, and produced in it far less misery, than conquerors 
alone. But, if the rage of such limited, feeble, perish- 
ing beings, as we are can produce such dreadful suffer- 
ings, what must be the effects of the anger of Him, 
'before whom all nations are as nothing;' 'who 
looketh on the earth, and it trembleth ; who toucheth 
the hills, and they smoke ;' who possesses all the means 
of infliction, and can make every faculty the seat, and 
every pore the avenue, of pain and sorrow! ' A fire,' 
saith this great and awful Being, ' is kindled in mine 
anger, and shall burn unto the lowest hell ; and shall 
consume the earth, with her increase ; and shall set on 
fire the foundations of the mountains.' 

It is called darkness, and the mist and the blackness 
of darkness ; and sometimes the shadow of death ; 
that is, a gloom resembling the deep midnight of the 
grave. 

If the inhabitants of this world were to continue here 
for ever, and the light of the sun, moon, and stars were 
to be finally extinguished ; if darkness such as that 
which covered Egypt were to brood upon the surface of 
the whole earth ; how forlorn, solitary, and desolate 



PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED.—ITS NATURE. 



883 



would be the situation of mankind ! How much alone, 
how bewildered, how hopeless, how lost should we feel ! 
How would every bosom heave with unavailing sighs, 
how would every heart waste with fruitless longings to 
see once more the delightful beams of the life-giving- 
sun ! 

God is the sun of the moral universe. Where he 
sheds the light of his countenance, light, and life, and 
warmth, and comfort descend upon the creatures whom 
he has made. Whenever he hides his face, they are 
overspread with 'darkness, and the shadow of death, 
where there is no .order, and the light is as darkness.' 
In the future world, eternal darkness, and its conse- 
quence, eternal solitude, will become the dreary and 
melancholy lot of all the children of perdition ; a dark- 
ness, lengthening onward from age to age, and termi- 
nated by no succeeding day. 

It is often styled fire ; a furnace of fire ; a lake of 
fire and brimstone ; the fire prepared for the devil and 
his angels. 

The power of this element to distress and destroy, 
needs no illustration ; as the peculiar strength of these 
images demands no enhancement. How dreadful must 
be the situation of those who are destined to dwell in a 
furnace for ever ! How terrible must be the fire pre- 
pared to punish the devil and his angels ; the worst of all 
beings, the peculiar enemies of God, and the intelligent 
universe ! You will remember, that I have mentioned 
all these as figurative representations. Remember, also, 
that on this account they are not the less awful ; and 
particularly remember, that in a more awful language 
still, God himself is declared to be ' a consuming fire' 
to impenitent sinners. 

The sufferings of the impenitent, as they will spring 
from themselves, are I apprehend declared with suffi- 
cient certainty in the phraseology of the text. ' They 
shall utterly perish in their own corruption.' This word, 
and its immediate connexions, are used in the English 
Rible eighty-three times, and in forty-eight of these 
denote moral corruption. In all the remaining instan- 
ces they denote, obviously, the corruptible nature of the 
human body, and of those earthly objects hy which we 
are surrounded. These two seem to be the only senses 
in which the words of this description are used at all. 
That the term in the text is not employed in this sense, 
is too evident to require any illustration. The passage 
therefore may be fairly considered as declaring, that 
the moral character of sinners will in itself, and in its 
effects, constitute much of their misery in the future 
world. It ought to be observed, that the text, literally 
rendered, is, ' They shall be utterly corrupted in their 
own corruption.' 

The only objection against this doctrine with which 
I am acquainted, is, that sin, being the delight of sin- 
ners, cannot with propriety be said to be their punish- 
ment. This objection, I acknowledge, is plausible ; 
and when it was first proposed to me appeared to have 
much weight. A little reflection, however, convinced 
me that its weight lay only in the words in which it is 
expressed. It is no uncommon thing in the present 
world to see persons delight in that which, in itself and 
its immediate effects, is seen by themselves to be conti- 
nually injurious, and even fatal to their well-being. 
The gambler sees, that his favourite employment pro- 
duces every day gloom, discontent, moroseness, poverty, 
and the contempt of those around him. Far from being 



insensible to these evils, he feels them deeply ; and is 
daily rendered by them more and more unhappy. The 
same things are substantially true of the drunkard, and 
of the thief. The envious man also is daily corroded 
by his envy in such a manner as to make him eminently 
wretched. Yet he still continues to exercise envy. A 
rebellious child, wounded almost unceasingly by a sense 
of his filial impiety, as well as made miserable by the 
general reprobation, still continues in his rebellion. 
Christ says, Prov. viii. 36, • All they that hate me love 
death.' This passage directly teaches us, that that 
which in itself and in its consequences produces misery, 
may still be loved by mankind. The complete proof, 
however, of the soundness of the doctrine, and, by con- 
sequence, of the unsoundness of the objection, will be 
found in the consideration of the subject itself. To 
this therefore I shall immediately proceed ; and ob- 
serve, 

1. That sinful desires will in the future world be 
exceedingly powerful, and wholly unrestrained. 

That such desires will be exceedingly powerful in 
the future world, is rationally argued from many 
considerations. It is plainly a part of the very nature 
of sin to increase its dominion over the mind, wher- 
ever it is the predominant character. Sinners who do 
not reform, always grow worse and worse in the present 
world. Every indulgence of every sinful passion in- 
creases its strength. After a little time, the indulgence 
becomes a habit ; and every sinful habit increases its 
vigour in him who is not renewed, to the end of life. 

There is not a reason to believe that these desires 
are at all diminished in the world to come. When 
Satan was cast out of heaven, he manifested his intense 
hatred to God, and his vehement malice towards man- 
kind, by seducing our first parents, and destroying a 
world. St Peter informs us, that since that time, ' as a 
roaring lion he goeth about, seeking whom he may 
devour.' St John also declares, that the same malig- 
nant being ' deceiveth the whole world.' What a dread- 
ful image of furious and insatiable malice is presented 
to us, when this evil being is exhibited as a lion, roar- 
ing with rage and hunger, and going about to devour, 
not the carcases of beasts, but minds rational and im- 
mortal ! How restlessly must that fraud and malice 
labour, to which the deception of a whole world is at- 
tributed ! 

From these considerations it is plain that the evil 
desires of this fallen spirit are not diminished by his 
sufferings. It is reasonably believed, that other evil 
beings will in this respect sustain the same character ; 
and that their desires also, instead of undergoing any 
diminution, will only increase in strength. 

When I say that sinful desires are unrestrained in 
the future world, I mean not to be understood in the 
absolute sense. God will undoubtedly restrain evil 
beings within such bounds as he thinks proper. They 
themselves also will undoubtedly become restraints to 
each other in the exercise of their opposing powers and 
passions. But I mean, that a great part of those re- 
straints which exist in the present world will be taken 
away. The impenitent inhabitants of the future world 
will be under no restraint from hope ; for in that world 
hope will never exist. They will be under no restraint 
from the desire of esteem ; for they will have no com- 
panions whose esteem they can desire. They will be 
under no restraint from the Spirit of God. This di- 



884 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxvih. 



vinely glorious Person, beneath whose influence moral 
life, beauty, and loveliness, spontaneously spring up 
throughout the universe, will shed no influence on the 
world of perdition. 

2. Sinful desires will in the future world be ungra- 
tified. 

Particularly, they will be ungratified, as they respect 
God. All the wishes of the impenitent which respect 
God, are aimed against his glory, the accomplishment 
of his pleasure, and the prosperity of his kingdom. 
But they will be wholly ineffectual. His character will 
be seen, and known, and felt, even by themselves, to 
be free from all imputations ; and they will discern 
with irresistible evidence, that his pleasure will be cer- 
tainly and universally accomplished. 

The wishes_ of the impenitent, which respect virtuous 
beings, will be equally ungratified. Against them also 
their hatred will be directed with intense vehemence; 
against them their envy will rankle without cessation 
or limits. Still the objects of their hatred will be seen 
fixed in the possession of virtue, glory, and happiness, 
which will know neither interruption nor end. That 
such will be the feelings of the sinner beyond the grave, 
we are assured, because such is the very nature of sin ; 
because men in this world, who give themselves up to 
sin, exhibit just such feelings ; and because the inhabi- 
tants of that world are entirely given up to sin. How 
dreadful must be the ranklings of eternal malice ! 
What a mass of woe must exist in the pinings of im- 
mortal envy ! 

Nor will the desires of the impenitent be any more 
gratified, as they respect each other. They may indeed, 
they undoubtedly will, produce much misery for each 
other. Their success in this malignant employment 
will not, however, terminate in their relief, or their 
comfort ; but merely in disappointment, bitterness, and 
woe. Malice and revenge in the present world are 
often efficacious in producing suffering in the objects of 
them ; but, instead of yielding enjoyment to those by 
whom they are exercised, they frequently effectuate 
nothing but the deepest mortification. It. will not be 
doubted that in the future world the same things will 
be more universally as well as more dreadfully real- 
ized. 

As little gratification will attend those desires which 
immediately respect themselves. Sinners in this world 
ardently wish to be respected and loved. Pride, the 
predominating passion of a wicked heart, prompts that 
heart to covet distinction and applause, with an intense- 
ness of desire which the proud man cannot justify even 
to himself. The Scriptures teach us, that this passion 
was originally, and is still, the controlling, miserable 
character of fallen angels. Suffering therefore does 
not extinguish it in the world of perdition. On the 
contrary, we have every reason to believe that it is un- 
ceasing, ardent, and eternal. How dreadfully must a 
proud mind be stung with anguish, when it sees itself, 
and knows that others see it, to be base, despicable, 
and loathsome beyond expression : and when it discerns 
with absolute certainty that this will be its eternal cha- 
racter ! 

What deplorable sufferings spring from vehement 
desires ungratified, our experience in the present world 
amply discovers. 

3. Sin in the world of misery will be viewed as it is. 
We are taught in the Scriptures, that at the general 



judgment, the end of which is to show that God is ' just 
when he judges, and clear when he condemns,' ' every 
mouth will be stopped.' Accordingly, the excellence of 
his character, the equity of his law, the wisdom of his 
government, and the goodness exercised in the work 
of redemption, will all be manifested in such a manner 
as to compel every conscience to say, Amen. Every 
conscience will, therefore, be forced to confess the 
odiousness of that sin which is a violation of them all, 
and of the sinner by whom they have been violated. 

It may perhaps be asked, Why, if such will be the 
views of the sinner concerning himself, he does not re- 
nounce his sins ? This question may be fairly answered 
by another : Why do not sinners forsake their sins in 
the present world, particularly when under the influ- 
ence of strong convictions ? Conscience often pro- 
nounces to the sinner, that he is a guilty, odious being, 
deserving the anger of God, and justly condemned by 
the sentence of his law. Yet multitudes who are the 
subjects of this conviction still continue impenitent, 
and become worse and worse, more hardened in sin, 
and more alienated from their Maker. It will not be 
questioned, that the drunkard, the thief, and the adul- 
terer, believe at times that they are subjects of gross 
criminality ; and that, in spite of this belief, they still 
continue to be drunkards, adulterers, and thieves. A9 
little can it be questioned, that there is in the moral 
nature of a sinful mind no tendency towards repentance 
or reformation. These ' good gifts,' like every other, 
' are from above ; and come down from the Father of 
lights.' 

4. The impenitent, in the future world, will be the 
subjects of extreme remorse of conscience. 

The character of every such man, being seen by him- 
self as it is, will of course be loathed, abhorred, and 
despised. His folly and his guilt in violating the di- 
vine law and rejecting the divine mercy, in dishonour- 
ing God, disbelieving the Redeemer, and resisting the 
Holy Ghost, in contemning the means of grace, and dis- 
regarding the warnings of Providence, will in a partu 
cular manner prey upon his heart, and exhibit him to 
himself as weak and wicked beyond expression. All 
his sinful conduct he will loathe, as base and abomina- 
ble. But his abuses of the divine character, his un- 
grateful and injurious treatment of the Saviour, and or 
the mercy of God manifested in the work of redemption, 
will overwhelm him with self-condemnation, and pierce 
his soul with the anguish of self-reproach. 

5. Impenitent sinners will in the future world become 
means of extreme suffering to each other. 

In the present world sinners often love each other. 
The sources of this affection are the following : 

(1.) Natural affection. 

On this it will be unnecessary to expatiate. 

(2.) Connexions growing out of common interests. 

These are often strong, and sometimes lasting. Oui 
of them, those who are concerned derive many enjoy- 
ments. 

(3.) Mistaken views of each other's character. 

Ignorance, concealment, and a desire to be agree- 
able, hide many of the defects and many of the vices 
found in a sinful character. At the same time, the 
wish to gain esteem, confidence, and kind offices, in- 
duces those who are the subjects of this character to 
exhibit a pleasing temper, and commendable conduct. 
In this manner, the whole impression that is made ia 



PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED.— ITS NATURF. 



885 



more agreeable than that which would be derived from 
a thorough knowledge of the entire character. 

(4.) Natural amiableness. 

By this, I intend native sweetness of disposition, 
tenderness, generosity, sincerity, and integrity. 

(5.) The numerous restraints which sinners experi- 
ence from the Spirit and providence of God. 

These not only prevent the sinner from appearing, 
but from being so bad as he would be otherwise ; as we 
have frequent opportunities to observe even here, when 
such restraints are taken away. Many a man who in 
humble life has been mild, gentle, and reasonable in 
his conduct, has become, after being raised to absolute 
power, a villain black with every species of crime. 
Even Nero was regarded before he assumed the purple 
as a hopeful prince. For these and some other rea- 
sons, sinful men are often considered in the present 
world both by those who are virtuous, and by each 
other, with much respect and affection. In the future 
world their situation will in all these particulars be 
mightily changed. There no natural affection will 
exist, to prevent the full operation of evil desires. On 
the contrary, those who have lived together in habits of 
attachment and intimacy will see and feel that they 
were mutually tempters and seducers here ; sources to 
each other of sin, and means of each other's destruc- 
tion. At the same time none will have favours to 
bestow, nor a native amiableness of character to invite 
esteem or love. Nor will any restraint operate so as to 
prevent the heart from emptying out all its wickedness 
in the open day. 

Contempt therefore, deceit, and hatred will occupy 
the whole soul, and dictate all the conduct. The dread- 
ful effects of these passions, their proper, genuine effects, 
we often behold in the present world, in slander, op- 
pression, wounds, and murders, and in the terrible 
ravages of tyranny and war. In what manner these 
evil dispositions will be manifested in a state of being 
of which we can form no adequate conception, it is be- 
yond our power to determine. But that their whole 
strength may be there completely disclosed, and dis- 
closed in such a manner as to produce all the misery 
capable of being derived from this source, cannot be 
questioned. The rage which here persecutes an enemy 
to the grave, and laments that it cannot fellow him into 
the invisible world, may there pursue him through 
eternity. 

6. From these considerations it is evident that there 
can be no confidence in the regions of misery. 

The wretched inhabitants of these regions will know 
all around them to be enemies and deceivers. Amid 
the vast multitude, not an individual will be found pos- 
sessed either of natural affection, or benevolence, or 
sincerity. Selfishness, supreme and absolute, repels 
everything, and attracts nothing. 

This probably will be one of the most painful and 
wearisome among all the ingredients of future woe. 
A rational mind instinctively looks to some object on 
which it may rest in its journey through the vast of dura- 
tion. How oppressive must it be to such a mind, to 
roam in its thoughts through immensity, and to wan- 
der down the vale of eternity, and find no friend, no 
being on whom this affection may be placed. 

God is the natural, supreme, and ultimate object of 
reliance to his intelligent creatures ; a never-failing, 
all-sufficient stay ; a friend that cannot deceive ; a rock 



that cannot be moved. ' Blessed,' unspeakably blessed, 
' is the man who trusteth in his Lord, and whose hope 
the Lord is.' All virtuous beings, also, in their differ- 
ent situations and capacities, are proper objects of con- 
fidence ; safe, amiable, and valuable friends. Among 
sinful beings, parents, and other near relatives, are 
usually trusted with safety and comfort, and sweeten 
the bitterness of life by inviting and meriting the reli- 
ance of those with whom they are intimately connected. 
Few, indeed, very few of the human race, are here 
either so sinful or so unhappy as not to find some ob- 
ject to whom they may communicate their calamities 
with the hope of relief, and the assurance of pity. 

But the miserable inhabitants of hell have no God, 
no Saviour, no virtuous friends, no parents, no rela- 
tions, before whom they may spread their calamities 
with the hope of being heard, or in whose hearts or 
hands they may find a refuge from the bitterness of woe. 
In each other they can place no confidence ; since they 
will know, that at all times and in all things they will 
be only despised, hated, and deceived. 

Thus, while the inhabitant of that melancholy world 
looks around him, when he casts his eyes abroad through 
the universe, he will be forced to perceive that it con- 
tains no friend to him. In the midst of millions he is 
alone ; and is sure of being loathed, rejected, and shun- 
ned by every being in the creation of God. Not a sigh 
can he breathe, not a tear can he shed, not a sorrow 
can he unfold, not a prayer can he utter, with a hope 
of being befriended, heard, or regarded. In addition 
to all this, if he extend his view through eternity, he 
will find, as he passes onward from day to day, and 
from age to age, no change for the better. All around 
him will be gloom and solitude : all before him will be 
desolation, anguish, and despair. 

This awful subject, and these terrible considerations 
concerning it, are full of instruction, admonition, and 
reproof. The time will, however, only permit me to 
make the following 

REMARKS. 

1. How great an evil is sin! 

All the sufferings which have been mentioned in this 
Discourse .are either the rewards, the attendants, or the 
consequences of sin. The rewards of sin express with 
absolute exactness the just views which the unerring 
eye of Omniscience forms concerning this dreadful at- 
tribute of intelligent creatures. The attendants and 
consequences of sin exhibit its nature directly, and dis- 
play immediately its turpitude to our eyes. In the for- 
mer case, we have the most decisive proof of its malig- 
nity, because it is impossible that God should in any 
degree mistake the true nature of this subject. In the 
latter case, we have what may, without very great vio- 
lence, be called an experimental view of the same ma- 
lignity. The evidence in the former case ought to pro- 
duce entire conviction in every mind. The impression 
in the latter case cannot easily fail deeply to affect the 
heart. The evils attendant and consequent upon sin, 
which impregnate the fountain, and flow out in the 
streams have been here very summarily presented to 
your view. They have not been exaggerated. On the 
contrary, the exhibition is lame and feeble compared 
with the fact. Even the world which we inhabit, fur- 
nished as it is with innumerable blessings, has long 
realized a great part of what I have declared. The 



886 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxix. 



earth has ' groaned and travailed in pain ' under the 
mighty pressure of sin, from the apostasy to the present 
hour. Every breeze has been loaded with the sighs, 
every hill has echoed the groans, of suffering mankind. 
The heart has been wrung with anguish from the cra- 
dle to the grave, Lewdness has changed the world in- 
to a lazar-house of corruption ; and anticipated the work 
of death and the grave. Deceit and fraud have mocked 
human expectation, tortured confidence, and hurried 
their miserable victims in millions to beggary, despair, 
and death. Rage and revenge have plunged the mid- 
night dagger in the unsuspecting bosom of the neigh- 
bour and the friend, and in their sanguinary progress 
have multiplied widows and orphans, childless parents, 
and hopeless mourners, without number, and without 
end. Ambition has turned the earth into a stall of 
butchery and blood, and covered its surface with the 
bones of men; while tyranny like the Nubian blast, has 
spread decay and death through the unhappy millions 
found in its course, withered the last remains of com- 
fort and hope, and converted provinces and 1 kingdoms 
into scenes of desolation and woe. What, then, we na- 
turally ask, will be the ravages of the same spirit, when 
goaded on by passions and armed with powers so supe- 
rior to those which have existed on this side of the 
grave? What must be the ravages of sin unrestrained, 
of sin hopeless, of sin eternal! How evidently would 
it, if permitted, change any world into a hell ! 

2. How ought these considerations to alarm every 
person in this assembly ! 

There is in this house a considerable number of in- 
dividuals who hope that they are Christians ; but not 
one of them knows that this is his true character. Some 
doubts still remain in every breast. But where so much 
is at hazard, however small that hazard may seem, what 
efforts can be too great to be made for our escape ! 
With these awful scenes full in view, how much alive, 
how much awake, how ardent, how incessant ought 
every Christian to be in his exertions, in his struggles 
to ' flee from the wrath to come,' and to ' lay hold on 
eternal life !' Were these considerations present to the 
minds of all religious professors, in such a manner as 
their importance loudly demands, how much more fer- 
vent would be their prayers ; how much more vigorous 
their labours; how much more exemplary their lives! 

There are others in this assembly, who, in their own 



view, as well as that of others, have no claim to the 
character or to the hopes of Christians. Of these, the 
number, it is to be feared, is not small. To these what 
shall I say ? Plainly I can say nothing which, with the 
remotest probability, can be expected to move them, if 
they are not roused to anxious attention and the most 
distressing alarm by the awful things which have been 
said in this Discourse — by the knell of impenitence 
which they have now heard. It is the knell of eternal 
death ; of millions for ever dying, and buried in an 
eternal grave. Who of you intends to be reckoned 
with these miserable beings ? Which of you does not 
tremble at the bare thought of meeting the anger of 
God — of being destroyed alway — of dying day by day 
for ever ? Which of you does not shrink with horror 
from the apprehension of sustaining this dreadful cha- 
racter of absolute turpitude, of becoming a mere mass 
of sin; an eternal enemy of God, and of every intelli- 
gent being ; of being known by others, and of knowing 
himself, to be only guilty, odious, and despicable, 
throughout endless ages ? Which of you is not over- 
whelmed with amazement at the bare thought of being 
united with such companions as have been here de- 
scribed ; of living for ever in the midst of fiends, and 
fiendlike men ; being tossed and convulsed by furious 
passions ; rankling with envy, malice, and rage ; hating 
truth and righteousness ; putrid with deceit ; forming 
no plan, pursuing no purpose, but to dishonour God, 
and ruin each other ? Do not your ' hearts die within 
you, and become as stone,' at the thought of inhabiting 
that world, ' whose light is as darkness,' and which is 
overspread with ' the shadow of death;' of feeling out 
your melancholy path through an endless solitude, 
through the regions of ' lamentation, mourning, and 
woe ;' alone in the midst of multitudes — without a 
friend, without a comfort, without a hope ? 

To these questions there can be no answer, without 
a denial of our nature. Let me, then, in the name of 
him with whose commission I stand before you, and by 
whose authority I speak, this day solemnly warn you, 
that the only way in which you can escape these im- 
measurable evils is to yield yourselves to hiin in the 
faith, repentance, and holiness of the gospel. Let me 
solemnly remind you, that ' he who believeth, shall be 
saved, and he who believeth not, shall be damned.' 



SERMON CLXIX. 



THE REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH THE REWARDS OF THE RIGHTEOUS — THE 

NEW CREATION. 



Nevertheless, we, according to Ids promise, look for new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dwelteth 

righteousness. — 2 Peter iii. 13. 



In the two preceding Discourses I considered the du- 
ration and nature of the punishment destined to im- 
penitent sinners in the future world. The next sub- 



ject of discussion is the rewards which will hereafter be 
given to the penitent. This subject I propose to exam- 
ine in the present Discourse generally. Hereafter I 



REWARDS OF THE RIGHTEOUS — THE NEW CREATION. 



8S7 



intend to make it the theme of a more particular discus- 
sion. 

In the tenth verse of the context, St Peter informs 
us, that ' the day of the Lord will come as a thief in 
the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away 
with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with 
fervent heat ; the earth also, and the works that are 
therein, shall be burnt up.' In the text, he goes on to 
inform us farther, that notwithstanding this mighty 
revolution, so alarming, and apparently so fatal, to the 
happiness and the hopes of good men, those hopes shall 
still not be disappointed. ' Nevertheless,' he adds, 
' we,' that is, we, the apostles of our Lord and Saviour, 
and all persons of piety, who are instructed by us, and 
understand the Scriptures of the Old Testament, ' look, 
according to his promise, for new heavens, and a new 
earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.' The promise 
here referred to, seems to be that which was made to 
Abraham, Gen. xvi. 8. Here, God established his 
covenant with this patriarch, and with his seed after 
him, for an everlasting covenant ; and promised to 
them the land of Canaan for an everlasting possession. 
The seed of Abraham, we are taught by St Paul, are 
of two descriptions : the natural, and the spiritual. 
To the natural seed, or his lineal descendants, Canaan 
was promised in the literal sense. To his spiritual de- 
scendants the promise was given in a figurative sense 
only ; and in this sense only was the possession pro- 
mised everlasting. To those who were ' Jews out- 
wardly,' and whose ' circumcision is outward in the 
flesh,' was promised the typical, earthly Canaan. The 
antitype, the heavenly Canaan, was promised to those 
only, who were 'Jews inwardly; whose circumcision 
was that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the let- 
ter, whose praise is not of men, but of God.' 

This promise was afterwards often repeated, both in 
the same terms, and in others more explicit. It is 
often mentioned in the Psalms, particularly in the 
seventy-second and eighty-ninth ; and often by the 
prophets. The prophet Isaiah adopts in two instances 
the very language here used by St Peter. ' Behold,' 
says God, speaking by this prophet ' I create new 
heavens, and a new earth ; and the former shall not be 
remembered, nor come into my mind. But be ye glad, 
and rejoice for ever in that which I create : for behold, 
I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and my people a joy :' 
chapter lxv. 17, 18. And, again, chapter lxvi. 22, 
' For as the new heavens and the new earth which I 
will make shall remain before me, saith the Lord ; so 
shall your seed, and your name remain.' In the first 
of these passages, the declaration, ' Behold, I create 
new heavens, and a new earth,' appears to be used 
figuratively, and to be so explained in the succeeding 
verse, where it is obviously interpreted to mean the 
restoration of holiness to the endless multitude of the 
first-born, by the Spirit of God, through the redemp- 
tion of Christ. Even in this case however it may with 
propriety be considered as including all that pertains 
to this mighty work ; and to involve not only the reno- 
vation of the mind, but also its succeeding- progress in 
higher and higher attainments of virtue throughout 
endless duration. This is the more probable, because 
in the latter passage there is a plain reference to the 
former, indicating that the new heavens and the new 
earth, mentioned in both, are the same; and because 
the phrase in the latter passage is used in the literal 



sense, and has evidently the same signification as in 
the text. 

' Heavens and earth,' in Jewish phraseology, as I 
have observed elsewhere, denoted the universe. In the 
present case, however, the words appear to be used 
with a meaning less extended, as well as in the tenth 
and twelfth verses ; where it is declared, that that 
which is intended by both terms shall be consumed, 
dissolved, and pass away. This astonishing event, we 
are taught, will take place at the final judgment ; and 
we have no hint in the Scriptures, that the judgment 
will involve any other beings beside angels and men. 
The new creation here mentioned, is also exhibited as 
the future residence of angels and men. Other intelli- 
gent beings, therefore, and the worlds which they in- 
habit, may be regarded as concerned in this wonderful 
production only in a mediate and remoter sense. But 
in whatever manner we extend or limit the phrase, it is 
clear from the tenth and twelfth verses, that a part of 
the creation will be destroyed ; and from the text, that 
a new part, sufficiently great to be styled new heavens, 
and a new earth, will be created in its stead. 

In the text St Peter teaches us, that the things shaken 
and removed by the conflagration are destroyed, to 
make way for a new heaven, and a new earth. The 
same truth we are taught by St John, in the twenty- 
first chapter of Revelation, ' And I saw a new heaven, 
and a new earth ;' that is, after the general judgment; 
' for the first heaven and the first earth were passed 
away : and he that sat on the throne said, Behold, I 
make all things new ; and he said, Write, for these 
words are true and faithful.' From these declarations 
it is obvious, that such a change will hereafter lake 
place in the creation of God, as will in the proper sense 
verify this prediction. The first heaven and the first 
earth will pass away ; and a new heaven and a new 
earth will occupy their place in the universe. When 
these are called new, it is plainly meant, that they shall 
be essentially changed in their form, character, and 
circumstances. All things in that part of the universe 
denoted by these words, and not improbably in the 
universe at large, will, at least in a qualified sense, 
become new also. 

On this wonderful subject how easily is the imagina- 
tion lost! Every solemn emotion of the mind is, almost 
of course, awakened and engrossed by the fall of a 
kingdom, or empire. The bare recital of such a ter- 
mination of human greatness, instinctively prompts the 
sigh of commiseration, and the thrill of awe ; and we 
pause in intense and bewildered thought, while we bend 
over the tomb of departed glory. An eclipse of the 
moon, and still more of the sun, fixes the eyes of half 
mankind in astonishment and terror; and millions 
shudder with the most apprehensive forebodings, while 
the last beams of the glorious luminary are withdrawing 
from the sight. What, then, must be the emotions which 
will crowd upon the sou) at the departure of a world ; 
when its funeral fires shall be kindled by the breath of 
the Son of God, its knell sounded by the last trumpet, 
and the voice of the archangel, and its obsequies cele- 
brated with immense and melancholy grandeur by the 
assembled universe ? How would our hearts die within 
us, to see the stars falling from heaven, the moon 
changed into blood, the light of the sun expire, and the 
heavens themselves flee away from the face v£ him that 
sitteth on the throne! 



888 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skh. ci.xix. 



At the creation of this world, ' the morning stars 
sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. 
The minds of these glorious intelligences beheld with 
amazement and rapture the formless mass rise into 
being, at the command of the Creator, the new-born 
light wander over its desolate surface, the dry land 
heave, the ocean expand immeasurably, verdure clothe 
the world, life inhabit it, the lights of heaven rejoice to 
begin their course, and man, awaking into existence, 
commence his first song of wonder, gratitude, and 
praise. How will this astonishment and rapture be 
enhanced, when they and we behold the new heavens 
and the new earth called into being by the same voice, 
worlds destined to be the immortal residence of truth and 
peace, of virtue, glory, and joy, fresh from the hand of 
the Creator, blooming with vernal, undecaying life, and 
brightening beneath the dawn of everlasting day ! With 
what transport will the virtuous universe exclaim at 
this divine era, ' Worthy art thou, O Lord, to receive 
glory, and honour, and power ; for thou hast created 
all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were 
created !' 

It will not be doubted, that such a mighty change in 
the kingdom of Jehovah is effectuated for reasons of the 
highest import, and will be followed by consequences 
sufficiently great, permanent, and desirable, to justify 
so amazing a transaction. This interesting subject I 
shall attempt to illustrate, in the following manner : 

1. The system of the divine dispensations towards this 
world will, at the time specified, come to an end. - 

This world was created to become the scene of one 
great system of dispensations toward the race of Adam ; 
the scene of their existence and their trial, of their 
holiness, or their sin, and their penitence and reforma- 
tion, or their impenitence and obduracy. It was 
intended also to be a theatre of a mysterious and won- 
derful scheme of providence. The first rebellion in the 
divine kingdom commenced in heaven ; the second 
existed here. The first was perpetrated by the highest, 
the second by the lowest order of intelligent creatures. 
These two are with high probability the only instances 
in which the Ruler of all things has been disobeyed by 
his rational subjects. The Scriptures give us no hint 
of any other conduct of the same nature ; and no beings 
are exhibited in them as condemned at the final day, or 
sent down to the world of perdition, beside fallen angels, 
and fallen men. As, therefore, these are often men- 
tioned as fallen creatures, and these only, it is ration- 
ally argued, that no other beings of this character have 
existed. 

The Scriptures appear to speak of other worlds under 
the name ' heaven,' beside the heaven of saints and 
angels. Thus the phrase, ' heaven of heavens,' obviously 
denotes a heaven among, as well as above, other hea- 
vens. ' Heavenly places,' language several times used 
in the New Testament, may not unnaturally denote, 
that in the illimitable expansion called heaven, there 
are various worlds inhabited by intelligent beings. All 
these are, it would seem from the Scriptures, in some 
manner or other, and in a degree not unimportant 
interested in the mediation of Christ ; in such a degree, 
as to be united by it in one vast, harmonious, and happy 
society. Christ is said to be ' head overall things to the 
church.' The Father is also said to ' reconcile all 
things by him unto himself, whether they be things 
upon the earth, or things in heaven' (ly ro<f ovpxvot;, 



' in the heavens'). Col. i. 20. It is also declared, that 
Christ ' ascended far above all heavens, that he might 
fill all things ' ( V7ri^ceva nra.ww ruv ovgeutav, far above 
all the heavens'). Of God the Father it is also deelaTed, 
that it is his purpose ' to gather together (or, re-unite), 
under one head in Christ, all things, both those which 
are in the heavens,* and those which are upon the 
earth, even in him.' 

From these passages it is, I think, reasonably con- 
cluded, that other worlds, beside the supreme heaven, 
are denoted by this phraseology ; that all these worlds, 
will ultimately find an interest, and an important one, 
in the mediation of the Redeemer — will be gathered 
under one head in him — be filled by him with his ful- 
ness — and be brought by him into a nearer union with 
God the Father. 

Should these things be admitted, it will be evident 
that in this world there exists a singular and astonishing 
system of providence ; a system of mediation between 
God and his revolted creatures : of grace and forgive- 
ness on his part, and of faith, repentance, and new 
obedience on theirs. This system, never found else- 
where, is accomplished here ; and, at the time referred 
to is by the text, taken in its relation with the context, 
declared to be finished. 

Particularly, the mediatorial kingdom set up in this 
world, and extending over all things in the universe, is 
at this time brought to a termination. Christ, the 
Ruler in it, ' having put down all (opposing) rule, au- 
thority, and power,' will now ' deliver up this kingdom 
to God, even the Father, that God may be all in all. 

At this time, also, all the race of Adam will have ex- 
isted, and finished the part allotted to them. The whole 
number, both of the good and of the evil, will have been 
completed. 

Sin will have appeared in every permitted form, and 
have been perpetrated in every mode in which it can 
exist without ultimate injury to the divine kingdom. 

Virtue also will have been exhibited in all those di- 
versities of beauty and loveliness, which can furnish a 
proper foundation for the endlessly various rewards 
destined to exist in the future world. 

Grace will have been displayed towards every pro- 
per object, the endless multitude of the first-born will 
have been gathered in, and the glorious register of im- 
mortality, contained in the ' Lamb's book of life,' will 
have been written out, to the last line. 

The final trial also will be ended, the final sentence 
pronounced, and the final allotments of the righteous 
and the wicked settled for ever. 

The purposes for which this world was made will 
herefore have all been accomplished ; and for such a 
world there will be no more use in the divine kingdom. 
No longer necessary, and of too humble and deformed 
a nature to be a proper part of the future system, it will 
be blotted out from among the works of God. In its 
place, new heavens and a new earth will rise into be- 
ing, destined to be the eternal habitation of righteous- 
ness, and suited to a new and superior system of dis- 
pensations. 

II. This wonderful work will be brought into exist- 
ence by means of the mediation of Christ. 

' In my Father's house,' saith the Saviour, 'are many 
mansions. I go to prepare a place for you. And, if I 

* Greek. 



REWARDS OF THE RIGHTEOUS THE NEW CREATION. 



889 



go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and 
receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye 
may be also.' And again : ' Father, I will, that they 
also whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, 
that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given 
me ; and the glory which thou hast given me have I 
given them, that they may be one, even as we are one.' 

From these passages, it is evident, that the state of 
glory in the future world is given to Christ as a proper 
consequence, or, in what I deem more correct language, 
the proper reward of his mediation. It is a state of 
things which otherwise would not have existed. On 
his obedience is it founded, and to reward that obe- 
dience was it created. To his followers it is a gift 
made by his bounty. ' The glory which thou hast given 
me, have I given them.' 

That it will be the proper reward of Christ's media- 
tion : such a reward as infinite wisdom pronounces to 
be a suitable recompense for such obedience, of such a 
person, will, I presume, not be questioned. 

Had Adam passed through his trial with perfect obe- 
dience, both he and his posterity would, undoubtedly, 
have enjoyed a happy immortality in the present world. 
But, if it would have been proper that God should com- 
municate such a mass of enjoyment as a reward of the 
obedience of the ' first Adam, who is of the earth, 
earthy ;* what must be the nature of a proper reward 
for the obedience of the ' second Adam,' who is ' the 
Lord from heaven ;' an obedience infinitely meritori- 
ous, and deserving therefore the highest recompense 
which is possible ? ' All things are yours,' says St 
Paul ; ' whether things present, or things to come ; 
and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's.' All things 
are yours, because ye are Christ's, and because Chri6t 
is God's. 

III. It is evident, that this will be the final state of 
the universe. 

To what has been already said concerning this sub- 
ject, I shall add a few observations. 

It is not conceivable that any other state can with 
propriety succeed that which is inrtituted to reward the 
Son of God, for the most wonderful of all labours and 
sufferings. No other obedience can come after his, 
without infinite disadvantage ; and no state of things be 
established as a reward of such obedience, without an 
incomprehensible diminution of happiness and glory. 
Such an inversion of the dictates of wisdom, such an 
anticlimax of order and beauty, cannot be supposed. 
Indeed, no other obedience but his can be supposed 
materially to affect the divine kingdom in any exten- 
sive manner ; while that of Christ will be easily con- 
ceived to extend its influence through eternity and im- 
mensity; to change, in any supposable degree, the 
whole creation of God ; and to become the foundation 
of every possible improvement in prosperity and splen- 
dour. 

Accordant with this scheme are all the representa- 
tions of Scripture which pertain to the subject. ' Who 
created all things ' says St Paul, ' by Jesus Christ ; to 
the intent that now unto principalities and powers, in 
the heavenly places, might be known by the church the 
manifold wisdom of God,' Eph. iii. 10. Here the dis- 
pensations of God to the church, founded on the media- 
tion of Christ, and existing only through this mediation, 
are exhibited as being essential to the end for which all 
things were created. Plainly therefore all things are 



essentially affected by Christ's mediation. Here also it 
is declared, that the ' intent,' or purpose, for which God 
created all things, was to display, by means of these 
dispensations, ' his manifold wisdom to principalities 
and powers in the heavenly places;' that is, the world 
where they dwell, and the worlds where, from time to 
time they are employed. The knowledge of these glo- 
rious persons, therefore, concerning the divine wisdom, 
and its displays, will be supremely derived from this 
source ; and their understanding will be chiefly em- 
ployed in learning the nature and the endless conse- 
quences of this mediation. By means of their know- 
ledge of this subject also will their virtues be principally 
quickened and ennobled, and their happiness rendered 
exquisite, intense, and complete. 

Thus the mediation of Christ will affect the universe 
in such a manner, throughout immensity and eternity, 
as to render it a widely different thing from what it 
otherwise would have been. The dispensations of God 
will be widely different ; the character of its virtuous 
inhabitants will be different ; their knowledge, virtue, 
glory, and happiness will be wonderfully superior ; more 
exalted, more refined, more perfect. Plainly, there- 
fore, this state of things will be final. In accordance 
with this view of the subject, it is said, that the righte- 
ous ' shall live and reign with Christ for ever and ever ;' 
that ' there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor cry- 
ing, neither any more pain :' that the life which the 
righteous enjoy, is ' everlasting ;' that ' nothing shall 
be able to separate them from the love of God, which 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord ; and that '■ all things,' both 
present and future, ' are theirs.' Hence God styles 
himself ' their God ;' and declares them to be ' his 
people.' 

That a final state is an eternal one, will not be ques- 
tioned by any man who reads and believes the Scrip- 
tures. Whatever blessings, then, the righteous may 
obtain in the future world, all these blessings will con- 
tinue for ever. 

IV. It will be an unchangeable state. 

Sin, under the system of dispensations preceding the 
judgment, will have had its whole course and its whole 
effect upon the universe, so far as a state of trial is 
concerned ; and will never more exist, except in a 
state of punishment, and as an awful example to vir- 
tuous beings. The righteous will have passed through 
the same period of trial ; and will have * washed their 
robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.' 
They will begin the endless state of reward with a 
fixed character of holiness, or virtue ; and will never 
more return to sin. Every day, hour, and moment, as 
they move on in the progress of endless duration, they 
will in the most exact sense, ' love the Lord their God 
with all their heart, and with all their soul, and with 
all their strength, and with all their understanding; 
and they will love each other as themselves.' Every 
external duty also to which this disposition prompts, or 
which the pleasure of God directs, they will perform 
without failure, and without defect ; and will thus be 
' spirits of men' absolutely 'just,' made absolutely ' per- 
fect.' 

All the circumstances and consequences connected 
with this character will possess the same immutable na- 
ture. These virtuous beings will begin the possession 
of happiness and glory, to continue only happy and 
glorious for ever. Death, and sorrow, and crying, and 
b u 



890 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skb. clxix. 



pain will be no more ; and the last tear will have been 
wiped away by the divine hand from every eye. The 
good found will be always complete ; the vessel always 
full, and the contents free from every mixture. Loss, 
danger, and fear will be alike unknown. The immense 
of duration -will be an unclouded, everlasting day. 

It is not, however, here intended, that this state will 
in the absolute sense be uniform : the Scriptures teach 
us, that it will be perpetually improving. Diminution 
it will never know ; increase and enhancement it will 
experience without end. 

V. It will be a state in the proper sense new to the 
in iverse. 

The heaven of heavens, particularly, will in many 
respects become new. 

A great part of its inhabitants will be ' the general 
assembly and church of the first-born.' These are all 
recovered and restored sinners. Originally, no rational 
beings were subjects of virtue and happiness, beside 
those ' who kept their first estate.' No others were ob- 
jects of the eternal favour of God. Endless woe is the 
proper desert of sin, and persistency in endless turpitude 
is probably an essential part of its nature. To see a 
sinner then, especially to see a multitude of sinners 
which no man can number, recovered from their apos- 
tasy, restored to holiness, justified, accepted, made 
inhabitants of heaven, walking in the light of that happy 
world, and mingling with angels in their communion, 
their enjoyments, and their praise, will, of all events in 
the providential system, be to the virtuous universe the 
most unexpected, surprising, and delightful. ' There 
is joy in heaven,' saith our Saviour, ' over one sinner 
that repenteth, more than over ninety-and-nine just 
persons, who need no repentance.' What then will be 
the gratulation, the transport, the songs of triumph, 
when the penitence, not of an individual only, but of 
innumerable millions, shall be announced to this bene- 
volent world ? With what ecstasy, will every bosom 
heave, when, not the tidings of this restoration are 
rehearsed, but the happy beings themselves who have 
experienced it have actually arrived, are presented be- 
fore the throne of God, and begin the everlasting soiag, 
' Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins 
in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests 
unto God, even his Father, unto him be glory and do- 
minion for ever and ever, Amen I' 

The universe also (for the first time since the apos- 
tasy of angels) will be at peace. To this period rebel- 
lion will have existed, and war been carried on in the 
kingdom of Jehovah. But after the entrance of the 
righteous into heaven, all these evils will be settled in 
uninterrupted quiet. Animosity, contention, and con- 
fusion will no more invade the regions of virtue, nor 
disturb the harmony of their inhabitants. ' And I saw 
a new heaven, and a new earth,' says St John ; ' for 
the first heaven and, the first earth were passed away, 
and there was no more sea.' The sea is chosen by the 
prophetical writers as an image of those violences which 
are so prevalent and so universal here, and to which its 
own restless agitations bear so strong a resemblance. 
These, it is here asserted, will exist no more. In the 
future world of enjoyment no cloud will overcast the 
sky, no tempest will rage, no billows will roll. Peace, 
divine and eternal, will breathe her balmy influence 
through every bosom, and hush the voice of contention 
for ever. 



At the same time the mediatorial kingdom will be 
terminated, and ail the immediate purposes of this 
wonderful system accomplished. His chosen ones will 
be all gathered. Not one of them, however poor, will 
be prevented from arriving in this glorious kingdom. 
Every one will see his infirmities, sins, and dangers 
vanished for ever. 

At this era, God in a new sense will be ' all in all.' 
In other words, his perfections will be manifested with 
a clearness and splendour before unknown. 

Particularly, the former dispensations of his provi- 
dence will be unfolded to the contemplation and com- 
prehension of virtuous beings. These dispensations,. it 
will be remembered, were merely means, adopted for 
the promotion of ends to be accomplished in the future 
world. The fitness of their adoption for these purposes, 
as well as the wisdom of their Author, cannot therefore 
be thoroughly understood, until the ends for which they 
exist shall take place. At this era they will begin to 
be clearly disclosed. All of them will now appear, to 
have been necessary, wise, and good ; and will show, 
beyond a doubt, that he who selected them was ' won- 
derful in counsel, excellent in. working, wise in heart, 
and mighty in strength.' 

The beauty, glory, and happiness of virtuous beings 
will also be only a new and illustrious manifestation of 
the perfections of God. Their bodies and their minds 
will be his workmanship ; archetypes of those infinitely 
various forms of beauty, glory, and loveliness which, 
like the colours of light in the sun, shone and mingled 
with immortal splendour in the uncreated mind. Their 
virtues will be only unceasing emanations of his excel- 
lence ; their enjoyments only perennial streams, flow- 
ing from the eternal fountain of good. 

In them all, also, he will live, and breathe, and move. 
The animating principle, a vernal warmth, an ethereal 
fire, imperceptible in itself, but gloriously visible in its 
effects, will spread without intermission through the 
virtuous universe, and quicken all things which it con- 
tains. The air, the trees, the streams, the fruits, will 
all be informed with life. This divine principle in the 
glorified bodies of the blessed will warm the heart, kin- 
dle the eye, and play around the aspect, with youth 
and immortality. The soul it will invigorate with en- 
ergy, which knows no decay ; will glow in its affections, 
and supply it with strength to form vast conceptions, 
and to model plans and purposes for eternity. All 
things will be full of life ; and the life in all things will 
be God. 

Finally : A new system of dispensations will here 
commence, incomparably more glorious than anything 
and everything which has before existed. Christ is 
the light of heaven, as well as of earth. In this divine 
Person the Godhead will shine without a cloud, and be 
seen face to face. The splendour will be all intelli- 
gence and enjoyment, and the warmth, life and love. 
The happy millions will bask for ever in the benevolent 
beams ; and, with the eagle's eye fixed on the divine 
luminary, will rise on eagle's wings with a perpetually 
invigorated flight, nearer and nearer to the Sun of 
righteousness for ever. 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN 



SERMON CLXX. 



THE REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH.-^THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away ; and 
there was no more sea. And I, John, saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of 
heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven, say- 
ing, Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and 
God himself shall be with them, and be their God. — Rev. xxi. 1 — 3. 



In the preceding Discourse I endeavoured to give a 
summary view of the new creation, or the ' new hea- 
vens and the new earth,' mentioned in the beginning 
of the text. In this I propose to consider briefly, the 
particular state of the redeemed in their future exist- 
ence, for whom, principally, the Scriptures exhibit the 
glorious state of the universe, which was the subject of 
the preceding Discourse, as being accomplished. For 
them, particularly, heaven is formed and furnished, to 
be their everlasting residence. ' In my Father's house,' 
said our Saviour, ' are many mansions ; I go to prepare 
a place for you.' — ' Come, ye blessed of my Father,' 
will the Judge say to the righteous at the final day, 
' inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foun- 
dation of the world.' To complete this world of glory, 
to adorn it with unrivalled beauty, to store it with the 
richest blessings, to fill it with the most proper inhabi- 
tants, and to reign over it with peculiar displays of his 
perfection for ever, is, I think, sufficiently exhibited in 
the Scriptures as the end especially proposed by the 
Creator in all his antecedent dispensations. That hea- 
ven was created to become the residence of those by 
whom it will be inhabited, and to become the theatre of 
those glorious dispensations which will constitute the 
eternal providence of God towards them, will not, I 
suppose, he questioned. It has been shown, that the 
display of the divine wisdom ' to principalities and 
powers in the heavenly places,' by means of the church, 
was the ' intent' for which God ' created all things by 
Jesus Christ.' It will not be doubted, that this display 
will be chiefly made in the heavenly world, rather than 
in this ; and more extensively and perfectly during the 
endless progress of future ages, than during the mo- 
mentary continuance of time. For the same end ex- 
isted the work of redemption. For this end also man- 
kind are born, angels employed as ' ministering spirits, 
to minister to them who are the heirs of salvation ;' the 
| revolutions of time finished, the judgment set, the world 
consumed by fire, and the new heavens and the new 
earth created, as the eternal habitation of righteousness. 
Of course, this state is sufficiently glorious to justify 
these amazing labours, and the existence of that won- 
derful train of events which they accomplish. The first 
heaven and the first earth were intended to be the the- 
atre of temporary scenes; and, when these are finished, 
are declared in the text to pass away. The new heaven 
and the new earth are destined to eternal purposes, and 
are therefore formed to endure for ever. 

The two last chapters of the Apocalypse are a dis- 
course written chiefly on this great subject. No de- 



scriptive writing in the possession of mankind can be 
compared with this in sublimity and splendour. The 
most beautiful and the most magnificent objects which 
were ever presented to the imagination of man are here 
selected with unrivalled skill, and combined with su- 
preme felicity. Every stroke is the strong, masterly 
effort of a great mind, filled with the immense gran- 
deur of the subject, and giving vent to the wonders and 
glories of inspiration ; everywhere invigorated with 
that conciseness which is so characteristic of the Scrip- 
tures, and especially of their sublimest effusions. It is 
equally distinguished for the particularity of imagery 
and phraseology which is indispensable to all vivid, 
powerful impressions. Little and ordinary things, nay, 
such as may be styled great, but are yet possessed of 
secondary splendour, are here forgotten, or purposely 
left to be supplied by the mind of the reader; while the 
writer employs himself in exhibiting those only which 
are eminently important, intensely beautiful, or glori- 
ously majestic. 

This discourse of St John may perhaps with equal 
propriety he considered as a description of a place, 
which, with its appendages, is denominated ' the hea- 
ven of heavens,' or ' the new Jerusalem ;' or of the state 
of things existing in that delightful region ; as an ac- 
count of the future character and happiness of the 
church ; or the divine residence where it will dwell, 
and its happiness be enjoyed. It is of little conse- 
quence, therefore, in which manner the discourse is 
understood. 

Of this discourse the text is the introduction, and 
contains several interesting declarations concerning its 
illustrious subject. The writer commences his observa- 
tions by informing us, that after the first heaven and the 
first earth had passed away, he saw a new heaven and a 
new earth brought into existence ; the same which St 
Peter declares to be expected by himself and his fel- 
low Christians after the conflagration. In these happy 
regions, he also informs us, tumult and confusion would 
never find a place ; ' There was no more sea.' Then, 
he announces to us, he saw the ' holy city, New Jeru- 
salem,' a magnificent emblem of the future state and 
residence of the redeemed, ' coming down from God 
out of heaven.' This city ' was prepared as a bride 
adorned for her husband ;' or, in other words, orna- 
mented with every variety and degree of beauty and 
splendour. A great voice from heaven proclaimed, 
that this was ' the tabernacle,' or peculiar dwelling- 
place ' of God ;' that it should henceforth exist with 
men through all succeeding ages of duration ; and that 



892 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxx. 



' God would henceforth dwell with them, and be their 
God, and that they should be his people.' In other 
words, the voice declared, that the covenant made with 
Abraham, and afterwards repeatedly promulged to the 
church, should now be fulfilled in all its import, and to 
the utmost extent of the blessing conveyed in these 
memorable words, ' I will be your God, and ye shall 
be my people.' 

Soon after, St John was carried by an angel, in the 
spirit, to a great and high mountain ; where, at leisure, 
lie surveyed the same illustrious object, and beheld in 
distinct vision, and contemplated separately the won- 
derful parts of this astonishing structure, and all its 
magnificent appendages. His description of these he 
concludes with this remarkable declaration: ' And 
there shall in no wise enter into it anything that 
defileth, neither • whatsoever worketh abomination, or 
mnketh a lie ; but they which are written in the Lamb's 
book of life.' For the redeemed, then, heaven is form- 
ed and constituted ; and all its blessings unite to com- 
plete their happy state in the future world. 

The observations which I propose to make concern- 
ing this interesting subject, I shall arrange under the 
following heads : — 

I. The residence ; 

II. The character ; 

III. The employments ; and, 

IV. The enjoyments of the redeemed. 

In the first place, tfie residence of these happy beings 
claims our particular attention. 

No man, it is presumed, ever read the history of our 
first parents, contained in the second chapter of Gene- 
sis, without being deeply interested in their state, as 
well as their character. The paradise allotted to them, 
as their proper residence, has in a high degree engaged 
the attention and awakened the delight of every reader. 
Its trees and fruits, its fields arrayed in verdure and 
adorned with flowers, the life which breathed in its 
winds, and flowed in its rivers, the serenity of its sky, 
and the splendour of its sunshine, together with the 
immortality which gilded and burnished all its beauti- 
ful scenes, have filled the heart with rapture, and 
awakened the most romantic visions of the imagination. 
The poets of the West, and still more those of the East, 
have, down to the present hour, kindled at the thought 
of this scene of beauty and fragrance ; and the very 
name of Eden has met the eye as a gem in the verse 
which it adorned. Nay, it . has been transferred by 
God himself to the world of glory, and become one of 
the appropriate designations of heaven. ' To him that 
overcometh,' saith our Saviour, ' I will give to eat of 
the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of 
God.' 

If the earthly paradise has been so delightful to the 
human mind ; if the human heart has ever sighed over 
the loss of this happy residence ; it must certainly be a 
more delightful, as well as a more rational employ- 
ment, to contemplate a paradise wonderfully superior 
both in its nature and duration. Peculiarly will this 
employment be proper, consolatory, and edifying to 
him who, feeling himself a pilgrim and a stranger in 
the present world, looks for a permanent residence 
beyond the grave ; ' a city which hath foundations, 
whose builder and maker is God.' 

The heavenly paradise is formed for eternity ; and 
will in every respect deserve to continue through this 



immense duration. It is intended to be the scene in 
which the infinitely glorious obedience of Christ will 
find its reward ; .and will itself be a proper part of that 
reward, and one honourable testimony of liis Father's 
complacency in that divine work. ' The marriage 
supper of the Lamb,' the great festival of the universe, 
is now to be holden ; and the house of God will be 
adorned with all the beauty and splendour which can 
become this great day, and the character of this won- 
derful Person. The prayer of Christ for his followers, 
contained in these remarkable words, ' And the glory 
which thou hast given me, I have given them ; that 
they may be one, even as we are one : I in them) and 
thou in me ; that they may be made perfect in one. 
Father, I will, that they also whom thou hast given me 
be with me where I am, that they may behold my 
glory, which thou hast given me.' This prayer will 
now begin to be fulfilled in its proper import. All the 
redeemed will now be gathered in this happy place ; 
and the perfect union between them and the Saviour 
will commence. They will begin to ' behold his glory,' 
and to possess ' the glory which he has given them.' 
That * manifestation of the sons of God ' will now be 
made, which ' the whole creation ' has earnestly and 
anxiously expected to this time. This is the period in 
which all things will begin to be theirs : the things of 
this world, by an instructive and delightful recollection ; 
the things of that which is to come, by exquisite and 
unlimited enjoyment. Of course, whatever material 
beauty, greatness, and glory can furnish, whatever their 
luminous minds can understand or enjoy of this nature, 
will now begin to be lavished on them with a bounty 
becoming the character of God. 

Perfectly correspondent with these views of the sub- 
ject, is the description of the New Jerusalem, contained 
in this discourse of St John. The foundations of the 
heavenly city are garnished with all manner of precious 
stones. Its dimensions are wonderfully great. Its wall 
is of jasper. Its buildings are of pure and pellucid 
gold ; its gates are pearls ; its watchmen are angels. 
The throne of God and the Lamb is in the midst of it. 
Out of this throne proceeds the river of life, and on its 
banks stands the tree of life, yielding the various fruits 
of immortality. No temple is found here. No night 
overcasts the sky. No moon shines. No sun arises. 
' The Lord God Almighty, and the Lamb, are the 
temple' of this divine residence; the sun which shines 
with the splendour of everlasting day. 

Into these mansions, ' there shall in no wise enter 
anything that defileth, or that worketh abomination, 
or that maketh a lie.' There will be nothing to de- 
ceive, nothing to pollute, nothing to awaken disgust or 
abhorrence. Every sin and every sinner will be finally 
excluded. Rebellion will have spent its force, the iron 
rod of oppression will be broken ; the trumpet will 
have blown its final blast ; the last shout of battle will 
have expired ; ' destructions ' will have ' come to a per- 
petual end.' Tumult, suspense, and fear will be no 
more. The minds of these happy inhabitants will 
never more be assailed by temptation. No lusts will 
rankle within — no enemies will seduce without. 

Private separate interests will be felt, and known 
no more. The universal good will allure every eye, 
engross every heart, and move every hand. Peace, 
therefore, ' not in word, nor in tongue, but in deed, 
and in truth ;' the peace of minds, the harmony of 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



893 



views, the unison of affections, will spread over all the 
millions who inhabit this land of promise ; and diffuse 
a universal and eternal serenity within and without 
the soul. 

Here also all things will live. Death and sorrow, 
disease and pain, crying and tears, will have fled for 
ever. There will be nothing to destroy, nothing to 
impair, nothing to lament. Everything will live ; and 
not merely live, but grow, and flourish, and bloom, 
without interruption. Life, in a sublime and superior 
sense, life vernal and immortal, will impregnate the 
streams and trees, the leaves and fruits, and animate 
the bodies and minds of the firstborn. A glorious anti- 
type will be found here of the wheel seen by Ezekiel 
in the vision of the cherubim. One spirit, you will 
remember, one life, informed both; for the spirit of 
life was in the wheels, as well as in the cherubim. 

As all things in heaven will be informed with life, so 
they will become universally means of joy. The present 
world is justly styled ' a vale of tears.' Distress awaits 
us here in a thousand forms. Within us it dwells, 
without it assails. We are sinners, are the subjects of un- 
gratified desire, disappointment, discontent, reproaches 
of conscience, and distressing apprehensions concerning 
the anger of God. At the same time, our frail bodies 
are subjected to the evils of hunger and thirst, of cold 
and heat, of weariness and languor, of sickness and 
pain, of decay and death. Our friends and families 
are in want, pain, and sorrow ; they sicken and die; 
their sinsi disgrace them, and wound us ; and awaken 
excruciating apprehensions concerning their destiny 
beyond the grave. War also frequently spreads wide 
the miseries of dismay, plunder, slaughter, and devas- 
tation. To beings habituated to a state of existence so 
extensively formed of these distressing materials, how 
welcome must be the change which transports them 
from this world to heaven ! When ' the ransomed of 
the Lord shall return, and come to ' the celestial ' Zion 
with songs, everlasting joy shall be upon their heads ; 
they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and 
sighing shall flee away.' Heaven is created to be the 
residence of happiness. Everything which it contains 
will be beauty, grandeur, and glory to the eye, har- 
mony to the ear, and rapture to the heart ; rapture 
which admits no mixture, and knows no termination. 

II. The character of the righteous in the future 
world, may be illustrated in the following manner : 

They are beings composed of body and mind. Their 
bodies I have described in the Discourse on the resur- 



clearly, enjoy more exquisitely, and act more usefully, 
than it would do if disembodied. 

It is not here intended, that minds need, in the meta- 
physical sense, the possession of bodies to complete 
their happiness ; or that saints hereafter will enjoy a 
felicity superior to that of angels. It is only intended, 
that this is one way in which God is pleased to make 
happiness perfect ; and that saints themselves will be 
in a state of higher perfection than if they were unem- 
bodied. Of this, it is apprehended, the evidence is en- 
tire in the great fact, that Christ will reign for ever in his 
own glorified body ; for it will not be supposed that his 
human nature will by this fact be rendered less glorious. 
The redeemed are also just men made perfect. The 
word ' perfect ' is differently understood. It may be 
proper, therefore, to observe, that I intend by it, not a 
state of existence which admits of no accession to the 
powers of the mind, its attainments, or its enjoyments. 
The infinite mind only is perfect in this sense. I in- 
tend that state in which the mind will be the subject 
neither of fault nor error, neither of decay nor weari- 
ness ; in which there will be nothing to lessen its use- 
fulness, or impair its enjoyment ; in which it will be 
entirely approved by itself, and entirely loved by its 
Maker ; in which it will fill a station and act a part in the 
divine kingdom altogether necessary, desirable, and 
honourable, and will perform these things perfectly, and 
better than they would be performed by any other being 
whatever. This, if I mistake not, is the perfection of 
angels, and the perfection of those who are declared by 
Christ to be laxyys^oi, ' equal (or like) to angels.' Both 
will, however, improve in their attainments, and in their 
attributes also, for ever. 

They are redeemed. They have all been apostates, 
rebels, and outcasts ; and were once ' children of wrath,' 
because they were ' children of disobedience.' They 
were all therefore condemned by the law of God ; and, 
had they been left to themselves, must have perished for 
ever. Every one of them, also, ' was turned from 
darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
God ;' was renewed by the divine goodness, and the 
mysterious influence of the Spirit of grace. Every one 
of them was once ' lost ' to the virtuous universe, and 
has again been ' found.' 

Thus they are a new order of beings in the divine 
kingdom ; beings restored from endless sin to endless 
holiness, and raised from absolute perdition to immor- 
tal life. How amazing the change, how immense the 
deliverance! So airiazing, so literally immense, that 



rection ; and shall only add here, that they will be : eternity will scarcely be sufficient to unfold 'the height, 
means of increasing essentially both the power and the | the length, and the breadth ' of this unexampled dis- 



enjoyment of their minds ; so that they will be hap- 
pier after the re-union of these two great constituents 
of their existence than before. In the present world 
our bodies are full of imperfection, possessed of obtuse 
faculties, furnishing us information with difficulty, and 
in parts and parcels, sluggish in their nature, and heavy 
in all their movements. By disease also and accident 
their own powers are impaired, and with them those of 
the mind. ' Even when these evils do not exist, age 
brings on certain decay, weakens every power, and 
blunts every perception. 

But in the world of glory the body, as was formerly 
observed, will become a spiritual body ; possessed of a 
perfection corresponding altogether with that of the 
mind. By means of it the mind will perceive more 



pensation. 

In this character the Redeemer will behold them for 
ever, as the peculiar reward of his mediation, the tro- 
phies of his cross, and the gems in his crown of glory. 
Throughout the ages of heaven he will look on every 
one as an immortal mind, to save which from endless 
turpitude and ruin, he shed his own most precious 
blood ; as a mind, recovered by himself to the divine 
kingdom, reinstamped by his Spirit with the image of 
God, and thus furnished with an indefeasible title to 
eternal glory. 

They are adopted children of God. The relation 
expressed in these terms is neither fanciful, nor figura- 
tive ; but real, acknowledged by God, and inestimably 
important. In the covenant of grace he was pleased to 



894 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. clxx. 



promise, that he would be ' their God,' and that they 
should be ' his people ;' that he would be ' a Father to 
them ;' and that they should be ' his sons and daughters.' 
This covenant he will now completely fulfil, this rela- 
tion he will now consummate, in the sight of the uni- 
verse. He will acknowledge them as ' heirs of God, 
and joint heirs with Jesus Christ ' to his kingdom and 
glory ; to ' an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and 
that fadeth not away ;' an inheritance ' eternal in the 
heavens;' 'a kingdom prepared for them from the 
foundation of the world.' ' Christ,' says St Paul, Heb. 
ii. 11, 'is not ashamed to call them brethren.' — ' God,' 
says the same apostle, Heb. xi. 16, 'is not ashamed to 
be called their God.' 

They are brethren to each other. In this character 
they will behold each other as made of one blood and 
as sprung from the same loins, as redeemed from sin 
and misery by the death of the Son of God, as renewed 
by the same Spirit of truth, as fellow members of the 
same church, as fellow travellers in the same journey 
towards heaven, as ruined by the same apostasy, recov- 
ered by the same mercy, and heirs of the same glorious 
inheritance. How many bonds of endearment and 
union are here presented to our view ! How intimate 
are these relations! How important in their nature! 
What sources of attachment ! What indissoluble liga- 
ments do they form for the heart ! What intense 
endearment must they awaken ! What delightful of- 
fices of love must they inspire! 

They are also companions of angels. ' Ye are come,' 
says St Paul, with the anticipating spirit of prophecy, 
' Ye are come unto Mount Zion, and unto the city of 
the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem ; and to an 
innumerable company of angels.' — 'and round about 
the throne,' says St John, ' were four and twenty seats, 
and upon the seats I saw four and twenty elders sitting, 
clothed in white raiment; and they had on their heads 
crowns of gold. And before the throne, there was a 
sea of glass, like unto crystal. And in the midst of the 
throne, and round about the throne, were four living 
ones, full of eyes, both before and behind.' In this 
passage the same station is allotted to the representa- 
tives of the church, and the representatives of the an- 
gelic host. 

Throughout every part of the same book, angels and 
glorified saints are exhibited as dwelling together in 
the same glorious mansions, occupied in the same em- 
ployments, and united in the same praise. When the 
four living ones cry, ' Holy, floly, Holy, Lord God 
Almighty ! who wast, and who art, and who art to 
come ; the four and twenty elders fall down before 
him that sitteth on the throne, and worship him that 
liveth for ever and ever; and cast their crowns before 
the throne, saying, Thou art worthy, Lord, to receive 
glory, and honour, and power ; for thou hast created 
all things, and for thy pleasure they are, and were 
created.' 

The angel interpreter also, whom St John, astonished 
and bewildered by the vision of the New Jerusalem, 
attempted to worship, replied to him in these remark- 
able words : ' See thou do it not. I am thy fellow 
servant, and of thy brethren the prophets, and of them 
who keep the sayings of this book.' No words could 
more completely evince the truth of the doctrine under 
consideration. 

Angels, as I have formerly shown, are the first of all 



created beings in worth, cugnity, and glory. To be 
the companions of these exalted intelligences, these 
most favoured creatures of God, must plainly be a pri- 
vilege which words will in vain labour to describe, and 
imagination to conceive. 

Finally : They are kings and priests unto God. In 
the Discourse just now alluded to, I have exhibited, 
very imperfectly indeed, the dignity and glory of the 
stations which angels occupy in the divine kingdom. 
The saints, who will hereafter be their companions, 
will occupy similar stations. The name priest, in this 
declaration, indicates the distinguished purity of their 
character; and teaches us, that their thoughts, affec- 
tions, and purposes, will be an unceasing and eternal 
offering of sweet incense in the sanctuary of heaven. 
The name king, denotes their distinguished honour ; 
and informs us, that they will hereafter be elevated to 
princely employments and peculiar dignities in the 
empire of Jehovah. ' To him that overcometh,' says 
our Saviour, ' will I grant to sit with me on my throne ; 
even as I also overcame, and am set down with my 
Father in his throne,' Rev. iii. 21. ' They shall reign,' 
said the interpreting angel to John, when describing 
the future happiness of the righteous, ' they shall reign 
for ever and ever.' 



1. These considerations illustrate in the strongest 
manner the goodness of God. 

The blessings which have been summarily mentioned 
in this Discourse; are all created and bestowed, by the 
infinite hand, and contrived by the infinite mind. They 
are the best of all blessings ; immeasurable in their 
value, in their multitude numberless, in their duration 
eternal. To give such blessings as these to any beings, 
even the greatest and most excellent, would be an 
exertion of bounty which could not fail to claim our 
high admiration. Here they are given to the humblest 
class of intelligent creatures ; a great part of whom 
have held their earthly course along the line which 
forms the lowest limit of moral agency, and during 
their residence in this world have always travelled 
along the verge of animal nature. Nor is this all : 
they are given to apostates excommunicated by them- 
selves from the assembly of virtuous beings, voluntary 
aliens from the divine kingdom, useless to their Crea- 
tor, and nuisances to his creation. 

Why are they given at all ? To this question no 
answer can be returned, but that they are the mere over- 
flowings of unlimited goodness. Why, above all, are 
they given to such beings as have been here described? 
To give in this glorious manner to those who are pos- 
sessed of the highest created worth, between whose cha- 
racter and rewards there is a perceptible degree of con- 
gruity, evidences a bountiful disposition, whose extent 
and excellence are plainly incomprehensible. But our 
conceptions of the glory of this disposition are mightily 
enhanced when we behold these blessings flowing in 
uninterrupted and eternal streams to beings who have 
forfeited all good, and who were destined to drink the 
cup of bitterness for ever. ' Oh give thanks unto the 
Lord,' said David, ' for he is good, for his mercy en- 
dureth for ever J Who remembered us in our low es- 
tate, and hath redeemed us from our enemies ; for his 
mercy endureth for ever! Oh give thanks unto the 
God of heaven, for his mercy endureth for ever.' 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



89-5 



2. These considerations very forcibly impress upon 
the mind the glory of Christ in the work of redemption. 

When we read those passages of Scripture in which 
the future happiness of the righteous is exhibited, we 
are struck with. astonishment at the strength and splen- 
dour of the exhibition. I do not remember that in all 
the conversations which I have heard concerning this 
subject, a single individual has, in any instance, given 
me reason to suppose that he considered the scriptural 
declarations concerning it as intended to be fulfilled in 
the strict sense. Numerous as they are, and uniform 
as their tenor is, they appear, so far as I have observed, 
universally to be regarded as pictures intentionally 
overdrawn ; as poetical efforts, beautiful indeed, and 
sublime in an eminent degree ; but rendered by the 
imagination of the writer, bold, fervid, and hyperbo- 
lical, in such a manner as not to be received without 
many limitations. With this general view of the sub- 
ject, I am persuaded, most persons rest satisfied ; and 
thus regard heaven as a state somewhat happier than 
that of Eden ; but substantially the same with that 
which mankind would have enjoyed, had their progen- 
itor continued steadfast in his obedience. But with 
these conceptions every person who pleases may see 
there is no accordance in the Scriptures. 

What has given birth to such conceptions appears to 
me plainly to be the apprehension, universally diffused, 
that these wonderful blessings cannot with propriety be 
dispensed to such beings as men are, even in their best 
estate. 

The righteous, as well as the wicked, are in the 
Scriptures said to be ' rewarded according to then- 
works. ' The wicked, it will be remembered, are re- 
warded for their works, as well as according to them. 
But this cannot be said of the righteous, unless in a 
very humble and very remote sense. The righteous 
are saved from perdition, and rewarded with eternal 
life, solely on account of the obedience of Christ. Their 
own works are merely the proportional measures of 
their reward. All are alike interested in the righteous- 
ness of Christ, and are therefore alike entitled to a re- 
ward. But there is a real and considerable difference 
in the degrees of excellence which they severally ob- 
tain and exhibit ; and this difference we are taught by 
the Scriptures, as reason would naturally teach us, will 
become the foundation of a difference in their future 
allotments. Christians, I believe universally, are suffi- 
ciently ready to admit that their escape from hell, and 
their admission to heaven, are blessings owed wholly to 
the obedience of Christ, and in no sense merited by 
themselves. Still, I suspect that few of them ask what 
that heaven is ; that degree of happiness which will be 
the proper consequence of Christ's obedience, and a 
suitable reward for its transcendent worth. Had Adam 
obeyed, his posterity would have inherited a happy im- 
mortality. Few Christians, I am persuaded, ever in- 
quire concerning the nature and blessings of this happy 
immortality, or of that which will suitably reward the 
obedience of the second Adam. Thus, considering 
heaven merely as a happy immortality, acknowledging 
themselves to be admitted to it on account of Christ's 
righteousness, and yet supposing, that the kind and de- 
gree of happiness will, in some indefinite manner or 
other, be suited to the nature and value of their own 
obedience, they think that heaven, so far at least as 
themselves are concerned, must be a state of compara- 



tively moderate enjoyment. Without supposing them- 
selves therefore to disbelieve, and without disbelieving 
in fact, the truth of revelation, without calling in ques- 
tion intentionally, or perceptibly to themselves, any 
passage of Scripture, they suffer not a little of that 
which is revealed concerning the glory of heaven to 
stand for nothing. 

To this mode of thinking the humility of good men 
powerfully contributes. They cannot realize, that them- 
selves, stained as they are with guilt, nor that any men, 
were they even perfect, can be admitted to such enjoy- 
ments as those which are unfolded in the promises of 
the gospel. The distance between the reward and the 
character of the recipient is too great, the change is too 
absolute and wonderful to be admitted into the mind. 
' Is it possible,' will a man of this character instinctively 
ask, ' that such a one as I should inherit enjoyments of 
this transcendent nature.' 

To the same current of thought that so frequently 
quoted text has probably contributed not a little, al- 
though in an indirect manner: 'Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of 
man, the things which God hath prepared for them that 
love him.' It would seem that most of those who have 
quoted this text, have made a full stop at the conclu- 
sion of the verse. Had they proceeded to the very 
next words, they would have found them the following : 
' But God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit.' 
Whatever may be the things which are here declared 
to have been unseen, unheard, and unimagined, St 
Paul informs us, that they are revealed to us by the 
Spirit of God ; and, since the time of this revelation, 
are therefore not unknown to us, unless through our 
negligence. Still, I believe this text has put a kind of 
negative in the minds of very many Christians upon 
most of their inquiries concerning the heavenly state. 
Under the influence of this declaration they seem to 
have supposed that the Bible must of course be silent 
concerning this subject ; and to have wandered over 
the passages where it is mentioned, without stopping 
to ask what was their meaning. In their meditations 
on the future felicity of the righteous, they seem to 
have drawn up this conclusion, that it is something in- 
definitely and indescribably great indeed, but left for 
their imaginations to form as well as they can, and 
their hearts to hope ; rather than something to an im- 
portant degree unfolded in the word of God. 

To me all this appears unhappy. No reason, it is 
presumed, can be given, why in this, any more than in 
other cases, we should limit the word of God by our 
own views ; and interpret its declarations according to 
the dictates either of our feelings or our philosophy. It 
is undoubtedly to be admitted, that the rewards of the 
righteous in the future state are wonderfully dispropor- 
tioned to any worth of which they can boast. But this 
ought to occasion no surprise, when we remember that 
' the reward is not of debt, but of grace ; that we are 
not only justified, but glorified also, solely on account 
of the obedience of the Redeemer. If this considera- 
tion be kept in view, we cannot, I think, hesitate to ad- 
mit, that all which is declared in the gospel concerning 
this subject may be strictly just without exaggeration. 
St Paul has certainly removed every difficulty which 
might have hung upon it, and every perplexity with 
which our considerations of it are attended. ' He,' 
says this apostle, triumphantly discussing it in the 



898 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxxi. 



eighth chapter of Romans, ' He that spared not his own 
Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not 
with him also freely give us all things ?' The righteous, 
the virtue which constitutes their character, and the 
happiness to which it is entitled, are all given to Christ 
in the covenant of redemption, because ' he made his 
soul an offering for sin.' They are ' the seed which,' 
it is promised, ' should prolong their days ;' or be happy 
for ever. In them he sees the fruit of ' the travail of 
his soul, and is satisfied therewith.' Here ' the gracious 
purpose of Jehovah prospers in his hands ' * perfectly 
and for ever. 

When we consider the subject in this manner, the 
difficulties which seem to attend it vanish. He who 
believes that, in consequence of the obedience of Adam, 
his posterity would have enjoyed immortal life in a pa- 
radisiacal world, cannot rationally doubt that, in conse- 
quence of the obedience of Christ, his followers will 
enjoy all the blessings promised in the heaven of the 
Scriptures. He will cease to be surprised when he 
hears the Saviour say, ' Father, I will, that they whom 
thou hast given me be with me where I am; that they 
may behold my glory. And the glory, which thou 
gavest me, have I given them :' or to hear him say, 
' He that overcometh shall inherit all things:' or to 
hear him say, ' To him that overcometh will I grant to 
sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and 
am set down with my Father in his throne.' He will 
no more wonder to find St Paul declaring to the Co- 

* Isa. liii. 10, 11. Lowth. 



rinthians, ' All things are yours : whether Paul, or 
Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or 
things present, or things to come, all are yours.' How* 
ever strange this sublime declaration may seem, its 
mysteriousness will cease to perplex him, when he reads 
and considers the following verse, ' and ye are Christ's ; 
and Christ is God's.' 

But, while these magnificent promise? are thus ex- 
plained by the mediation of Christ, they in return re- 
flect the highest glory on that wonderful work. With 
what splendour and excellence must that obedience ap- 
pear to the eye of God, which his wisdom thinks it 
proper to reward with the creation of ' new heavens 
and a new earth,' the everlasting residence of righteous- 
ness, truth, happiness, and glory, with all the magnifi- 
cence and all the enjoyments of the New Jerusalem ; 
with the endless multitude of the first-born given to 
him as his everlasting possession, arrayed in the splen- 
dour of knowledge and virtue, quickened by the smile 
of infinite complacency, and elevated to the summit of 
created glory ! Even this is not all. ' Of the increase of 
his government and peace,' that is, of the glory of his 
providence, and the prosperity of his subjects, ' there 
shall be no end.' All things here, fair, great, and ex- 
alted, at first will soften, refine, and harmonize with 
ever-improving beauty, enlarge with perpetually increas- 
ing grandeur, and rise with a sublimity ascending for 
ever. With this prospect in full view, who will not ex- 
claim, How great, how good, how glorious must he be, 
of whose wisdom and excellence all these things are only 
the proper reward! 



SERMON CLXXI. 

THE REMOTER CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away ; and 
there was no more sea. And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of hea- 
ven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Be- 
hold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God 
himself shall be with them, and be their God. — Rev. xxi. I — 3. 



In the preceding Discourse, derived from these words, 
I proposed to consider, 

I. The residence ; 

II. The character ; 

III. The employments ; and 

IV. The enjoyments of the redeemed. 

The two first of these I examined in that Discourse. 
The two last I shall now make the subject of consi- 
deration. 

Heaven is exhibited in the Scriptures as a world of 
jjoy and praise. The account here given is both 
rational and sublime. Still, if I mistake not, it is often 
made the foundation of views concerning heaven which 
are erroneous and unhappy. Unless I am deceived, it 
is a very common opinion, that to receive enjoyment, 
and to praise the Author of it, constitute chiefly, if not 
wholly, the state of existence allotted to the righteous 
in the future world. This opinion I suppose, indeed, 



to exist indefinitely and loosely, and without any 
known decision of the mind, either that such will be 
the fact, or that such is its own opinion. Yet I suspect 
that if many persons, and those not of inferior under- 
standing, were to be asked, In what the happiness of 
heaven consists ? the two particulars above mentioned 
would make up their answer. This I suspect, because. 
I find these objects mentioned alone, almost always, 
when heaven becomes the theme of discourse. 

To praise God for the perfections of his nature is un- 
questionably an universal and eternal duty, as well as 
a delightful employment of intelligent creatures. Far 
be it from me to undervalue the importance or the ex- 
cellence of this duty. To receive enjoyment also is 
unquestionably one great end for which intelligent 
creatures are made, and an end clearly worthy of their 
Maker. But the mode in which this enjoyment is 
attained, and the means of its accomplishment, are con- 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



897 



siileratiuns of peculiar moment both to the views which 
we form of the celestial happiness, and to the nature of 
the happiness itself. 

The state of existence in heaven is not exhibited in 
the Scriptures as a state of mere recipiency, if I may 
be allowed the term, or of mere quiescent enjoyment. 
Glorified spirits are not, as I believe, mere vessels, into 
which happiness is poured by the divine hand ; and do 
not merely enjoy what is thus communicated. On the 
contrary, they are the most active of all beings in the 
creation of God ; the most laborious ; and the most 
unremitting in their exertions. Out of this activity 
their happiness in a great measure springs. 

Christ has taught us, that ' it is more blessed to give, 
than to receive ;' that is, to communicaie good to others, 
tiian to receive it from their hands. This great prin- 
ciple I have endeavoured to illustrate variously, in 
several of these Discourses ; particularly in those on 
the end for which man was created ; on the foundation 
of virtue ; and on the influence of virtue upon personal 
happiness. In these Discourses it was, I flatter myself, 
clearly proved, that to do good is to possess a higher 
and happier state of being than that of merely re- 
ceiving. If then the state of the blessed is a state of 
mere recipiency, it is plainly and wonderfully inferior 
to such a state as we can see with certainty might 
easily exist: for nothing is more clear, than that a 
world might be created, and filled with inhabitants, 
whose employment it would be to do good. 

Again: Angelc are the present inhabitants of heaven. 
Of all beings they are the most active ; as I have en- 
deavoured to show, when discoursing concerning their 
character. The present state of heaven therefore is a 
state of the most active and unwearied exertion. It 
cannot be believed that, when this glorious world is so 
far changed as with propriety to be styled a new heaven, 
its inhabitants will be sunk from a higher to an incon- 
ceivably lower state of being. 

If the observations which have been already made are 
allowed to be just, it must be clearly perceived, that 
the enjoyments of the righteous will rise to such a de- 
gree out of their employments, and that these objects 
will be so necessarily, so frequently, and so extensively 
blended together, as to render a distinct consideration 
<-.f them both difficult and useless. I shall therefore 
blend my observations concerning them under the fol- 
lowing heads : 

1. It will be one employment of the righteous in the 
future world to study the works, and learn the charac- 
ter of God. 

It will not be denied, that this is the proper em- 
ployment of the intellect possessed by rational beings ; 
the purpose for which it was created. The end here 
proposed is the knowledge of God. The means by 
which it is accomplished are the study of his works. 
These, whether material or immaterial, all existed 
originally in the uncreated mind; and are all merely 
various means of displaying infinite power, wisdom, 
and goodness. 

Matter, however insignificant it may seem as a col- 
lection of atoms, assumes a very different character 
when endued with its peculiar powers, arranged in an 
immense system, and operating to great and glorious 
purposes. In this view, it becomes capable of exhibit- 
ing the greatness and glory of Jehovah in a manner 
exceedingly sublime and wonderful. Accordingly, the 



divine writers, particularly the psahmst, often make the 
objects constituting this part of the creation the themes 
of their wonder and praise. 

In the material kingdom, particularly, we see beauty 
displayed in millions of forms and varieties ; and no- 
velty in every transition from object to object. Gran- 
deur also and sublimity engross the imagination in the 
mountain and the ocean, the tempest and the volcano, 
the sun, the moon, and the host of heaven. When we 
lift up our thoughts, by the aid of astronomy, to the 
solar system, and contemplate the sun as a vast central 
world, encircled by a host of other worlds, with their 
innumerable inhabitants ; when Ave consider the uni- 
verse as filled with suns, surrounded by similar worlds ; 
still more, if we regard all these as arranged into one 
vast harmonious system, suspended from the throne of 
God, and amid all their apparent wanderings and mazes, 
moving for ever with perfect order round the heaven 
of heavens ; we can want no proofs that the material 
creation is sufficiently magnificent to become a most 
useful object of investigation to any created mind, how- 
ever capacious, however dignified, however sublime may 
be its powers of conception. 

But the material creation is capable of becoming a 
still more interesting object of contemplation. It is a 
vast storehouse of means, all fitted, all operating, to the 
production of the best ends. In this world we daily see 
it the means of life, comfort, and usefulness, of instruc- 
tion and warning, of admiration, gratitude, and praise, 
to ourselves. In other words, it is, pvobably in a far 
higher degree, the means of excellence and enjoyment 
to their respective inhabitants ; such as are capable of 
enlarging any mind with both physical and moral 
science, in a manner which ages of ages will not enable 
us to comprehend. Above all, when we remember that 
God is the grandeur which everywhere spreads, the 
sublimity which rises, the beauty which glows, the life 
which animates, the wisdom which astonishes, and the 
goodness which provides, sustains, and rejoices, we 
shall see this field of contemplation and intelligence 
not only exalted, immense, and endlessly improving, 
but literally divine. 

The world of minds is, however, a far more august and 
glorious field of such contemplation. Minds are as 
much superior to matter, as thought and volition are su- 
perior to extension and solidity ; and are the end for 
which matter was formed. 'X he material creation is a 
sumptuous palace. Minds are its inhabitants ; without 
which the mansion, with all its furniture, would be 
empty, solitary, and useless. 

In the world of minds all the sources of admiration 
and enjoyment are found in still higher degrees. They 
are endlessly diversified in thought, purpose, and ac- 
tion ; and hence furnish to the eye novelty, presented 
to its view in an eternal succession. Minds are also 
intensely and divinely beautiful. Virtue, the beauty of 
the mind, derives this peculiar character from the gen- 
tle, serene, and sweet affections ; and is of all attributes 
incomparably the most delightful. In a single mind it 
is capable of diversities incomprehensible by us. What 
then must be its varieties in the whole intelligent crea- 
tion ! All these, it must be remembered, are varieties 
of beauty only ; as light in all its different colours is 
still the same glorious element. 

At the same time, minds are the noblest specimens 
of created greatness. This is especially seen in mag- 
5 x 



893 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Srr. c&xxr. 



nanimous affections, elevated sentiments, sublime con- 
ceptions, and the exalted actions to which they give 
birth. Even in the present world we are not absolute 
strangers to these illustrious objects. Heaven is the 
native country of all that is beautiful and magnificent. 
Virtue here exists in every beautiful, every noble form. 
Whatever is trifling, little, and low is here precluded 
for ever. Here are seen and studied the beauty of the 
cherub, the dignity of the seraph, and the greatness of 
the archangel. Here also the Messiah presents, in a 
manner capable of being understood by sanctified 
minds, the excellence and glory of Jehovah, the efful- 
gence of the Sun of righteousness, reflected, softened, 
and brought down to the comprehension of a limited 
understanding. All these objects, it is to be remem- 
bered, are seen in heaven by minds invested with new 
powers of discernment, and with an equally new as well 
as intense delight in the contemplation of the objects 
themselves. 

The providence of God will become a still more glo- 
rious field of knowledge to the righteous in the future 
world. 

The providence of God is the end for which the crea- 
tion exists. Creation is merely a collection of means ; 
immensely magnificent indeed, an astonishing display 
of contrivance, a sublime proof of almighty agency, 
but by itself inexplicable, and useless. In providence, 
worlds do not barely exist, but operate to desirable 
purposes, and become the means of created wisdom, 
virtue, and happiness. In providence minds do not 
barely possess being ; but understand, design, act, love, 
and enjoy. Here the reasons are found why such 
beings have existed in such places, times, and circum- 
stances, and were endued with such powers and faculties. 
Here also is seen the government of God, exerted over 
them, and the wisdom and goodness employed in his 
various dispensations. Providence therefore is the fair- 
est and best display of infinite perfection. 

In this world we are children standing on the bank 
of a mighty river. Casting our eyes upward and down- 
ward, along the channel, we discern the various windings 
of its current ; and perceive that it is now visible, now 
obscure, and now entirely hidden from our view. But, 
being far removed from the fountain whence it springs, 
and from the ocean into which it is emptied, we are un- 
able to form any conceptions of the beauty, usefulness, 
or grandeur of its progress. Lost in perplexity and 
ignorance we gaze, wonder, and despond. In this si- 
tuation a messenger from heaven comes to our relief, 
with authentic information of its nature, its course, and 
its end ; conducts us backward to the fountains, and 
leads us forward to the ocean. 

This river is the earthly system of providence : the 
Bible is the celestial messenger : and heaven is the 
ocean in which all preceding dispensations find theirend. 

In that glorious world, no revelation will be needed 
to illumine the thoughts of its inhabitants concerning 
the Divine administration. While they were here be- 
low, they thought as children, they spake as children, 
and they reasoned as children ; but now they have be- 
come men, and have left behind them all their childish 
imperfections. Once they ' knew in part ;' now they 
' know even as they also are known.' Possessed of 
superior vision, the eye will here, with a direct and 
undeceiving survey, trace from the beginning the glo- 
rious dispensations of its Creator towards the various 



inhabitants of his boundless empire ; will see them rise 
from little fountains, and, enlarging by continual ad- 
ditions, become mighty rivers. In all their progress 
they will see good, both moral and natural, produced 
without intermission, and increasing without end ; 
while the glory of the uncreated mind, dawning on the 
original darkness with a beautiful lustre, ' shines' per- 
petually ' more and more unto the perfect day.' 

Here God will be seer, as he is. Here also he will, 
in a sense, be all that is seen. In his presence cieated 
giory will fade, and be forgotten. 

In heaven the mysteries of the present world will be 
finished. Every being and event will appear to have 
been known and chosen from the beginning, and to have 
been a proper part of a perfect system. It will be seen, 
that nothing was defective, and nothing superfluous ; 
that sparrows fell to the ground, and that the hairs of 
our heads were numbered, according to the dictates of 
infinite wisdom. In a word, reasons of sufficient im- 
portance will be disclosed, why everything was as it has 
actually been ; and why the universe was not formed of 
different materials, or conducted in a different manner. 

In the intelligent kingdom, particularly, will these 
delightful things be eminently visible. The know- 
ledge, virtues, and actions of saints and angels will 
be the fairest images, the brightest copies, of supreme 
perfection; a resemblance which, through age succeed- 
ing age, will become more beautiful, more lovely, more 
divine. With the improvement of their excellence will 
his providence towards them exactly correspond ; and, 
as their character becomes more exalted, his dispensa- 
tions will assume a continually increasing splendour. 
The character of a great and wise prince is most effec- 
tually learned from the wisdom of his laws, the arrange- 
ment of his officers and their employments, the magni- 
ficence of his court, the mildness and equity of his 
government, and the high honour voluntarily rendered 
to him by all his subjects. Thus the character of Jeho- 
vah will be seen in the glory of his residence, the dig- 
nity and virtue of those who surround his throne, the 
wisdom of their destination, offices, and employments, 
their reverence for his perfections, their devotion to his 
service, the rewards which they receive from his hand, 
and particularly in the characteristical nature of his 
government, by which all things will improve, refine, 
and brighten for ever. 

This knowledge of the righteous in heaven will be 
extensively acquired by contemplation. For this em- 
ployment they will be most happily fitted by the supe- 
rior vigour of their minds, by the vastness of the field 
opened to their view, by the delightful nature of the 
objects which it contains, and by the endless opportuni- 
ties furnished for it in the progress of duration. 

What they will acquire from this source, their mutual 
communications will mightly enlarge. The different 
generations of the righteous, will unfold to each other 
those providential dispensations of God to his church 
of which they have severally been witnesses ; their own 
difficulties and temptations ; their faith and hope ; their 
perseverance and triumph ; together with all the mani- 
festations of mercy, which they received in the present 
world. ' Into these things, angels ' also will ' desire to 
look :' for they will discern by means of ' the church 
the manifold wisdom of God.' From them will men, 
in their turn, learn with transport the dispensations of 
God in the heavenly world throughout all its past ages 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



In this manner will the eye behold the events of all 
preceding periods, brought together from every part of 
the universe, concentrated in one luminous point, and 
formed into an image, intense, exact, and beautiful 
beyond imagination. 

Christ is the light of heaven, as well as of the pre- 
sent world. He has taught us, that he will ' feed his 
followers, and lead them to living fountains of waters.' 
He will furnish them with that knowledge which is the 
true food of the mind, and to slake their thirst for im- 
provement, will lead them to the fountains of eternal 
wisdom, from which they shall drink for ever. The 
perfections and pleasures of the uncreated mind he will 
eternally unfold ; and direct them, throughout all the 
ages of heaven, in the paths of truth, virtue, and enjoy- 
ment. The instructor will be their Saviour. The dis- 
ciples will be those whom he has redeemed from perdi- 
tion with his own precious blood. Think what must be 
the instructions of such a Teacher, what the improve- 
ment of such disciples. 

It ought to be added, that in heaven, testimony will 
completely assume its proper character. Safe from er- 
ror and incapable of deceit, perfectly exact and com- 
pletely adequate, it will command assent equally with 
demonstration. Distrust, the wall of partition between 
intelligent beings, will be finally broken down ; and 
confidence, unmingled and unalloyed, will resume its 
place. What a history will this testimony unfold ! It 
will be the history of virtuous minds, of angels, of the 
Redeemer, of Jehovah ; of his boundless wisdom and 
beneficence ; of their virtue and salvation ! 

2. Another employment of the righteous will be to 
glorify God. 

Under the preceding head it has been observed, that 
in the natural and moral creation, and in the system of 
providence, God will, in a sense, be all that will be 
known ; and that the intelligence, virtue, and enjoy- 
ment of the heavenly world will be an immense and 
endlessly varied display of divine perfection. It was 
also observed, that God will be seen as he is. 

With these views of his character, the heavenly in- 
habitants will render to him supreme and unmingled 
reverence. He will appear in his proper character, 
infinitely great and majestic, but divested of all those 
terrors, amid which he has so often manifested himself 
in the present world. He will no longer have 'his 
way in the whirlwind, and in the storm,' nor be sur- 
rounded by a flame of devouring fire. These were 
manifestations made to sinners; and will never be 
repeated in the heavenly world. That f fear of the 
Lord which is wisdom,' that ' fear of the Lord which 
is a fountain of life,' -will rise spontaneously and de- 
lightfully in every mind, when it fixes its eye on the 
greatness and purity of Jehovah, at once infinitely 
awful and lovely: while the 'fear,' which ' bringeth 
into bondage,' will by ' perfect love be cast out ' for 
ever. This reverence is a delightful and exalted emo- 
tion, an ennobling exercise of piety, and the proper 
regard of a virtuous creature towards the majesty and 
purity of his Creator. 

They will also render to God supreme admiration. 

In all the works of creation and providence it will 
be their everlasting employment to trace, with a scru- 
tinizing eye, the manifestations of divine wisdom. 
This attribute they will find exhibited in the endless 
multitude of beings and events, their attributes and 



their operations, the fitness of each to its place and 
purpose, their perfection as parts of a mighty whole, 
the symmetry with which they are arranged, the skill 
with which they are directed, the greatness and glory 
of the end to which all are destined, and the perfection 
of the manner in which it is accomplished. The field 
of study is immense, the investigation will be eternal ; 
and at every step their admiration will rise higher and 
higher, without end. 

Another exercise of these happy beings towards their 
Creator will be supreme love. 

Their benevolence towards God will be supreme, as 
being the sum of all existence, compared with which 
the creatures whom he has made are nothing. To his 
glory, and the prosperity of his designs, their good-will 
will occupy ' all the heart, and all the soul, and all the 
strength, and all the understanding.' They will regard 
him with unlimited complacency, as the being in whom 
exists and operates, and shines, whatever consummate 
virtue can approve and love. They will render to 
him intense and unmingled gratitude, as the source of 
boundless good to a boundless multitude of beings ; good 
felt by each in his own bosom, with astonishment and 
rapture. 

Equally entire will be- the confidence exercised by 
the celestial inhabitants towards the Author of their 
blessings. 

' The truth of God, will there be seen to be ' as the 
great mountains ;' and ' his word for ever settled in 
heaven.' The soul will rest on the faithfulness of its 
Maker as 'the Rock of ages,' and on the mercy of its 
Redeemer, as ' the corner stone laid in Zion ; the sure 
foundation, tried, and precious.' The object will be 
perfect, the confidence will be entire. 

In a former Discourse concerning the nature of 
evangelical faith, or confidence, I have remarked, that 
there seems not to be, in the nature of things, any 
science, properly so called, of the character of spirits, 
beside that which is possessed by the infinite mind. 
It is the prerogative of Omniscience to look directly 
upon the hearts of spiritual beings, and to see the 
nature of their thoughts as they exist. Created minds 
learn the character of each other by experience. When 
they uniformly speak truth, they are believed to be 
characteristically sincere. When they uniformly ex- 
hibit faithfulness, they become characteristically objects 
of confidence. In the same manner they learn the 
character of the Creator. 

The mysteries which in this world have perplexed 
their views concerning the dispensations and character 
of God, will there be finished by a complete disclosure 
of their nature, tendencies, and ends. It will there be 
clearly discerned, that in every case God proposed and 
accomplished that which was fittest to be done ; that 
which, in the possession of clear, unprejudiced, uner- 
ring views, their own minds pronounce to be worthy of 
the universal Ruler. This conviction will preclude 
every doubt, every fear, concerning his future dispen- 
sations. The perfection of the past will be admitted 
without a question, as complete evidence of the perfec- 
tion of the future. The soul therefore will cheerfully 
yield itself with implicit confidence to the guidance 
and conduct of its Creator throughout the never-ending 
progress of duration. 

To the strength and growth of this emotion ( than 
which none is more delightful, more excellent, or mora 



900 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxxi. 



improving), the daily administration of the heavenly 
system of providence will mightily contribute. The 
emanations of forgiving-, redeeming, and sanctifying 
love, and the smiles of infinite complacency, will on 
the one hand warm their hearts with gratitude, and on 
the other invigorate and enrapture : with a confidence 
forbidden by no law, confined by no bounds, and capa- 
ble of no excess. 

From all these views and emotions in the minds of 
the heavenly inhabitants, will flow their everlasting 
praise. 

The praise of the mind, as every one will easily see 
who reads with attention the various songs contained 
in the Scriptures, is formed by the combination and 
exercise of the attributes which I have mentioned. Of 
this the praise of the lips is only the expression. To 
the Omniscient, it is obvious, no external worship can 
be necessary. The eye which looks into the mind with 
an intuitive view, sees in the union of just thoughts 
and virtuous affections, particularly in the combined 
efforts of piety to glorify its Author, an altar erected, 
and an oblation made, of the purest incense, and the 
sweetest of all perfumes. This offering is, however, 
perceptible to no other being. The ends for which 
external religious services are enjoined are, to make 
powerful impressions on the mind of the worshipper, 
and to awaken powerful sympathy, and increase devo- 
tion, in many minds by participation. For these ends, 
it is presumed, it exists in every world where religious 
worship exists, and will unquestionably hold a dis- 
tinguished place in heaven. There, the Scriptures 
teach us, united praise will be offered up to God 
throughout the ages of eternity. This was the peculiar 
worship of paradise: it is the peculiar worship of 
heaven. 

With immediate reference to this religious employ- 
ment, the followers of Christ are said to be made by 
him ' priests unto God.' Every glorified spirit will 
there be a divinely commissioned minister of religion, 
whose proper business it will be to offer this pure and 
fragrant oblation for ever. The glorious character of 
God — a forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying God — 
his wonderful works of creation, and the astonishing 
dispensations of his eternal providence, will intensely 
occupy, and delightfully engross, the minds of these 
happy beings. In the celebration of these, the first 
of all themes, will the souls, voices, and harps of the 
heavenly inhabitants unite with harmony and trans- 
port. ' The four living ones, the four-and-twenty 
elders, the innumerable company of angels, and the 
great multitude, which no man can number, of all na- 
tions, kindreds, and tongues,' will mutually kindle with 
devotion and ecstasy, while they resound the everlasting- 
song; ' Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, who 
was, and is, and is to come ! Amen. Blessing, and 
glory and honour, and power, be unto him that sitteth 
upon the throne and unto the Lamb for ever and ever !' 

From the same views and affections will spring the 
active service which the redeemed will render to God 
in the future world. 

Heaven is styled ' the temple of God ' (Rev. vii. 1 5), 
to denote the character of its inhabitants, as being all 
virtuous, and their employments as being all sacred. 
In this temple, it is said, ' they serve God' religiously, 
' day and night ;' to denote that, however they may be 
employed, their minds are in a perpetual state of de- 



votion. Wherever they are, piety is their predomi- 
nating character. Still, the Scriptures plainly appear 
to teach us, that their employments are not merely 
those which are involved in the word worship. 

The redeemed are made ' kings,' as well as priests, 
' unto God ; and will reign with him for ever and 
ever.' 

In the sentence of approbation pronounced upon 
them immediately after death, it is declared, that they 
shall be rulers over many things ; as well as that they 
shall ' enter into the joy of their Lord.' They have 
' overcome ;' and, according to the promise of Christ, 
will ' sit with him in his throne, even as he overcame, 
and is set down with his Father in his throne.' What- 
ever difference of opinion may exist concerning the 
exact meaning of these declarations, there will, I pre- 
sume, be no doubt concerning their general import. 
That they indicate high dignity of character, station, 
and employment, will not, I think, admit of a dispute. 

In the universe, the immense kingdom of Jehovah, 
order, in the perfect sense, extends from the infinite 
Ruler, through all the gradations of virtuous beings, 
down to the humblest of its inhabitants. In such an 
empire, the services necessary to this order, and the 
accomplishment of the purposes for which it is estab- 
lished, are of necessity endless in their multitude, and 
sufficiently comprehensive to furnish his own part to 
every virtuous being. For this part each individual 
was formed and destined ; and both his faculties and 
attainments were so directed by the divine prescience, 
as to qualify him to act in it, in a better manner than 
any other being. Thus no individual will be useless, 
forgotten, or unemployed. Every one will labour in 
his own place, and will perform the duties of that place 
in the happiest manner. 

The system fills immensity, and endures through 
eternity. The plans, persons, faculties, attributes, and 
employments are fitted by supreme wisdom to the ex- 
tent of the system. Ample room therefore is here fur- 
nished for the operations of every virtuous being ; a 
boundless scope for every endowment, acquisition, and 
effort. 

In this vast kingdom the redeemed will fill the hon- 
ourable stations indicated by the passages quoted above, 
and by the character delineated in the preceding Dis- 
course ; and will be designated to employments of 
superlative honour and glory. They are sons, and 
kings, and priests, to God the Father. They are 
brethren of Christ, and joint heirs with him to the hea- 
venly inheritance. Angels are their ' fellow-servants, 
and of their brethren.' They will therefore be united 
with angels in the magnificent employments which I 
have attributed to them in the second Discourse con- 
cerning these illustrious beings. 

Of the happy agents who are thus employed, it is to 
be observed, that many who are now last and humblest 
in the mediatorial kingdom, will then be exalted to 
stations of peculiar distinction ; as those ' angels who 
kept not their first estate,' will become the last and 
lowest of all intelligent creatures. The meek and 
humble virtues will then rise to their own proper esti- 
mation ; and, while they shine with their inherent 
lustre and beauty, will be seen and acknowledged as 
copies pre-eminently lovely of the meek and lowly Re- 
deemer. 

In the exercise of these offices there will be no emu- 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 



901 



lation, jealousy, nor hatred. The system will be planned 
by God himself, and acknowledged with reverence and 
delight as his perfect work. In it wisdom will be dis- 
played, and goodness operate, without limits. The 
single employment will be to do good, and glorify its 
Author. 

3. Another employment of the redeemed will be to 
befriend each other. 

Heaven is the world of friendship ; of friendship un- 
mingled, ardent, and entire. The disinterested love of 
the gospel dwells here in every bosom. Selfishness, 
since the ejection of the fallen angels from these de- 
lightful regions, has been here unknown and unheard 
of, except in the melancholy tidings which have reached 
the happy inhabitants, of its deplorable effects on our 
apostate world. Here every individual, in the strictest 
sense, fulfils the second great command of the moral 
law, and literally ' loves his neighbour as himself.' No 
private, separate interest is even proposed. A common 
good is announced by the voice of God ; so great as to 
comprise all individual happiness ; so arranged, as to 
furnish every one his proper portion, the part which he 
is to fulfil, and the means by which he is to act in it 
with absolute efficacy ; and so noble, as to fix every eye, 
engross every heart, and summon every effort. It is a 
good, involving not only all that can be acquired, but 
all that can be wished, all that can exist. This great 
truth is also admitted with perfect confidence bv every 
celestial mind. Every individual completely realizes 
the import and the truth of that glorious declaration of 
Christ, the foundation of all pure and lasting good, 
whether personal or social, ' It is more blessed to give 
than to receive.' Under its influence, all the hearts and 
hands, all the mighty faculties and unwearied efforts of 
the heavenly inhabitants are completely occupied in 
doing good. To what a mass must this good arise, 
where the work is carried on by saints and angels, in 
the great field of heaven, throughout the endless ages 
of duration ! 

As there are here no separate interests, and no selfish 
affections, there can of course be no jealousy, hatred, 
nor contention. Every individual will feel that his own 
place and portion are contrived by the wisdom which 
cannot err, and the love which cannot endure; that they 
are necessary and desirable parts of a perfect system of 
good ; that no other being could so well fill the station 
which he occupies, and that he could not so well fill any 
other station. In a word, he will see that, had the whole 
arrangement of providence been left to his own choice, 
he should have chosen exactly whnfc God has chosen 
for him. All his wishes therefore, all his views, will 
be satisfied. 

Thus, wherever the mind roves through the immense 
regions of heaven, it will find, among all its innumera- 
ble millions, not an enemy, not a stranger, not an in- 
different heart, not a reserved bosom. Disguise here, 
and even concealment; will be unknown. The soul will 
have no interests to conceal, no thoughts to disguise. 
A window will be opened in every breast, and show to 
every passing eye the rich and beautiful furniture within. 

In this world of depravity, where the man who knew 
it better than any other, speaking with the voice of in- 
spiration, could say, and say with obvious propriety, ' A 
faithful man who can find ?' a few friends, nay, even 
one, is regarded as an invaluable treasure. In that 
world all will be friends; and the soul will, like the 



happy regions in which it dwells, contain ample room 
for the admission of all. 

At the same time this friendship will endure for ever. 
No degeneracy will awaken alarm and distrust, no 
alienation chill the heart, no treachery pierce the soul 
with anguish. No parent will mourn over an apostate 
child, and no child over a profligate parent. No bro- 
thers nor sisters will be wrung with agony by the defec- 
tion and corruption of those who, inexpressibly endeared 
to them in this world by the tender ties of nature, and 
the superior attachments of the gospel, have here walked 
with them side by side in the path of life, and have at 
length become their happy companions in the world of 
glory. Husbands and wives also, here mutually and 
singularly beloved, will there be united, not indeed in 
their former earthly relation, but in a friendship far 
more delightful ; and, wafted onward by the stream of 
ages, without a sigh, without a fear, will become in each 
other's eyes, more and more excellent, amiable, and 
endeared for ever. That the redeemed, who have been 
known to each other in the present world, will be 
mutually known in heaven, I have shown in a former 
Discourse. That this knowledge will prove the means 
of mutual happiness, cannot be doubted. At the same 
time it is to be remembered, that their characters, uni- 
versally excellent, their stations, universally honourable, 
and their employments, universally useful, will be end- 
lessly diversified ; so as to present to every eye worth, 
beauty, and glory, in forms always peculiar, and with 
loveliness always new. 

Of the several ingredients which constitute this hap- 
piness of the redeemed, and which have been mentioned 
in these Discourses, it is to be universally observed, 
that they will be continually progressive towards higher 
and higher perfection. Concerning him, whose name 
is called ' Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the 
Father of the everlasting age, and the Prince of peace,' 
it is declared, that ' of the increase of his government 
and of his peace there shall be no end.' The word go- 
vernment here denotes the administration itself, and 
the displays which it involves of the greatness, wisdom, 
and goodness of the Ruler. Peace often denotes in 
the Scriptures prosperity ; and here intends the whole 
happiness of his subjects. Their residence, their bo- 
dies, their minds, their knowledge, their virtue, their 
stations, their employments, and their enjoyments, will 
form a system of glory and of good, refining, brighten- 
ing, and ascending for ever. Their possessions will be 
rapturous, their prospects will be ecstatic. 

To the eye of man the sun appears a pure light ; a 
mass of unmingled glory. Were we to ascend with a 
continual flight towards this luminary, and could, like 
the eagle, gaze directly on its lustre ; we should in our 
progress behold its greatness continually enlarge, and 
its splendour become every moment more intense. As 
we rose through the heavens, we should see a little orb 
changing gradually into a great world ; and, as we ad- 
vanced nearer and nearer, should behold it expanding 
every way, until all that was before us became a uni- 
verse of excessive and immeasurable glory. Thus the 
heavenly inhabitant will, at the commencement of his 
happy existence, see the divine system filled with mag- 
nificence and splendour, and arrayed in glory and 
beauty ; and, as he advances onward through the suc- 
cessive periods of duration, will behold all things more 
and more luminous, transporting, and sun-like for ever. 



902 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxxii. 



SERMON CLXXIL 



CONCLUSION GENERAL REMARKS. 



Hear ! for I will speak of excellent things ; and the opening of my lips shall be right things .Prov. viii. 6. 



Irt a long series of Discourses I have now gone through 
a System of Theology. I have considered the exist- 
ence, character, decrees, and works of God — the crea- 
tion, and primitive state of man — his apostasy, and con- 
demnation—the state of human depravity, and the im- 
possibility of justification by our own righteousness. I 
have inquired at length into the character of Christ — 
the offices which he sustains as Mediator — the justifica- 
tion which we obtain by his righteousness, and the 
faith, by means of which we are justified — the character 
of the Holy Spirit — his agency in our regeneration, 
the nature and necessity of that work ; its antecedents, 
attendants, consequences, and evidences — the law of 
God, the principal precepts into which it is distributed, 
and the principal duties which they require — the nature 
of our inability to obey the law, and the manner of our 
restoration to obedience. I have also discussed the 
means of grace ; and exhibited a view of the church, 
its officers, and duties. Finally, I have examined the 
nature of death, and its consequences ; particularly the 
resurrection, and judgment, and the retributions of the 
righteous and the wicked. 

Thus have I brought my original design to a termi- 
nation. As a natural and proper close of the whole, I 
propose to make some general remarks on this great 
subject in the following Discourse. 

In the text, mankind are commanded to listen to the 
things spoken by the wisdom of God, because they are 
' right and excellent things.' So far as the present 
purpose is concerned, it is of no consequence whether 
we suppose these things to be spoken by the wisdom of 
God, literally understood ; or by Christ, elsewhere 
called the wisdom of God, and generally, and in my 
view justly, considered as speaking throughout this 
chapter. The things here referred to are the things 
contained in the Scriptures. All these were spoken by 
the wisdom of God. All also were spoken by the Spi- 
rit of Christ, who inspired alike the writers of the Old 
and New Testament. Hence the Old Testament is 
called the Word, and the New, the gospel of Christ. 
(See Col. iii. 16 ; and 2 Cor. iv. 4.) 

These things are in the text said to be ' right and 
excellent.' An attempt has been made, in the progress" 
of these Discourses, to exhibit the most important of 
these things in a regular scheme to the view of this 
audience. It has been my design to exhibit them as 
they are actually contained in the Scriptures, and to let 
the sacred volume speak its own language. This de- 
sign I have watchfully pursued, and I hope faithfully. 
There was a period in my life at which I regarded hu- 
man systems of theology with more reverence than I 
can now justify, and much more than I am willing 
should be rendered to my own. ' Let God be true, but 
every man,' who wilfully contradicts his declarations, ' a 
liar !' 



In studying the Scriptures, to which, as a theological 
employment, those who hear me know I have for a 
long time been in a great degree necessarily confined, 
by the peculiar state of my eyes, I have found no small 
difficulty in permitting them to speak for themselves. 
I have found texts in them, in various instances, thwart- 
ing opinions which I had entertained, with little or no 
suspicion that they could be erroneous. Such opinions, 
by an authority which I durst not oppose, I have been 
compelled to give up. Whether I have adopted better 
in their place, is yet to be determined. One consider- 
ation furnishes me with a satisfactory hope that what I 
have taught is, substantially at least, the truth of God. 
It is this : the system contained in these Discourses is, 
in substance, the same with that which is found in al- 
most every Protestant creed and confession of faith, and 
with the scheme adopted in every age by that part of 
the Christian church which has gained everywhere the 
appropriate name of orthodox. There is another con- 
sideration from which I derive a similar hope : it is 
the system under the preaching of which, almost exclu- 
sively, the religion of the heart, whose genuineness is 
proved by its evangelical fruits, has revived, prevailed, 
and prospered. I will therefore for the present occa- 
sion only assume it as granted, that it is, in substance, 
the system of the Scriptures ; and is therefore formed 
of the ' right and excellent things ' mentioned in the 
text. Regarded in this manner, it furnishes a just 
foundation for the following 



1. How superior is the system of divine truth, con- 
tained in the Scriptures, as exhibited in this manner, to 
the moral schemes of philosophy. 

The ancient philosopher, with scarcely an exception, 
and in my view without one, were polytheists, sceptics, 
or atheists. When they speak of God, in the singular 
number, they either intend the God universally, or the 
chief of them ; not the one living and true God, made 
known in the Scriptures, and now acknowledged with- 
out a question by the Christian world. The miserable 
consequences of both atheism and polytheism have here- 
tofore been summarily stated in these Discourses, and 
have been so amply presented to us by the page of his- 
tory, as to satisfy the doubts of all incredulity, which 
does not proceed from choice. These gods of philo- 
sophy were all finite beings, universally limited in their 
attributes and operations. All of them also were deeply 
tinctured with the folly and vice of men. Not a virtu- 
ous being was found among them ; not one, of a con- 
nexion with whom a Christian, nay, even a sober man, 
would not have been ashamed. At the same time they 
were engaged in continual hostilities against each 
other. They were indeed immortal ; but were univer- 
sally born as men are, were governed by the same self- 






CONCLUSION. 



903 



ish views, pursued similar employments, and derived 
their happiness from similar sources. The gods of 
Epicurus found their enjoyment in quiet, apathy, nec- 
tar, and ambrosia. 

Some of these philosophers, when they spoke of God 
in the singular number, taught that his substance was 
fire ; some, that he was a compound of the four ele- 
ments, fire, air, earth, and water : some, that the sun 
was God ; others, that God was the soul of the world, 
animating it as the human soul the human body ; some, 
that the to ira-v, or the universe, was God, and that all 
things are only parts, or branches, of this universal 
Being ; everything which we see being supposed by 
them to partake alike of the divine nature, and to be 
literally a part of God. This, as you know, was after- 
wards the doctrine of Spinosa. Zeno declared ether to 
be God ; and Chrysippus, heaven. Marcus Antoninus 
addresses a prayer to the world. Seneca declares ' men 
to be fellows or companions, and members of God.' 
Epictetus, also, advises persons, when they are feeding, 
or exercising, to consider, that ' it is a god whom they 
feed and whom they exercise.' Many sects of them 
also held that there were two principal gods ; the one 
good, the other evil. 

Concerning the origin of the world, they seem uni- 
versally to have held the doctrine, that matter was eter- 
nal. Some of them supposed that the beings in it were 
made by a divine power, which they denoted by the 
name Arifiiovnyo;. Epicurus, and his followers, taught 
that 'all things owed their present state of existence to 
the casual aggregation of atoms.' Others supposed them 
to have existed in an eternal series. Others still, attri- 
buted their existence to destiny, fate, or necessity. None 
of them, so far as I have observed, considered the uni- 
verse as created by the power of God. 

Of providence their apprehensions were equally vari- 
ous and imperfect. Some of them, as the Epicureans 
and others, absolutely denied that God governed the 
world at all. Others supposed that an imperfect and 
limited providence, parted into shares among all the 
gods, was exercised within thek- respective limits by 
them all ; but more extensively by the being whom they 
considered as supreme than by the rest. In this super- 
intendence of earthly objects they were considered as 
often opposing each other, and as engaged at times in 
mutual abuse, and violent contentions. The providence 
actually exerted, some philosophers supposed to be con- 
fined to heaven, and in no respect concerned with the 
affairs of men. Those who believed providence to be 
extended to this world, with very few exceptions, con- 
sidered it as employed about its great and general con- 
cerns only, and denied wholly its interference with those 
of individuals. Some of them, indeed, imagined that 
the gods were sometimes curious about individuals, and 
suspected that they might in some instances superintend 
the great affairs of great and distinguished men ; but 
almost all of them appear to have supposed that the allot- 
ments of mankind are parceled out, and that the good 
and evil which they experience are determined by for- 
tune, necessity, chance, or fate. 

Moral good almost every one of them considered, as 
produced by every man for himself, and not at all by the 
gods. Cicero, speaking in the person of Cotta, says, 
' The gifts of fortune are to be asked of God ; but a 
mar. is to expect wisdom only from himself;' and this 
he declares to be the judgment of all mankind. ' Who,' 



he asks, ' ever gave thanks to the gods for being a good 
man?' Accordingly, many of the ancient philosophers 
considered the wise man as being independent of the 
gods ; and in some respects as even their superior. 

Their views concerning the origin of evil were idle 
and indefensible. Some of them supposed it to be de- 
rived from pollution acquired in a pre-existing state; 
a scheme demanding the same explanation as its exis- 
tence in the present state. Others attributed it to the 
connexion of the soul with the body ; supposing matter 
to be the seat of moral turpitude. Others ascribed it 
to the evil deity ; who, as they imagined, had sufficient 
power to bring it into existence, in spite of the good one. 

Equally delusive and unfounded were their appre- 
hensions concerning the manner of expiating sin, and 
cleansing the soul from its pollution. Socrates, with a 
vigour of investigation unprecedented and unrivalled 
in the annals of philosophy, advanced so far as to doubt 
whether it were possible for God to forgive sin. Gene- 
rally, they taught that the safest way was for all men to 
adopt the religious system of their ancestors, and to 
x-ely on the established modes of expiation : these were 
sacrifices, oblations, prayers, penance, processions, pil- 
grimages, and ablutions. Their ideas of reformation 
seem rarely to have extended so far, and never farther, 
than common sobriety and decency of manners. Vir- 
tue, in the proper and evangelical sense, they plainly 
did not understand. Some of them, as 1 have hereto- 
fore observed, declared ambition, or the love of glory, 
to be virtue ; some, the external observance of their re- 
ligious ritual. Some placed it in imbibing one, and 
some in adopting another, scheme of philosophy, or 
what they were pleased to call wisdom. Some supposed 
it to consist in courage. Others believed it to be that 
amor patrice which prompted the inhabitants of one 
country to carry fire and sword, death and desolation, 
into another. 

Their views concerning the worship of God were 
wonderfully gross. Almost universally they supported 
the existing worship. This, as you know, was com- 
posed of a multitude of unmeaning superstitions, of hu- 
man sacrifices, making voluntary incisions in the flesh 
of the worshippers, the ravings of a temporary frenzy, 
and the practice of unlimited pollution. 

The morals of these men were even more unsound 
than their religion. A great part of them permitted 
fraud, falsehood, war undertaken for conquest or glory, 
profaneness, anger, revenge, filial impiety, parental 
unkindness, unlimited lewdness, unlimited pride, ambi- 
tion, and suicide. Of all these doctrines, taken toge- 
ther, it is to be observed, that they never made a single 
good man ; nor would they, if they were now to be 
embraced with the whole heart, and to control abso- 
lutely the whole life, constitute the subject of them a 
virtuous or praiseworthy being. 

Concerning a future state, their conceptions were 
deplorably lame. A multitude of them denied such a 
state. The Stoics, and Epicureans, who encountered 
Paul at Athens, mocked him, and styled him a bab- 
bler, because he preached to them Jesus, and the a.va.- 
gtckti;, or future state. Of those who did not deny it, 
some doubted, others conjectured, and others still, 
faintly and waveringly believed it. The views which 
they fonced concerning it, particularly concerning its 
enjoyments, were very gross. Generally, the rewards 
which they assigned to the virtuous were the gratifi- 



904 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. clxxii. 



cations usually coveted in the present life, stripped of the 
inconveniences which attend them here. Pleasant 
fields and fine weather, songs and garlands, nectar and 
ambrosia, were the entertainments of their Elysium. 
As they knew not what virtue was, it is not wonderful 
that they could not devise proper enjoyments for the 
virtuous. 

How immense is the distance between these things, 
and the system of religious truth which you have here 
been taught from the Scriptures. Here, as the foun- 
dation on which the system is erected, you find exhi- 
bited the self-existent, eternal, immutable, almighty, 
omniscient, and omnipresent Jehovah; infinitely wise, 
just, good, merciful, faithful, and true ; the Creator, 
Preserver, Benefactor, and Ruler of the universe ; by 
whose command all things came into existence ; by 
whose hand all are preserved, governed, and blessed; 
to whom all intelligent creatures are accountable ; and 
by whom all will be judged according to their works. 
The law by which this glorious Being rules the crea- 
tures whom he has made, you have seen to be perfect ; 
divinely excellent in its nature, and infinitely desirable 
in its design. You have seen man, originally possessed 
of spotless purity, apostatizing from his Maker in the 
very same manner which we daily apostatize ; covet- 
ing natural good, which he could not lawfully possess; 
and, forgetful for a time of his duty to God, yielding 
himself up to the wish for the prohibited enjoyment. 
Condemned for this transgression by the sentence of 
the law which he had broken, it became impossible for 
him to be justified by his own works, or to be restored 
to the favour of him, ' who is of purer eyes than to 
behold iniquity.' In this situation you have seen the 
Son of God descend from heaven ; become a substitute 
for man ; expiate his sins on the cross ; and, re-ascend- 
ing to heaven, intercede for his deliverance. The way 
for his justification is thus completely opened. But 
man, too obstinate a sinner to embrace even these means 
of life, would be ruined, if we were left here. Accord, 
ingly, you have seen the Spirit of Truth enter this 
world on the professed design of renewing the soul, and 
infusing into it a disposition to return to God and its 
duty. The change you have seen to be essential ; the 
very change which he needed to experience — an actual 
renovation, a resumption of the character which he had 
lost. By the same divine Guardian he is conducted 
also through the manifold dangers and difficulties which 
in this world continually arrest even Christians them- 
selves ; and under this conduct he is enabled, not- 
withstanding all his ignorance and folly, temptations 
and enemies, to persist in the progress which he has 
happily begun, and finally to obtain the promised 
reward. 

You have heard the law of God explained through- 
out all its most important precepts ; and have seen it 
require every human duty and forbid every human 
transgression, in thought, word, and action. You have 
seen the heart exhibited as the seat of both sin and 
holiness. The nature of that holiness, the virtue of the 
Scriptures, the moral character on which the omniscient 
eye looks with complacency, has been presented to 
you as consisting in supreme love to God, and universal 
good-will to mankind; as the energy of the soul, em- 
ployed wholly in glorifying God, and doing good. The 
nature of sin, its opposite, has been explained to you as 
consisting in a disposition to pursue, supremely and ex- 



clusively, a private, separate interest, opposed to God, 
and hostile to his intelligent creation. 

The inability of man to obey this law, the subject of 
such extensive altercation, has been exhibited to you 
as consisting merely in the disposition or inclination of 
the mind ; and the means of renewing our ability to 
obey, have been shown to be repentance towards God, 
and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ ; the rational, 
the indispensable, the only possible means of this re- 
storation. The means also of obtaining these attri- 
butes, commonly called the means of grace, have, it is 
believed, been set before you in such a light, together 
with the character and duties of those by whom they are 
to be used, and of those by whom they are to be adminis- 
tered, as toshow their reality, divine appointment, and in- 
dispensable subserviency to the great design of salvation. 

Finally, you have been taught the nature of death, 
as an important part of the great providential system ; 
its immediate consequences in the intermediate state of 
tiie soul; the resurrection, the judgment, the miserable 
end of the wicked, and the glory of the righteous, be- 
yond the grave. 

The schemes of infidel philosophy concerning these 
great subjects, I have elsewhere exhibited ; and have 
not time to repeat them here. It will be sufficient for 
the present occasion to observe, that they have added 
nothing which is material to what, was taught by the 
ancient philosophers, beside what they have borrowed 
from the Scriptures. They have not, indeed, in many 
instances been polytheists; and the Bible has compelled 
them to speak more decently concerning the Creator; 
though I think with less appearance of reverence, than 
many of their predecessors. But their religion and 
morals, so far as they have proceeded from their own 
minds, have not been a whit more rational, more pure, 
or less deserving of severe animadversion, although 
perhaps somewhat more speciously taught, than those 
of the ancients. 

Compare now the systems which I have summarily 
spread before you. How obvious, how universal, how 
incomprehensible, is the difference between them ! 
They set out with Jehovah at the head of one, and 
Jupiter, accompanied by the herd of heathen gods and 
goddesses, at the head of the other. The distance be- 
tween these two objects of contemplation is kept up, so 
far as the nature of the several subjects is susceptible of 
it, throughout every succeeding part of the respective 
schemes. The character, the works, the law, the 
government, the worship, are in the one case those of 
Jehovah, the Builder of the universe, the infinite 
Ruler, the Judge of the quick and the dead, and the 
final Rewarder of the righteous' and the wicked. In 
the other they are those of Jupiter, the son of Saturn, 
the brother of Neptune and Pluto, and the husband of 
Juno, his sister ; born in the island of Crete : dethron- 
ing his father, sharing his empire with his brothers ; 
the father of a numerous race of gods and men ; con . 
trolled by fate, sustaining his own life by eating, 
drinking, and sleep, passionate, petulant, revengeful, 
disappointed not unfrequently of his wishes and designs, 
lewd, gratified by, the number, variety, and smell of his 
sacrifices; his character dependent and fluctuating; 
his government a succession of expedients and fetches. 
Trace both these schemes from the beginning to the 
end, and you will find these representations fair por- 
traits of them both. The distinction between them, 



CONCLUSION. 



905 



which is formed by the different views which they con- 
tain of the character of <iod, runs through every part 
of the two systems, and cannot but be marked by a con- 
siderate eye in all the several branches. The scheme 
of providence ; the views of virtue and vice : the means 
of restoration to the divine favour, of justification, and 
acceptance ; the precepts of piety and morality, the 
wor-hip, the final judgment, and the future state, are 
all suited in the one case to Jehovah ; and in the other 
to Jupiter, united with the group of gods and goddesses. 

II. We are furnished with powerful evidence, that 
the Scriptures are a revelation from God. 

These different systems actually exist. One of them 
is actually found in the Scriptures. The others are all 
professedly, as well as really, schemes of human philo- 
sophy. For this difference between them there is a 
cause. What is that cause ? 

It is not the superiority of native talents. This infidels 
themselves will acknowledge. There is not, so far as I 
know, any reason to conclude, that any group of human 
beings have possessed greater native talents than can 
be found among the learned Greeks and Bomans. 
Besides, we find the same system, in substance, exhibited 
by all the writers of the Old and New Testament. It 
certainly will not be pretended, that all these were 
superior to Homer and Aristotle, Cicero and Virgil, in 
original vigour of mind. 

It cannot be superiority of education. 

The arts and sciences of the Greeks and Romans were 
certainly far more advanced than those of the Jews. On 
moral subjects only do they write like children, and 
teach doctrines which children in this country, who 
are able to write at all, would be ashamed either to 
teach or believe. On all other subjects they write like 
men, and like men of capacious and superior minds. 
Even on moral subjects they write in one sense like men. 
The' childish character they discover in embracing 
these errors ; while in defending them they manifest 
the utmost strength and ingenuity of the human in- 
tellect. 

At the same time, David, Amos, Christ, Matthew, Mark, 
John, James, Peter, and Jude, were all uneducated 
peasants; unpossessed of a single advantage of education 
which is not enjoyed by the plainest, humblest people 
of this State, and destitute of some which they enjoy. 

It is not the advantage of prior instruction, derived 
from men of superior minds, whose wisdom and sub- 
lime discoveries they imbibed, and retailed to succeed- 
ing generations. 

I admit that the Greeks were, to a considerable extent, 
obliged to form their own philosophy on these subjects. 
But Moses and Job (whom I consider as the author of 
the book which bears his name), are the two earliest 
writers whose works are now extant ; and these men 
enter directly upon the subjects in question, with the 
same clearness and precision, with the same purity and 
sublimity, which are found in those who follow them. 
The same Jehovah reigns in their works, the same 
scheme of creation and providence, the same system of 
morals and religion, which prevail everywhere through- 
out the Scriptures. 

Should it be said, that Moses was ' educated in all the 
learning of the Egyptians ;' it is readily acknowledged. 
But it must be acknowledged also, that the Egyptians 
had no such doctrines as these. The laws and govern- 
ment of the Egyptians appear to have been wise, and 



deserving of respect ; while their religious pliilosophy 
was puerile and contemptible. 

Should it be said, that the Persian and Hindoo writ- 
ings are in some instances prior in time to those of Job 
and Moses ; I answer, that this is said gratuitously, 
without the least support from evidence. But should it 
be granted, it will not at all affect the point in debate. 
The Brahminical and Persian systems are even more 
absurd and childish than those of the Egyptians and 
Greeks. All of them contain some just and sublime 
doctrines ; but they are blended with such a mass of 
despicable rubbish, as to prove, on the one hand, the 
immeasurable superiority of the scriptural system to 
them all : and on the other, that those who have deli- 
vered the superior parts of them to us, were not the 
discoverers of these just and sublime doctrines ; but 
received them traditionally from revelations communi- 
cated to men of preceding ages. 

It is here to be observed, that these philosophers, of 
every country, and of every age, differed endlessly from 
each other, concerning those parts of their respective 
systems which were of primary importance, as well as 
concerning others. The two most important of all sub- 
jects of contemplation are God and the supreme good. 
Concerning the former of these, Varro, who probably 
knew better than any other ancient, declares, that there 
were three hundred different opinions. In other words, 
there were three hundred different gods of the philoso- 
phy with which he was acquainted. Concerning the 
latter, the diversities of opinion among the same men 
were, as he asserts, two hundred and eighty-eight. If 
they differed in this manner concerning these all-impor- 
tant objects, it will be easily believed, that in forming a 
system, into every part of which these must enter as 
constituent materials, they must differ in a similar man- 
ner. Accordingly, they differ, contend, and contradict 
each other with respect to almost everything which has 
been called philosophy. Nor is this discordance found 
in different sects of philosophers only, but in different 
members also of the same sect, and in different dis- 
courses of the same writer. 

How opposite to all this is the appearance of the 
Scriptures! They were written during the whole pro- 
gress of fifteen centuries, with no considerable interval, 
except that between Malachi and Matthew; and were 
therefore liable to all the diversities of opinion which 
could be supposed to arise during this long period in a 
single nation, from any source whatever. There were 
at least one hundred writers and speakers concerned in 
them, as teachers of divine truth. They were of all 
classes of society, from the prince to the peasant. The 
modes in which they wrote may be considered as invol- 
ving all those in which men have thought it desirable to 
write, except such as are professedly fictitious. The 
states of society and the spheres of life in which the 
writers lived, and the occasions which called forth their 
several compositions, were at least equally numerous 
and diverse. Still, an entire harmony runs through 
them all. Amos the herdsman, Matthew the toll- 
gatherer, and John the fisherman, exhibit the same 
just, clear, extensive, pure, and exalted views of divine 
subjects, the same religion, the same morality, and the 
same scheme of salvation, with those of Moses and 
Paul, notwithstanding all their learning, and those of 
Daniel. and Isaiah, David and Solomon, notwithstanding 
the high rank which they held in human society. 
5 Y 



906 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Ser. cxxxitx. 



It is farther to be observed, that the scriptural writers 
have taught all which mankind at present know con- 
cerning morals and religion. There is no rule of faitli 
and no rule of practice known by men at the present 
time, and fairly defensible, which is not either expressly 
declared, or unquestionably implied, in the Scriptures. 

It cannot here be said, that these defects of philoso- 
phy arose from the want of sufficient numbers engaged 
in the pursuit of this great object ; or of sufficient zeal, 
industry, and exertion on the part of those who were 
engaged. The number of men embarked in this pur- 



suit was prodigious. Success in it was a source of dis- 
tinction, coveted by kings and emperors. The zeal with 
which it was prosecuted was accordingly intense, and 
the labours employed in it extended through a long 
succession of ages. 

For this mighty difference between the schemes of 
philosophy, and the system of the Scriptures, no infidel 
has hitherto accounted, and no rational account, it is 
presumed, can be given, not involving a cause, which 
if adequate to the effect, will be more difficult of ad- 
mission, more miraculous, than inspiration. 



SERMON CLXXIII. 

CONCLUSION—GENERAL REMARKS. 



Hear ! for I will speak of excellent tilings ; and the opening of my lips shall be right tilings. — Frov. viii. G. 



In the preceding part of this Discourse, after recapitu- 
lating the great subjects, adopted as parts of a theolo- 
gical system in the series of Sermons, then brought to 
a close, and making a few observations on the import 
of the text, I proceeded to make some general remarks 
on the subject at large. 

I. I considered the superiority of the moral scheme 
of the Scriptures, which I had so long been employed 
in unfolding to this audience, to the moral schemes of 
philosophy. 

II. I mentioned, that this view of theology furnished 
powerful evidence of the revelation of the Scriptures. 

I shall now proceed to finish the Discourse with two 
other remarks, which I had not then sufficient time to 
consider ; and observe, 

III. How well does the theology of the Scriptures 
merit the diligent investigation of every man furnished 
with an enlightened education). 

In periods not long past, a great proportion of those 
who were liberally educated in this country, regarded 
extensive attainments in theology as being of the highest 
importance to the completion of their literary character. 
Nor is the date very distant, when the same views pre- 
vailed among the Protestant nations on the eastern side 
of the Atlantic. Many laymen may be mentioned, whose 
theological acquisitions would have highly adorned 
the desk, and might justly have been coveted by clergy- 
men of distinguished reputation. It is hoped that 
the spirit which gave birth to these attainments is re- 
viving. 

But it must be confessed, that for a considerable pe- 
riod the disposition to become versed in theology has 
declined ; and for a period of indefinite length has 
been too low not to excite a serious regret in the mind 
of a wise and good man. Clergymen are often cen- 
sured, and it is to be feared in too many instances 
justly, for their want of sufficient knowledge in this 
science. Almost all laymen, even those of enlightened 
minds, and extensive acquisitions, are lamentably de- 
fective in their acquaintance with theology. Perhaps 
I should not wander far from the truth were I to ob- 
serve, that among the judicious farmers of this country, 



there is a more extensive and a more accurate know- 
ledge of the doctrines and precepts of Christianity, 
than among most men who have enjoyed the advan- 
tages of a superior education. 

Many causes have undoubtedly operated to the pro- 
duction of the ignorance of which I complain. Among 
these I shall at the present time specify the three fol- 
lowing : 

1. The want of that customary application to theolo- 
gical science among learned men, which would of course 
recommend it to those who followed them. 

The neglect which has been specified above, and 
which has grown out of many co-operating causes, has 
itself become a powerful cause of generating similar 
negligence. Every rising generation is, to a great ex- 
tent, controlled by that which went before. Peculiarly 
is it true, that customary opinions and practices possess 
this control. Whatever is generally adopted, especi- 
ally by enlightened men, is naturally supposed by such 
as are young to be founded in wisdom and truth, and 
is therefore customarily followed with little examina- 
tion. The youths of the present generation, seeing 
their superiors in age and understanding negligent of 
theological science, easily believe that it merits little 
attention from themselves. The subject they do not 
examine, but are satisfied with merely following this 
example. Persons destined to the ministry are sup- 
posed to addict themselves to this science, because it is 
indispensable to their future profession, and to the re- 
putation, and even the subsistence, which it is expected 
to furnish. The examples of these persons has there- 
fore no influence on others. Clergymen also are sup- 
posed to commend their own science, either from ne- 
cessity, or decency : and, however able judges, are 
regarded as being interested, and therefore partial. 
Hence their recommendations have comparatively little 
weight. Were liberally educated laymen generally to 
make extensive attainments in theology an important 
part of their acquisitions, there can be no reason to 
doubt, that those who succeeded them would addict 
themselves to this sciem:e with a good degree of zeal 
and industry. The truth of this opinion has been amply 



particularly among those most addicted to reading, | supported by experience. In the former times to which 



CONCLUSION. 



907 



I have alluded, the customary application of men in 
all the liberal professions adopted in enlightened 
countries to divine knowledge, forced the same ap- 
plication on such as followed them, and that through 
a long period. Nor could even the progress of licen- 
tiousness exterminate the custom except by insensible 
degrees. 

2. The same evil has been extended and prolonged 
not a little by the ridicule so assiduously thrown upon 
this subject by infidels. 

These men have long arrayed themselves against 
Christianity. Their warfare they have carried on in 
every manner which has promised them the least suc- 
cess, and with a spirit worthy of the best cause. Ar- 
guments, learning, and facts they resorted to, until 
they became hopeless. When these failed ; they had 
recourse to ridicule, sneers, and other expressions of 
contempt ; clearly discerning that on young minds, 
especially, these weapons would prevail, where more 
honourable modes of attack would be powerless. ' Ri- 
dicule,' says Voltaire, a perfectly competent judge of 
this subject, ' will do everything; it is the strongest of 
all weapons. A bon mot is as good a tiling as a good 
book.' Whatever is ridiculed, young minds are prone 
to think ridiculous; and nothing has been so much ri- 
diculed as Christianity. Its Author was styled by the 
infidels to whom he preached, S a gluttonous man, and 
a wine-bibber; a friend of publicans and sinners ;' and 
the system of doctrines and precepts which he taught 
has in modern times been loaded with epithets equally 
destitute of justice and decency. In truth, there is no 
employment more absolutely without any foundation 
in good sense, none more sottish, none more contemp- 
tible, than that of ridiculing Christianity. Still it has 
had, and will hereafter have, its wretched influence on 
giddy, puerile minds. The sting will be felt, dreaded, 
and shunned ; and the least effect which it can be sup- 
posed to have on such minds, will be to discourage 
them from studying the doctrines and embracing the 
precepts of the Scriptures. 

3. The introduction of ignorant and separatical 
preachers into the desk, has had extensively the same 
unhappy influence. 

Among all absurdities there is none perhaps more 
preposterous than that presented to us, when we see 
ignorance and vulgarity, enthusiasm and vociferation, 
seated in that desk, which ought to be exclusively ap- 
propriated to dignity and learning, wisdom and piety. 
Law, it is true, has its pettifoggers, and medicine its 
empirics : and both are means of deeply degrading the 
professions in which they appear. But these men are 
never employed in unfolding the truth of God, nor in 
pointing out the path to heaven. The sense of their 
unfitness for the business in which they act, though 
strong, is less deeply felt; their appearance, less pub- 
lic and regular ; and the association of them in the 
mind with the sciences, into which they intrude, less 
uniform, alloying, and offensive. The knowledge 
which ignorance is publicly employed to teach, will, of 
course, be believed to be narrow indeed. The employ- 
ment in which vulgarity is summoned to preside, will 
be regarded as possessing a strong tincture of debase- 
ment. The application of these remarks to the case in 
hand is sufficiently melancholy, and the more so, be- 
cause die situation of this country, at least, holds out 
no immediate or adequate remedy. So long as men 



will rather hear bad preachers than support good ones ; 
so long as they choose to drag out the hours of public 
worship in hearing folly, instead of learning wisdom; 
so long as deplorable avarice induces them to resign 
the desk into the hands of ignorance and impudence, 
the evil will exist, and must be borne. 

The appearance of such men in the character of 
teachers of religion insensibly, but almost irresistibly, 
entails upon theology itself a character derived of 
course, from the men themselves. They are ignorant, 
vulgar, uncouth in their demeanour, coarse in their 
elocution, clumsy in their language, and full of mis- 
takes in their opinions ; halt lamentably in their con- 
structions of Scripture ; dissuade, rather than convince, 
by their arguments ; and are yet vain, arrogant, cen- 
sorious, magisterial in their decisions, and grossly ca- 
lumnious towards those from whose opinions they differ. 
With all these characteristics, they still appear as 
teachers of religion ; a religion of which, in the specu- 
lative sense, they know almost nothing, and in the 
practical sense, there is too much reason to fear, still 
less. In this character the mind is prone, in spite of 
itself, to associate them, not only with other and better 
teachers, but also with the religion which they profess 
to teach. In such a case it is not easy to avoid uniting 
with this subject, in a greater or less degree, these 
wretched characteristics of those with whom we see it 
united ; or to avoid regarding it with some degree of 
that contempt and loathing with which it is impossible 
to fail of regarding these men. 

It is highly honourable to the memory of those men 
by whom New England was planted, that they brought 
with them a body of ministers, distinguished not only 
for their piety, but also for their learning and wisdom ; 
and that immediately after their establishment in thi* 
country, they founded a college expressly for the pur- 
pose of perpetuating among their descendants a minis- 
try possessed of these attributes. It is to the honour of 
their descendants that they founded other seminaries, 
as from time to time they were necessary, for the same 
purpose, and that they have regularly and strenuously 
demanded these attributes in those who were candidates 
for the desk. No class of men has in any age since 
the colonization of this country possessed more learn- 
ing than the clergy of its own churches. The epis- 
copal church has also regularly demanded the same 
education in those whom it has destined to the pulpit. 
I wish the same observations were equally true of other 
churches. 

When therefore ye look at these unauthorized in- 
truders, and feel the regret'and the disgust which per- 
haps you cannot avoid ; turn your eyes to men of a 
superior character in the same office ; not a small num- 
ber of whom would be ornaments of any profession, 
and are actually ornaments of human nature. Let 
their wisdom and worth become an overbalance for the 
infirmities of these, and prove the means of effectuat- 
ing in your minds a just reverence for the religion of 
the gospel. Look also beyond the Atlantic ; and re- 
member that Usher, Leighton, Butler, Berkeley, Jere- 
my Taylor, Jewel, Tillotson, Sherlock, Owen, Dod- 
dridge, Watts, and a long train of others, both in ancient 
and modern times, men who stand in the first rank of 
human intelligence, spent their lives in the study of 
theology; and that it was the glory of Bacon, Boyle, 
and Newton, of Grolius, Locke, Addison, Jones, and 



908 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Feu. cixxit- 



Johnson, to be enrolled among the friends and suppor- 
ters of the Christian religion. 

The true reasons for which we should addict our- 
selves to the pursuit of any science, are the pleasures 
which it may yield, and the profit to which it may con- 
duct us. With respect to theology, both these reasons 
lend their whole force, to encourage our most diligent 
and persevering researches. 

1. The science of theology is capable of yielding 
more pleasure to the mind than any other. 

The pleasures which science is capable of yielding 
to the mind, are addressed both to the imagination and 
the understanding. Of both these kinds of pleasure 
theology is eminently productive. 

The pleasures conveyed to the mind through the 
imagination are derived from such objects as are new, 
various, beautiful, refined, great, and noble; and the 
more these attributes prevail, the more capable are the 
objects in which they are found of yielding this species 
of pleasure. But in no field of human pursuit are 
objects found in such numbers, and of such uniformity, 
which are invested with these attributes, or possess the 
power of yielding this pleasure in the same degree. 
In vain will you search for objects equally beautiful 
with multitudes which are presented to you in the 
Scriptures ; with paradise and its inhabitants ; with the 
innumerable and most delightful variegations of excel- 
lence which adorn the angelic character ; with the 
endlessly diversified manifestations of kindness, com- 
passion, and good providence of God towards his 
children ; the grateful and unaffected effusions of their 
piety to him; the delightful scenery, if I may so style 
it, of the millennial world, drawn with such unrivalled 
elegance by several of the prophets, and particularly 
by the pencil of Isaiah ; the charming features of a 
virtuous character, depicted by Christ and his apostles ; 
and the wonderful exhibition of the future prosperity 
of the church, arrayed in glory and beauty, by the 
hand of St John. 

The Scriptures are the native region of sublimity, 
both natural and moral. 

' The single volume of the Scriptures,' says Sir 
William Jones, one of the best judges whom the world 
has ever seen, ' contains more and higher specimens 
of this excellence, than all the remains of Grecian and 
Roman antiquity united.' The God of the Scriptures 
is an object infinitely sublime ; and, wherever he ap- 
pears, whether his character is exhibited, or his actions 
are recited, he appears with power, wisdom, and good- 
ness, glory and majesty, to which nothing is equal, no- 
thing second. The works of God, here recounted, are 
possessed of a splendour suited to his character. The 
creation, the deluge, the wonders of Egypt, the Wil- 
derness, and Canaan, the miracles attendant upon the 
death, resurrection, and ascension of the Saviour, the 
resurrection, the conflagration, the future judgment, 
and future existence of the righteous and the wicked, 
are objects compared with which all other events which 
have entered into the conceptions of man shrink into 
nothing. 

In moral beauty, greatness, and glory, the Saviour 
stands alone. ' How beautiful,' says the prophet Isaiah, 
' are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings ; that 
publisheth peace ; that bringeth good tidings of good : 
that publisheth salvation ; that saith unto Zion, Thy 
God reigneth.' — ' Unto us,' says the same prophet, ' a 



Child is born ; unto us a Son is given ; and his name 
shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty 
God, the Father of the everlasting age, the Prince of 
peace.' 

On this divine subject I have no room to expatiate ; 
and shall only observe, that the Scriptures themselves 
have done more justice to it than can within the same 
compass be done a second time ; when they inform us 
that Christ is ' the light of heaven.' and ' the effulgence 
of the divine glory.' 

Not less distinguished is this science for the power 
which it possesses, and the means which it furnishes 
for refining the views and the taste of man. On the 
one hand, the Scriptures forbid everything which is 
impure and licentious ; and, on the other, effectually 
discourage everything which is gross and grovelling. 
To accomplish this combined purpose, they commenced 
their efforts in the only efficacious manner, viz., purify- 
ing the affections of the heart. Wherever these are 
gross and debased, the imagination will be gross, and 
the taste debased. So universally is this true, that no 
advantages of education, no superiority of talents, no 
acquisition of learning, no refinement of society, have 
hitherto had sufficient power to purify the fancy and 
the taste, where the affections had been yielded to 
licentious indulgences. A gross heart will delight in 
gross objects ; and on these objects, so long as they are 
relished, the imagination will love to dwell. Elegance 
of mind grows out of the refinement of the heart. It is 
hence, that the sentiments of Paul and John, of Peter 
and James, their images, and their language, are im- 
measurably removed from the gross efforts of heathen 
antiquity. Had Cicero's Oration for Cffilius, or the 
third Eclogue of the polite and elegant Virgil, formed 
a part of the sacred volume, either would have furnish- 
ed an argument against their inspiration, which all 
succeeding ages could never have refuted ; and infi- 
delity would long since have gained a final triumph 
over the gospel. 

In the Scriptures we are presented everywhere with 
those objects which, more incomparably than any other, 
originate and establish refined affections, spotless views, 
and dignified excursions of the imagination. By a 
continual correspondence with the precepts of the gos- 
pel, the affections are gradually, and in a sense instinc- 
tively, purified. By a frequent recurrence to its senti- 
ments and imagery, the imagination is exalted, and the 
taste wrought into elegance, as silver is beautified by 
the hand of the burnisher. By conversing with noble 
objects, the mind is ennobled in a manner and to a 
degree which will admit no parallel, is estranged from 
everything low and little, assumes insensibly a portion 
of the celestial character, and directs its flight, unceas- 
ingly, towards heaven. 

On the variety and consequent novelty of objects 
everywhere presented by the Scriptures to the imagi- 
nation, it is unnecessary here to expatiate. Both are 
unceasing, both are endless ; and as they are suc- 
cessively unfolded to rational beings, will regularly 
enhance their enjoyments throughout the ages of eter- 
nity. 

There is another and very important view in which 
this subject demands our consideration. Theology 
spreads its influence over the creation and providence 
of God, and gives to both almost all their beauty and 
sublimity. Creation and providence, seen by the eye 



CONCLUSION. 



909 



of theology, nnd elucidated by tlie glorious commen- 
tary on both furnished in the Scriptures, become new 
objects to the mind; immeasurably more noble, rich, 
and delightful, than they can appear to a worldly, sen- 
sual mind. The heavens and the earth, and the great 
as well as numberless events which result from the 
divine administration, are in themselves vast, wonder- 
ful, frequently awful, in many instances solemn, in 
very many exquisitely beautiful, and in a great num- 
ber eminently sublime. All these attributes, however, 
they possess, if considered only in the abstract, in de- 
grees very humble and diminutive, compared with the 
appearance which they make, when beheld as the 
works of Jehovah. Mountains, the ocean, and tiie 
heavens, are majestic and sublime. Hills and valleys, 
soft landscapes, trees, fruits, and flowers, and many 
objects in the animal and mineral kingdoms, are beau- 
tiful. But what is this beauty, what is this grandeur, 
compared with that agency of God, to which they owe 
their being ? Think what it is for the almighty hand 
to spread the plains, to heave the mountains, and to 
pour the ocean. Look at the verdure, flowers, and 
fruits which in the mild season adorn the surface of 
the earth ; the uncreated hand fashions their fine forms, 
paints their exquisite colours, and exhales their de- 
lightful perfumes. In the spring his life re-animates 
the world ; in the summer and autumn his bounty is 
poured out upon the hills and valleys ; in the winter, 
' his way is in the whirlwind and in the storm ; and the 
clouds are the dust of his feet.' His hand ' hung the 
earth upon nothing,' lighted up the sun in the heavens, 
and rolls the planets, and the comets through the im- 
measurable fields of ether. His breath kindled the 
stars ; his voice called into existence worlds innumera- 
ble, and filled the expanse with animated being. To 
all he is present, over all he rules, for all he provides. 
The mind, attempered to divine contemplation, finds 
him in every solitude, meets him in every walk, and in 
all places, and at all times, sees itself surrounded by 
God. 

How superior are the works of creation and provi- 
dence, when considered in this manner, to the highest 
conceptions formed by a worldly mind, which merely 
looks at the things themselves ; and with a folly, a 
stupidity which is extreme, stops short of their Author ! 
How enhanced is their beauty,! how exalted their sub- 
limity ! 

The pleasures yielded by science to the understand- 
ing, are derived extensively from the same sources which 
furnish so much delight to the imagination : for the un- 
derstanding also finds exquisite pleasure in that which 
is new, beautiful, and sublime. At the same time it is 
peculiarly delighted with such views as expand the in- 
tellectual powers, and with such objects as are seen to 
possess fitness for valuable purposes, the symmetry of 
parts happily arranged in a system, the rectitude appa- 
rent in their own nature, and their utility to moral 
beings, and to the universe. 

Many sciences are without a question sufficiently ex- 
tensive to employ and exhaust all the efforts of the 
intellect This is true of mathematical and metaphysi- 
cal science, of natural philosophy and astronomy, medi- 
cal science, law, and civil policy. It is hardly necessary 
to observe, that this is eminently true of theological 
science, which has for its object the character, word, 
and works of God ; the nature of man, his apostasy, his 



restoration to the divine kingdom, his virtue, existing 
as a principle, and operating practically in all his duties 
to God, his fellow creatures, and himself; the charac- 
ter, offices, and kingdom of the Mediator ; the charac- 
ter of the Holy Spirit, and his agency in renewing and 
sanctifying man, and in conducting him to endless life ; 
and that boundless scheme of dispensations, which con- 
trols all human concerns in the present world, and 
beyond the grave, directs the existence of men and 
angels, their employments and their allotments, for 
ever. 

At the same time, theology is conversant, more than 
all other sciences, with that which is beautiful, and that 
which is sublime : I mean with that which is seen to be 
such by the intellect, and not merely that which is felt 
to be such by the imagination. The truths of theology 
are without limits conversant with moral excellence ; 
and are extensively employed in unfolding to man 
whatever is lovely and dignified in the intellectual 
nature. There is no beauty or dignity of mind but 
virtue ; and there is no virtue but that which is evan- 
gelical. It is noble and lovely when, in its fairest 
forms, it is seen in such beings as we are. In angels it 
is sublime and wonderful. In Jehovah it is exalted 
not only above all conception, but ' above all blessing 
and praise :' a summit which, receding beyond the ut- 
most reach of finite minds, will, as they ascend through 
the endless succession of ages, rise higher, and higher, 
and higher, for ever. 

As the student of theology travels over the scheme of 
creation and providence, disclosed distinctly to his view 
by the light of revelation ; as he wa:iders especially 
through the moral world, and sees the objects which are 
presented to him continually new, beautiful, and ex- 
alted ; as his prospects exceedingly expand, as his con- 
ceptions perpetually ascend, he is everywhere delighted, 
unless he is incapable of being delighted, with the splen- 
dour of moral excellence, shining upon him from every 
direction, investing every object with glory and beauty, 
and raising his thoughts concerning the Creator and 
his kingdom to greater and greater heights while he 
lives. In this respect, momentous and delightful be- 
yond measure, all other sciences are comparatively 
limited, humble, and insignificant. 

Nor is theology less distinguished by its tendency to 
make the student useful both to himself and his fellow 
men. To ourselves the highest point of utility is to 
become wise and good ; to others, to establish in them 
the same character. The tendency of other sciences 
to accomplish these ends is at the best feeble and re- 
mote ; that of theology is direct, and efficacious. How 
many persons, even in humble life, and possessing very 
limited views, have become virtuous by studying the 
Scriptures. The nobleness of the Bereans was ob- 
tained, undoubtedly, as well as exhibited, in searching 
this sacred volume with diligence and candour ; and 
hence they were prepared to receive the preaching of 
the gospel ' with all readiness of mind.' The effects 
produced upon them will be found by others; and, there 
is the best reason to believe, will ever be found. By a 
solemn, daily, earnest intercourse with the truths of the 
gospel, the mind, not improbably in all cases, becomes 
habitually sober; purified from gross thoughts, fur- 
nished with those which are refined and noble, imbued 
with an increasing relish for that which is great and 
good, and withdrawn from that which is little, sordid, 



910 



SYSTEM OF THEOLOGY. 



[Skr. CLxxnr. 



and selfish. There is every reason to believe, that 
great multitudes of mankind have already become 
Christians merely by reading the Scriptures, sent so 
extensively through the world by the British and 
Foreign Bible Society. 

Virtuous men are, essentially, the only useful men 
to others ; the only men whose usefulness will extend 
its efficacy into the regions of future being, and pro- 
mote the interests of immortality. Compared with this, 
all other usefulness is narrow and momentary. To 
' save a soul from death,' and to ' cover a multitude of 
sins,' is to be a benefactor indeed, and to expand bene- 
ficence through eternal ages. Such men are also the 
essential benefactors to their fellow men in the present 
world ; those from whom wise counsels, important kind 
offices, solid consolations, and beneficial examples are 
derived. Accordingly, to such men are regularly con- 
fided, in almost all cases where it can conveniently be 
done, the protection and the management of the impor- 
tant private concerns of those around them, when these 
tilings demand the assistance of others beside those who 
are immediately interested. There is no case of such 
a nature, where the superiority of virtuous men is not 
felt and acknowledged. To such men he who has a 
just cause will refer it; he who leaves children will 
commit them to his guardianship ; he who makes a 
will, will constitute them his executors ; he who is in 
distress will look to them both for assistance and con- 
solation. 

Among the modes in which laymen versed in theolo- 
gical science have been eminently useful to mankind, 
to elucidate and defend Revelation and its doctrines, 
and to enforce the observance of its precepts, and thus 
to contribute universally to the establishment of truth 
and righteousness, and the divine kingdom in the world, 
is one of the highest moment. The concerns of religion 
have, in most countries and ages, been left too exclu- 
sively in the hands of ministers. Ministers, it is to be 
remembered, however able, however faithful, are. com- 
paratively few in number ; and are therefore ill-matched 
with an enormous multitude of opposers. Ministers also 
are regarded, and ever will be regarded, not only by 
their open enemies, but by all the stupid, worldly, cold- 
hearted men, as saying and doing, whatever they say or 
do, either for the defence or advancement of Christi- 
anity, officially ; from necessity, imposed on them by 
a regard to their reputation ; from prejudice in favour 
of doctrines which they have long taught ; from party 
attachment to those with whom they have been long 
professionally united; and from selfish wishes to pro- 
vide subsistence for themselves and their families. All 
these things can be said with some appearance of truth ; 
and, however groundless, cannot always be satisfactorily 
refuted. None of them are, however, applicable to lay- 
men, when employed in the same cause. They will or- 
dinarily be acknowledged to act in this case from real 
conviction, under the influence of no necessity, without 
any particular attachment to party, without prejudice, 
without bias. The numbers also, and often their em- 
ployments and character, are or may be such as to set at 
defiance the whole violence, the contempt, and the 
sneers of irreligious men. 

Accordingly, many laymen have rendered to revela- 
tion services of the highest importance. The names of 
Bacon, Boyle, Newton, Locke, and Grotius; of Pascal. 
Addison, Johnson, Littelton, and West ; of Jones, 



Teignmouth, Bryant, Sharp, and Wilberforoe, together 
with many others, will be had in everlasting remem- 
brance, as champions of truth and righteousness, illus- 
trious supporters of Christianity, and glorious instru- 
ments of piety and salvation to mankind. What a 
sanction to this employment did Grotius leave at the 
close of his life ; when, referring to his absorption in 
learning of other kinds, and lamenting that he had not 
devoted his days wholly to religion, he exclaimed, 
' Heu! vitam perdidi, nil operose agendo :' 'Alas! I 
have lost life in laboriously doing nothing.' Who was 
ever an abler judge of this subject ? In what circum- 
stances could a judgment be more evidently sincere ? 

Nor ought it to be forgotten, that laymen, by assum- 
ing their proper part in the support of Christianity, 
awaken and increase a just sense of their own duty as 
the friends of the Redeemer ; realize that his cause lies 
upon them, as well as upon ministers : and feel the im- 
portance of thinking, planning, and acting vigorously in 
his behalf. That in which we take no other concern than 
what is experienced in contemplation, will never be 
very near to our hearts. Its importance may be coldly 
acknowledged, but it will awaken neither interest nor 
efforts. When we begin to act, we begin to feel. 
Were laymen to act more generally and more vigor- 
ously in the cause of Christianity, its interests would 
come home to their hearts ; and they would speedily 
become more virtuous and more useful members of 
Christian society. 

I have dwelt thus particularly on this subject, not 
only because of its inherent importance, but also be- 
cause it has not, within my information, been brought 
into the desk; and because there is no place where it 
can with more propriety be introduced than in this, and 
no audience to which it can with more propriety be 
addressed. 

IV. How solemnly does the scriptural system of doc- 
trines and precepts demand the cordial reception of 
every man to whom it is published ! 

Every one of those who hear me is a creature of 
God— an accountable creature, an immortal creature. 
Every one is bound to the grave, and the judgment... 
Every one is a candidate for heaven or hell. To every 
one life is a day of trial. On your conduct in this life 
is suspended your destiny in that which is to come. 

All of you also are sinners. You have offended God. 
You have broken his most holy law times innumerable, 
with a bold hand, a hard heart, and a blind mind. By 
that law you are condemned, and cannot be justified. 

Your sins also are gross and dreadful ; not perhaps 
scandalous, and such as cover you with infamy, but 
such as have been committed in the meridian day of 
the gospel, against the dictates of an enlightened con- 
science, against blessings of high moment, daily and 
hourly renewed. Ignorance of your Lord's will you 
cannot plead, for you have known it from early life. 
Leisure for understanding it, books, instructions, mo- 
tives, have been supplied to you with a munificent hand. 
Your allotments in life have been mercifully distri- 
buted by the great benefactor. He has called to you 
with a voice of unspeakable kindness. He has charmed 
you with continual testimonies of parental love. 

In these circumstances, and amid so many induce- 
ments to hear and to obey, the Saviour of mankind 
has placed himself directly before your eyes, suspended 
on the cross, and expiring in agonies, to atone for your 



CONCLUSION. 



911 



sins, and to reconcile you to God. He has offered to 
you liimself and all his blessings ; and of you he has 
required nothing, but cordially to receive him. Instead 
of listening, there is but too melancholy reason to be- 
lieve you have turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to all 
that he has said and done. He has called, but you 
have refused. To what has he called you ? To puri- 
fication from sin, to forgiveness, to sanctification, to the 
attainment of the everlasting love of God, to the posses- 
sion of heaven, to the blessings of immortal life. 

But he knew that your hearts were harder than the 
nether millstone. He therefore sent his holy and good 
Spirit into the world, to enlighten your minds, to con- 
vince you of your guilt and danger, to unfold to you 
the divine excellence of the Redeemer ; and by the 
renovation of your hearts to persuade you to embrace 
him, as he is offered to you in the gospel. A thousand 
times has this glorious agent awakened in your minds 
a solemn sense of their worth and their immortality, led 
you to serious reflections on your guilt, excited in you 
alarming apprehensions concerning death and the judg- 
ment, and prompted you to sober resolutions of repen- 
tance and reformation. 

All these benevolent efforts you have resisted. All 
the grace of the gospel, all the benevolent offers which 
Christ has made you, all his merciful invitations and 
promises you have rejected. On his cross you have 
cast contempt. To his character you have been hos- 
tile. You have ' grieved the Spirit of grace.' You 
have ' wronged your own souls.' 

Still you are bound to eternity. You must die ; you 
will be judged; you will be 'rewarded according to 
your works.' ' Consider this, ye that forget God ; lest 
he tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver.' 

In this solemn, this exposed situation, immeasurably 
interesting' to every one of you, what measures will 
you take? Remember that, whatever you may think 
proper to do, God will take his own measures. You 
may wish that he would do otherwise. You may hope, 
you may believe, you may determine, that he will bend 
his purposes so as to make them more palatable to you. 
Under this determination, and with these hopes, you 
may feel yourselves safe ; and say, Peace, peace, when 
there is no peace.' Like Agag, you may exclaim, 
' Surely the bitterness of death is past;' when you are 
on the point of being ' hewed in pieces.' The provi- 
dence of your Maker, whatever you may wish or be- 
lieve, will move on uninterruptedly and immutably to 
the •accomplishment of every one of his purposes ; 
and of those which respect your salvation and your per- 
dition, as truly as any other. When you come to the 
regions of woe, with what anguish will you look back 
upon your present life, and wish that you had now lis- 
tened to the calls of mercy ; that you had been roused 
from this sleep of death, and obtained life from the 
hands of the Saviour ! 

It is not necessary that every one should be learned 
in theology ; but it is necessary that every man should 
be a Christian. The souls of the learned and the un- 
learned are alike immortal, and are alike destined to 
endless happiness or endless misery. How will you 
acquire this glorious blessing, and escape this absolute 
ruin ? There is but one path which has hitherto con- 
ducted, there is but one path which will ever conduct 
mankind to eternal life. This has beeii pointed out by 
the finger of God, and was never discovered by human 



philosophy. The cell of philosophy is dug beneath the 
ground ; is dark, cold, and comfortless; and was never 
visited by the sunshine of heaven. The miserable rush- 
light which glimmers along its walls, scarcely enables 
this goddess of man's creation to distinguish her own 
footsteps around the dreary cavern, and shows no ave- 
nue to the world above. Here no celestial messenger 
ever arrived, and no tidings from that world were ever 
announced. Here God is neither worshipped, loved, 
nor known ; the voice of mercy was never heard ; and 
salvation was never proclaimed, sought, nor found. 

The gospel, at an immeasurable distance from this 
desolate mansion, is the garden of Eden in its pristine 
beauty. Here Jehovah manifests himself in the She- 
chinah : as of old, ' he caused the glory of his presence 
to dwell at the east of Paradise, above the cherubim.' * 
Here his answers are given to the inquiring penitent. 
Here angels are again heard ' praising God, and say- 
ing, Glory to God in the highest ; peace on earth ; and 
good- will towards men.' Here the ' Saviour is born,' 
and publishes the ' glad tidings of great joy.' Here 
the Spirit of grace fixes his divine abode, and sheds 
piety, and peace, and faith, and hope upon the assem- 
bly of the first-born. Here, finally, commences ' the 
highway of holiness,' which leads directly to the regions 
of immortality. 

Who in this house can contemplate these things with- 
out the strongest emotions? Who can behold his all at 
hazard, his soul, his eternal well-being at stake, without 
inexpressible anxiety ? Life and death, both eternal, are 
here the objects of choice. Whose bosom must not thrill, 
whose heart must not throb, when, famishing with thirst 
and perishing with hunger, he hears a voice from 
heaven, calling directly to himself, 'Ho! every one 
that thirsteth ! come ye to the waters ; and he that hath 
no money ; come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy 
wine and milk, without money, and without price. 
With what transport will he learn, that the voice which 
conveys this delightful invitation is the voice of the Son 
or God ! Must not his soul expand with ecstasy to see 
the almighty arm of this glorious Person stretched out 
to seize him, while walking on the brink of perdition, 
and convey him to the world of joy ? 

On the brink of perdition every sinner in this house 
is walking at the present moment. The only way back 
to eternal life, the only safety, the only hope, is found 
in the gospel. ' Strive,' then, with all possible earnest- 
ness, ' to enter in at the strait gate ' which stands at 
the head of this delightful path. Now the gate is open ; 
soon to you it will be shut. Now the path is illumined 
by the Sun of righteousness ; soon it will be lost in in- 
terminable darkness. Now heaven invites you to ' en- 
ter in, and be saved ;' soon its doors will be closed for 
ever. Now God is reconcileable to you ; the Saviour 
proffers himself and all his blessings, to your accept- 
ance ; and the Spirit of grace is waiting to renew you 
to repentance. How soon will all these blessings retire 
beyond your reach ; the hope of salvation set, to rise 
no more; and the voice of mercy be dumb for ever ! 

* Gen. iii. 24, paraphrased by the Targums. 



INDEX. 



Actions of Christ: Creation of the Universe, 200 — Preserva- 
tion of the Universe, 200 — Government of the Universe, 200 
— Giving and restoring life, 201 — Forgiveness of sin, 201 — 
Judging men and angels, 202. 

Adoption, 430. 

Agency of the Holy Spirit in Regeneration: Its reality, 3S2 — 
Its nature, 384 — Its necessity, 387. 

Air, 89. 

Ambition, 686. 

Amiableness of Christ, 336. 

Angels: Holy, 94, 99— Fallen, 105. 

Antecedents of Regeneration, 397. 

Antinomians: their objections answered, 367 

Antipasdobaptists : their objections answered, 816. 

Apostasy of Man, 149. 

Apostles: Their inspiration, 265 — Necessity of their preaching 
the Gospel, 270 — What they preached, 273 — Consequences 
of their preaching, 274. 

Arianism, 222. 

Arminians: their objections answered, 369. 

Atheism: Its objections answered, 6 — Credulity merely, 11 — 
Voluntary, 12 — Its influence with that of Christianity com- 
pared, 12. 

Attendants of Regeneration: Faith, 353, 40S — Repentance, 40S 
—Love, 412, 417, 426— Complacency, 428, 

Atonement of Christ: Its nature, 297 — Necessity, 297 — Real- 
ity, 301 — Manner in which performed, 304 — Its extent, 306 
— Objections answered, 307. 
Attributes of God: Eternity, 24 — Immutability, 24 — Omnipre- 
sence, 29 — Omniscience, 29 — Omnipotence, 35 — Indepen- 
dence, 37 — Benevolence, 40, 47 — Justice, 51 — Truth, 56- — 
Mercy, 61 — Wisdom, 66. 
Attributes of Christ: Eternity, 197 — Self-Existence, 198 — Om- 
nipotence, 198 — Omniscience, 19S — Omnipresence, 199 — 
Immutability, 199. 
Attributes of the Holy Ghost, 373. 
Attributes of Angels, 96. 
Avarice, 6S1. 

Baptism: Its reality, 810 — Its intention, 811 — Subjects: Be- 
lieving Adults, 816 — Infants of Believers, S17 — No other 

Infants, 827 — Mode of Administration: Subjects are to be 

baptized into the name of the Trinity, 830 — By a Minister of 

the Gospel, 830— By Water only, 830 — By Sprinkling, 

Affusion, or Immersion, 830. 
Being of God: Proved by the Existence of things, 2 — By the 

State of things, 3. 
Benevolence, vide Love : Consistent with peculiar provision for 

our own, 417- — Seeking salvation, 422 — Its effects on personal 

happiness, 501 — On public happiness, 508. 
Benevolence of Christ, 282 — God: Proved by reason, 40 — Ob- 



jections answered, 44 — Proved by revelation, 47 — Infinite, 49 
— Ever active, 49 — Constitutes his whole moral character, 50. 
Bishops: the same officers in the church as Ministers, 779. 

Casual Existence, 8. 

Cause and Effect, 1. 

Character of Christ: His Divinity, 191, 197, 203, 210, 216, 
222, 229 — His Incarnation, 235. 

Charity, 676. 

Chief End of Man, 131. 

Children: Their duties, 571 — Their education, 761. 

Christ: His character, 191 — Covenant under which he acted, 
241 — His Offices, 246 — His Miracles, 322 — His Resurrec- 
tion, 327 — His Amiableness in publishing the Gospel, 336 — 
Consequences of his Mediation, 342. 

Christianity: its influence with that of Atheism compared, 12, 

Church of Christ : Its members, 771 — Its ordinances and em- 
ployments, S10. 

Circumcision: the same ordinance with Baptism, 821. 

Complacency, 412. 

Confidence in Christ the Faith of the Gospel, 361. 

Conscience, Peace of, 439. 

Consequences of Christ's Mediation: Justification, 342 — Re- 
generation, 372. 

Consequences of Death: Immediate, 861 — Remote: Resurrec- 
tion, 866 — Final Judgment, 872 — -Punishment of the wicked, 
877 — Rewards of the righteous, 886, S91. . 

Consequences of Regeneration: Adoption, 430 — Sanctification, 
434' — Peace of Conscience, 439 — Joy in the Holy Ghost, 444 
— Increase of Grace, 448 — Perseverance, 452. 

Contentment, 671. 

Conviction of Sin: Its cause, 398 — Its nature, 399 — Its conse- 
quences, 400. 

Covenant of Redemption, 241. 

Creation: Air, 89 — Firmament, 91 — Heaven of Heavens, 92 - 
Angels, 94, 99, 105— Earth, 110— Man, 115. 

Deacons: Mode of their introduction into office, 807 — Character 
they should sustain, 808 — Purposes for which appointed, 808. 

Death: The work of God, 855— Evinces God's views of the 
character of Man, 856— Terminates probation, 858— The en- 
joyments of sinners, 858— The sufferings of the righteous, S58. 

Decalogue: First Commandment, 519— Second Commandment, 
524— Third Commandment, 529, 534, 539— Fourth Com- 
mandment, 544, 548, 553, 560, 565— Fifth Commandment, 
571 576 581 586, 591 — Sixth Commandment, 596, 600, 

605, 610 Seventh Commandment, 616, 621, 626 — Eighth 

Commandment, 633, 638, 644 — Ninth Commandment, 649, 
654, 659, 666— Tenth Commandment, 671, 676, 681, 686. 

Decrees of God: What they are, 72 — Proved by his eternity 
and omniscience, 73 — By the foundation for choice in the na- 
5 z 



914 



INDEX. 



ture of things, 73 — By his benevolence, 74 — By revelation, 
74 — Objections answered, 75. 

Depravity of Man: Its universality, 155, 161 — Its degree, 166 
• — Its derivation, 173' — Remarks, 178. 

Discipline of the Church: its Nature. Remonstrance, 84S — 
Admonition, 849 — Excommunication, S49 — Manner, S50 — 
Objects, 851 — Persons by whom administered, 852. 

Disinterestedness, 414. 

Divinity of Christ: Proved by his being spoken of in the Scrip- 
tures, as the true and perfect God, 193 — Proved by its being 
the sole ground of consistency in the scheme of Redemption, 
21 — Proved by the Jews being otherwise innocent in his cru- 
cifixion, 214 — Proved by the Apostles being otherwise guilty 
of leading mankind into idolatry, 214 — Objections to Unita- 
rian doctrines, 216, 222 — Objections to their management of 
the controversy, 229. 

Divinity of the Holy Spirit, 372. 

Divorce, 626. 

Drunkenness: Its nature, 610 — Its causes, 611 — Its evils, 612 
— Its preventives, 615. 

Duelling, 601. 

Duties of Ministers: Preaching, 789 — Study, 800— Conducting 
the Ordinances of Public Worship, S02 — Presiding over and 
directing the Discipline of the Church, S03 — Aiding in the 
ordination of other Ministers, 803 — Instructing the flock in 
private, 804 — Importance of a blameless life in, 804. 

Earth: Created by God, 110 — Order of its creation, 110 — Ob- 
jections answered, 113. 

Education, Religious, of Children: A duty, 766 — Mode in 
which to be done, 766 — Motives to its performance, 769. 

Effect and Cause, 1 . 

Eighth Commandment: Idleness, 634 — Prodigality, 635 — 
Fraud, 638 — Gaming, 644. 

Elders, 779. 

Eternal Series, 7. 

Eternity of God: proved by reason and revelation, 24. 

Evidences of Regeneration: What are not evidences, 457 — 
What are evidences, 462 — Difficulties attending the applica- 
tion of these evidences to ourselves, 46S. 

Example of Christ, 292. 

Extraordinary Means of Grace: Baptism, Sll — Lord's Supper, 
841 — Discipline of the Church, S48. 

Faith: A duty, 34S — Its nature, 352 — Its influence on man's 
justification, 35S — Reconciliation of Paul and James on this 
SHbject, 362 — Influence of works on our justification, 363 — 
Justification by faith does not lessen the motives to obedience, 
367 — Only source of obedience, 371, 699. 

Faith and repentance necessary to restore us to obedience, 696. 

Fall of Man, 142. 

Fallen Angels: Objections against their existence answered, 105 
— Loss of their first estate, 10S — Loss of their original resi- 
dence, 10S — Their present residence, 10S — Their destiuy,10S. 

False Repentance, 40S. 

Final Judgment, 872. 

Firmament, 91. 

First Commandment: Idolatry, 519. 

First Great Commandment: Love to God, 477. 

Forms of Prayer, 745. 

Fourth Commandment: Perpetuity of the Sabbath, 544, 54S — 
Change of the Sabbath, 548 — Objections answered, 553 — 
Manner of observing the Sabbath, 560 — Reflections, 565. 

Fraud, 63S. 

Gaming, 644. 



God: His Existence, 1— His Self-Existence, 4 — His Unity, 18 
—His Attributes, 24, 25, 29, 35, 37, 40, 47, 51,56, 61, 66 
—His Decrees, 71, 77— His Sovereignty, S3— His Works, 
89, 94, 99, 110, 115, 121. 

Grace, Free; the source of justification, 342. 

Grace, Means of: Ordinary, 700, 705, 710, 716, 721, 725, 730, 
736, 741, 745, 761, 766— Extraordinary, 772, 778, 783, 7S9, 
794, 800, S05, Sll, 816, 821, 827, 835, S41, S4S. 

Hearing the Word of God, 716. 

Heaven: The eternal abode of the Righteous, 886 — Its happi- 
ness, 896. 

Heaven of Heavens, 92. 

Holiness of Christ: Exemplified in his Piety, 279 — His Bene- 
volence, 282 — His Self-Government, 283 — Its importance to 
the distinction of his character, 287 — To enable him to mag- 
nify the law of God, 2S9 — To give the necessary efficacy to 
his sufferings for mankind, 291 — To his setting before men an 
example of righteousness, 292. 

Holy Angels: Created by God, 94 — Their rank, 95 — Attributes, 
96 — Employments, 101. 

Holy Ghost: His Character, 372 — Agency in Regeneration, 382. 

Humility, 486. 

Ideas and Exercises, 126. 

Idleness, 633. 

Idol Worship: Its history, 524— Its Extent, 527— Manner in 

which performed, 527. 
Immateriality of the soul, 121. 
Immutability of God: Proved by revelation, 24 — By reason, 24 

— An encouragement to prayer, 2S. 
Inability of man to obey the law of God, 691. 
Incarnation of Christ, 235. 
Increase of Grace, 44S. 

Independence of God: proved by his omnipotence, 37. 
Infant Baptism: Objections answered, 816 — The same ordinance 

with Circumcision, S21 — Warranted by the Scriptures, 825. 
Inspiration of the Apostles, 265. 
Intercession of Christ: For whom offered, 312 — How performed, 

313. 
Intercourse with religious men; its effects: On persons destitute 

of religion, 750 — On religious men, 753. 

Joy in the Holy Ghost, 444. 

Judgment, Final, S72. 

Justice of God: Proved by his providence, 53 — By revelation, 
54 — Opposition to this attribute the cause of the denial of re- 
velation, 55. 

Justification: Its nature, 342 — Its source, 345 — The means, 347. 

Killing: When lawful, 597— When unlawful, 599. 
Kingdom of Christ: Its reality, 317— Its extent, 318— Assumed 
for the church, 319. 

Law of God: Its character, 473— In what comprehended, 477, 
497 — Man's inability to obey, 691. 

Lewdness, 621. 

Lord's Supper: Its nature, 835— Its design: to represent 
Christ's death, 835— To prove his mission and gospel, 836— 
To harmonize Christians, 83S— To represent his leve, 838— 
Qualifications of Communicants: Membership in the church 
in full stauding, 839 — Persuasion of their own piety, S40 — 
Disposition with which to be attended: Admiration of Christ, 
Sll— Gratitude to him, 842— Humility, S43— Purposes of 
obedience, S43 — Brotherly love, 844 — Universal benevolence, 
S44 — Motives to the atteudauce, S45. 



INDEX. 



915 



Love: Its nature, 412 — Its reality, 414 — Objections answered, 

418, 422. 
Love to God: Benevolence to God, 477 — Complacency in his 

character, 478 — Gratitude to God, 479 — Reverence of God, 

481 — Humility, 486'— Resignation, 489. 
Love to man: Its nature, 497 — Its extent, 498. 
Lying: Its nature, 654 — Its causes, 656 — Its mischiefs, 659 — 

Its preventives, 663. 

Man: Created by God, 115 — Time of his creation, 117 — His 
nature, 117 — End of his creation, 131 — His probation, 137 
— His temptation and fall, 142 — His sentence, 149 — His de- 
pravity, 155, 161, 166, 173, 178— Cannot be justified by 
works of law, 185. 

Manner of preaching the gospel: With Plainness, 794 — With 
Variety, 795— With Boldness, 797— With Solemnity, 797— 
With Earnestness, 798 — With Affection, 798 — With Accep- 
tableness, 799. 

Marriage : Its origin, 616 — Its nature, 617 — Its benefits, 
617. 

Matter: not the cause of existence, 10. 

Means of Grace: Ordinaiy, 700 — Extraordinary, 772. 

Means, Ordinaiy, of Grace, generally considered: Their reality, 
700 — What they are, 705— Their influence, 705 — Objections 
answered, 710. 

Means, Ordinary, of Grace, particularly considered : Preaching 
the gospel, 716 — Reading the Scriptures, 720 — Prayer, 721, 
725, 730, 736, 741, 745— Intercourse with Religious Men, 
750 — Religious Meditation, 756 — Religious Education of 
Children, 761. 

Means, Extraordinary, of Grace, who are to use them: Ordinary 
members of the church, 772 — Officers of the church, 778 — 
What they are: Baptism, 811 — Lord's Supper, 835 — Disci- 
pline of the church, 848. 

Means of Justification; Faith in Christ, 347. 

Meditation, Religious, 756. 

Members of the Church: Ordinary members, 771. 

Members of the Church: Officers, 778, 783. 

Mercy of God: Proved by reason, 61 — By the Scriptures gen- 
erally, 63 — By the Mediation of Christ, 63. 

Ministers: Who are Ministers, 778 — Their Duties, 789. 

Miracles of Christ: Their Nature, 322 — Their Reality, 323 — 
Their Importance, 325. 

Murder, 599. 

Names of Christ: God, 193 — The Great God, 194 — The True 
God, 194— The Mighty God, 194— The God of Israel, 195 
— Jehovah, 196. 

New Creation: Subsequent to God's dispensations to this world, 
888 — Brought into existence by Christ's mediation, 888 — 
The final state of the universe, 889 — Unchangeable, 889 — 
New to the universe, 890. 

Obligations to Prayer, 724. 

Offices of Christ: Prophetical, 246, 251, 256, 261, 265, 270 — 

Priestly, 275, 279, 283, 287, 292, 296, 301, 307, 312— 

Kingly, 317. 
Officers of the Church : Ministers, 778, 784, 789, 794— 

Deacons, 807. 
Omnipotence of God: Proved by the Creation, 35— Proved by 

the government of the Universe, 36 — By its unaltered and 

undecaying character, 37. 
Omnipresence of God: Proved by revelation, 29 — By reason and 

experience, 30 — Evinces a universal Providence, 32. 
Omniscience of God: Proved by revelation, 29 — By reason and 

experience, 30 — Displayed at the last Judgment, 34. 



Ordinances of the Church: Baptism, 810, 816, 821, 827— 

Lord's Supper, 834, 840 — Discipline of the Church, 848. 
Ordinaiy Members of the Church: their Character, 771. 
Ordination of Ministers, 803 — Deacons, 807. 
Origin of the Priesthood, 275. 

Parents: their duties, 576, 581. 

Particular and Universal Providence, 30. 

Passover: the same ordinance with the Lord's Supper, 838. 

Paul and James reconciled, 362. 

Peace of Conscience, 439. 

Pfedobaptism, 811. 

Perjury, 654. 

Perseverance of Saints, 452. 

Personal preaching of Christ: His executing this office necessary, * 
247 — The things which he taught, 251 — Manner in which ha 
taught, 256 — Consequences of his preaching, 261. 

Piety of Christ, 278. 

Polygamy, 626. 

Polytheism, 21. 

Prayer: Its Nature, 721 — Its Seasons, 721 — Obligations to 
prayer, 724 — Its Usefulness, 725 — Encouragements to prayer, 
736 — Objections answered, 741 — Forms of prayer, 745. 

Preaching: Its End, 7S9— Nature, 789— Subjects, 791— Man- 
ner, 794. 

Preaching of the Apostles, 265. 

Priesthood: Its Origin, 275 — Duties, 275 — Character of a 
priest, 277. 

Priesthood of Christ: Origin, Office, and Character of a priest, 
275 — Its reality, 278 — His Atonement, 297, 301, 307— His 
Intercession, 312. 

Priestly Character of Christ: his Holiness, 279, 283, 287, 292. 

Probation of Man, 137. 

Prodigality, 635. 

Profaneness: Its Nature, 529 — Guilt, 534 — Danger, 539. 

Prophetical Office of Christ: His personal preaching, 246, 251, 
256, 261— Preaching of his Apostles, 265, 270. 

Providence of God: Probation of man, 137 — Temptation of man, 
142 — Fall of man, 145 — Sentence pronounced on man, 149 — 
Depravity of man, 155, 161, 166, 173, 178. 

Punishment of the Wicked: Its eternal duration, 877 — Its Na- 
ture, 882. 

Reading of the Scriptures, 720. 

Redemption, Covenant of, 241. 

Regeneration : Its Agent, 372 — Its Necessity, 387 — Its Reality, 
389 — Its Nature, 392 — Its Antecedents, 397 — Its Atten- 
dants, 403, 408, 412, 417, 422, 426— Its Consequences, 430, 
434, 439, 444, 448, 452— Its Evidences, 457, 462, 468. 

Relations of Christ to Creatures : Creator, 203 — Preserver, 204 
— Possessor, 205 — Supreme Ruler, 205 — Last End, 206. 

Religious Education of Children, 761, 766. 

Religious Meditation, 756. 

Resignation: Its Nature, 491 — Does not imply a willingness to 
suffer perdition, 493. 

Resurrection of Christ, 866. 

Repentance: Its Nature, 409 — Its Consequences, 411. 

Reverence of God: Its Nature, 481— Its Effects, 483. 

Rewards of the Righteous : Their Residence, or Heaven, 892 — 
Character; perfect Holiness, . 893 — Employments; to learn 
the character of God, 897 — To glorify God, 899 — To befriend 
one another, 901 — Enjoyments, 901. 

Rulers: their Duties, 586. 

Sabbath: Its Perpetuity, 544 — Change, 548 — Objections an- 
swered, 553 — Manner of observing it, 560 — Reflections, 565. 



916 



INDEX. 



Sanctiiication: The Agent, 43-1 — The Instruments, 435 — The 
Process, 437. 

Seasons of Prayer, 721. 

Second Commandment: Idol Worship, 524. 

Second Great Commandment : Its Requisitions, 498 — Its Foun- 
dation, 514— Its Effects, 501, 508. 

Self-examination, 758. 

Self-Existence of God, 4. 

Self-Government of Christ : His Industry, 283 — His Fortitude, 
284— His Meekness, 284— His Humility, 2S5. 

Sentence pronounced: On the Tempter, 149 — On the Woman, 
151— On the Man, 151. 

Seventh Commandment: Marriage, 616 — Lewdness, 621 — 
Polygamy, 626 — Divorce, 626. 

Sin: Its Universality, 155, 161 — Its Degree, 166 — Its Deriva- 
tion, 173 — Remarks, 178. 
. Sixth Commandment : Killing ; when lawful, 596 — Murder, 
59S — Duelling, 600 — Suicide, 605 — Drunkenness, 610. 

Slander, 666. 

Socinianism, 216. 

Soul of Man: Its Nature: A pure uncompounded substance, 
117 — A thinking substance, 117 — Possessed of virtuous affec- 
tions, 118 — Exercises dominion over the world, 118 — Pos- 
sessed of spiritual enjoyment, 118 — Immortal, 118 — Not ma- 
terial, 121 — Not a chain of ideas and exercises, 126. 

Sovereignty of God: Proved by his determining the birth and 
education of men, 83 — By the disappointment of their inten- 
tions in life, S5 — By the uncertainty of life, 86. 

Subjects: their duties, 591. 

Subjects of Baptism: Believing Adults, 816 — Infant Children 
of Believers, 817, 821 — No Infants but those of Believers, 827. 

Suicide, 596. 

Temptation and Fall: The Tempter, 142 — Manner of the 
Temptation, 143 — Persons tempted, 144 — Consequences, 144. 

Tenth Commandment : Contentment, 671 — Charity, 676 — 
Avarice, 681 — Ambition, 686. 

Third Commandment: Profaneness, 529, 534, 539. 

Trinity: Testimonies to the doctrine; by ancient Christians, 377 
—Jews, 378— Heathen, 380. 



Truth: Its nature, 649 — Its Importance, 651. 

Truth of God: Proved by his Benevolence, 56 — By the Con- 
formity of all things to his Will, 57— By his Independence 
and Immutability, 57 — By his Constitution of his Creatures, 
57 — By his Predictions, 58. 

Veracity: its Importance, 651. 
Virtue: founded in Utility, 514. 

Unbelief: Voluntary 347 — Sinful, 352. 

Uninterestedness, 413. 

Unitarians: Their Objections answered, 216 — Doctrines ex- 
amined, 222 — Management of the Controversy, 229. 

Unity of God: Proved by Works of Creation and Providence, 18 
— By Reason, 20 — By Revelation, 23. - 

Universality of Sin: Proved by Revelation, 155 — By Facts gen- 
erally, 156 — By Man's Rejection of the Word of God, 
161. 

Universalists : their Objections answered, 877. 

Universe: created by God: Proved by Reason, 2 — By Revela- 
tion, 93. 

Usefulness of Prayer: To Individuals, 725 — To Families, 730 
— To Communities, 736. 

Utility: the Foundation of Virtue, 514. 

Wicked, Punishment of, in the future World: Duration, eter- 
nal, 877— Nature, 882. 

Wisdom of God: Proved by the Works of Creation and Provi- 
dence generally, 66 — The accomplishment of many ends by 
few and simple means, 68 — The unceasing and universal 
variety of his works, 68 — Various kinds and degrees of resem- 
blance and uniformity, 69— The communication of language, 
69 — His creation of moral agents, 70. 

Word of God: Rejected by man, 161 — How to be heard, 716 — 
How to be read, 719. 

Woi'ks: their influence on Justification, 362. 

Works of God: Creation, ; 51, 56, 61, 67, 71, 75— Providence, 
137, 142, 149, 155, 161, 166. 

Worship: Required to be rendered to Christ, 207— Actually 
rendered to him, 208. 









GLASGOW: 
TEINTRI) BY GEOKCiE 1SROOKMAN. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



021 897 289 5 



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